IT'S ALL ABOUT SHARING

Last night I went to the symphony. Bill and I used to go to the symphony and it is rather difficult to go alone now. It was brought so poignantly to my attention last night as the senior (and I use the word senior to show that they were not what I consider old) couple I was sitting next to were holding hands to share the feelings that the music was sending to their souls. Bill and I used to do that. I almost grabbed this guy’s other hand to see if it would help my lost feeling. A tiny example of the things that bind people together.


It is called sharing. The sharing of life’s experiences over a long period of time cements a couple together that man cannot break asunder. As I look back more and more these past few months, I am remembering events, problems, joys---all becoming more vivid as time goes on.


The early years where we had a long honeymoon as Bill was teaching 100 miles away and came to me only on weekends. The time I told him of my becoming pregnant with our first child. Those early months with the first child when we were up all night trying to feed him. We were so woefully inexperienced taking one and one-half hours to get 3 oz. down him with a nipple hole so small the poor kid was sucking and sucking and not getting much. By the time he finished one feeding, soon it was time for another and we thought it had to be warm and Bill kept running to the kitchen to heat it up and I kept feeding it to him. Finally I burnt a needle and made a bigger hole and that problem was solved. Sounds so simple now but we were so afraid to make a mistake then. The book (Dr. Spock) said not to feed him too fast because then he would get colic.

All of the four children’s triumphs and failures. The decisions for running for election and the triumphant run for the Clerk of Court. The decision to go for the Judicial Administrator’s degree and the move to Denver. The loss of a job in Michigan later and his departure for Iowa for two years while we stayed in Michigan. Back to weekends again. The triumphant landing of the position in Wisconsin with his choice of three cities. Feast and famine.


The physical trials of all three boys with hernia surgeries at 7 weeks, 9 weeks and 12 weeks. The first, misdiagnosed and just being saved by calling in a new surgeon and only a few minutes. The teenage trials with scoliosis, one wearing a brace, and one having spinal surgery. Me with breast cancer and nose cancer and lung biopsy and another breast cancer and Bill with hiatal hernia surgery a few weeks after a move to Wisconsin where the doc I just met told me he had a 10% chance of living through it. Then this surgery having to be done over at the Mayo Clinic when the stitches all started to come out. And a lot more but all blessed with full recoveries. We went through it all. Sharing.


Hang in there, folks, through the good and the bad. It will be worth it in the end. Though he is gone, I have great memories and lots of them from a long life together. How I wish he were still here, but well and himself again!

The C Word - Hope, and Fun

In l990 the United States invaded Iraq and that same year I first heard the big C word and was diagnosed with breast cancer. In 2003 we invaded Iraq again, and I had my second breast removed. We shall never invade Iraq again (if we ever get out of there) because I have no more breasts to give to my country.

My heart bleeds for every woman who hears the word breast cancer as her diagnosis. I have often felt the very air which we breathed full of fear and foreboding while sitting in my blue gown at the Mayo Clinic, together with 6 or 7 others waiting for the results or to go in for our mammograms. One time I looked and counted. Every woman’s left foot was jiggling with nerves and we were all united together.

But I am one of the blessed ones. At the present time, my cancer is in remission. I long to help others when they hear the same news, but so far my help has only been monetary and joining in the walks for cancer.

In Green Bay we have the 10K Bellin Run. I participated in 2003 with 15,000 others. I began with the crowd and was going along with a guy on crutches and a wheelchair alongside pushed by his buddies. Soon he tired and got in the wheel chair and off they went.

I walked alone down Webster Avenue, me with my number plastered onto my front. The street had been shut off to traffic, but when a Buick almost kicked me in the butt, I took to the sidewalk until I approached the turn on Green Avenue. This road is all downhill and I saw way ahead of me the wheelchair flying in the wind and the buddies running alongside it.

People were all along the race route and clapping as I went by. I felt very embarrassed until I heard one person say,”Now this is what this race is all about.” I raised my hand in greeting and plunged on. I quit at the half-way point.

In 2007 I thought I should try it again. This time I played it smarter and lined myself up at the head of the walkers, just behind the runners. I figured I had a better chance of having some company for a little while longer on the trail. I did for about the first mile, and then it petered out and I was walking alone again. At the way stations offering water they all looked behind to see if I really was the last one and I told them to never mind—I really was.

The hardest part of this walk was all the police attention I received. First one squad car came and asked me if I was okay and I said "Sure." He continued to follow me just to see. Pretty soon he got bored as I was still upright and drove off. This happened 4 times. I really don’t know if they were that concerned about me or if the people at the stations wanted to go home. I told the last cop that I wanted to get to the halfway point to ping the binger and so when I got there, lo and behold, of course he was there waiting for me. I really wasn’t tired yet and wanted to go on, but I figured I had better get in as he had been waiting for me and spent so much time on me.

I would like to counsel women who get this news, and yet I don’t feel I can because I was lucky enough to have caught both my cancers before I had to have chemotherapy. I think the thought of chemo scares me more than the cancer so I feel I have no right to counsel anyone. I’d like to tell them that mammography really does save your life and that early detection is vital and if anyone is out there now with this facing them---remember there are many, many survivors nowadays.

And actually it is rather cool not having to wear a bra -- ever.