We Need a Couple More Pictures...

These are not the words you want to hear when you're back for the first mammogram since the big C was discovered.  And yet they are the words I would hear yesterday morning.  I'm sure you can imagine what kinds of ideas are sprouting in the mind at this point.  

"Let me show you the area we are looking at. There's just a small spot here we need to get a better image of."  Says the sweet nurse. "Hopefully it's just scar tissue from your incision."  

My mind wants to run wild down a dark alley and get lost amidst the dumpsters filled with anguish and fear... But I won't let it. 

This is the day that the Lord has made and I will choose to rejoice and be glad in it.

Yah, hopefully that's all it is...  But what if it's not.   I've been going through chemo for the past 9 months, had seven weeks of radiation and have started the hormone blockers (Tamoxifen ).  My body is not my own and feels anything but normal. It's a constant adjustment for the mind to wrap around the new warped version of reality.  It seems each day something new or different hurts and really?  Was it all for nothing?  

I'm dieing, it's true. But then again, so are you.  None of us will escape this blatant fact.  The question then is, am I choosing to live?  Have I allowed this to define me? Or is this yet another opportunity to have my character refined?  I think it is precisely that. 

You see, I believe my life clock was set even before I would take a single breath. This has not changed the amount of days, months, or years that my clock holds.  But hopefully this has opened my eyes again to the simple fact that there will be an end at some point.  I am not immortal.  What I do while that clock is still tickin is entirely up to me.  So, (cue the Mission Impossible theme music here) my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to live and to live out loud!   

We took three more pictures yesterday morning.  All three were clear.  The spots are scar tissue and I am thankful. After relaxing over a cup or two of coffee and chatting with a friend, I went to art class. We were working on incorporating the style of an artist named Britton.  He himself, was inspired by Picasso.  I must have had a song in my heart as this was what came out as I painted my own interpretation of the assignment. 

Always A Mom

Several months ago I was set upon an unexpected path.  A path with dark corners, unexpected information and surprisingly still waters.  But I was not asked to do this journey alone.  My children of course had no choice, but my mom did.  She came out before the first surgery and has been here ever since.  She has done the dishes, our laundry ( which is a boat load), and dug up my gardens faithfully. She has gleaned when I couldn't, cleaned when I didn't feel like it and massaged many a tense muscle.   She has shown us 30-50 something moms that the job doesn't end just cause your kids are grown.  She has become "gramma Jan" to all the teens, preteens and post teens that bless this home increasing her legacy once again.  And all the while faithfully prayed for ALL of us... You pre, post and current teens included. 

She has occasionally bleached our darks, soaked my counters and burnt our food and for these memories we are eternally grateful!  Your laughter on game night will be missed. Your generosity of time, money and love will always be appreciated and hopefully paid forward because of the example you displayed. Your ability to find the thrift store bargain will be carried on and we will make you proud. We know you'll be back, (because now you are leaving 2 cars behind instead of 1), but for now we say goodbye and thank you. There aren't enough words to express my gratitude.  I am so thankful for you... All 11 days of November worth and then some.

  I love you mom!

Comment if you want to add in your fun, funny or great memories with gramma Jan!