tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825500448879451672024-03-27T13:58:13.179-07:00older not wiserOlder not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.comBlogger1107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-79982249230617263582024-03-27T13:57:00.000-07:002024-03-27T13:57:22.496-07:00How did we get here?<p> We're looking at doing chemo #6 on Tuesday. More than half way to the scans. His ca numbers have dropped from 9000 to around 500. Still way to high but chemo is doing something. His hair is thinning but it's still there. Mine is thinning too. The dogs seldom leave his side and are extremely protective. I try to make it from day to day. I have a little notebook that I write down things I need to do each day beyond the ordinary get dressed, brush hair and teeth. I seldom get everything done, but scratching something off the list gives me an insane amount of pleasure. This weekend will mark the anniversary of Chris' death and I hope we can celebrate Chris. I don't want to see him hurt anymore. He's had more than enough. Chris certainly gave us lots to laugh about. He called Buckeyees the gas station on Crack. I know he misses him. We all do. It will be a good reminder to celebrate what you have left because no one is promised tomorrow.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-25574373337593030542024-03-07T22:30:00.000-08:002024-03-07T22:30:00.125-08:0032 and you (Lauren)<p> I can't believe you're turning 32. Words can't tell you how much I love you or how proud I am of you. Sure I'm proud of your accomplishments , but I'm really proud of you. Not the things but what's in your heart. I wish more people in this world loved the way you do. Completely. Passionately. From the inside out with everything. It doesn't seem to matter how many times you get knocked down or dealt a losing hand. You always come back stronger and better not bitter. I almost wish you knew how to hate, but you don't. It's funny to see you try but it's just not in your genetic makeup. You're the kind of person that I've always wanted to be. You give so much of yourself to others. As a recipient, I want to thank you for the love and strength you've given me. I hope your Birthday is truly exceptional like you. I'll always love you more.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQzpoV0w40I0ej02vV3SsSaI2RPL5xO2Q9XkJVni84E9BpGCfWmJkXUHCPwR2b-4h-G0kRtdr3lgSbm-EpcyqO46PgFwSENTXDlDP_mN2JqJpVkyG3yuwHc75U8fs8f4tpNduFAd8WDcMAL4nO6YxdMyanS8phBTvFuMkpqs_Wo4iN5e9cWoLl_J1eVjY/s1440/FB_IMG_1709584225134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQzpoV0w40I0ej02vV3SsSaI2RPL5xO2Q9XkJVni84E9BpGCfWmJkXUHCPwR2b-4h-G0kRtdr3lgSbm-EpcyqO46PgFwSENTXDlDP_mN2JqJpVkyG3yuwHc75U8fs8f4tpNduFAd8WDcMAL4nO6YxdMyanS8phBTvFuMkpqs_Wo4iN5e9cWoLl_J1eVjY/s320/FB_IMG_1709584225134.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-14840653407391323012024-02-26T12:15:00.000-08:002024-02-26T12:15:13.151-08:00I can't/don't want to/ will<p> Sometimes I feel like I just can't. I can't take care of everything the way it needs to be taken care of. I never learned to use a tractor. We've always joked about my inability to start a fire. Draco scares the crap out of me (bearded dragons aren't cuddly or cute). I can lift a feed sack, but don't ask me to walk with it. I never thought I could deal with vomit on an almost daily basis, but I can. I don't want to but I can. I can even go a little further and disinfect so there's no lingering germs. I hate the smell of banana pudding but if that's what he wants, I'll make it. I may have to go outside while he eats it, but you do what you have to do. This morning, there was a problem with his ostomy bag. I cleaned him up in record time. He had to ask me to put his socks on and I felt like such a bitch. I know it hurts for him to bend over. I hate that he had to ask. I should have remembered. I made it work on time and just celebrating that fact made me angry. Work can wait. Everything can wait. Being there when someone needs you that's worth celebrating.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-3031545355354757412024-02-21T06:38:00.000-08:002024-02-21T06:38:35.186-08:00Chemo #3<p> Chemo #3 was delayed due to white blood cell count being off. That might have been a good thing. It gave him extra time to recover and gain some strength. Gained a whole two pounds too. Some days, I had my Dwight back. The one that laughed and joked with me. He could tell that I had washed my car because my Crack was clean. Guess you had to be there. It was so good to hear that old belly laugh. It's good too to see him making plans for the future. His future. Things he wants to do and see happen. They say we're in a false spring now. I hope not. He needs to feel the sun and experience the sunshine. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-25855540297532415272024-02-14T17:06:00.000-08:002024-02-14T17:06:47.161-08:00Love<p> There was a time when I thought I knew what love was, but as you get older you learn a little bit more and become just a little bit wiser. I still believe love is knowing just how your partner likes their coffee and the best time to give that cup. I know it's giving a much needed hug without any words being said. It's making some else's dreams come true and giving them a reason to smile. But it's so much more....</p><p>It's staring death in the face and being strong for those that need you. It's fighting for a little more time to let them accept your leaving. It's not giving up when you're in so much pain. It's putting on a brave face when you're afraid and don't have the answers. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-59660247905960741322024-02-08T14:16:00.000-08:002024-02-08T14:16:28.152-08:00Chemo week 2<p> I wish I could say this round has been easier, but it's not. We're learning to adjust. Dwight knows just a little bit ahead of time that he will be sick. I'm more concentrated on keeping up with antinausea meds. He's been able to keep a little more down and I pray that he hasn't lost more weight. I have to go and buy him smaller sweat pants today. I think I'm getting a little more sleep but I'm not sure. I miss my husband that was so strong and capable of anything (other than spelling) but I think I'm getting stronger. Not by choice. I wish I knew what the future holds for us and rejoice in the fact that there is one. I know I'll always want one more day. I admire those that have taken this journey before me...Karon, Jay, and Rhonda they are truly an inspiration and their kindness has meant so much. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-14522358676086719202024-01-24T09:08:00.000-08:002024-01-24T09:08:38.502-08:00Chemo week1<p> Well we're officially over week one of chemo. I mean really over it. The first four days were almost good. Dwight slept almost around the clock, but he could eat small quantities and keep the food down. Good times. About day five, the nausea started and it hasn't stopped. I've never seen someone that can't even keep water down. His poor throat is so sore, he speaks in a whisper. I've taken a firmer stance on the anti nausea meds and I'm trying to keep him medicated around the clock, but he's a stubborn man. I know I should push nutritious food, but I'm pushing calories. Quantity over quality. He's admitted that he's too weak to drive and I'm proud of him for acknowledging that before having an accident. It takes strength to acknowledge your weakness. I marvel at how strong he is and wish I could be as strong as him. Not only do I get to wash his hair(yes it's still there) but now I get to shave him. This brings us closer and he laughs at how scared I am of cutting him. I think he jumps to see me jump more. So not funny. Then he tells me "Don't worry, you won't kill me". Again not funny, but I love him anyway. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-7906328910742974992024-01-08T10:56:00.000-08:002024-01-08T10:56:05.043-08:00For better. For worse<p> I remember saying the words for better, for worse and in sickness and in health. I don't ever remember being so afraid and so utterly unprepared. I wake up in the morning and immediately look for my husband. Sometimes he's right beside me. Sometimes he's in his recliner or on the couch. Other times he's in one of the spare beds but I have found him on the front porch-you just never know. After I find him. I check his breathing and then his temperature. If my hand on his forehead wakes him up, I ask if he needs anything. Then I take care of his urinal and any signs of vomiting. This would be the " in sickness " part and for a person that doesn't have the nursing gene so prevalent in our family, I'm doing pretty well. I've flushed a drain. Cleaned a port. Changed a bag. Lots of cleaning. Lots of sanitizing. Then I start my coffee and feed the animals. Then I can fix my husband breakfast if his stomach is cooperative. Next I head to work and try to schedule my check up calls around naps. I can handle this. I know I can. I can't watch him in pain. I can't watch the light go out of his eyes. I can't make this terrible disease go away, but I can live to see him smile. The smiles are so few, but they happen. I can show him how much I love him. I can make him proud of me til death do us part.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-80002439345526802652023-12-31T13:07:00.000-08:002023-12-31T13:07:18.470-08:00Good bye 2023<p> 2023 the year Parker and David turned one. The year of the Virgin Island vacation. The year of loofah sponges and fishing trips. The year we lost our son Chris and found out Dwight has terminal cancer. 2024 will be a different year.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-90619847287296672142023-12-22T08:49:00.000-08:002023-12-22T08:49:08.461-08:00Where are you Christmas <p> For many, many years my favorite Christmas song has been Mary, did you know? I will always love that song but this year " Where are you Christmas " has been my song. Here are the lyrics:</p><p>Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you?</p><p>Why have you gone away?</p><p>Where is the laughter you used to bring me? Why can't I hear music play?</p><p>My world is changing.I'm rearranging. Does that mean Christmas changes too?</p><p>Where are you Christmas? Do you remember the one you used to know? I'm not the same one, see what time's done? Is that why you have let me go?</p><p>Christmas is here. Everywhere, oh. Christmas is here. If you care, oh.</p><p>If there is love in your heart and your mind, you will feel like Christmas all the time</p><p>I feel you Christmas, I know I've found you. You never fade away. The joy of Christmas stays here inside us. Fills each and every heart with love</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-12811154359736741182023-12-14T07:02:00.000-08:002023-12-14T07:02:26.009-08:00Incurable<p> Incurable cancer. The doctor said the words out loud and made sure that we knew what that meant. That makes it real. Every thing has changed and I hope our experience can teach others. Little arguments are things of the past. We don't have time for such pettiness and it won't matter in the long run. I wake up each day trying to think of something to make my husband smile or feel better. This is probably something I should have been doing all along. Messes? Who gives a duck? As long as things are sanitary. It'll be ok. Each day is a gift. Things don't have to be perfect to be special. I can laugh at the sound his bag makes and make him laugh with me. Laughter is a sound that is better than gold. More precious in my world. He hates depending on me, but maybe I should tell him how much I love, love washing his hair. I wish I had washed his hair long ago. I appreciate everything thing he does and I try to tell him thanks. This too should have happened a long time ago. I don't feel like we've wasted time, but I think we're just going to focus on what's important.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-71744317271514982622023-12-11T07:22:00.000-08:002023-12-11T07:22:42.247-08:00Day Christmas 2023<p> Another Christmas Party with Dwight's family. So glad we went and that there were smiles to be had.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRV3niXvFxkeTLVQGVGJYTygnUzM6vKSUwsfwLK7EVKOWaB275vMU_GMH6i4GRIEN0kUPD8lAVV0w7CaEEXmdLjjIiBnqzBMeWVciqlst-dCDKJZCb29AifN7QyD3HNTFKKZtFJOLwHzFBWJgrwuPuGY4e5SGX3BaNeCM0qFoEFdfVKJa5UvgyTm9sLFVX/s4032/20231209_193321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRV3niXvFxkeTLVQGVGJYTygnUzM6vKSUwsfwLK7EVKOWaB275vMU_GMH6i4GRIEN0kUPD8lAVV0w7CaEEXmdLjjIiBnqzBMeWVciqlst-dCDKJZCb29AifN7QyD3HNTFKKZtFJOLwHzFBWJgrwuPuGY4e5SGX3BaNeCM0qFoEFdfVKJa5UvgyTm9sLFVX/s320/20231209_193321.jpg" width="320" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH55UoMOA2Sa94LbbcRq0lJNhQ97M4l_ZD77e0F9NfQKMJdbpPIY9mVw4u4vAHDodp5GNC1mNWWukFvVjZvglTFtsIw3Txx2eXPQjDIPZIsyiCAvU4-1IOGwOu84giCjja5Dlm1yQwdc7eBZURiObuTO5-TUxB25SwIxB6uzw8GwxmPwaqZgbmuWBjvBLH/s2374/IMG_20231209_184749_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2374" data-original-width="2374" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH55UoMOA2Sa94LbbcRq0lJNhQ97M4l_ZD77e0F9NfQKMJdbpPIY9mVw4u4vAHDodp5GNC1mNWWukFvVjZvglTFtsIw3Txx2eXPQjDIPZIsyiCAvU4-1IOGwOu84giCjja5Dlm1yQwdc7eBZURiObuTO5-TUxB25SwIxB6uzw8GwxmPwaqZgbmuWBjvBLH/s320/IMG_20231209_184749_500.jpg" width="320" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYPF9svIO1UhBuxatemIZi7ecFB6PsFC6XjiyFXkNZx8TkQpYXez8qYbt2QFZf_VT1i1t5GYLY_c0SxYzDhkWHZ_rtZr1PyTZEyngFTLopLcpNswBKe3OKW5nZPwkAtfHmAGpTeYFS5pZCbRJ7vx-2CTIghU1yy24picHYBTTvR_O6S7T_iDwfIe0Zl_o/s4032/20231209_171634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMYPF9svIO1UhBuxatemIZi7ecFB6PsFC6XjiyFXkNZx8TkQpYXez8qYbt2QFZf_VT1i1t5GYLY_c0SxYzDhkWHZ_rtZr1PyTZEyngFTLopLcpNswBKe3OKW5nZPwkAtfHmAGpTeYFS5pZCbRJ7vx-2CTIghU1yy24picHYBTTvR_O6S7T_iDwfIe0Zl_o/s320/20231209_171634.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><br /></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVEq4FnxSYIIb5SCDW3wMuwOwsSOWsTXBAMvcEM_vI1pRQf8Rebuqr96BCi7nN99ES8aDJG-M03Ui6aRwYpkpqOJ5QLuC2PS64TtDk6wvosT1WDJ7B_0NqEQfNs8HrABfWwmDNFyhlLzPBoTtLZ7etnt3ru3HwbfAT6GNNBzO0fDPrUWoKYtOafOXO-X_/s4032/20231209_192114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVEq4FnxSYIIb5SCDW3wMuwOwsSOWsTXBAMvcEM_vI1pRQf8Rebuqr96BCi7nN99ES8aDJG-M03Ui6aRwYpkpqOJ5QLuC2PS64TtDk6wvosT1WDJ7B_0NqEQfNs8HrABfWwmDNFyhlLzPBoTtLZ7etnt3ru3HwbfAT6GNNBzO0fDPrUWoKYtOafOXO-X_/s320/20231209_192114.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>And the reason behind the party.Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-14747930647752164772023-12-03T15:50:00.000-08:002023-12-03T15:50:48.293-08:00Crying <p> I look at the calendar and it says it's December 3rd. I think back and I'm trying to remember the last day that I haven't cried. I cry because I'm scared of the unknown. I cry to see someone I love hurting so much. It's a wonder I still have tears left. I wonder how many tears the human body is capable of producing. I cry myself to sleep wondering if I'll see the rise and fall of his chest when I wake up. Then I cry tears of relief. I make no apologies. I've always worn my heart on my sleeve. Sometimes your body needs to cry and I certainly recommend crying over kicking a door. Doors hurt. Sometimes I cry because people are so kind, so caring, and thoughtful. These tears won't stop no matter how hard I command them to cease. But having so many people lifting you up when life is being so unfair is a good reason to cry. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-84393200261109819662023-11-30T16:29:00.000-08:002023-11-30T16:29:38.499-08:00Just Once<p> Just once this year I want to hear some really good news. I am so damn tired of trying to stay positive only to hear more bad news. It feels like someone is kicking your feet out from underneath you when you're struggling to stand anyway. I watch one of the strongest men I know struggle. He's learning to live with a bag. Trying to keep his strength up and his food down. I was hoping the doctor could tell us that it wasn't as bad as he thought, but that didn't happen. He couldn't tell us anything we wanted to hear. I'm trying to keep Dwight's spirits up, but he's tired and weak. I can only hope and pray.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-20384853092140449242023-11-20T07:33:00.000-08:002023-11-20T07:33:20.209-08:00Leaves<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B6ZdT8SVkviKqnNBOQgPzR3xZuUpUx4965xdGf1DeFDPXyPaCMf3IZ6vMHECZutTFRRvx-s9J9WWTdyjsbwThy_2Pkj4XuscrrRavor6tBWwYm0cxgXEhkHvt3ywya37eLoOQggqT_I-cEvNYaAW5Hlc_kx6iWIAOnydDU9w1taQtKLr6N72oEKNz02b/s4032/20231119_123722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4B6ZdT8SVkviKqnNBOQgPzR3xZuUpUx4965xdGf1DeFDPXyPaCMf3IZ6vMHECZutTFRRvx-s9J9WWTdyjsbwThy_2Pkj4XuscrrRavor6tBWwYm0cxgXEhkHvt3ywya37eLoOQggqT_I-cEvNYaAW5Hlc_kx6iWIAOnydDU9w1taQtKLr6N72oEKNz02b/s320/20231119_123722.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Had a lot of fun playing in a pile of leaves. I almost didn't do it. I wasn't dressed. Had no make up. It had been cold and cloudy that morning, but the sun broke through. The temperature warmed up. It didn't really matter what I was wearing. It felt good to laugh, to smell the leaves, to feel the warmth of the sunshine, and hear others laughing too.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRK-sWClCsGdBoxLOIjjwT0Fls2GFgDwUFq-qgLNzemU3sWQrGEixQYgIsjPpP3PuQbjAtIbzwTbci2rzhBhwGESMUkVfByIezwER8Y-LQBOEa1N3PyyrTL78alZ5dXsw8DQFYjYkf8QwUQbHZuMHpx0wXhPS7cD-1h7OQJA3faRRL6fFVDu3GOOfuuArL/s4032/20231119_123432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRK-sWClCsGdBoxLOIjjwT0Fls2GFgDwUFq-qgLNzemU3sWQrGEixQYgIsjPpP3PuQbjAtIbzwTbci2rzhBhwGESMUkVfByIezwER8Y-LQBOEa1N3PyyrTL78alZ5dXsw8DQFYjYkf8QwUQbHZuMHpx0wXhPS7cD-1h7OQJA3faRRL6fFVDu3GOOfuuArL/s320/20231119_123432.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-28791223815574435892023-11-08T13:14:00.002-08:002023-11-08T13:14:30.951-08:00How are you?<p> Such an innocent question and I wonder if I should answer honestly. Most of the time, I just reply that I'm taking it day by day and I am. I can't tell you what day it is unless I look at the appointments on the calendar or my daily pill pack but I'm going through the motions. Do you see the dark circles under my eyes? My sleep comes sparingly. I watch mu husband breathe and if I wake up I have to watch the rise and fall of his chest before I can sleep again. His breathing is the first thing I look for in the morning then I hit the coffee and hope for the best. I try to find things for him to do so he feels needed. Things that won't zap his strength but need to be done. I try to keep our conversation light and positive, but under the cover of darkness we talk about things that I don't want to even think about. I tell myself that trying to prepare isn't giving up, but it feels like it is. How am I? I'm hanging on and praying for a miracle. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-36648739457379461712023-10-30T17:11:00.000-07:002023-10-30T17:11:28.207-07:00I don't know how<p> I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to act when my world has been turned upside down. I don't know what to say. Most times I'm doing good to respond in a coherent manner. I'm taking it one day at a time and I wonder if that's good enough. How am I supposed to be positive when I want to scream or break down and let it all out. I've got to be quiet about it because Dwight doesn't need another thing on his mind. He's being so strong and I envy his strength as I pray for more strength. More everything. More time. More patience. More grace. More knowledge. I don't even know what I need anymore. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-34140624459973821482023-10-24T18:57:00.003-07:002023-10-24T18:57:42.260-07:00Cancer day two<p> How do you live knowing that nothing is for certain? You can try your best. Do everything right but the result is something you have no control over. I wonder what it's like not to have hope. I wouldn't know. I have so much of it. Faith? I continually ask people to pray. I believe more is better. Being on my knees helps me see clearer, but I still don't know the right way, the best choices. I do know that I am loved. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-26819300458224634212023-10-23T07:03:00.002-07:002023-10-23T07:03:38.914-07:00A new day<p> Today's a new day. We start a life with stage four cancer knowing that it is fatal and not knowing how much time is left. No longer putting off things for someday. No longer leaving things left unsaid. Not taking one damn thing for granted and fighting like the devil to see more sunsets and sunrises together. We're strong and we have so many people supporting us and we'll need them. This is hard and I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. Someday we laugh telling people how Dwight inserted his own gi tube.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-82797127237402660042023-10-21T21:41:00.000-07:002023-10-21T21:41:00.892-07:00Snoring<p> I don't know how many times I've watched my husband snore way into the night. To be honest, sometimes my thoughts were anything but pleasant. Tonight we got the news that his cancer is back and it's spread. I'm staring into the night again and I wonder how long I will be privileged enough to watch him sleep. That once annoying sound has become the sweetest sound on earth. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-63448446066852872412023-10-21T19:58:00.002-07:002023-10-21T19:58:38.262-07:00Cancer is a bitch<p> Cancer is a bitch. The most hateful, inconsiderate bitch. I hate it. I hate what it does. I hate who it affects. </p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-42904377366385476292023-10-09T07:19:00.000-07:002023-10-09T07:19:12.883-07:00So sweet<p> It might have been the donuts talking, but David was walking towards his Aunt Lauren and she asked him if he wanted her to pick him up and he said "No, Granny". I think I was high the rest of the weekend and it wasn't a sugar rush. It sure was sweet though.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh511bX3W7bLveFlpuytduFFHNyMIoqmsZNsgVGpykEo_QDXBnmIYLGId0FZbhoXbuBz9XTsYaJ0IpKbK-T2-ZlGy-ootbaI6LPzJ91QzTiLZC9LR3YRDahtEBn1DlN3bm7qMph7ea2ZguEMMlbg3oob0bT3bq9vZoYBocPn6aR0pGvawRweB-LJkfFNJ5Y/s4032/20231008_090650.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh511bX3W7bLveFlpuytduFFHNyMIoqmsZNsgVGpykEo_QDXBnmIYLGId0FZbhoXbuBz9XTsYaJ0IpKbK-T2-ZlGy-ootbaI6LPzJ91QzTiLZC9LR3YRDahtEBn1DlN3bm7qMph7ea2ZguEMMlbg3oob0bT3bq9vZoYBocPn6aR0pGvawRweB-LJkfFNJ5Y/w480-h640/20231008_090650.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-13647514348685415022023-09-25T12:16:00.001-07:002023-09-25T12:16:23.830-07:00Flowers<p> You know, sometimes I'm not a people person, but I'll never not be a flower person. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha10o-vb1KA0W_PWusoQhmKWkb3fDKpalSOqE6zhPnN_vTfmPpPIOh9F6t1DE-1Wygw91DIPVPnVZCTr_leu0AmMOhymBhT6Y1nznPppu6ajzAzkSmh3629BuZAbL4FzN2-GGIR-AYXbDUAff4zuWicDa8_tkCxA8n7R97l5Bd5WR9ed84TWPVelXp-nTd/s4032/20230925_140543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha10o-vb1KA0W_PWusoQhmKWkb3fDKpalSOqE6zhPnN_vTfmPpPIOh9F6t1DE-1Wygw91DIPVPnVZCTr_leu0AmMOhymBhT6Y1nznPppu6ajzAzkSmh3629BuZAbL4FzN2-GGIR-AYXbDUAff4zuWicDa8_tkCxA8n7R97l5Bd5WR9ed84TWPVelXp-nTd/s320/20230925_140543.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmq7Z6z8meuQYM0-7f9FJnqZ9vZSGVh1h0JTf_FmEUwL7ty83Gt4nHtKpHizwY8PDcRSiHiQj9zRAkTMLlUJVea4-ZgRpIf_tWKrxXxQj5KMDC1Mt2cBZdfFfVj6Buq5bxiXxCam5PdA4KIvI76gCac7nS-DA9Mg6_PGt79_j28rTih-p-yiGT9BByMDn/s4032/20230815_064515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHmq7Z6z8meuQYM0-7f9FJnqZ9vZSGVh1h0JTf_FmEUwL7ty83Gt4nHtKpHizwY8PDcRSiHiQj9zRAkTMLlUJVea4-ZgRpIf_tWKrxXxQj5KMDC1Mt2cBZdfFfVj6Buq5bxiXxCam5PdA4KIvI76gCac7nS-DA9Mg6_PGt79_j28rTih-p-yiGT9BByMDn/s320/20230815_064515.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFE_SiN1DF_ANtCGwQ2E_DdaaPiF1zLSUcqg4rmHmuPVKz_eOASqbVyOACr4y1GTHqPTtGr2OY80zFcQU7yWKLcsHXFUiFLAVbl4URACL_rTtMcCJgcEFDIO7Zbwbn7QOLAwiu7Qas0k8PqSJlZKE9ZNucY9S3iqA7dzhlg_LCWf0tLcUfsNOcvU09XJ6k/s4032/20230815_064509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFE_SiN1DF_ANtCGwQ2E_DdaaPiF1zLSUcqg4rmHmuPVKz_eOASqbVyOACr4y1GTHqPTtGr2OY80zFcQU7yWKLcsHXFUiFLAVbl4URACL_rTtMcCJgcEFDIO7Zbwbn7QOLAwiu7Qas0k8PqSJlZKE9ZNucY9S3iqA7dzhlg_LCWf0tLcUfsNOcvU09XJ6k/s320/20230815_064509.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdQS0aJoECFoH8GXyal4IraWD7knxCSWQCXgH9Wj5v927zd0ti13W7DobP5aKqKOq7tzwdKghv85xjAZL56ucdx_91-wmFvJYboGKLxPy6sY7bYiOq46GPzabw_kurJav2a_O-BKPJyczHw3dwvGEcUq02t5g45evMl7etCGsy4TJCiiky6jwEwRvWR0o/s4032/20230815_064502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdQS0aJoECFoH8GXyal4IraWD7knxCSWQCXgH9Wj5v927zd0ti13W7DobP5aKqKOq7tzwdKghv85xjAZL56ucdx_91-wmFvJYboGKLxPy6sY7bYiOq46GPzabw_kurJav2a_O-BKPJyczHw3dwvGEcUq02t5g45evMl7etCGsy4TJCiiky6jwEwRvWR0o/s320/20230815_064502.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-85899837511744816262023-09-18T06:55:00.002-07:002023-09-18T06:55:28.263-07:00The Good Dishes<p> This weekend I bought another set of dishes. They're really old and some parts of the set are collector's items. I love the set, but more importantly I really loved the lady that owned them before me. Dwight's aunt who loved me and treated me as part of the family as soon as she met me. The dishes are the Shawnee corn set with some pieces labeled as McCoy. I scrubbed a lot of dust off them and they're put in safe places, but they'll come out as soon as possible. I want to make my own memories with them. If one should happen to get busted, I hope I can smile about it. I mean I won't be overjoyed, but at least the dish will die in use with loved ones around. Maybe there will be a great story to go with it. I hope that these dishes remind people of the love at our table.</p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2482550044887945167.post-75083830941417365172023-09-14T11:50:00.001-07:002023-09-14T11:50:18.152-07:00A liitle piece of heaven<p> I've got a little piece of heaven right outside my bedroom. It's called the front porch. I go there to think, to plan, to decompress, watch hummingbirds and butterflies, pet dogs,and watch the sun come up and go down.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLl80b2pZfBuE_m9QwOl_5f6QihSwm65Fqkg85NHVfsYinqhZFryRN4O2CLf64lwgQZLI0DcXm9cfsXFT_jEpHs2AFThj8_ABP7I1VaAxRG5dqKMEzzQ__5_kQH6NrYR1waTsxV0mDf-KQEuiArfR3c3iUkOt73rez1Ok3GOw88J_lo3pG8rJRxYRFKMx/s4032/20230821_182825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRLl80b2pZfBuE_m9QwOl_5f6QihSwm65Fqkg85NHVfsYinqhZFryRN4O2CLf64lwgQZLI0DcXm9cfsXFT_jEpHs2AFThj8_ABP7I1VaAxRG5dqKMEzzQ__5_kQH6NrYR1waTsxV0mDf-KQEuiArfR3c3iUkOt73rez1Ok3GOw88J_lo3pG8rJRxYRFKMx/s320/20230821_182825.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Older not wiserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04813175515753433254noreply@blogger.com0