Ocean or Mountains?

Which one do you prefer?  Which one rejuvenates you - replenishes your soul?

I ask because the answer is often not what I presumed.

I live on the coast.  I love it.  I can sit in the sand or in my car and watch the waves break for hours while I ponder God's awesome power, the immensity of the universe and my place in it.  The ocean fills me with wonder.  I revel in it's ever-changing beauty.  No two waves are alike.  No two sunsets the same color.  Foam patterns on the beach are different with each receding wave.  I meditate on infinite possibility. 

But it's the mountains that heal me. There's just something about being surrounded by trees that fills me with a serenity I cannot tap into elsewhere.

The sound of a creek waters flowing over rocks and swirling around a sandbar is soothing music to my ears.

I spent the day in the mountains yesterday.  I just drove by myself for five hours.  The higher the altitude became the lighter I felt.

I stopped by Burney Falls.  It was cold and damp from the mist and the late afternoon shadows.  But the smell was beyond Heavenly.  Pine.  Moss.  Damp earth.  Deep cleansing breaths.

Little traffic.  Fading sunlight.  Trees straight and tall on all sides.  Majesty above them.

Peace.  Completeness.  Inspiration.  Quiet.  Solitude.  Wellness.  Integrity.

All these words and more define the mountains for me.

I came home refreshed and ready for another round of parenting, working, struggling to survive. 

Which gives you that renewal?  Ocean or Mountains?

Benefit or Burden

I love October.  Suddenly the bright spotlight of the media is shown on stories that normally don't rate for their lack of warm fuzziness.

Take the Welsh's from Ohio, for instance...  Both wife and husband are in their 60s and are undergoing Breast Cancer treatment.  Both. Of. Them. 

This is a subject near and dear to my heart as my boys have a significantly increased risk of developing breast cancer because I and my mother both carry the BRCA2 genetic mutation.  By significantly, I mean about 80 times that of other men!!!  This equates to about a 1 in 14 lifetime chance of breast cancer.  BRCA2 also increases the risk of other cancers: prostate, pancreatic and stomach cancers as well as melanoma.  Did they hit the genetic jackpot or what!? The BRCA2 gene DOUBLES a man's chances of developing prostate cancer and melanoma!  My boys have a 1 in 3 chance of prostate cancer before they turn 65!  All of these cancers will rear their ugly heads earlier than typical in a BRCA2 man.

I have long been an advocate of Knowledge Is Power!  It's only when we hide medical histories and facts in the dark because of embarrassment or fear that these awful diseases get the upper hand.  That being said, knowing my boys could be victims of genetic Russian Roulette, I have a decision to make.  Should I get them genetically tested?

My quandary is this:  genetic testing would arm all of us with the power of knowledge.  We could gird our sons against cancer with more frequent screenings at much younger ages.  Even enroll them in test programs aimed at prevention.  However, by equipping ourselves with this information we also make the results available to insurance companies.  If I test the boys as children in order to afford them the best possible chance at survival, do I label them with a giant red flag that will prevent them from ever getting health insurance?  Will it cause them employment issues in the future?

It's such a tight rope to walk; future benefit or burden?  What would you do?

Cross posted to Mothers With Cancer

Put on a happy face

I have to wonder about myself sometimes. Do I even know myself at all?

I had my three month visit with my oncologist today. This time I actually went in with a well-thought (yet hastily-scrawled) out list of concerns to discuss. But first, the important news... all my blood work was perfect! No indications that there is any cancer on the horizon. Amen!

Rarely do I have lists for my doctors. I usually breeze in all sunshine and smiles making the best of even the worst of situations with a few notable exceptions. I was decidedly unsunny when I arrived at the Emergency Room with a ruptured fallopian tube. Once Daddy-O and Ben got there the whole episode became fairly foggy, but I do have a vague recollection of thrashing around on the table in pain, sure I was about to die and praying out loud for God to save me or at least not take me in front of my son. Or when I bawled my eyes out pregnant with Danny at my regular doctor's office because I'd had undiagnosed bronchial asthma for months and was so physically stressed from just. not. breathing. that I couldn't maintain anymore! Otherwise, I might have one off-the-cuff question or two but that's it.

Today's list read something like this:

• Forgetfulness!!! Chemo-brain or old age?
  
• Still painful sternum
• Big bruise on arm since August!
• Wake up still tired. Low energy? Depression?
• Daddy-O says I'm a bitch... asks if meds can be increased... please?????

After regailing her with my many and varied tales of forgetful woe, Dr. Villa came to the shocking conclusion that I am doing too much multi-tasking. Put another way, if I put too many balls in the air one is bound to fall every now and then. Plus, I am getting older.

No worries about he painful sternum. I don't know why I shouldn't worry. She didn't say. I didn't ask. I'm ok with that.

Same thing with the ginormous bruise (which is really a mere shadow of it's former self) that has been on my arm since August. No worries. Eh.

I worried that I might be having a bit of depression (even though I don't feel like I'm depressed) as indicated by my waking tired after a full nights sleep, constant low energy, etc. etc. Those are the same symptoms I had the last time I didn't feel depressed after I had my miscarriage. Turns out I actually was. Huh. Who knew? So I thought I'd ask. But my Dr. V gets the big bucks for a reason. Her first question was if I'd been excercising, which I haven't. See asthma reference above which is triggered by cold. The virus I got in early December flared up the asthma and it's been too cold and/or windy for me to get outside and walk until this week. So no excercise for me. Click! 100 watts glaring at me. That accounts for both symptoms. See. I knew I wasn't depressed.

But apparently, I am a bitch.

I'm finding this harder and harder to deny. Though, in my defense, I do live with three testosterone-ridden humans and suffer with immeasurable provocation. Still, I do sometimes step out of myself in mid-rant and raise an eyebrow at my own hostility. At any rate, she is going to increase the dosage of my Effexor and see if that helps with my break-through hot flashes and these apparent nasty mood swings.

Daddy-O is lucky to have her as an ally.

As well as all that went, I left my appointment feeling less than satisfied.

We normally hug and gush and smile after leisurely minutes of familiar catching up. Today was more formal and doctor / patient like. She looked fairly sober as I left. No hug. No emotional fireworks display for the wonderful bloodwork and continued victory over cancer. I walked out feeling like a burden. *sigh*

Now I can't help but wonder if I am always so positive and upbeat because that is the way I've always been or because I crave approval.

In lieu of a resolution...

I hate resolutions. They allow no leeway and are doomed to failure. So instead I will project onto 2009 my wishes. I challenge you to do the same.

Salon.com issued a challenge for their readers to write their memoir in six words. The results were wonderful and ingenious. One that could also be my memoir is from reader Jared2:

"Broke. Payday. Broke. Payday. Broke. Payday ... " Jared2

A couple other samples:

"Current lawyer, aspiring writer, often silly." Jenbynight

"Too much hair, then not enough." Burstoflethargy

The Challenge
1. Write your memoir in six words. Or, if you're feeling less expansive, just sum up 2008.
2. Use six words to sum up your wishes for 2009.
3. Link to this blog in your post.
4. Tag as many or as few people as you wish. No pressure here. List them in your post.

My memoir:

Boobies; breasts; tube socks; tumor; Bellyboob.

2008:

Work and pay; hope and pray.

My Wishes for 2009 are not very original but truly heartfelt:

More money; less debt; universal health.

I am going to tag:

• All the Mothers With Cancer contributors,
• Stimey
• Sarah over at Killer Boob
  

May you and yours have a successful, safe and healthy 2009!

A Life Sentence

If you'll remember back a bit, I posted an excerpt from Ben's Sentence Completion List. This was an assignment from Dr. Flaton, the pediatric ADD specialist. As a very special treat for you today, I will post the remainder of Ben's sentences. And perhaps a comment or two if you are very, very good readers. Just a reminder, Ben is 8 years old.

1. I would like to be a scientist.

2. My mother loves chocolate martinis. (ack! choke! cough! While technically true, this was not high on my list of things I wanted the doctor to know.)

3. I cannot have a cell phone. (This is so true. But I am considering wrist watch walkie talkies with a mile and a half range.)

4. If I only had a cell phone I'd love my Mom and Dad. (Boy! They learn early don't they? The answer is still "NO!")

5. Girls _____________________ (He had no reply to that. I find that comforting on so many levels.)

6. I am ashamed of Danny having attitude. (Note that he's not ashamed of his own behavior. This answer is totally worthy of a presidential candidate!)

7. I am afraid of nothing. (Yeah, that's what I was afraid of...)

8. I like Pokemon cards.

9. I don't like summer school.

10. I love my Mom, Dad and Danny.

11. Boys are my friends.

12. Mother should do nothing. (I am not exactly sure how to take that... but I like it.)

13. There are times when I am bored.

14. I hate bullies.

15. It makes me sad to watch a kid being bullied.

16. My home is small.

17. Father should do nothing. (again with that?)

18. People think that I am stupid. (What!? After much teeth gnashing and hand wringing it turns out there is a snotty 2nd grader that asks him things like "what is 1000 x 200?" When Ben doesn't know the answer he tells him he's stupid. Grrrrr!)

19. Sometimes I think about skateboarding and fishing and surfing.

20. Nobody knows that I have ADD. (I can't decide if it's wonderful or really sad that he doesn't get that people know he's ADD...)

21. The best thing that ever happened to me was riding a horse.

22. The worst thing that ever happened to me was breaking my wrist the first time.


So, I guess we haven't completely ruined our kid. Except for being outed about the chocolate martini addiction and the small house it's all good.

Did anyone notice what didn't make the list anywhere?????

CANCER.

That's right. No cancer anywhere.

No, "worst thing that ever happened to me was mom getting cancer..."

No, "mom should buy a wig..."

No, "afraid my mom will die..."

Just normal, every day eight-year-old boy stuff: science, surfing, cell phones and Pokemon cards. Thank you, Lord!

Cross posted to Mothers with Cancer

Of Childhood Rituals...

I got Danny's pony pictures back from the preschool today. They are adorable. Is there ever a bad Pony Picture, though? Of course, I had to pull out Ben's pony pictures from when he was 3 years old. They look nothing alike.

Ben was a smiling and blond - the quintessential Good Guy. Danny is solemn and dark. Not so much the Bad Guy as the Bad Boy. The cloudiness in his eyes gives them a smoldering, smokey look... if you can overlook the one that's looking the wrong way, that is.

Ben on Nugget 2003 / Danny on Cupcake 2008

Hopalong Cassidy / Black Bart

I'm also struck by how sad Danny looks. And also, how good looking both my boys are (not that I'm biased or anything) even though they look completely different.

Am I the only Mom who sees a good picture of her kid and loves them that much more for it? Maybe I love them more in pictures than in person? I kid, of course. But they sure are quieter in photos...

How to be happy in spite of it all, part 1

Just after I returned to work after breast cancer treatment, a co-worker paid me an incredible compliment. She told me that I had handled my diagnosis and treatment with (I am paraphrasing here with all the accuracy Chemo-Brain permits) incredible grace and, well, I can't remember what else, but it was good. The general idea was that I had a wonderfully positive attitude that continued to astound those around me.

I pshawed her, of course. Because, there was nothing graceful about my actions nor reactions. Nothing heroic. Nothing brave. At least I didn't think so. I was just doing what I had always done during trying times. What I had watched my mother do before me. And my grandmother before her. I put on a happy face.

Sounds simple doesn't it? Or maybe you're thinking simplistic is more like it. Well, you're probably right. When others began asking me exactly how I stayed so positive in the face of a daunting cancer diagnosis and 90% recurrence risk, right on the heals of my finding out my infant was born blind, well, I couldn't explain it. At least not in terms of usable information. It's just something I'd been raised doing. I didn't know quite how to explain the process.

Then I found The Bounce Back Book, by Karen Salmansohn a few weeks ago. It's a short little self-help book, more along the lines of a pocket manual than a book, but it certainly clarified things for me. Salmansohn has a knack for doing exactly what I could not; break down the process of having and maintaining a positive attitude.

In her book, Salmansohn offers 75 tips for "thriving in the face of adversity, setbacks, and losses." Many of these tips are a bit redundant, merely rewording the same advice to fit a slightly different situation. Sometimes that's what it takes, however, for understanding to register. Hearing something many, many different ways. I don't mean for this to be a book review, yet if I had a friend going through a rough patch and looking for a way to fight negativity, I'd consider sending The Bounce Back Book. We could all learn a bit from it's pages.

For my purposes here, I will tell you what I took away from this book. That is, I will share with you those behaviors (as identified by Salmansohn) that I have practiced over the years and feel contributed to my success in overcoming the more negative crap life has thrown my way.

The Formula
Each of us has a genetic tendency toward optimism or pessimism, according to The Happiness Project in the U.K. This, however, only accounts for about 50% of our personal happiness equation. The rest is all about what you do and the choices you make. Dr. Jonathan Haidt even came up with a fancy, schmancy formula to become happier. And he's a Positive Psychologist, or a positive psychologist (I'm not sure which-but I think it might make a difference) so he ought to know.

H = S + C + V

H = happiness level C = current conditions

S = set point for happiness V = voluntary activities

I happen to think Dr. Haidt is on to something.

Family
About that genetic predisposition towards happiness, or not. I guess I must have it. We're real Nietzsche people in my family, "What does not kill us, makes us stronger." And boy, oh, boy, have we been getting stronger in my lifetime. I've always remembered my Mom laughing off the bad times. She always found the humor in life when I was growing up and still does to this day.

Humor saved the day when I was fourteen years old, sitting in the front row in front of my Father's casket with the rest of my family at his funeral. As you can imagine, it had been a stressful few days after he'd died, no matter how expected his death was. We, as a family, have always turned to humor in times of stress. True to form, when we noticed that the florist's shop had placed an arrangement directly in front of my Mom's chair that was completely bug-eaten, we just couldn't stop the giggles. I'm sure the entire congregation behind us thought we were sobbing uncontrollably, in reality, we were shaking from trying not to laugh out loud.

We're sort of wacked, I know. But that outlook has served us well, over the years. In general, we try to always see the humor in a situation. One of my very first comments after my cancer diagnosis, which came close to Christmas 2005, was that I wouldn't have to worry about what I ate over the holidays because I was starting the Chemo Diet come January!! Woohoo! Holidays, here I come!

My family could have focused on the loss of my dad, instead we chose to break an overwhelming situation down into more manageable pieces. We focused on the insect-riddled flowers to get through the funeral.

Similarly, I chose to see the diet-free holiday season as a silver lining instead of the dark cloud that was a cancer diagnosis. The cloud hadn't blown away and my dad was still gone but my outlook on the world was much more positive for my efforts.

Cross posted at Mothers with Cancer

Breast Cancer and the Stressed-out Dodo

Remember the Dodo birds from the Disney movie Ice Age? There's a part where they all walk around chanting, "Doomed. Doomed. DOOMED. DOOOOOMED!" Just before they all accidentally walk, jump, fall or roll off the cliff one by one.

Well, that's about how I feel every time I read a new article about breast cancer research. This morning's article on Yahoo Health informed me that I was doomed from childhood.
According to the latest research by Dr. Ronit Peled of Ben-Gurion University of the Negev in Beer Sheva, experiencing severe life events at a young age (before 20) can increase your risk of developing breast cancer by as much as 62%. Well, shit.

Doomed.

Peled studied 622 women between 25 and 45 years old. 41% of them had been diagnosed with breast cancer, the other 59% had not. Their "Severe Life Events", such as loss of a spouse or close relative were tallied as well as mild/moderately stressful events like bad illness, tragedy or job loss and they were given a questionnaire to determine their anxiety, depression, happiness and optimism levels.

Guess what? The women who had two or more severe or mild/moderate life events were 62% more likely to have beast cancer. Plus, those mild/moderate life events seem to build on each other for a cumulative effect. Oh, goody!

The good news? Women with a "general feeling of happiness and optimism" had a lower risk of being diagnosed. About 25% lower.

His conclusion: Women suffering severe losses at a young age should be considered at high risk for breast cancer and treated accordingly. Do you hear that AMA???

Also of note, Isreal has the highest incidence of breast cancer in the world. But it's not like there's any stress about living there or anything.

As I read the article I did a quick mental calculation of my pre-20 Severe Life Events.

• Age 11 - Dad clinically died for 5 1/2 minutes.
• Age 14 - Dad died.
• Age 15 - House burned down
• Age 15 - Close schoolmate committed suicide
• Age 17 - Schoolmate killed in freak car accident

Doomed.

Looking back, I had many risk factors for breast cancer that I was unaware were even risk factors. Of course, there is the ever-popular BRCA2 genetic mutation. But, hey, it's not like I knew about that before hand. I had read, however, about the increased risk for women who had their first child after the age of 30. I was 33. What was I supposed to do about that, though? Go pop out a pup just to avoid the Big C? Hardly.

And this article brought to my attention the role early stress may have played in my disease. Also, the Mayor of Lemonland at World Wide Breast Cancer informed me that a history of benign breast biopsies is also a high risk indicator for breast cancer.

Huh. See what I mean? Me and the Dodos had a lot in common.

Cross posted at Mothers with Cancer.

The Mysterious Feeding Habits of Eight Year Olds

Ben doesn't eat.

When he was but a wee babe and I, an impressionable new mother bombarded by advertisements on BabyCenter, I ordered his complete astrological chart over the internet. What can I say? I was curious and apparently in possession of much more discretionary income than I have now.

I have never believed in astrology. That is to say, I think it's fun and interesting in a coincidental, "Ha! That is so you (and also me and her and sixteen other people that I know)!", sort of way. Just like Taro Cards but not as creepy. In retrospect, Ben's 20-something page astrological work up is uncannily accurate. Yes. I kept the damn thing. I paid like $20 for it in 2000. I put it in his baby book and ran across it a year or so ago.

What really sticks in my mind, besides the general right-onness of the whole thing, is the prediction that "food will not be a motivating factor in his life." Truer words were never spoke, er, written.

Ben is far and away, the pickiest eater I have ever seen. He loves chicken nuggets. From McDonalds. Not the ones from Burger King. They are too spicy. But he won't eat plain old chicken in any other form without a continuous barage of threats from all adult-types in the near vacinity. Ditto with fries of the french variety. Loves them. But just try to get him to eat tater tots. Tater tots, for God's sake! I lived for those when I was a kid. He barely does pizza and he won't touch a hamburger. Pasta must be sause-free with butter and, shudder, canned parmesan cheese only. He will eat Kraft Macaroni & Cheese but no other incantation of the stuff. On the other hand, he's happy to eat vegetables with the exceptions of broccoli and asparagus.

I just don't get it. If it weren't for peanut butter and jelly I'm pretty sure he'd waste away to nothing.

Once we started him on ADHD meds things just got worse. At that point we could no longer count on the old "when he gets hungry enough, he'll eat" adage. He was simply never hungry.

Until bedtime.

His medication wears off just about an hour before bedtime these days. That last hour can be trying, to say the least. Ben's behavior can get extremely aggressive and confrontational. And he's got a whole day's worth of hunger built up inside.

The problem: How do you teach an eight year old boy to eat at mealtime, even if he isn't that hungry? Because eating at bedtime just is not appropriate. Don't get me wrong. We let him have apples and bananas, an probably way more dessert than he ought to have at that point in the evening. But he's still hungry. It becomes impossible to tell what is true hunger and what is typical bedtime stalling tactics.

Ben's solution: The other day I was straightening up Ben's bed and I noticed two empty cookie packages and a full cheese it package under his covers. He is getting up in the middle of the night and sneaking food. He admitted as much when confronted. This is not the first time he has done this. We told him his punishment would be no sweets at all, nothing but fruit, for a week.

The next day I found frosting in his bed from the cinnamon twists we'd ordered with our pizza. Again, middle of the night snacking. I added two days to his punishment.

Yesterday Daddy-O found a bannana peel in his bed. OK. He's at least eating better in the middle of the night but still.

Anyone have any bright ideas? We're kind of at a loss here.

But I'm too positive to be a triple negative

Nothing ever works when your cancer is hormone receptor negative (HR-). At least it seems that way sometimes. For you cancer newbies out there, please don't take that literally.


I've become something of a cancer-research junkie since I've stopped treatment. I studiously avoided any research, internet or otherwise, related to my cancer while undergoing treatment. Numbers are not my friends. Well, they are - sort of. I do feel quite comfortable with them in medical settings (which makes my inablility to do algebra all the more puzzling). For instance, my focal point during labor was the contraction monitor. Forget all that intangible, relaxing beach imagery nonsence and give me a cold, hard fact I can sink my teeth into any day of the week. Anyway... somehow I knew just enough about Inflammatory Breast Cancer to realize that I would obsesses and focus on the bigger numbers in the statistics (that of the 90% variety) instead of the smaller, happier ones. So I avoided Dr. Google religiously. Once I was all finished, however, all bets were off.

So now I studiously watch my news ticker for the latest and greatest in breast cancer research and IBC breakthroughs (of which there is precious little). Yet in my internet travels, linkedy link by linkedy link, I have noticed something that may not be as glaringly obvious to other BC patients/survivors as it is to me. All the new breakthroughs in breast cancer research only work on receptor positive cancers.

This makes me angry. I'm not quite sure at whom. I feel like I'm being descriminated against. I joke, but only a little. Tamoxifen doesn't work on Triple Negative Breast Cancers, neither do any of the other proactive drugs. Why is IBC not only the rarest of breast cancers but also more likely to be triple negative?

Why, oh why, am I so special??? Can't I ever just do things like everyone else?????

This is cross-posted at Mothers With Cancer.

I am one. Are you?

I always knew I was. I just didn’t know why. And I certainly didn’t know what to tell you when you’ve asked or commented on how well I’ve handled this or that.

“Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I’m just a Mom doing the whole Mom Thing. You’d do the same.”

But the fact is you might not.

According to this article that ran in our paper yesterday, I’ve long been a member of some secret happy society. Here are Ms. Griffith’s observations on what makes happy people happy. I have to say I think she’s on to something.

Live in the present.
Don’t look for a specific event to happen “some day” to make you happy. Be happy in the place you are right now.

I do pretty well with this one these days, although when I was much younger I spent all my time waiting for my life to “start”. Ha! Good thing I got tired of waiting around and took matters into my own hands.

My biggest problem here is not living in the present but being present. Does that make sense? Like when I’m down on the floor playing with my boys and I’m really thinking how much laundry there is to be done, that dinner needs to be started, and how B hasn’t cleaned his room yet like I told him to this morning. That way he’s not allowed to be present either. Humph.

Ok. I’ll try to work on this a bit more for happiness’ sake.

Practice forgiveness.
Pretty self-explanatory. Anyone know how to teach someone how to do this? I’ve been doing it as long as I can remember, but have never had to contemplate the process before. In my discussions with a co-worker I recognized the truth of the matter. Forgiveness is a decision not a feeling. So many people wait around for that feeling of forgiveness to wash over them. It’s just not going to happen that way. Unless you make a deliberate choice to shrug off the bitterness or malice you feel towards someone it just isn’t going to go away. In other words, Fake it till you make it, Baby!!!

Have a thick skin.
Don’t be easily offended. I try (this is the operative word here, folks) to see the offending party’s point of view. It helps me decide first, if I even need to be offended, and second if the shoe being thrown at me is indeed my size. I am not always completely successful in this. I mean, I love a good bitch-fest just as much as the next girl… then it’s out of my system and I move on. But sometimes… sometimes I’ll be hit with a comment that is visibly benign yet still find myself seething with resentment or anger or just plain old hurt feelings… I am always just as shocked by this as the offender. I do hate it when my psychological junk drawer gets stuck open and crap starts falling all over the place.

Find the joy in little things.
This doesn’t count if we’re talking about sex. I’m just saying.

Bring beauty into your life.
I think this is incredibly important. I need to see the wonder of God around me every day. I lived in town for two years when Daddy-O & I first started dating. After a few months I was seriously depressed. I saw nothing but town my entire way to work. Asphalt. Sidewalks. Trees surrounded by sidewalks. Traffic lights. Cars. No nature. No wildlife. No nothing.

Now I am back in the “country” or at least the unincorporated area of the County. My drive to town every day is an array of tidal splendor, spectacular views of Hollister Peak, cows and horses grazing on the hillsides, and agricultural fields sparkling with dew in the sunrise. It is rejuvenating. There is no better way to begin and end my day.

Get connected.
Some of the unhappiest people I know are no longer speaking to one or more of their parents or siblings. I say life is too short to sweat the small stuff. Get over it. I try to maintain my relationships. Even with my Ex’s. Plus, there’s all of you. People scoff. But apparently all us happy people know all about connections like the internet and blogging and such.

Now you’re probably reading this thinking one of two things. Either you think I’m full of crap or you think I’m an incredibly well-adjusted Mommy Blogger/Cancer Survivor. Well, you’re all wrong. No. You’re all right. I’m both of those things. I am also none of those things. And just to prove it, I offer into evidence the last advice for being happy:

Celebrate every day.
I don’t think she’s talking about birthdays here. But I do like what she says and she’s on the money. “Every day is a miracle. Just ask someone with a terminal illness.” Man alive, there is nothing like a cancer diagnosis to make you glad to get up in the morning. The post-diagnosis joy in and appreciation for life can only be compared to a post-coital man’s generosity toward all humankind and general willingness to do anything asked of him.

Unfortunately, it lasts about as long too. This is where I am today. My rose colored glasses are all askew again. I’m having a hard time looking beyond the “I’m broke” and the price of gas to all the “Will you just listen to that bird singing!”

I guess I’ll add this one to my check list too. We all have to have a project after all.

Regrets, I've (never) had a few

Regret: n. a feeling of responsibility for wrongdoing
vb. to feel sorry or dissatisfied about something, often with bitterness or grief.

My friend Susan over at Toddler Planet posted this about her one regret in life. And it got me thinking about regrets in general.

I have always held to a "no regrets" philosophy. It was never a conscious decision to not look back but more of a happiness with where I was. Victoria Holt summed up my credo best when she said,

"Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience."

I have always felt that I am where and who I am this day because of all the decisions I've made and actions I've taken in the past. To regret one of those would be to wish myself a different life than the one I lead today. And that is certainly something I wouldn't change. I don't really want any do-overs.

I've never regretted a death. Sure, I wish I had more appreciation for my Dad while he was alive, but I was barely 14 years old. "Unappreciation" is pretty much part of the package at that age. So I don't consider that a regret because I don't wish to change it. I've never regretted a break up (at least not once the pain dulled). Life happens. Each event in my life has moved me in a direction which led to the next event and so on and so on. To change one seemingly insignificant event would have changed the entire course of my life.

Take for instance, my decision to leave my old job in the grocery store (Retail Clerks Union used to rock!) to take this job working for the CA National Guard. Until I began working for the Federal Govt I had never held a job for longer than 2 years. I had no reason to expect that this one would be any different. I certainly never would have guessed I'd still be working here 18 years later. More importantly, if I had not taken this job I would never have met a co-worker who became my best friend for a number of years. Which, in turn, would mean that she never would have introduced me to her brother-in-law, Daddy-O.

One small decision. Perhaps Daddy-O & I would have met some other way. Perhaps not. Our reversal of our earlier decision to only have one child brought us D, blind from birth. Life altering? Certainly that, no doubt. Ha. But regret the decision to have him? Not on your life! He brings me more joy on his worst day than I ever deserve.

There is not one thing I would have different in my life today, therefore, no regrets.

Maybe, though, that is just a colossally arrogant position to take. Katharine Hepburn said,

"I have many regrets, and I'm sure everyone does. The stupid things you do, you regret... if you have any sense... And if you don't regret them, maybe you're stupid."

Maybe I am stupid. Maybe my stance is too black and white.

There are two things I would not do the same way if I re-did them. But I don't know if I'd call them true regrets because I don't feel like I wish to go back & change them. Yet after the last couple years of battling cancer & it's financial aftermath,

I would be kinder to people that I am not fond of - less snarky. And I would be more budget-conscious with my finances.

No need to regret those two missteps, though. I'll just make another small life-altering decision to change my ways...

The title of this blog has been temporarily overridden by tax season

We are simple folks. Our taxes are fairly straightforward. I work for the government and Daddy-O is a self-employed Landscape Contractor with no full-time employees. Fortunately for our marriage, we pay someone else to do the actual preparing and filing of said taxes. Unfortunately for me the collection and organization of aforementioned tax docs is left to me.

Please tell me I'm not the only one in this boat lost in the fog on a Sea of Hell. Oh, the personal tax papers are a piece of cake. I keep them in reasonable order all year. But the business taxes. Oh ho ho. Now that is another story entirely!

Daddy-O is not the most organized man in the world. He is very proud of himself for keeping a file of each and every receipt this year. Yeah for him! Of course, he didn't bother to keep any of his credit card statements.

We keep our finances separate. (That is our recipe for a happy marriage.) So he became uber defensive when I had to go through his checkbook registers. Hello??? Separate does not equal Secret. What is it about taxes that bring out the worst in people?

I'm not even done yet (our tax appointment is Thursday. Ack!) and I'm pretty disgusted with the numbers I'm seeing. I can tell you without getting into exact figures that we spent roughly the same amount of money for Blue Cross/Blue Shield PPO premiums (self & family), gasoline for Daddy-O's landscape business and copays for prescriptions and doctors visits. And the three amounts combined were more than my salary my first year working for the Government.

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Here is a picture of B a the Scitechatorium. He's getting electrocuted by a Van de Graff generator. It was really neat and it made his new mullet stand up all over the place. Interestingly enough, Nana said when she was a girl she got to be the class volunteer for the same experiment. Only in her class she touched the ball and another student touched her, another touched that student, etc, etc... all around the room. As the electrical charge passed through each one to the other their hair stood on end. Pretty soon the whole class's hair was standing straight up!

I love this picture of D. He's talking to his Nana on the phone. I kept trying to take the phone from him but he wouldn't let me. I can't get over how old he looks. And mature. And like a guy. Look at that body language. Add 12 or 13 years and it will be a girl he's talking to on the other end of that phone. Just like his daddy.


Speaking of his Daddy... D is still trying to work out which is the working end of a lawnmower. Is the love of motorized objects inherently male? He can't see the levers and wheels and blades and such. He only had to hear the motor once to fall in love. It must be some sort of testosterone poisoning.

Tooth Fairy - 1, Lying Child - 1, Mom - 0

The results are in. The Piper, er, Tooth Fairy has been paid. B found his note from the illustrious and ticked off Fairy. He has begun the ruing of his lying ways.

B was so excited to have received a letter from the famed Tooth Fairy that he took it to Daddy-O for reading. The first line crushed him. "I know you lied to your mother..." He was completely bummed. Daddy-O played his part to perfection.

"You lied about the Tooth Fairy leaving you money?", the astonished & confused Daddy-O asked.

"Yeah.", in a very, very small voice.

The long & the short of that conversation is that B needed to do some apologizing to me and soon.

Fast forward to late in the evening. B took me outside to talk "privately". He was so serious. He couldn't lift his head up or look me in the eye. If I hadn't known what was coming I'd have been all concerned and asking him what was wrong...

His confession went something like this:

"Mom, I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"I lied about the Tooth Fairy leaving me money."

"What? Why would you do that, B? She didn't leave you any money at all? Why would you lie about something like that?"

"I don't know." hangs head and shuffles feet. "I just wanted my friends to think she gave me money anyway." Oh, the peer pressure. The keeping up with the Jones'. It begins.

Then he proceeds to tell me all about the letter and grows more and more excited in the telling. He brings me the letter and explains that he's going to take it to school to show his friends and prove that she is real. "Mom! This is how she signs her name!"

My boy... have I done a wonderful job on the snowing or what? "You're going to take a letter to school to show your friends that talks about you lying???"

"Oh no.", he scoffs, "I'm only going to show them her signature!"

Bah! I'm not sure if that backfired or what.

But he did have to forfeit the pre-set 5 token penalty for lying.

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In other weekend news... D was officially moved into a BIG BOY BED on Friday night. He has been wonderful about not getting out of bed. He l-o-v-e-s his bed.

The crib is for sale. One more piece of infant gear forever out of our lives. Kind of bittersweet.

A letter to my body

As usual, I'm a day late and a dollar short. But I just couldn't pass up this opportunity to address some issues that have long been neglected. Blogher has asked people what they would say in a letter to their body. This is a project I can sink my teeth into.

Dear Body,

You are my oldest and dearest friend. You have always been there for me from those first hesitant steps to my sure stride of today. Yet I have not proved as faithful.

In my childhood I didn't spare a thought for you. I took you for granted. I ran, played and lived in ignorance of illness beyond the cold or flu. In your strength I was afforded that luxury. As an adult I can see what a true blessing that was.

As I got older I was not pleased when I looked in the mirror. Well, not really true. I was pleased enough with what I saw in the mirror. I was displeased with how you, Body, compared with those of my peers. I thought you were not thin enough. Not really fat - just too big. Your breasts were too big and developed too early. I didn't like being singled out as one of the few girls who wore a bra in 5th grade. Who knew how much of my self-image would be tied to those breasts of yours later in life...

Once I discovered boys and their, er, toys, I reached an uneasy truce with you. By this time I had learned to appreciate your finer physical attributes. But I had never had reason to think beyond looks. Ignorance is bliss. And youth is cocky. I sorely abused you. I am so sorry.

I poisoned you with drugs. At first I didn't think about what it could do to you. Ignorance again. But after years of using and becoming "educated" in the process I knew how bad the drugs were for you. I knew they were made of toxic materials. I worried about your future health even as I looked in the mirror & poisoned you once again. Eventually, I came to my senses and stopped that madness... but at what cost?

Finally, when I got pregnant, I truly began to appreciate you for your many talents. You proved fertile and well-suited to pregnancy. I took great pride in your accomplishments. I loved you and the baby you made! Ugh! But I hated the fat I saw everywhere. I dismayed at every being thin again. I was disgusted by the gigantic engorged breasts! Ridiculously large! Why hadn't I appreciated the normal large they were before?

A few years passed & I felt you had failed me again with a late miscarriage and an ectopic pregnancy. I'd lost that earlier pride in your strength and fertility. And then you came through again. You gave me another baby. All was forgiven.

I think this is the time that I really fell in love with you. After working with you so long to get pregnant I finally had a true appreciation for your beauty, your strength, your wondrous capabilities. I had never felt more beautiful in my life. Those pregnancy months were blissful, halcyon days in our relationship. I reveled in your power to create life. Wow! How awesome!

Then I found out you had cancer. Breast cancer. Yet, even then, at your weakest point, you were strong. You fought through the chemo. You had incredible reserves! You barely even got sick. I am in awe of you! Then the radiation in conjunction with more chemo. I weep for the abuse you took. But nothing kept you down. You rock!!!!!

Today you have survived massive reconstructive surgeries, cancer, years of drug use and just plain owner neglect. You look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself. I can't believe how strong you are! I just really want to say, thank you.

Thank you for always being there. For going the extra mile, for standing a little straighter and holding out a little longer. Thank you for my babies. Thank you for your incredible recuperative powers. I promise to never take you for granted again.

Your life partner.

I couldn't have said it better myself. I know because I've tried.

So, a friend at work had told me a while ago about this article called "Don't Waste Your Cancer" by John Piper. She mentioned it to me after I had introduced her to this post by PunkRockMommy. I finally looked it up on the internet.

Geez, what did I ever do without the internet?

John Piper is a very smart man. He very eloquently put into words something I've been lamely trying to relate to people for a while now. So, here is "Don't Waste Your Cancer" by John Piper.

MINNEAPOLIS (BP)--I write this on the eve of prostate surgery. I believe in God’s power to heal -- by miracle and by medicine. I believe it is right and good to pray for both kinds of healing. Cancer is not wasted when it is healed by God. He gets the glory and that is why cancer exists. So not to pray for healing may waste your cancer. But healing is not God’s plan for everyone. And there are many other ways to waste your cancer. I am praying for myself and for you that we will not waste this pain.

-- You will waste your cancer if you do not believe it is designed for you by God.

It will not do to say that God only uses our cancer but does not design it. What God permits, He permits for a reason. And that reason is His design. If God foresees molecular developments becoming cancer, He can stop it or not. If He does not, He has a purpose. Since He is infinitely wise, it is right to call this purpose a design. Satan is real and causes many pleasures and pains. But he is not ultimate. So when he strikes Job with boils (Job 2:7), Job attributes it ultimately to God (2:10) and the inspired writer agrees: “They ... comforted him for all the evil that the Lord had brought upon him” (Job 42:11). If you don’t believe your cancer is designed for you by God, you will waste it.

-- You will waste your cancer if you believe it is a curse and not a gift.

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us” (Galatians 3:13). “There is no enchantment against Jacob, no divination against Israel” (Numbers 23:23). “The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor. No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11).

-- You will waste your cancer if you seek comfort from your odds rather than from God.

The design of God in your cancer is not to train you in the rationalistic, human calculation of odds. The world gets comfort from their odds. Not Christians. Some count their chariots (percentages of survival) and some count their horses (side effects of treatment), but we trust in the name of the Lord our God (Psalm 20:7). God’s design is clear from 2 Corinthians 1:9, “We felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.” The aim of God in your cancer (among a thousand other good things) is to knock props out from under our hearts so that we rely utterly on Him.

-- You will waste your cancer if you refuse to think about death.

We will all die, if Jesus postpones his return. Not to think about what it will be like to leave this life and meet God is folly. Ecclesiastes 7:2 says, “It is better to go to the house of mourning [a funeral] than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart.” How can you lay it to heart if you won’t think about it? Psalm 90:12 says, “Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” Numbering your days means thinking about how few there are and that they will end. How will you get a heart of wisdom if you refuse to think about this? What a waste, if we do not think about death.

-- You will waste your cancer if you think that “beating” cancer means staying alive rather than cherishing Christ.

Satan’s and God’s designs in your cancer are not the same. Satan designs to destroy your love for Christ. God designs to deepen your love for Christ. Cancer does not win if you die. It wins if you fail to cherish Christ. God’s design is to wean you off the breast of the world and feast you on the sufficiency of Christ. It is meant to help you say and feel, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” And to know that therefore, “To live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 3:8; 1:21).

-- You will waste your cancer if you spend too much time reading about cancer and not enough time reading about God.

It is not wrong to know about cancer. Ignorance is not a virtue. But the lure to know more and more and the lack of zeal to know God more and more is symptomatic of unbelief. Cancer is meant to waken us to the reality of God. It is meant to put feeling and force behind the command, “Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord” (Hosea 6:3). It is meant to waken us to the truth of Daniel 11:32, “The people who know their God shall stand firm and take action.” It is meant to make unshakable, indestructible oak trees out of us: “His delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:2). What a waste of cancer if we read day and night about cancer and not about God.

-- You will waste your cancer if you let it drive you into solitude instead of deepen your relationships with manifest affection.

When Epaphroditus brought the gifts to Paul sent by the Philippian church he became ill and almost died. Paul tells the Philippians, “He has been longing for you all and has been distressed because you heard that he was ill” (Philippians 2:26-27). What an amazing response! It does not say they were distressed that he was ill, but that he was distressed because they heard he was ill. That is the kind of heart God is aiming to create with cancer: a deeply affectionate, caring heart for people. Don’t waste your cancer by retreating into yourself.

-- You will waste your cancer if you grieve as those who have no hope.

Paul used this phrase in relation to those whose loved ones had died: “We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). There is a grief at death. Even for the believer who dies, there is temporary loss -- loss of body, and loss of loved ones here, and loss of earthly ministry. But the grief is different -- it is permeated with hope. “We would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8). Don’t waste your cancer grieving as those who don’t have this hope.

-- You will waste your cancer if you treat sin as casually as before.

Are your besetting sins as attractive as they were before you had cancer? If so you are wasting your cancer. Cancer is designed to destroy the appetite for sin. Pride, greed, lust, hatred, unforgiveness, impatience, laziness, procrastination -- all these are the adversaries that cancer is meant to attack. Don’t just think of battling against cancer. Also think of battling with cancer. All these things are worse enemies than cancer. Don’t waste the power of cancer to crush these foes. Let the presence of eternity make the sins of time look as futile as they really are. “What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?” (Luke 9:25).

-- You will waste your cancer if you fail to use it as a means of witness to the truth and glory of Christ.

Christians are never anywhere by divine accident. There are reasons for why we wind up where we do. Consider what Jesus said about painful, unplanned circumstances: “They will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors for my name’s sake. This will be your opportunity to bear witness” (Luke 21:12 -13). So it is with cancer. This will be an opportunity to bear witness. Christ is infinitely worthy. Here is a golden opportunity to show that He is worth more than life. Don’t waste it.

Remember you are not left alone. You will have the help you need. “My God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).
--30--
Copyright 2006 John Piper. Used by permission. John Piper is the pastor for preaching at Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, Minn. For more information, visit www.DesiringGod.org.

I couldn't agree more.

Happy New Year v.2008

I am playing along on a universal meme from Sherry of Sage and Thyme. I really like the subject matter.

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Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.

• Share 5 random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog. or

• Share the 5 top places on your "want to see or want to see again" list. or

• Share 5 things you never pictured being in your future when your were 25 years old.

Tag a minimum of 5, maximum of 10 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.

Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

The tagees have a choice of which they want to do.

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TOP 5 PLACES I WANT TO SEE

1. Africa~ I have always wanted to go. I want to see the animals migrate on the Serengeti.
2. Yosemite~ Daddy-O and I have never been and it's virtually in our backyard. It's shameful.
3. Great Britain~ The history, the architecture, the warm beer (not so much).
4. Egypt/Israel~ The great pyramids, to experience the Bible "on location"...
5. New Orleans~ pre-Katrina. alas, not in my lifetime, I fear.


5 THINGS I DIDN'T PICTURE IN MY FUTURE AT THE RIPE OLD AGE OF 25

1. Breast cancer~ I put too much stock in my family history
2. Being married to Daddy-O but still being great friends with the man I dated at 25 (& his wife).
3. Having a handicapped child. I thought life would be perfect, of course.
4. Working for the government for almost 18 years and counting.
5. The role the Internet would play in my life.

I would like to tag Susan, Kim, Sarah, Canape, and well, I don't know any other bloggers well enough to tag them. Somehow it feels all impositioning and such.

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In other news, we had a bit of a rager here last night. There was copious amounts of alcohol consumption (I made my first Chocolatinis) and much partner groping. Generally, a good time was had by all. As proof I submit these photos into evidence.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Welcome 2008!

2007 - a retrospective

Today is a day of reflection. An activity I actually have time for because my wonderful MIL has taken the children off our hands for the next few days. Daddy-O and I are a spoiled pair, I tell you. I am supposed to be prepping for the New Year's Eve party hosted by your's truly tomorrow night, but since Daddy-O is out in the garage putzing with his new IPOD for the umpteen billionth hour now, I will take some time out of my frantic house renovations to answer the questions posed by Linda over at All & Sundry.


1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?

I had breast reconstruction surgery in January and a tummy tuck as part of that surgery. Can you say "Rockin' new boobs!"? Also, started seeing a "Diet Doctor". Embarrassing yet so satisfyingly successful.
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Last year's resolution was to appreciate life more. I did a great job keeping that one the first half of the year. But I must admit I slacked hard the last half. And, yes. I resolve to resolve again this year. Stay tuned for future attempts at greatness.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Not this year. High hopes for 2008, though.
4. Did anyone close to you die?

Thankfully, I did not lose anyone close to me this year. I lost enough people last year to carry over.
5. What countries did you visit?

None unless you count down town Los Angeles as a Country unto itself or Bakersfield. Good arguments could be made for both.
6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?

Fiscal security aka money.
7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

March 19 - went back to work after cancer treatment. October 20 - one year anniversary of being cancer free!
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Going back to work.
9. What was your biggest failure?

Keeping my cool with my kids. I am such a yeller. I hate that about myself.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

No. Blessings from God have been abundant this year. My cancer is gone, as is my asthma. At the risk of jinxing myself, I have been wonderfully healthy the entirety of 2007. Thank God and keep it coming.
11. What was the best thing you bought?

D's piano for Christmas. Anything that gives a kid that much pleasure has got to be high up there. Although if you ask me next month it may well be at the bottom of my list.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Al Gore. I had no idea. He really opened my eyes.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

I was really too busy minding to my own business to be too appalled by others.
14. Where did most of your money go?

Medical copays and credit card bills .
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Blogging & reading blogs. Pretty much made everyone around me sick with it.
16. What song will always remind you of 2007?

Lucky Man by Montgomery Gentry
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
 a) happier or sadder? 
b) thinner or fatter? 
c) richer or poorer?

Compared to last year I am happier but less content, if that makes sense. I am definitely thinner and I am oh, so much poorer.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

I wish I pinched pennies more.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Yelling at B.
20. How did you spend Christmas?

I spent Christmas at home with Daddy-o and my boys and my MIL. It was a wonderful day - though not relaxing in the least. What Christmas is for the Mom...
21. Did you fall in love in 2007?

At least once or twice with Daddy-O. Every afternoon with B and four or five times and hour with D.
22. What was your favorite TV program?

CSI. I am such an addict.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

The better question would be "Do you like anyone this year that you did not like last year?" The answer would be most everyone. Cancer gave me a new perspective in that regard. Most everyone has something to offer if you look hard enough. And given the proper limitations virtually all annoying habits can be overlooked. That being said, I am a very large work in progress.
24. What was the best book you read?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Itunes
26. What did you want and get?

A GPS for Christmas. Yeah! But the best gift was for my birthday from Daddy-O. He gave me a digital picture frame. Awesome. I have everyone I love at their happiest looking at me all day long.
27. What did you want and not get?

A cure for cancer.
28. What was your favorite film of this year?

I suck at getting to watch movies. My favorite and probably only film of the year was Harry Potter.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 41 this year. I had a quiet dinner out with Daddy-O. Nothing spectacular.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

More satisfying. Interesting choice of words. Better is easy. But satisfying... I guess for B to be caught up and reading at grade level after being put on meds and for D to be completely at age-level in all things despite his disability. A normal, whatever that is, family.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?

Buy whatever fits now... then buy what makes me look best... Now buy what makes me look hot. ;-)
32. What kept you sane?

Alchohol. Ha! Mama C and my Mother.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Josh Lucas
34. What political issue stirred you the most?

Presidential election
35. Who did you miss?
The Pre-cancer Me
36. Who was the best new person you met?

If we're talking physically met it would have to be Susan. But if I just count great new friends it's a three-way tie between Susan, Kim and Sarah . All three have had dramatic influence on my life this year.
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007

Life is what you make it.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
I suck at song lyrics. I'll just blurt one out a few posts from now and you'll just have to know it's the answer to this question.

Thanks for playing. Have a happy new year everyone!!!!

Fact or fiction?

Thanks for the nice comments about my last post. You know. That particular memory of the Christmas tree delivered by Santa is one of the strongest from my childhood. And one of the warmest. I clearly remember hearing the sleigh bells, trying to push my way around the tree to get a glimpse at the fleeing red coat, feeling the prick of the pine needles and the unbelievable thrill in a pre-Christmas visit from Santa himself. It made my Christmas. It cemented my Belief for a lifetime. Other details of the day are fuzzy but have become clearer in my minds eye through the many, many retellings.

My mom read my blog last night. Low and behold, many details of that day were fuzzy it seems. For instance, I was 4 not 7. It was in Los Angeles before we moved up north and there was neither snow nor reindeer and sleigh tracks. However, the rest was pretty accurate. It seems I've merged several memories together into one. I hate it when that happens.

Does this ever happen to you? What do you do when presented with evidence contrary to a childhood memory? I'm not talking things like DNA proof here. That stuff is important. But stories handed down from adults to children, told and retold? Or your own stories you've told from your child's-eye view only to find the adult-eye view made the story completely different? Do you abandon your long-held, often retold story in favor of the historically accurate version? Or do you stick with the original telling, facts be damned?

Oh look! There's my luggage!

Did you know that suicide is a federal offense? Of course, it's only prosecuted if you fail in your attempt. So I suppose, only Attempted Suicide is illegal. I'm not really sure what the rationale behind that law actually is but it exists nonetheless.

Following that line of reasoning, if one attempts to kill a fetus (assuming it was after the first trimester), not once but twice, and fails, is that Attempted Murder? Or at least Assault or Child Abuse? I ask this in search of genuine understanding and not to drudge up some pro-life vs. pro-choice debate. (Frankly I waffle on the whole life vs. choice topic entirely too much to take sides. My inner debate can be summed up quickly like this: I am a Christian who believes life begins at conception, yet I have a uterus that is unequivocally mine, mine, mine, all mine and no one should tell me what to do with it.)

This morning I log on to my PC to find what, I'm sure, CBS thought was a nice warm-fuzzy story about the miracle of life against all odds. What I read, however, was almost horrifying. Parents carrying identical twins tried unsuccessfully twice to terminate one of the twins thinking he might die and take the other with him. Yet both survived and are healthy 7 month olds today. Obviously the doctors were very, very wrong. Obviously, the "failing" baby was not as bad off as the learned physicians thought. And twice? They didn't have time to re-think the thing after the first botched attempt?

This makes me question things. Things I'm not comfortable questioning. Creeeaaak! Did you hear that? It was the closet door opening. The closet that houses all my baggage.

Years ago I had a miscarriage - a "missed abortion" at 11.5 weeks. They did a D&C. It was very hard on me and I fell into a depression for months. Shortly after that I got pregnant again only to find that it was a tubal pregnancy when my fallopian tube ruptured on my way to the ER. Because of this ectopic pregnancy I began posting to an online board in search of information. One of the wonderful women I met on this board had a pregnancy after we met in which her doctors told her there was no heartbeat in the baby. They called it a "missed abortion" and scheduled her for a D&C. For some reason she insisted on an ultrasound just before the procedure. And right there on the monitor was the strongest little heartbeat you'd ever care to see. Well, obviously she did not have the procedure and she delivered a very healthy little girl. All's well that ends well, right? Right. Except that I can't even think about the fact that I didn't ask for an ultrasound before my D&C.

So can we trust doctors? Just how much practice is involved in practicing medicine?

I am very interested in everyone's opinions.