December 2015 - A Shift in Priorities?

Here we are sliding into the 12 Days of Christmas with only 11 left to go and one of the quietest on record in my life!  It's amazing what can happen when you make a conscious and deliberate choice to alter your behaviour or reaction to events.  

Besides the fact that even if I wanted to go run around (ya right!) and shop til I dropped, I'm not sure I'd get beyond the threshold of the first store when someone would panic and call the paramedics for assistance!  While still working, I marvelled at how some people remained calm, happy even, in the knowledge that they'd get to go shopping and bake and plan for large festive gatherings at Christmas.  Oh my!  I lived with a quiet sense of desperation at how we layer all this extra stress on ourselves over and above full workdays and family lives.

It might seem odd to say but sometimes being unwell can have its advantages.  The expectation and the reality of the situation is such that some things won't get done, some things will be altered to fit into a new reality, and maybe the best of all is that I won't drive my family crazy with the never ending 'to do' list that I somehow have felt has become my own private domain while everyone else just goes about their daily business.  

Who knows, maybe this fickle hand of fate will allow us to have a more personal and relaxed time with family and friends while keeping the commercialism at bay.  Most, if not all, invitations have been politey declined as I try to balance necessary activity with the breathlessness related to my most recent medical adventures.  

Since my last post, my health has remained fairly stable and at this point, other than routine blood work, no action will be taken unless I feel a marked change in my well being.  

The biggest change and biggest challenge is the shortness of breath that appears out of nowhere and overrides the smooth functioning of my anatomy, much like a sticky carbuerator  in a car - ok, I don't think cars have them anymore and I'm showing my age.  I do remember though, the days when it was damp out, one might have to be prepared to go out and tinker under the hood to get things going, maybe even spray some WD-40 on the thing to coax it into starting.  In any case, physically, I feel probably the slowest I've felt without any major medical intervention taking place, like 7 hour back surgery.  If that's the worst of my complaints, I guess I'm doing very well.  I've been taking the time to see what it feels like to really and truly do very little or nothing, and just enjoy it.  Last week I even watched a Christmas movie during the day with a friend.  Now that's a big step.  Intuitively I believe that I will overcome this latest adventure and possibly come out of it with a greater sense of calm - seems to be what much of this is about to me - slowing down, calming down and allowing God to direct my steps and including the inevitable surprises He'll have for me each day.  

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that our parish, St. Paul the Apostle 'Roman Catholic Church, has taken a bold step to get 'outside ourselves' and sponsor a Syrian refugee family, currently living in Lebanon.

 For once in my life I did not jump into the organizing committee with both feet, becoming embroiled in all the details requiring attention to make the decision a reality.  Imagine, there are scores of competent, well meaning and enthusiastic people willing to get involved and do their part.  Accessible accommodation has been secured (Dad has been in a wheelchair since childhood polio), the three bedroom apartment is fully furnished and funding for their first year secured.  It's this last point that I'd like to share a little more about.  For some seemingly unknown reason, without being a member of the overall project committee or any other sub group, I offered to speak at the 5 parish masses to encourage financial support for the Maree family.  Input was gathered from Fr. Leo, the project coordinator, the Parish secretary and others.  After it was over, and I only had to speak for maybe two minutes, I marvelled at how Father Leo holds mass 5 times every weekend, gives the same homily 5 times over and meets and greets everyone before and after mass.  This of course is on top of the schools and retirement homes that need attention.  Oh my! And let's not forget masses each weekday as well.

What I'd like to share are the comments that I believe came forward with big help from the Holy Spirit.  We took a risk of not asking parishioners to consider a certain amount to give, but rather leave it up to them to discern what they might give as it relates to their personal priorities.

Comments made at Masses on the weekend of November 21st and 22, 2015:

We are ‘adopting’ the Maree family of 6  from Syria; having lived in a country torn apart by war and conflict;  Mom, Dad, a paraplegic since childhood polio played professional wheelchair basketball who later owned his own clothing store. Imagine being one of four boys 5, 13, 14,  or a teen of 17 to have only known fear and vulnerability – every day of your young life filled with fear and impending doom.  The family is now living in Lebanon – yet recently there were more attacks on Beirut – we have no idea how this family is coping with the daily terror. And yet, we have the collective ability to transform this family’s experience of terror to one of hope for the future.

I ask you to think about how many of us right here, right now are also immigrants.  I am a first generation Canadian as is my husband Michael.

-       -  After WWII 70K war brides and their children arrived with hope of a new life.

-       -  In 1979, 60,000 Vietnamese boat people arrived with 60% being privately sponsored.

What does this tell us? 

Being a nation of immigrants we have a responsibility to treat refugees with care and compassion. More importantly, we’re good at it.  We have experience, we have memories and we came here or heard about our families coming to Canada with hearts full of hope for the future.

We all know that as a society we are wealthy beyond measure – and so we have a responsibility to share the gifts that God has graced us with, and what better gift to give our own families than the gift of giving.  Giving and a reminder that we live in a society of civil freedom regardless of our social standing.

There is such an extreme, almost obscene imbalance in the world today in terms of how people live and we are being called to help.

Yes, we have plenty of poor and needy families right in our own parish.  We must keep in mind, that inaction in one area does not justify inaction in another.This is not about either/or, it’s about taking part in a global issue that has the spotlight of the world put on a need that requires taking risk by many people in many countries in many ways. I believe God has allowed this into our lives in order that we can respond to His call.

If we can feel it in our hearts to give even a lit bit, think of the difference we can make.  Everyone has to make their own decisions but there is no greater feeling of joy than giving sacrificially to help someone else.

Pope Francis has challenged every Catholic Church in Europe to sponsor one refugee family. Canada seems to have accepted it as well. He shared how joy springs from a grateful heart. Are we good at counting our blessings, and sharing them, or have we forgotten them? Maybe it’s a time of remembrance of what we might be able to do.

Please, after mass this week, check the bulletin for more information to consider how you might help.

In closing, I remind you of the parable of the starfish where tens of thousands were washed up after a storm.  Someone walking along the beach saw a child bending down, picking up a starfish and throwing it back in the sea.  When asked what they were doing, the child responded “I’m helping them get back in the water or they will die.” 

The adult said “but there are tens of thousands of starfish.  You won’t make any difference.” 

The child bent down, picked up a starfish and threw it out as far as possible into the water.  Looking the adult in the eye the child replied, “It made a difference to that one”.

A thought that just occurred to me is consideration of such a large undertaking at this time of year may have had an impact on how we are viewing Christmas and the holidays.  There are so many people across Canada with hearts overflowing with care and compassion and a willingness to make a difference in whatever small way they may.  Perhaps it's helping us turn away from, even boycott a little bit, the marketing frenzy pushed onto consumers since the end of November.  Sure some things are being purchased but my guess is that likely by far, people and families are sharing what they have to help create a home for these newcomers to Canada.  I'm not sure how this issue resonates with you, nor is it up to me to judge where people stand on this issue.  We do though, have an opportunity to make a material difference in the lives of others who have not been as fortunate as we have enjoying lives of relative safety and freedom.

I'd like to finish by expressing my heartfelt gratitude for all the good wishes sent my way as a result of my mass email requesting prayers, white light and positive thoughts.  I mentioned before how important it is to me to make an effort to send individual notes of thanks back to those who took the time to write.  My hope is that today will finally complete that goal although I must say, I have spent so much time searching for threads that I will be hauling out my Mac Book for Dummies.  

There is some phenomena that creates threads like a loom on a weaving machine that pulls messages together into groups that may have the same initiating message.  I think I''m doing fine until, casually I think about the message from a former colleague, or from a member of our extended, extended, extended family.  I know they were there, I'd read them, but do they surface when I go searching?  Oh no,  even when I try to deep sea dive into the messages that have 30-40 or more 'threads', they somehow hide in the depths of email (probably more appropriate to say 'MacMail') leaving me to initiate another email.  Yet I ask myself, 'What about those that you don't think of'; well that too might just be a lesson in letting go.  And let go I shall as I pick up pen and cards and tackle the activity that I have not yet been able to shelve - the Christmas Cards.  I did get bold this year and emailed those people we communicate with, visit, or talk to during the year asking if we can retire the card exchange.  Well I think that has gotten the list pared down to between 50-60.  Many of those we write to, it's the only time of year we do get in contact, including friends and acquaintances from PEI to Vancouver Island, in many cases surpassing 30 years of greetings and well wishes.

As we head toward the end of another calendar year, may we all be grateful for all the blessings that have come our way, thank God (or your higher power) for the friends and family you hold close to your heart and may we all look to 2016 with hearts full of hope.

Take care, all the best for a wonderful Christmas and we'll connect on New Year's Eve or the beginning of next year. Lots of love and hugs,

Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com

"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."

I'm Late, I'm Late for a Very Important Date

Given the activity and events of the last few days, I knew I would likely be a little late in publishing this update.  Thank you for your patience.

First observation going into this post is know your own body, pay attention to it, especially when it mumbles and grumbles in reaction to your treatment of it.  Is it only as we grow older that we start to hear the grizzly bear like growls when we try to behave like 20 year old Olympians?

  If so, it's a funny dichotomy that we can hear the resistance of our organs, and joints, and muscles but we can't hear what someone across the table is saying.

The other observation is that in today's world, we truly need to be our own advocate when it comes to our health or recruit the most tenacious person you know to lead the way through the maze of what can sometimes seem like medical mayhem.  Fortunately for me, the path has been comforting in that my GP, or Coach, is highly attuned to my situation and more than willing to manage the primary care not requiring a specialist's intervention.  

My oncologist, is also amazingly competent and fully collaborative, encouraging me to make the final decisions when it comes to next steps and ongoing management of my illness.  That's not to say wishy washy like a warm pool of stagnant water.

Oh no, it's rock solid like the waves of the Atlantic crashing into the Newfoundland shores, which is where she happens to have been born and raised.  There are some decisions that she asserts with a full list of substantiating reasons leaving no room for confusion or questions - they've all been answered  before asked. I will share a case in point a little later.

If you're on my email list you would have received a couple of updates this week which intercepted timely posting on my blog, and no, it was not the Grey Cup's post game influence.

On Monday, November 30th I went for a cat scan, not having had one since May 9, 2014.  As I said to people, I rode the wave of that positive report for a year and a half until a clot blocked our continued progression.

Fortunately for me (thank God) I had the follow up appointment with my oncologist the next day, Tuesday, December 1st to review the results.

Through most of this time I felt that I had remained surprisingly calm and prepared for whatever message was to be delivered, whether a past due notice that my expiry date had actually come and gone, or notice that I had won the sweepstakes with much to look forward to in the future.

The initial pop in the door was "Nothing horrific, no new cancer, I'll be back", followed by a 45 minute wait while she dealt with other cases, clearly needing more immediate care than mine.  Ok, so no apparent overdue notice, that's worth getting up and doing a happy dance.

On her return, we learned about the other complicating factors which, while serious, don't seem to cause nearly the desperate reaction that a 'spreading of your disease and where do we go from here' would have.  

Act two started off with 'you've got a blood clot in your lung' but since you're on the blood thinners, it's being treated.  No wonder my shortness of breath has accelerated over the past few weeks.  Then the disclosure that there is in fact a large mass in my liver that wasn't there in the past.  Oh great, what does that mean?  After reviewing the scan with 3 highly skilled interventional radiologists, it was determined that it's likely a sack of blood (reason for my drop in hemoglobin?????), and if so, it's already being treated by being on blood thinners or an abscess. Huh?  

The reason cancer was not on the list of probable culprits is that the long residing 'squatters' in my liver had actually further reduced in size therefore taking up less real estate in my vitally important organ, as much as 30-50% reduction.  

Okay, deep breath, translation and interpretation please of this foreign language description of what's going on.

One option is to do nothing which seems to almost be a preferred choice - I think I need more details on why - other than that with every intervention there is risk and depending on what is found, what do we do with the information?  

Another option is to have a biopsy type intervention where a needle is inserted into the mass to determine what is in fact incapsulated.  If blood, the body will reabsorb as the blood thinners continue their important job of allowing the body to deal with the cleanup work.  If an abscess, it would be drained and although I'm not sure, maybe put on antibiotics.

One of the reasons for a leaning toward the sack of blood is that I am not displaying any other symptoms of an infection.  No fever, no flu like aching - just regular day to day aches and pains.

I'm learning why my oncologist is a minimalist and that every action has a reaction.  The procedure described here, while sounding simple is not exactly so.  It would require in hospital stay with IV replacing blood thinners during exploration and while we didn't get into further details - it was way too much information for one day - I wonder about the risk associated with all this given clots in my lungs now.  And so, the adventure continues.

My physical activity continues to be diminished and I have pretty much come to the conclusion that I will have to limit my exercise to the pool.  Quite frankly, I believe that my natural 'A' type personality combined with the attitude that if a little helps, a lot should really help has contributed to this latest free fall into a new and unfamiliar rabbit hole.

In conversation, we've agreed (whoever I may have had the conversation with) that when well, or when not afflicted with any particular ailment, directly or indirectly, we don't pay attention nor go investigating the causes, symptoms, risks or reactions to illness.  I certainly know I didn't and even now, to keep my imagination under some sort of manageable control, I've been putting 'parental locks' on the internet as a self imposed block. It keeps me from reading things I don't need to  know and have them thrown into my imagination's vortex that takes a seemingly innocuous statement or comment and twists it into an earth shattering, cataclysmic possibility.  This has nothing to do with my end date which I still firmly believe is etched somewhere in God's universe and I'm fully accepting of.  No, it's all about the quality of my journey to that end.  After all, I believe it's our personal choices and decisions that affect the quality of that journey and so it's much easier to understand yourself to have a better time along the way.

Just a comment on the mass email I sent out asking for prayers, white light (possibly of the Holy Spirit) and positive thoughts to be sent my way on the date of the cat scan.

My stepson Gabe showed me a relatively simple way of sending out such an email and while my preference would be to set up group accounts for various things, this did the job nicely at least this time.  It's amazing how many people responded.  So many, that I hadn't been able to respond back with thanks as I sent out the update very early yesterday and now have all those folks to get back to.  After all, if someone is going to take the time to send a message, the least I can hopefully do (although if I've missed anyone, my sincere apologies) is to say thanks.

As I've shared with some of you, it's truly the power of that virtual community of faith, hope and love that provides the support when faced with potentially life altering events.  Many of the people who wrote, I haven't had the chance to connect with in months and maybe even years and so it's been so heartwarming to hear from some of them.

While it took some effort to reach out, I wonder if the resulting flow of positive energy has not in fact had a healing effect on everyone who participated.  It feels like a gently flowing aura that reaches us all and bathes us in the light of God or whoever/whatever your higher power might be.  I continue to be fascinated by the results of opening up to the power of the universe and the surprises that come our way if and as we allow them.

I wish to send out a sincere note of thanks and gratitude to all of you for taking the time to read these posts - your interest is what makes it all worthwhile.
Best wishes as you prepare for the upcoming holiday season, Christmas if I may, it's going to be an interesting one at our end this year.  No running around or marathon shopping so we'll see how we end up at the end of it all.
Take care, take time for you and until next time,
Lots of love and hugs,
Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers sent in faith and wrapped with love are the greatest gifts we can receive".

Slip Sliding and Sleeping the Time Away

On my last post I filled you in on the latest slide down the rabbit hole of discovering a blood clot behind my right knee.  The immediate treatment is an injection of blood thinners that is given in doses related to the patient's weight.  Maggie (my 80 pound weight gain) tipped the scale resulting in me receiving the maximum dose of 18,000 units a dayg.

I was sent home prescription in hand for a thirty day supply of this almost magical formula that would cease and desist further clots from forming and hopefully give my body time to absorb the fiend in my leg before it develops a mind of its own and decides to take a trip through my veins.

November 3rd brought appointments with both my family doc and my oncologist, both scheduled providentially on the same day and so soon after this latest adventure.  My family doc discussed the possibility of options to move to an oral medication - yes I know you're likely thinking of Warfarin, more commonly known as rat poison, but apparently there are newer drugs out since then.  With Wafarin and I think Cumedin, you still have to have your blood checked regularly almost like the oil in your car to make sure it's in the right range and will continue to allow smooth operation of your vehicle.

 Apparently there are now newer medications that don't required the same level of checking, maybe because they're more like a synthetic oil that can be changed every 6 months instead of every 5,000km!  

Since I had received a 30 day prescription for Fragmin (no not Fracking) that reflected a mere cost of almost $1400, I agreed that this clear coloured gold better not be wasted, and regardless of the longer term decision, I would either self inject or have my resident nurse Michael do the dirty deed.  Oh my goodness, after the first few days of shots, it looked like a clock was forming on my abdomen thanks to the bruises that were forming as a result of Mike's handiwork.  The pain that came along with the injections is a topic for another discussion and needless to say I have learned to do my own self medication.  I dare not speak too negatively of my willing caregiver though, in the event  that he surrenders and leaves me to my own devices to administer  my shots.  The greatest challenge of course is that I can't see below my ever expanding girth to find a suitable spot!  

We agreed at my appointment that I would consult my oncologist at my afternoon appointment and determine the best course of action.  At that meeting, she presented me with a chocolate bar (from Cooke's no less) that made her think of me so she purchased it as the name on it was Dobs Dobs (okay so one 'b' was missing but the thought was ever so sweet, never mind the taste of the chocolate).

I won't repeat what she said upon reading the note from my family doc that a blood clot had been found.  While the meds I'm on can cause blood clots, it's usually within the first month or so, not two years later.  The overriding concern is that something has changed relative to my underlying illness but we are not able to determine what has changed without a cat scan.  The decision was made jointly that a scan would be ordered asap.  Then oncologist's adamant decision on blood thinners was that I will have to remain on the injections indefinitely.  There is not enough evidence with the newer drugs that they would be effective in a case such as mine.  She also suggested I go off the water pills as my kidney function numbers have been creeping up.  I also had my Maggie meds cut in half.  I'm a little nervous about that decision but am keeping in my mind that God is working through my docs and putting the ones I need in front of me.  Is it a test of trust?  Maybe, so I will just go with it.  Besides, what's the worst it can do?  It can only affect the quality of my life one way or another because I already have a date on my exit ticket and as I've said before, nothing is going to change that date.

Before leaving the cancer centre I had blood work done with a copy sent to my family doc.  I have  been highly impressed with the patient centred team approach being taken between primary and specialized care.  There seems to be one good thing about being on blood thinners, that it's unlikely I will have a sudden heart attack.  Or at least that's what I think since a basic instruction is to NOT take aspirin as it could thin the blood even further.

  There seems to be a bad thing about being on blood thinners, that internal bleeding could create all sorts of problems.  Like even banging yourself can lead to bleeding that you can't see.  It might just show up in your bodily evacuations, a signal that a leak has sprung somewhere in the bodily landscape.

More blood work last Friday led to a telephone call this morning that my hemoglobin has dropped 12 points in a week and has any blood shown up in my bodily evacuations.  No, and no major bruising, only the fading clock on my belly.  One good thing is that the afternoon I spent sleeping on the couch last Friday, to a depth of having vivid dreams, was related to the decline in red blood cells and not just my imagined sleepiness.

Another good thing is the progress I'm making in being able to read and pay attention to my own body.   Whatever the outcome, I have been able to ride the wave of very positive cat scan results for a year and a half now.  I recall the days of saying "If I didn't know better, I'd think I was well."

One of the typical, daily comments and conversations at the pool of course is the temperature of the water and how far it might be deviating from the posted temperature on the white board.  Most people in my age category and older always have a sense that the water is colder than claimed.  As these last few weeks have become a little less stable,  it would be foolish to say that I am in a state of peaceful calm and bliss.  That being said though, I find myself becoming much more deliberate in making efforts to think and speak in positive tones.  While no longer able to identify with Tigger,  even though blue is my favourite colour, Eeyore will not overtake my outlook or world.

Back to the pool conversation, recently a small group - probably three of us including the lifeguard were able to consider that while the temperature of the water might seem to fluctuate, we also wondered how much our own physical state affected our perception of the cold or warmth.

One day we feel great, another we didn't get enough rest or are feeling less than optimal so why would we take our frustration out on the water when we are going to spend time in one of the best zen like environments we can find  especially at this time of year.

While we have a few things on between now and the end of the month, it's admittedly difficult to even consider 'keeping busy' in the face of an uncertain future.  We'd like to remain positive without projecting a Pollyanna image but at the same time keep life as normal as possible knowing the days pass and for some the best coping mechanism is to stick to routine.  If we were to expect life to stop for everyone around us as we navigate the speed bumps of life, it would be a disruptive and unfair ride for them.  During periods of uncertainty, rather than projecting the victim, it might be more helpful to turn our eyes upward and have as many conversations with God as necessary (or whatever your higher power might be), pouring out anything and everything that is preventing us from having peaceful and contented day.  Ok, now I just have to get on the other side of the computer and read what I've written and take it to heart.

Until next time, find joy in your days and spend your energy on things that matter.  My next post will likely be after the 1st of December in order that I can update you on the status of the results of the cat scan.

Take care and thank you for your prayers and support.
Hugs,
Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com

"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."

Whoosh - down another Rabbit Hole - well maybe just a Bunny Hole!

I've shared my personal intention with you in the past but at this time it bears repeating given that the experience of having slid down yet another rabbit hole since my last post.  When praying, especially intercessory prayers through the Saints to God, we typically articulate what we are praying for.  Many people know for example that St. Anthony is the Patron Saint of lost items and many people ask his help when trying to locate a missing item.

Some of you may be chuckling, or even scoffing, but I can tell you that in some divine way, it does work.

As I've practiced Ignatian Spirituality based on the life and works of St. Ignatius of Loyola, he promoted 'praying with indifference'.  Well just what does that mean you might ask!  In my own case, as an example, rather than praying for a cure for my illness,  I pray:

"FOR TOTAL ACCEPTANCE OF GOD'S WILL FOR ALL ASPECTS OF MY LIFE, WITH A WISE AND UNDERSTANDING HEART."  (my intention whenever praying directly to God/Jesus or indirectly through the Saints)

For me, this form of prayer removes me from the driver's seat in my car of life and squarely places God (and Jesus) into the seat of responsibility for happens to me.  

As my faith and trust grows, the easier the ride becomes with this past week being a case in point.

Since Thanksgiving I've felt like I'm retaining extra fluid in my abdomen and legs, then further developing a tender spot on the inside of my right calf that started turning pink.  Rather than leave it and possibly get caught in the melee of after hours or the urgent care centre, I thought the prudent thing to do was call my family doc.  Had I felt the need to attend an after hours clinic, all I could imagine is the look on the poor faces of the care team, wondering just what to do with a case as complicated as mine and most likely being shuffled off to Emerg anyway.

While my doc had no appointments for another 2 weeks (I have one tomorrow from a previous booking), on asking to speak to someone I was able to leave a message on the nurses' line.  A call back in less than 30 minutes led to going in at 2:30 the same day, a close examination and a referral for an ultrasound for 4 p.m. on the off chance that I had developed a blood clot.  Off I toddled to KGH radiology, had the ultrasound and prepared to head home.

The nurse and doc came in to say that in fact I did have a blood clot meaning the folks in Emerg would be waiting for my arrival to start treatment immediately. I, in the meantime had my coat on ready to head home, thinking it was just a good measure of precaution given the risk and seriousness had a clot been found.

All this background to tell you that I found myself observing my own reactions to this information within the context of my personal intention.  It was quite profound to say the least.  What, in the past, would have been an immediate and vertical trip into anxiety orbit, complete with an impending visit from the Grim Reaper even though Halloween was a few days away, along with my life flashing before my eyes, in fact was a reaction so calm, I almost wondered who was actually listening to this explanation and what they had done with my old self.

 Even as I write this, right now, my heart remains airy and light with an overall sense of 'being in the right hands' regardless of the outcome.

The greatest risk, as we all know, is that a blood clot might move, or a piece break off, travelling in the express lanes to the lungs which would create a serious traffic jam in my overall bodily function, potentially even sending me to the scrap heap.  We passed the basic information on to family simply in case of any sudden event, that they wouldn't be caught totally off guard.  I know and understand that cancer patients are at a higher risk of clots than the normal population but had no idea why.  The explanation provided by the resident in Emerg was that individuals living with 'active' cancer also live with their bodies in a constant state of inflammation. That insight better helps me understand the hills and valleys that we traverse while managing a chronic illness.  In my opinion, one of the most important aspects is to become intimately familiar with our own bodies and to listen to that little voice in our gut that suggests we take action if and as necessary.  Ignoring or putting off can open up rabbit holes much larger than we anticipated and negatively impact our quality of life.  Again, going back to this case in point, at least the clot is behind my right knee, not up in the groin area which apparently can increase the overall risk.  It's interesting how, as we place greater trust in our own higher power, that we also seem to gain greater confidence and trust in ourselves to take direction from within.

As my days have become quiet, with many less distractions, I'm gaining a sense of peace in slowly going through and catching up on long ignored small tasks.  Calling people, for whatever reason, or rather the inability to call, continues to mystify me.

It's a relatively short list, all people I'm most fond of, and yet it's like my hand is paralyzed, totally unable to pick up that hand held black instrument that will connect me to these wonderful friends.  My little plan of getting it done by the end of October didn't work so I will set a new deadline of mid November.  Of course the extremely gorgeous weather will be yet another distraction, enticing my to try to get outdoors and soak up the warmth and sunshine while I can.  Hey, wait a minute, who says I can't drag out one of those plastic Adirondack chairs, settle myself nicely in a snug jacket or blanket and use my other hand to press those little buttons that will magically put me in touch with individuals I've promised myself I would call. Could just be a plan over the next few days.

Another long ignored activity for me is on the creative side of my brain.  For as long as I can remember I have dabbled in various crafts and creations, never taking a deep seated, long term interest in any one thing, but rather trying this, that and the other thing.  Maybe it was just to see if I could do whatever the project was, and whether yes or no, continue to move on to the next thing.  The interesting thought that comes to mind is the dual nature of my brain related to such things.  On one hand, if I was successful, I didn't necessarily need to continue proving myself (??? not sure where that thought came from) and could easily move on.  On the other hand, if I wasn't pleased with the outcome, the ease with which I could turn my back and look for something new could surprise me.  As I ponder that, it seems that there were not too many crafty things that didn't turn out.

 Where the danger lies for me is in the vast jungle of the kitchen that includes both cooking and baking.  I once used a clay baker to make a chicken which didn't turn out perfect first time, only to banish that poor instrument to the basement, sadly destined for the purge pile.  Another time, as a teen, I tried to make a homemade apple pie - I can still remember the thick, chalky pastry that was intended to be a light, flaky crust.  That's it, never another pie to be made by my hands and I don't believe I ever have.  How stubborn is that!  Although, to offer some small defence, not having a sweet tooth didn't help matters much.  As well, a self proclaimed domestic diva, I have never considered as an asset. I'm always amazed at how people a) actually enjoy time in the kitchen and find it almost a 'play time' and b) happily go through recipes like a child with a new toy looking for something new to make.  Couple that with trying new recipes on company - well you might as well give me a sedative before I even begin!

God sure has a sense of humour!  In the midst of this writing, I heard the mail person drop our correspondence into the mail box.  Yes, we still have home delivery although having had to use a community mailbox for 15 years, it doesn't hold the same emotional attachment for me as so many others.  The funny thing is that in today's mail is a thank you letter from our dear, dear friends at the Sisters of Providence Motherhouse (yes nuns)

for a recent visit and delivery of believe it or not, home made treats - my specialty - home made peanut brittle.

Enclosed with the letter is a recipe for Best Rum Cake Ever.  Here I'm thinking 'Oh my, after my ranting I'm actually going to have to try my hand at baking.  After all, if the nuns are sending a recipe, I'd better try it out'.  It goes something like this:

List of ingredients and then the directions for making the cake.
Before you start, sample the rum for quality.  Good, isn't it?  Now go ahead.  Select a large mixing bowl, measuring cup, etc.  Check the rum again.  It must be just right.  To be sure rum is of the highest quality, pour one level cup of rum into a glass and drink it as fast as you can.  Repeat.  With an electric mixer, heat 1 cup of butter is a large fluffy bowl.  Add 1 teaspoon of thugar and beat again.  Meanwhile, make sure that the rum is of the highest quality.   Try another cup.

Add two arge leggs, 2 cups fried suit and beat till high.  If druit gets thick in beaters, just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the rum again, checking for tenscisticity.  Next. sift 3 cups of pepper or sale (it really doesn't matter).  Sample the rum again.

Sift 1/2 pint of lemon juice.  Fold in chopped butter and strained nuts.  Add 1 babble spoon of brown thugar, or whatever colour you can find.  Wix mell.  Crease oven and turn cake pan to 350 grredees.  Now pour the whole mess into the coven and ake.  Check the rum again - and go to ged.

Oh my gosh, the surprises that come our way when we are open and have even just a little sense of humour.   Despite the place I am in life these days, one thing I can say is that I'm learning to take things far less seriously, far less to heart, far less personally.  Rather than thrashing about in the sea of life, being panic stricken for all that might happen, I'm enjoying a rather leisurely, sun soaked ride on a full length flotation device, gently bobbing along leaving me carefree while enjoying the passing of each new day.

I plan to share an initiative that we've taken on as a parish community in sponsoring a refugee family from Syria.  My personal involvement will be modest at best but while I was discerning what role I might take, again, the lighthearted feeling that comes with doing something outside oneself, catching the crest of a much larger, global wave of need is compelling.

 Much like the story of the little boy on the beach of thousands of starfish, patiently throwing them, one by one, back to the sea.  Someone comes along only to comment that there are far too many to make a difference, to which the boy replied, as he tossed another back in the water 'It made a difference to that one'.  And so we too have the opportunity to make a difference 'to one family' and remain open to how we will accomplish that goal.

Until next time, enjoy the mild weather, stay open to what surprises life may hold for you and remember, even during the tough times, especially during the tough times, that's when we are closest to God.

Take care and God Bless,
Hugs
Liz

Liz Dobbs Jones
dobbsjones@gmail.com

"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive".

Time out for Contemplation

Overshadowing everything right about now is the superbly exciting win by Canada's own Blue Jays on Wednesday night.  Gotta tell ya though, the best moment of the game for me was when the last pitch was thrown and the pitcher looked up to heaven and made the sign of the cross.  That moment has been televised innumerable times to my sheer delight!

Yes Thanksgiving was nice and if you'd like an overview, go to Thanksgiving of last year and have a read.  I did.  I could just copy and paste that part here and give you a pretty good description of what went on at our house and with our family.  I had no idea my emotions could still be stretched so tight and my heart pounding so hard that I could barely function!  Do people really react that way on a regular basis when playing and watching sports?  Oh my.

Only being a 'fair weather fan'  for the most part and rarely watching any regular season game of any kind, tuning in when things get hot and exciting, I can't get into any meaningful or intelligent conversation about the statistics, whether the calls were right, wrong or indifferent.  In days gone by when I would try to show some enthusiasm and shout out comments about the officials of either baseball or worse, hockey, I'd be laughed at to say 'Mom you don't know what you're talking about.'  Oh darn and here I thought I could show that maybe just a little of what I've endured over the years has rubbed off.  

Perhaps that's the reality of it, my interest in sports is limited at best, mostly by association and very little by way of participation.  When people ask me if I golf, I'll say yes, for over 30 years but it adds up to about 4 seasons!  What's a little interesting is that I actually used to have a little bit of natural ability.  Being very light and short for most of my life, I could run without effort, hit a baseball, catch one and even throw it relatively accurately.  Apparently I have, or had, a natural golf swing although more practice would likely have led to greater distance and accuracy!  Well enough of my limited sporting prowess.  What has been especially heartwarming is truly how Canadians, as a nation, can be brought together, all cheering and rooting for the national team.  

Just to show how things have changed, it was amazing to hear that many employers accommodated Jays supporters (and that's likely everyone everywhere) allowing them to watch the game during work hours.  In 1993 I was on a week long course in Toronto, downtown, on the afternoon of the parade to celebrate the Blue Jays last World Series win and we couldn't even peek out the window to try to get a glimpse of the glory.  

I'm not sure what it is that pulls people together to 'play' sports of any kind yet I seem to surround myself with people who can't imagine life without that connection.  Never having directly participated in organized sports and always being chosen last or next to last in pick up games of typically baseball I somehow feel detached from the whole concept.  What only dawned on me since growing up is that the most likely reason for being chosen last for any school year or after school game was due to my diminutive size and nothing to do whether people liked me or not.  

Of course, what is a 10 or 12 year old to think, other than popularity was the deciding factor.  That of course is a result of never having 'felt small' until looking at a photo surrounded by people by whom I'd be dwarfed.  

Another long term memory is the time when my Dad came home with a neatly folded Brownie uniform, proudly offering it as a new opportunity for a 7 or 8 year old to learn some things I wouldn't learn at home from a father who was a single parent.  To this day, I can feel the physically visceral reaction I had to that uniform being presented like a hard won trophy.

 In looking back, it's a shame I couldn't be convinced to at least give it a try, but what used to be called defiance has acquired a new name 'counter will'.  I guess my Dad used to tell people "You haven't met stubborn until you've met my daughter'.  Imagine that?!  

Tomorrow will be 11 years since my Dad passed away at the age of 83 after spending 83 days in KGH with congestive heart failure.  From end of July 2004 I spent days and weeks at the hospital.  During the day I would work at my job at the Foundation, running upstairs for lunch and dinner, heading home for a quick change of clothes and back to spend the night on a cot and showering in Dad's bathroom each morning.  It came as a surprise to me when the nurses counselled me on my behaviour.  While at the beginning they confirmed one needs to pay attention to an individual who, ever so calmly says they are going to have supper and then die, as matter of factly as if they were going to a movie leaving me and others wondering what his illness was doing to his mental faculties. But no, pay attention, do what you must do, to be attentive and caring during such times.  

What you might ask then, did the nurses counsel me on?  Well, after a month or so, I was gently taken aside to learn that while my Dad and I had a very special relationship, I was actually suffocating him in a way with my constant presence.  Who'd know?  In fact, it was suggested that what he needed more than my vigilance, was to give him space and room to die.  As difficult a message as that was to hear, in many ways it was a relief although I did learn through that experience that one must allow their world to shrink to a manageable size when going through life's major difficulties including illness and death.

On the 27th of this month will be 13 years since my husband, Matt's dad, Rick, died suddenly on a Sunday morning getting up to pour me a cup of tea.  Thanksgiving weekend happened to be the last weekend that Matt saw both his Dad and his Papa, losing them only 2 years apart.  This weekend,we are enjoying a visit from friends from Mississauga who, ironically, we were to have a visit with for brunch the day that Rick died.  Instead of brunch, they ended up meeting me at KGH after trying to meet me at church only to learn I wasn't there and that something tragic may have happened.  Needless to say we share a special bond that will never be broken.  Like the rest of people in my life, they have accepted Mike for the wonderful person that he is and as one of the most important people in my life.  As I sit here some days looking out over the backyard and the slowly moving creek, I wonder if this may be the last year that I enjoy the view during this change of season.   Is this the last change of colour I'll see in the trees, remembering what little Ella said when she was about 2 - that the trees change colour from the rain.  Too cute.  

As the weeks and months roll by, more quickly than ever it seems, I do realize that my best before date is heading my way, though not like the light of train roaring down a track toward me.  It's a much calmer feeling than when I first started my Adventures in Prayer and Medicine.  After all, it is now three years since we dropped down the first rabbit hole and one can't help but ponder the numbers that are so casually thrown around about five year survival rates and how some far outlive the projections.  

What kind of a statistic will I become?  Will I be filed in the expected date of demise folder, or maybe in the wow, look how long she lasted folder?  

It's kind of interesting how it all becomes less scary - maybe it's the whole acceptance thing.  Maybe it's the almost imperceptable increase in my faith that has been growing like a well nurtured and tended garden.  Planting the seeds of faith development through daily prayer and bible reading, like watering floral containers, not as an obligation but as a known outcome from tender care.  Praying the rosary started as a stilted, hesitant activity, trying to learn and memorize four different sets of mysteries, to be prayed on various days of the week.  I had no idea.  This activity has become as natural as covering up with a warm blanket on a cold day bringing comfort to my soul.  Attending mass two mornings a week (yes besides Sundays) seems to provide solid grounding for the day.  On reflection, it's like my faith focus is helping to calm the choppy waters that used to wash through me pretty much at the start of each day when relying most on my own devices to get through.

Something that has changed fairly significantly is my fear and concern about physical suffering.  It used to cause almost heart stopping fear but that too, has been abating.  I sometimes wonder if maybe I haven't experienced the excruciating physical suffering that some people have gone through.  But then I remind myself that a burst vertebrae in one's spine is no walk in the park.  Besides, there are good drugs that can be administered to ease the way to the great white light when that time comes if pain is a major issue.  

A major mind shift that has taken place is the true belief that once we 'cross over', we won't miss those we are leaving behind.  While it's hard to imagine, I remind myself of dreams I have that don't include those closest to my heart and how normal they seem.  

Another thought that comes to mind is that with each passing year, there are more and more of those we knew and loved, have found their way.  It's almost like we each have a stand of bleachers filled with all those who have gone before us each interceding for us as needed using their own special gifts and talents to help us.  Some people would disagree with that notion and that the only one we can hope to have help from is God.  Well I'd rather believe the former because it is comforting in many ways to imagine that we can rely on the help of those we respected even if they are unseen.  

I had no idea where I was going with this post, yet again, as I sometimes worry about repeating myself but I will continue to ask the Holy Spirit for input and guidance as long as there is an interest in reading what happens to come through the keyboard.

Just as a final note to wrap up Thanksgiving.  During dinner now 4 year old Ella leaned over to me and whispered in my ear "We don't say 'Oh my God', because that's God's name and he loves us so we say 'Oh My Gosh'".  It was a subtle and gentle correction made to her earlier this year, interesting to know who she had a conversation with to provide her with the explanation.  Out of the mouths of babes ..... 

I'm thankful to have been able to enjoy another year with family and friends and thank you for your prayers and support.

Until next time, take care and give those you love a hug.

Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com

"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive"

A Focus on Health Status

Well, the time I spent writing the first part of this post yesterday was a test of patience as I spent time huddled in the corner of an examining room tapping away on my IPad similar to those people who never learned to type - using the 'hunt and peck' method of producing a message.  At one point during that escapade, my post disappeared off the page like a magician's rabbit - hey do you think it fell down one of the many holes along these adventures?  My efforts to retrieve and rescue proved fruitless as they did just now when I made a valiant effort to bring the first portion back to the surface.  Forever in the depths of Adventure land they lie, perhaps to be discovered at some point in the future by another traveller.

I started writing about the fact that we have reached October 1st already, even after a glorious summer stretching well into late September.  As well, it seems my health, which is the original intent of this whole blog, had taken priority over any number of other matters during September.  During a routine monthly visit with my family doc who is relatively new to me, and having proven herself as a very competent coach between oncology visits, we decided (together) that bloodwork would be in order given the time since the last vampirical draw (ya, I know, that's not even a real word but seemed to fit here!),
it might be a good time to re-examine and review the inner workings of my anatomy.

The itch in my feet also continues to cause me to behave like a chimpanzee picking nit wits and what nots from their mate or baby as I literally go outside to rub my feet against the brick wall in an effort to get some relief.  Needless to say, that strategy was not a wise one given that the abrasiveness of the brick can easily lead to broken skin, open sores, and, God forbid, infection!  Now the head had to take over and introduce the proper level of self discipline to prevent further problems from developing.  This would be a good time to take the advice of my doc, and, after every pool visit which is an hour and a half most days of the week, to wash my feet well with soap, not just rinse them off in the shower, dry them well and coat them in moisturizer.  After all, one just needs to look at the condition of my bathing suits after only a couple of months of exposure to the chlorine on a daily basis. Yikes.  And, take a peek at the water shoes I bought, I think, in June.

 Prior to that I was pool walking barefoot and concerned that the bottom of my feet were peeling - no itch, no pain, just layers of skin shedding, likely as a combined effort of the water, chlorine, and the friction on the bottom of the pool.  My water shoes already have most of the tread gone in the same places as my feet!

Another consideration in having bloodwork done was simply that it'd been almost a year since the last draw.  And thirdly, which will be no surprise to anyone who has been following these posts,is yet another but significantly deeper level of down to the bone, weary fatigue. For the entire month of September.

Having been a morning person all my life, not needing an alarm clock to wake up and buzzing around like the Energizer bunny, only now to be, as I've described to many of you, in tortoise mode - slow to move, slower to respond and spending lots of time curled up in my shell (and actually enjoying the solitude).

Ok, so off I go to the lab, have the necessary pokes and prods along with an offer to sign up online to get the results. On arriving home this techno peasant made an attempt to set up a profile on 'My Results' through Life Labs, a new service available only since August. Feeling relatively confident with the whole process, I patiently waited for the confirmation email.  No email, pick up the phone, wait in line only to be told to give it an hour or more. Next day still no email in my inbox - inbox being the operative word. Another call, more helpful this time, offering a reset of sorts and bingo - we're set up.

 

In the midst of all this, the sheepish message back to the folks at Life Labs that in fact the original confirmation email had arrived only to have wormed its way into my junk mail. Did I think to check there before jumping into the insanity of the phone queues?  Oh no, thus resulting in much more energy being spent than necessary on my part!

Finally I'm able to pull up the results of my blood tests to determine if I'd achieved a passing grade on the notable sections of my anatomic measures. Of the sections my doctor had circled on the previous forms, and after careful examination and comparison, my imagination went into cyberspace. As I've often said to family and friends "in the absence of information, it's left to the imagination."  I don't know about you but I have one of the most vivid imaginations known to mankind. There I sit looking at numbers that I really don't understand except to see some wildly wacky comparatives. I made every effort to breathe deeply over the weekend to keep anxiety at bay and my 'coach', true to form, called Monday morning. What she had already done was examine and research the results and called my oncologist to discuss the obvious variances. If I didn't hear by Wednesday of that week I was to call the oncologist's office.  By Thursday morning, I made the call, surprisingly in a state of relative calm, a very new reaction for me - maybe an attribute of the tortoise vs. the rabbit - hey I  haven't heard that version of the story, but maybe because I'd lived my life in 'hare mode'. 

As things turn out, my oncologist called within 20 minutes only to tell me she'd tried to call 5 times without success as one of the numbers was recorded more as a 6 than a 5. And - yup - no answering service at the number she was trying to call.

The end result of our conversation was that the numbers that were dipsying and doodling all over were the enzyme results - which, by nature, fluctuate widely during the course of any day or week.  Her main concern is with the liver function results which measure Bilirubin, Clotting, and INR, Bilirubin being the most important in a case such as mine.  Well, after her patient and careful explanation, I learned my bilirubin was well below the accepted high and that many cancer patients on chemotherapy can regularly hover higher still.  As well, given that I am not presenting any jaundice provides further reassurance.  Apparently, even if my bilirubin went to a much higher number and I wasn't turning yellow, there would not be concern or deliberate action to conduct another scan.  If it went to that much higher number and I was looking like a banana peel, off I'd go to have a look at whether the fruit under the peel was still reasonably ripe or if it had gotten to the banana bread stage.  In other words, at that point a cat scan would definitely be in order.

An important consideration though is that if I, feel at any time, that a cat scan would make me feel better I am in a position to request one, on the understanding that once done, we must deal with the results, whatever they may be.  The point being, if I feel relatively ok 'as is', nothing is dramatically out of line, and no other symptoms have presented themselves, there is really no reason to do further diagnostics.

 My comment to both my physicians, with all sincerity has been, as I may have articulated here in the past, that I believe that God does His work for my health through the hands of my docs and that it's not up to me as a lay person to try and second guess their expertise on the basis of what I might read on the internet.

These conversations have caused me to ponder the actions of others who have travelled to the U.S. knowing they could pay for a cat scan or MRI to get a full 'reading' of their physical state without having any real medical issues.  Does that take us to a moral and ethical place of dealing with the information that is discovered?  What if there is something there but not presenting symptoms and not getting in the way or ordinary living?  Something that wasn't known before, not causing problems, could potentially become all consuming mentally and result in action and expense that perhaps wasn't necessary.  It would be interesting to have a conversation with someone who has taken such radical(???) action and see how they felt the experience affected their life.  I guess if nothing was found it wouldn't matter much but would they do it again?  And if so, what is the primary motivation?  Some might say prevention but who knows?

I suppose one could argue that we've all heard so many stories of how an illness was diagnosed during a regular examination, procedure or doctor's visit for something totally unrelated.  How many of us are driven by fear of what might be rather than living our lives in the here and now with whatever cards life has dealt to us?  I gotta tell you that the physical aspects of the last three years has not been an overriding concern but rather a passing annoyance that you put up with until either it goes away or you figure out a way to live with it.  The direct link though to what has to be different has surfaced in the last few weeks.

For the first time, I experienced a sense of loss and grief for those things I can no longer do physically on my own despite my mental willingness.  One such activity is gardening.  Not that I'm a Mr. Greenjeans with a thumb that produces a plethora of greenery and garden delights.  No, my main interest is just digging in the dirt, spending time among the amazing variety of plants and flowers, and very slowly planning what might go where.
 I've learned that within my limited capacity for 'scuba diving', I have no interest in doing all sorts of research to develop that enviable perennial garden that has something blooming at all times of the season.  No, I'd rather 'wind surf' and simply create a more simplistic, predictable space where I know what belongs.  That way, what doesn't belong, can easily be identified and torn out with enthusiasm. Unfortunately shortness of breath, limited ability to get up and down combined with discomfort when down, has kept me from being able to enjoy this past interest of mine.

What I have done recently, as somewhat of an 'offset', is to go around the neighbourhood where new fibre optic wires are being installed and collect rocks that might fit in my dry river bed in the back yard.  Mike was counselling me on making sure I only collected round stones until I was able to declare that any stones that were not round would make great Inukshuks!
Of course that's going to mean someone else (we won't say who at this point) is going to have to do the heavy work of lifting, moving and placing the stones while I joyfully watch and maybe plaster on some cement to keep the things together.

My plan for this post was to talk about numerical coincidences and share with you another piece of how my brain naturally functions that can be scary or boring depending on your point of view.  Seeing combinations and patterns in dates and numbers has long held a fascination for me.  What do they mean, if anything?  How do they connect events and people or are they just random combinations that I'm spending too much brain matter on trying to figure out?

Although I'm not sure I try to figure them out so much as to be open and more or less plot them on my giant imaginary white board to see, if at some time in the future, any sort of pattern or picture becomes apparent.

At this point I'm going to sign off and complete a couple of other tasks that I promised myself I'd do today.  Wishing you a great weekend and couple of weeks and we'll connect again around the middle of October.  In the meantime take care and God Bless,

Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com
'Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive'.