debutaunt.com

Bring on the Birthday Muffins

Longest. Post. Ever.

Today is my one year birthday.

Here is my Oscar / Transplant speech.

Thank you God for another year. I know You like me. You're a good egg. Thank you.

Thank you Bro #1 for your cells. I love you. I can never repay you. But I will buy you a lemon merengue pie when I see you next. If I ever win the lottery, or if someone is generous enough, I'm going to buy you a new car. I'm so not kidding. I wish I could buy you a car right now. You saved my life. How do you repay someone for that?

Big thanks to my family. Momo, Papa, Sis' #1, 2 and 3 and Bros #1, 2, and 3. My squirlley neices and nephews, and my extended family all over the US. I literally cannot imagine that I would be here without you. When I needed support, you were there. When I needed love, you were there. And when I needed a kick in the butt, y'all were there. From Taco Cabana and chicken soup to Star and People magazines. Tickle bears. Watching my daughter and taking care of my bills, taking care of me, and such. They are the best. Really. I am so lucky. So blessed. I love love love you.

I would do anything for any one of them. Zoe is an only child, but she has several half siblings and a big extended family. To know you are so loved is the best thing in the world. Especially when you are ill and feeling punk. When you know this, everything else is secondary. You can be having a painful test, but then you think about what is important and why you need to fight and live, well, it was always like I knew I had to do this. I knew I could do this. And I will continue to do so with every breathe in my body.

And then there is Monkey Boy. It didn't work out, but he was my rock. I laughed every day. Even on my sickest of sick days. You gave me hope and faith and reminded me that this was a marathon, not a sprint. We both moved on, but he still has a special place in my heart. He always will. I love you, MB.

Friends. They really were my team. Meerkat, GJulie, Paige, D1, Dave, KK, TxTodd, Shoshie, Ctal and my HC & IRC folks. My supper club and bunko folks. My Sis #1's bored board folks. I love them like family. Even though I didn't get to see them as often as I wanted to, I knew they were there. Right by my side. I had love. And toys. And books. And movies. And Starbucks. And iPods. Joy.

And you. My internets. On the days that I would be barfing or crying or in pain, I always had your comments to cheer me up. I know lots of you lurk, but comments were like my lifeline to normality. So many new friends and some old ones I haven't seen in a while (Cami from SC & my MN cousins now all over the place). Thank God for you. I thank God for you all. So much blove. When you have cancer, it consumes you. You see misery and pain. But you all brought me hope. You all brought me love. And laughter. You all helped me know that I could do this.

To the many friends that have had loved ones pass on this year. You are yet another reason why I will fight. Why I will survive. And why I will remain tireless in my mission to find a cure. Fuck cancer. You are evil and take people from us. You are going down. For Sarah and her SWLF, Nikki, Amanda's lovely Eric, Clem, Ashley, Paula, Kadin, David, Joseph, Harriet, - I know there are many many more. I will fight and be strong. I will fundraise. I will spread the word.

To my doctors and nurses and medical team (hi Nurse Vicki) - both in Houston at MD Anderson and at Methodist in San Antonio. You all not only have a ticket to heaven, but a backstage pass as well. You saved my life. You continue to care for me. I pray for your knowledge. Your strength. You help me endure. You make me feel safe. My lovey nurses and pharmacists. You all are some of the most important members of my team. I am forever grateful for your care.

To my meds. I love and hate you. Thank you to those who went before me that made this much easier. Thank you to those pharmacedical companies that everyone hates. Thank you to the scientists and treatments. I wish there were no need for you, but please keep on helping us. Until the day that this disease no longer exists.

And to those friends of mine who are in the shadow of cancer. May you all continue to fight and be strong. May you have good health and good spirits. I pray for you. I fight for you. I love you. To Von Krankinpants, Linda R, Sylteach, Cody (and momma), Brenda D (girl, do I have to lend you a lung?? fight, Bren, fight!!) To Nick and Rockinrobin and all my many friends and supporters on the LLS forums. We are united in our hatred for cancer. I hate that we know eachother because of it, but I love and appreciate you all.

Finally. To my Zoe. Zoe Katherine Teressa. My heart. My love. My spunky little bike-riding, funny bird talker. You really are my reason for living. You push my buttons. We are birds of a feather. You grow up too fast. But I grew you in my belly and you will always be my squeezer girl. We will get through this. And one day I will see you graduate. Fall in love. Grow old. And we will have laughter and tears and joy. I plan on being around for along while. I love you with every part of my being. You make my life wonderful. You make my life superfantastic. Mommy loves you and is very proud of the lovely funny person you have become. You will always be the Keeper of My Hope. I have loved you from the minute you were born and will love you until the day I die.

Thank you for the many prayers, good vibes, support, gifts, honesty, laughter and love. Blood donations, bone marrow registry - everything. I am so grateful for you.

I can do this. I have you all.

Your assignment for today is to love.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell. ~Edna St. Vincent Millay

Christopher Robin to Pooh:

"Pooh, promise you won't forget about me, ever.
Not even when I'm a hundred." Pooh thought for a little.
"How old shall I be then?" "Ninety-nine."
Pooh nodded. "I promise," he said.

From the Tao of Willie

On happiness: "If you consider all the people you know who seem truly happy, there is likely to be one trait - one essential perspective on life - that each of these happy people share .... It is the word now. It is the understanding that happiness exists at just one time. And that time is now."

Yiddish is, above all, the paradigmatic “Jewish” language -- the insider’s way of communicating to fellow Jews about day-to-day things (talk about God and faith is reserved for Lashon Hakkodesh - the holy tongue of Hebrew). It is at once sarcastic and dark, yet it is ultimately full of vigor, hope, and charm. In it you can hear the pathos of Jewish suffering but also the omnipresent faith that the Jew’s future will triumph in hope.

I have learned two lessons in my life: first, there are no sufficient literary, psychological, or historical answers to human tragedy, only moral ones. Second, just as despair can come to one another only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings. - Elie Wiesel

Birthday Wishes To the Man

Your assignment today is to wish my Debu_Dad a happy and fantastical 71st birthday. I've always thought that we all had done something awesome in a previous life to get blessed with such a great man. He's the best of the best. I have felt loved since the day I was born.

He is 71. In two days I will be 1.

Merry Birthday to us both.

Will write more later. I love you internets. Especially my Shoshie. I love me some Shoshie.

Hi Nurse Vicki. I miss you. Give all my lovey nurses a big squeeze from me.

I am bringing back the Snail Mail

A few years back, Zoe seemed a little down after her father moved to New York. So for her fifth birthday, I sent out a plea for mail addressed to her. We got letters from just about all over the world. She was thrilled to come home every day to mail.

I have sent some of you an email with our address.

Zoe's 7th birthday is coming up on March 20th. I know she would love to get mail, and I also want her to reply back via mail as well so we can practice those skills and her handwriting.

If I didn't get you, and you'd like to send her some mail, please send me an email at debsterc@earthlink.net.

Snail mail is so fun for kids. Everyone likes to get mail, no?

Today is Saturday. It could not be more lovely to be here.

I love it when you call me big poppa

Home. My bed. My jammies. Mom and Dad. And my Zoester.

I don't feel that well. But I'm on the mend.

Zoe nearly knocked me down when she saw that I was home. I told my parents not to let her know I was coming so it would be a surprise (not to mention she would ask them a gazillion times what time I would be there). I just wanted to hold her and not let her go. She couldn't stop smiling.

I watched Zoe ride her bike for about an hour. It was the most perfect day. It was a beautiful day. Little long legs and a pink Hello Kitty helmet. Round and round in the driveway. Then our neighbor's dog Sophie came out and Zoe pet her and scratched her belly for about ten minutes.

It could not have been a more perfect afternoon.

I can do this. I'm home.

No assignment tonight. I'm going to bed.

Home is where the tortillas are

I'm home. Still in Houston at Sis #1s house. But it's home to me.

Is it daylight yet?

I didn't sleep a wink a few nights ago. Doesn't this makes people psychotic?

Today is getting better for me. I have no IV anymore and I got some freedom to go walk down to Starbucks to get my iced latte. I feel better, but I also feel like my breathing is kind of shallow. When I take a deep breath, I have some really bad spaz cough attack. My head feels better; it's got to be the Sixbucks. I sure hope I can get out tomorrow.

I wasn't expecting to be here, so most of the clothes I packed are workout gear. I'm so glad too because there is nothing more comfortable than my yoga pants to be kind of an all around wearable thing. I don't have my straightening iron, so I've been experimenting with new hairdos. I mean, what better time.

Today my hair looks like this:

Catching up on all the endings of the Law and Orders that I missed. I used to fall asleep right when there were only 15 minutes left of like allll the episodes.

Meeting some great patients here. Catching up with many of my former nurses. They usually don't recognize me until I open my big mouth. I feel stronger today with a wee bit more sleep.

Talked with Zoe before school this morning. She still is getting up really early, but then sneaks into bed with my folks. She is, after all, a true snuggle puppy. I told her to have a great day at school today. I'm not sure when I can make it home because I will have to get a bone marrow biopsy before I go to San Antonio. She sounds so cute. I can't wait to hug that girl.

I can do this. I'm wearing my debutaunt shirt today.

Your assignment today is to write someone a letter. I was in the middle of my Valentines and some additional thank yous and Arbonne samples when I had to skidoodle to Houston. I could spend all my time sending stuff. I love to correspond. Send me letters or postcards if you have my address, and I'll write you back. Zoe loves to see all the interesting stamps.

Jailhouse Rock

I'm in the Big House. Aka MD Anderson inpatient care.

Fever on and off and crackly lungs. I'm hopefully going to get out on Tuesday. I am better but I still feel pretty craptastic. I'm trying to pretend I feel good, but I just ... well, don't. Sometimes the congestion and cough are so bad I feel like I'm drowning. I nearly called my sister last night at 11pm to make sure my will is in order. I haven't ever been so consciously or realistically aware that I could die before last night. It really scared the shit out of me. I did call my mom and ask her Dr. Mom advice about bronchitis and that made me feel much better.

So how did this happen?

Wednesday was waiting on my eye doctor in the exam room and I couldn't stop coughing. I hear a nurse ask, "who is that?" They come in my room and check me out. Turns out I also had a low-grade fever. And my entire left leg was numb and I couldn't walk (I think from waiting over 4 hours to see her - although now it's somewhat better & I make myself walk).

[aside] The neurologist said the leg thing was most likely from the diabetes. I've never had anything like that before as it was numb for days. I also suspect that it was caused by the back troubles I have had before. Regardless, I don't want pneumonia, so I get my bootie out of this bed. I worked too hard at my gym to lose the muscle and the cardio to lay still.
[aside over]

So they pop me in a wheelchair and send me to the MD Anderson ER. I'm there for a few hours and they admit me.

It's weird being here again. I'm on my transplant floor (HI NURSE VICKI) I'm so much stronger physically and that makes it easier to deal, but then I cough or have headaches that make me want to rip my head off. And with no central line, I'm getting poked so many times that I'm bruised like a big ol junkie.

I see all the other patients out walking and it reminds me that I have to be strong and kick this stupid setback quickly. Every one of my close homies at MD Anderson didn't make it. I'm not giving in to that. I look at these newbie patients and I know that I've gone from that to this. That I made it through death and back and that compared to what I've been through, this is minor.

But it was the minor stuff that took some of my friends. Wounds that turn into deadly staph infections. Pneumonia. Viral infections. Strep infections. And they all go fast. (It just hurt to type that last sentence) It all starts off minor, but then spirals out of control. It catches everyone by surprise. To live through the hell of a transplant only to succumb to a germ.

I feel strong. I know I can do this. But then I sit here and can hear my lungs crackle with each breath.

I'll write more tomorrow. It's late and I'm wired from these breathing treatments I get, but I know I need to force myself to sleep.

I can do this. I'm too fucking stubborn to die.

Your assignment today... Say hi. Tell me a joke or two. It's lonely here. I really miss my family, but parking here sucks butt, so it's cool to not have a gazillion visitors. And I'll see them soon enough when I get out. Because I *am* getting out.

It's that time again

I miss my Zoe. I can't let myself think about how much I am missing her right now because it makes me ache to see her smoochie face. Prayers and love to Momo G and Papa for taking such lovey good care of her.

Someone is keeping my hope. And I owe her a Valentine's date.

MD of the A

I'm in Houston for my one year checkup.

I'm a mess.

I have bronchitis.
I have an ear infection.
I have a sinus infection.
And a broken toe.

I'm so bummed because I have been doing so well working out and feeling better so I was hoping to show off to my people at MD Anderson. But now I'm all snuffly and coughing and I have to wear a mask. Although there are so many really sick people there (coughs, sneezing, etc) that I'd wear one anyway.

I know, I know. You are all like.. broken toe???

I was putting gas in my car after I dropped Zoe off at school. I'm a lazy mom, so I took Zoe to school in my monkey jammie pants and flip flops. I went to put upgraded gas in my car, and knocked the unleaded pumper thingy on my foot. Right on my big toe. It's all purple and swollen. But I got a pedicure so it's not so nasty looking. But damn, it hurts like heck. I may see if they would x-ray my foot because it's swollen too.

I get an eyeball exam tomorrow (yuck - dialation) and a bone marrow biopsy. Let me again remind you all how fun these are.

You may feel a sharp sting and burn when the anesthetic numbs your skin over the aspiration or biopsy site. You may hear a crunching sound and feel pressure and some pain when the needle enters the bone. The pain usually lasts for only a few seconds. During an aspiration, you may feel a quick, shooting pain down your leg as the sample is taken. This pain stops as soon as the sample is removed.

Honestly. It's about 1,000 times more painful than this description. Seriously. I hate it. And since I have to drive myself tomorrow, I can't get high. Wheeee. So after that, I'm going to book out and hit the darvon.

and for the TMI girl stuff, see below:

Apparently the results from my obgyn, Dr. Cox's, (make joke here) test were wrong. His "letter" (how personal) saying that I was not in menopause was incorrect. My obgyn at MD Anderson told me that my FSH level was 38. The normal range is 25, MDA's is 35. I don't know what my test results from Dr. Cox were, but I'm going to ask. I just had the blood test done on January 19th. I'm very irritated about this.

The chemo/radiation causes (can cause?) you to go into menopause. It is sad in a way, but I don't think I could handle any more children anyway. And by the time I had enough energy to do so, I would be way too old. Even if it were through adoption. I'm no Joan Lunden. I always wanted to have like 4 or 5, but it wan't in the book for me

All of this reminds me of my friend Ashley. The 23 year old who relapsed and died. She was so upset that she would never have children. Sis #1 and I were there for that conversation and we told her that being pregnant isn't the be all and the end all. I didn't mind it so much, but to me, even if you adopt, I think that child is as much yours as if you gave birth yourself.

Anyway, I guess I will be learning all about menopause. I have hot flashes - I think - but I don't know much more about it.

I can do this. I'm sleeping on my neice's bed surrounded by 9309320 care bears.

No assignment for today. Just relax. I am going to bed.

P.S. Apparently Zoe woke up last night at 4am and went into my parents room. She climbed into my parent's bed and snuggled up with my dad. He finally couldn't sleep, so he got up for the day. Mom said she was crying and wanted to call me. At 4am. I talked to her on the phone tonight and reminded her to brush extra well because they had Valentines at school today and candy. I also told her to get her stuffed monkey, aka Mommy Monkey, and sleep tight with her. I hope she gets a full night's rest. Sweet little squeezer. I miss her.

Packing

Packing with a little trepidation. I'm headed to the big H-town tomorrow for my one year checkup at MD Anderson.

Can you believe that it's almost been one year since my transplant? I went back and looked at where I was at this time last year. Reading that month made my cry, but it also made me laugh.

I read even further back to February 2005. Now that is scary. Quite the use of the f*bomb. What a mixed up time in my life.

Reading these make me know that regardless of all the new cells growing in my body, I am a very different person than I once was. Less lonely, more self-reliant, much more humble, and not quite as scattered.

I'm glad to be who I am. I don't think the leukemia changed me, but it did reinforce my priorities. And I am much less serious than I was before. Thank the good Lord for that one.

A year.

I can do this. I might even get a cake with one candle on it.

Your assignment today is to tell me when you started reading in my parts of the world. Those that have read way back (or the few that have read all of it) probably have a very different perspective on who I am. If you don't want to post, or read back, go read a book. Pick one you have never read or an old favorite that's gathered dust. Exercise your brain today.

Way back machine:

Zoe on her 3rd birthday.

Sainthood

Bob should be nominated for Sainthood. Saint Bob. I would have had a great time if I had a wallet full of money. There were so many things at the silent and not so silent auction that I would have bought. Maybe next year. Maybe not.

He for sure wins coolness points. I wanted to dance and have a drink or two (I had a lovely glass of red), but Bob had driven to DFW and back in a matter of 24 hours (a 10 hour trip for you non-Texans) and I thought for sure he would fall asleep in his garlic mashed potatoes. For a sleepykins, he sure did look handsome. I wanted to kiss him all night. I restrained myself. I could see him thinking about his bed... TO SLEEP, PEOPLE. TO SLEEP.

Everyone looked so pretty, especially the hostess of our table. I looked ok for my "new me." I honestly thought I was the ugliest chick there. I got home and washed off my makeup and stared in the mirror. A stranger stared back at me. I still don't recognize myself. I hate the steroid face. The rest of me is shrinking, so now when I see myself, I feel like a bobble head. I wonder if I will ever reconcile what I see in the mirror with what is in my head. With the girl I feel like. The girl I used to look like.

It was really loud so we went to the lobby to talk and hang out. He is a very cool dude. The kind of dude every girl should have as a friend. As for more than that, I would have to consult my Magic 8 ball because I am clueless.

I realized when I got home it was about 10:30. I was like 10:30???? Even Cinderella got to stay out until midnight. But then again, Cindy isn't full of meds and she had long pretty hair. And I, obviously, ain't no princess. The poofy princess dress would not bode well with my bootay.

Zoe and Momo G had a good time. Although apparently her lip gloss got mixed up with her coin collection in her purse, so they spent much of the night "money laundering." Since it :cough:allegedly:cough: runs in the family on her dad's side, I guess it was an appropriate evening. Here's her "stash."

I can do this. I made it through a very uncomfortable evening with a (sort of) smile on my face. I would have rather gone to a movie with Bob, or had a root canal, but this was ok. He looked so great in a suit. And he was a really good sport.

Your assignment today is to again, get to moving. My allergies are kicking my butt, but I can't be a sloth; I've worked too many hours at the gym. And I'd *LOVE* to be sloth-like today. BTW, did you send out your valentines? I sent a few, but have many more. If you'd like to receive one, send me an email. Zoe and I would be happy to mail one out.

Oh the horror that are my meds. And the hair... Someone send a plush wig STAT!!

I win a dollar, I think

Zoe is such a sleepyhead in the morning. Last night, my dad came in and bet that she wouldn't be up and ready for breakfast at our favorite restaurant.

I swore that she would, but dad said, no way. I can't remember which way I bet.

8:45. She is still snoring away. That child doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning. No matter when she goes to sleep. She's now all slothing in my bed watching cartoons. I don't know. I have such a great comforter that I don't like to get up either.

But since I am an addict for my morning coffee.... here I am.

I still don't know what I am going to wear tonight to the Gala. I'm sure it will be pants. I tried a few dresses on, and they either made me look pregnant (which isn't the look I'm going for) or that I had no waist. Even though I kind of do now. And shirts, forget it. I'm not JLo and I won't be wearing the doublestick tape on my boobies. Even if I looked like JLo, I wouldn't dress like that.

So boring conservative it is tonight. Regardless, my date will be cute and interesting, so it's all good.

I can do this. I'm down like 3 sizes in the stores now. That's kind of a good feeling.

Your assignment today is to get that pedometer if you haven't already. Even when I don't walk all that much, I still average over 7,000 steps. And if you are snowed in (a foreign concept to me), bust out your Jane Fonda with the leg warmers exercise video. If you have kids, make them do it with you. It's really fun to do that. And you'll be surprised how hard it is to do if you haven't done it in a while. Get moving people!!

Playa Hata

No. I'm not hating on Elvis. I love the dude. Let me repeat that. I love the dude. But he's a good person and I love him like I love my friends.

But as I called it, Puss Face (sorry, he hated that I called him that - it was more meant as sourpuss than anything) read my blog and said that I "invaded his privacy" once again. That I dogged him until the end. I'm sorry, I was under the assumption that the end was weeks ago when he dumped me and made me feel like it was all my fault. Was that his intention - to hurt me? Probably not. But that's how *I* felt about it. And I know I didn't intend to "dog" him. He's a good man. He was a good boyfriend. But it didn't work out. And that's that. He told me on the phone weeks ago that he would never go out with me again. Never. I took him on his word. So as Sis #1 would say, "it is what it is."

And you know what? My blog isn't about other people. It's about how *I* react to them. How *I* react to my life. How *I* reacted to my cancer and my treatment. .... you get the drift. My blog. My life. My upset to have. My sadness to live with. My joys to share. My failures and my successes. My life. My world. Call it selfish, but "I am who I am." You don't have to read it, but I have to write it. I thought it was optional, but it's not.

My blog used to be called "Hostage in My Own Head" years ago. I write because I have to. Not because I want to. It hurts not to write. I feel sick and scattered and disorganized when I don't write. I can't sleep either because I feel like my head is going a million miles an hour. When I had cancer, I would wake up at 3 or 4 in the morning and feel like I immediately had to write. I was sad, scared, lonely and it was my way of coping. And reaching out.

Elvis is a good man. From a good family. In his mind, he tried. But he did what he did. He did not like to discuss anything, so I don't feel like he tried that hard. He dumped me. I can't change anything that happened between us. I can't change the times I frustrated the hell out of him. He was really good about those times. More patient than I deserved.

But to say that me writing about him is invading his privacy? Perhaps, but it sounds more likely to me like he has a guilty conscience. He didn't like what I wrote is all. He doesn't like my actions. I can't change them. I own up to them. I didn't throw him under the bus. (that phrase is played, I need a new one). He was my best friend. I totally miss that. I could see us being friends again some day. Zoe adores him. He was good to my family. And to me. But now that I "invaded his privacy" all bets are off. It's over. Again, I thought it was over already. I didn't think all that much about it. I wasn't writing about him. I was writing about how all of it makes me feel. Sad. I feel really really sad.

And now he hates me. He never once told me he was sad - until today - about us breaking up. I am. I probably always will be. I know I always will be. But it didn't work out. I can't change it. But I can think about it. I can learn from it. And how I learn... I write about it. I think about my actions and I take responsibility. He broke up with me because he didn't like how it was going. I don't blame him. But (all Seinfeld-like) HE broke up with ME. If I write about it, it's just because it's how I deal with it. At least I deal with it. And I move on. It's why I'm the debutaunt. I can't mope for long. Because I know life is too short.

I love him. He knows it. I do hope he can get over it. And stop hating me. We had fun. There were many more good times than bad. And I choose to remember the good. The bad is just depressing.

But such is life. It's not the first time I've been dumped. And I bet it won't be the last. Hopefully it will, but I'm not that optimistic. Not just yet.

I live and love and love again.

Once upon a time I wrote:

I think I could fall in love every single day. I do but I don't. It's why my life is always confusing me.

But it's also why my life is fantastic.

Because it's just that easy

I'm sorry, Elvis. I am.

I can do this. I have a date (non-date) with "Bob" on Saturday. School fundraising gala. I needed a date. My lovely (and handsome) friend "Bob" agreed to go. At least I won't be alone and I'll have someone to talk to movies about. He's an encyclopedia of funny. Thank goodness. He's a peach. He's very cool. And he's taller, so I'm going to attempt some heels.

Your assignment today is to wish me well on my "date," and to wish something good to Elvis. He deserves some cheering up. He sounded so stressed out and mad on the phone today. I'm sorry for that. He most likely won't read this, but one day, he probably will. And I'd like him to read how we didn't throw him under a Greyhound. After all, he did clean up Zoe's pancake barf. He did walk with me for my walkathon. He did let me lean on him when I needed it. And he did make me very happy and make me fall in love with him and San Antonio. God puts people in your life when you need them. The Big Guy is cool like that.

A PRAYER FOR A LOVED ONE

Lord, be his shepherd,
Keep him with the flock,
Watch him and tend him,
Be his resolute rock.

Don't let him falter,
Don't let him fall,
Wait with him, Father,
Be there for his call.

Hold his hand firmly,
The path grows so steep,
Wipe his tears gently,
Should he start to weep.

Teach him to follow,
In Your humble way,
Help him to walk,
In Your shadow each day.

Strengthen his body,
Weaken his will,
Should he deny You,
Stay with him still.

Give him Your shoulder,
On which he may rest,
Embrace him warmly,
Next to Your breast.

Please place Your hand,
Upon his dear head,
And give him Your blessing,
As his spirit is fed.

Quiet his mind,
Comfort his soul,
Put peace in his heart,
Make his life whole.

Give him a vision,
Of Your tender smile,
Let him feel loved,
All of the while.
by Virginia A. Ellis
copyright © 1999

Cough Cough

Bronchitis. Zoe's got it. Although you'd never know the child is sick. It reminds me of a time right before I got diagnosed. The beginning of this adventure. I gave her some prescription cough syrup last night. Usually it makes her super sleepy, but last night she was a spaz. It was like she was drunk. Very funny.

"Mom, I think this medicine makes me wise."

I kept her home again today. It's Barbie central and even though I did a bunch of cleaning the other day, it's super messy around here. My mom gets back today from Houston. She was watching Sis #1's kiddos while Sis attended the Superbowl. I'm not thoroughly convinced that Peyton Manning has a pact with El Diablo.

When we went to the doctors, Zoe was wearing her Supergirl outfit. I was very scared because there were some super ill people at the clinic. I wore a mask. It makes me feel like a freak, but better safe than sorry.

Zoe and her favorite dolly, "Big Baby."

Does the child look sick?

The staff was funny. I don't have a pediatrician, but go to the med clinic. They are super nice and the doctor is so sweet. When she was done, she gave Zoe a high five and said, "Go out and save the world!!"

I think Kay is right when she says that Zoe gets her love of all things costume from her aunt, Sis #1, aka The Texans Chick.

I can do this. I have a trainer session today and my daughter is going to Save the World. I also am overly caffeinated.

Your assignment today is to send someone a Valentine. Preferably to me. Make sure it says "Be Mine." Spread the love. I love Valentines Day. Even if I don't have a Valentine.

Supergirl.

Zoe has a cough so I kept her home today. I let her sleep in big time. We had a great weekend with Deanna and the gaggle of girls. I miss them.

She's not all that sick though. I usually can tell because she gets all lethargic and doesn't eat. Today she's got her Barbies spread from one side of the room to the other. And she's been sneaking into the kitchen getting crackers and fruit.

When I told her to go put some clothes on, she put on her Halloween costume. Full Supergirl outfit, boots and gold belt and everything. She's been flying around.

I think I stood up to fast a few minutes ago. And it made my ears feel weird.

I asked Zoe, "Do your ears hurt?"

"Only when I burp."

No Words

Can describe how good this was.

Cactus fruit margarita at Navarro's. With my dad, Deanna Banana and a gaggle of giggling girls.

I felt a little normal after that.

Newsie

I finally called the Box Doc, Dr. Cox's office (let jokes ensue) to get my lab results of "the procedure."

The nurse came on the line and told me that Dr. Cox usually calls with the results, but that he was gone for the next two weeks. I browbeated her into telling me. When you've been a cancer patient, any test result with the word abnormal in it scares the bejeebs out of you.

I told her that I didn't care if the dang receptionist told me the results, that I wanted to know ASAP. And not in two weeks.

She said that the cells were benign and there was no sign of dysplasia or cervical cancer. Yay for small things. I was very relieved.

On other fronts, Elvis dumped me like wet garbage. He had his reasons but made it sound like it was all my fault that the relationship was over. I thought he had more respect for me than that, but I guess I was wrong. I'm not going to go into details because he's such a puss-face. But I'm very sad because he basically embedded himself into my family's lives and Zoe's life.

He told Zoe every day that he loved her. He told me the same thing. He told her we were going to get married and that he would buy us a big, white house someday. She's been asking about him and I've told her that he's working and will probably be moving away. She misses him. I miss him. We both love him. But he was so unkind to me at the end that I don't even care anymore. He's already "talking" to some other girl. Smooooove.

Me. Well I've been talking to people online, but not to date. I just want to find people to go do things with - the gym or hiking or just going to a movie. I was told that I am deceiptful because my picture on my profile is this one:

or this one:

When I actually now look more like this:

(pretty much the same, but I don't have any makeup on)

He said that they don't look like me anymore and that because my hair is shorter and my face is steroided out, I am a Big. Fat. LIAR. I know I'm always upfront when I talk to someone that it is not a current picture and then sometimes I show them the new ones with the short hair. I always tell them about my leukemia and that I had a transplant. Either way, when I see pictures of the "old" me, it doesn't feel like a different person. That's how I think I look. Probably because I'm starting to feel more like myself. And those pictures represents how I feel. And I know I'll look like that again. Perhaps even better than that.

Regardless, I am feeling quite the fug lately. I'm feeling super homely. I like short hair because it's easy, but I hate it because it makes me look ugly. I want a makeover. And a really good wig. I've looked at some, but they all look so cheap - like the one they gave me at MD Anderson. Sis #3 asked, "Does the camero come with the wig?" I want to feel pretty. Where are the makeover shows when you need them?

Anyway I'm thinking Deanna Banana will be coming up this weekend. I don't really have any friends here, and she's one of my old school H-town girlies. I know a few people from church, but not many of them ask me to go do things as most of them are busy with their kiddos. It's starting to get really lonely, but I've been working out like a mad woman and hanging with the Zoester. She's really a great kid. And has inheirited someone's sense of humor. Her knock knock jokes have not improved at all though.

Here she is on 100 day (100 days of school) with her 100 fruit loops necklace.

I can do this. Zoe has a hula hoop. And she still speaks bird.

Your assignment today is to leave a reason or two for someone to date me. Or something nice about me. Since obviously my looks aren't going to draw them in.... I'm having a little bit of lowselfesteemism right now and could use a boost. Help a girl out. Yeah. I'm a'begging.