I had my biopsy Friday. It was strange to be back with the same radiologist from two years ago... getting another stupid biopsy.

On May 24, 2016,  I remember having a stress headache and asking Dr. G's assistant to turn off the radio. I remember Dr. G being chatty and upbeat and reassuring, before he did the biopsy. But nothing could ease my worry. I remember feeling stunned at the bad news, when he called, 4 days later. I remember pacing and agonizing over telling the kids and how relieved I was, once we spoke on the phone. Calling the kids had been the hardest part of the whole cancer thing.

So I'm once again waiting for results. My husband of course knows, but there's no reason to share with anyone else. I want to be a hermit and stay busy at home, but there are 3 days ahead with a graduation party, a dinner with friends, my book club and volunteer work. 

I dread my social engagements, but I do a good job and stay pretty chipper. It doesn't feel fake. I know it does me good. But when I'm at home, it's clear that I have depleted my "good mood minutes". I'm grumpy and Poor Old Don has to put up with me. We try to talk summer plans, but I'm unenthused. Why plan, when I might be "doing cancer" this summer? When I head out to meet my book club, I'll have to have my phone handy and what if I get The Call???

I hate waiting, but it's still easier than 2 years ago. If my news is bad, I'll be mad. But I won't be as scared.

I didn't even mind the mammogram. The new Genius 3D machine was sleek and new and Cheryl made the whole thing painless. I remember her from 2 years ago, when I was a nervous mess, with concerns about a suspicious lump.

Well Woman

The very next day, I went to see J., my nurse practitioner. I've had her doing my Well Woman exams for over 15 years. She is the very best and I feel comfortable gabbing about anything with her. She knew I'd done my imaging duties, but I felt an extra lift knowing that she was also doing a breast exam. She felt my cyst and didn't seem concerned. Yay! In two days I got those 2, dreaded annual tasks crossed off my list.

Two Hours Later

I got home from my exam and did a little jig before lunch. "Oh boy! Done for a year!" Then two hours later I got a call from the radiologist. Dr. G.  said he saw some changes in my mammogram and ultrasound images. He recommended a biopsy. My heart sunk. Two years ago, Dr. G recommended a biopsy after viewing my results and it turned out to be cancer. I really hadn't prepared myself for the possibility. I don't go around fearing cancer.  

So, I had celebrated too soon. I had assumed all was well, when I did my happy dance. Being told I needed a biopsy felt different this time.  The weight of those words made my body slump, but I didn't have the same fear of the unknown. I went ahead and made my biopsy appointment for June 1 and I sulked. "I hate May." My high mood, suddenly went flat. I so do not want to do this all over again! But I'm a different person than 2 years ago. I felt more angry and irritated than weepy. Then I felt feisty.  "If it's back, then I know how to do this. And if I have do all of it again, with chemo, then I'm getting a Pixie Cut, early on. Why mess with these chemo curls. I'll show them!

So we'll see. Biopsy tomorrow, then the waiting on results period. I'll wait to click "post" until I'm ready. This is not something I'm sharing with the world just yet.

I remember a couple years ago when my friend A suddenly faced cancer. I couldn't imagine. Then suddenly I was the anxious one, facing the unknowns of breast cancer. A's pep-talks and honesty-chats were a welcome relief. Now A is facing cancer, again. I think of her daily and wish she hadn't moved so far away. 

C was once a neighbor who shared my taste in movies, humor, politics and more.  Since moving 10 years ago, we've never lost touch, thanks to technology. She supported me throughout my bad months and celebrated with me in person, when I had a short crop of hair. Now, C is finishing up her own radiation treatments for breast cancer. I stressed along with her, when she was awaiting results. No chemo for C, but she and I share that same label now. We've had cancer and that never changes.

Recently my neighbor of 20 years, had a scare. L has had biopsies before, but this one was different. While she was waiting on her results, I stewed along with her. I thought about how she was there for her own mother, when she lost her battle. I thought about how L was at my door 2 years ago, after I told her of my diagnosis. She offered support, advice and positive distraction over those months. Even fashion advice, when it was time for wig purchasing. 

Durning those agonizing days after L's biopsy, I wasn't much help. L was keeping herself distracted by packing her house to move. I fretted that her diagnosis would be positive. How does one face a move, with cancer? How could I help her? She would soon be out of casserole-giving-range! 

Actually I like good excuses. They come in handy. 2 years ago I had the cancer excuse, when I felt like. I don't think I ever really abused that. But it was nice to suddenly have an excuse to stay home and read. Mostly, it was a good excuse to take a look at my life and routines, friends and "work" and to decide what's important. We shouldn't need excuses for that.

Hair Excuses
I've been growing hair back over a year. It was kind of nice having an excuse for my bad hair days. I also had a great excuse for trying out new hair-dos. I never would have been bold enough to choose a pixie cut. It just suddenly appeared.

My knees and toes feel a little arthritic, too. I assumed all this recent stiffness was due to old age. I noticed the symptoms a year ago when I turned 60.  My oncologist suggested I stop Letrozol, (my hormone blocking med) for a month, since joint pain is a possible side effect. Nothing changed and I was a tiny bit relieved to just go ahead and take the meds for 4 more years. I don't want to be tempted to stop the drug that lowers my chances of cancer recurrence. I guess I'll just act like an old person and finish my morning run, with a wincing, slow-motion stoop to get the newspaper off the sidewalk. 

What Has Changed?
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Has cancer changed me? Do I need an excuse for extra wrinkles or achy joints?

It's been almost 2 years since Don and I posed with our kids. The photo was taken a couple weeks before diagnosis. Not that much has changed besides my hair... and Scott's.  

Family Changes

The few changes have been good ones, like both kids being married.  All 6 of are  healthy and happy and I know not to take that for granted.  I also know to appreciate every moment we're together, whether we're traveling together or just on the phone talking.

No Excuses Needed

After pondering over excuses, I decided my aching joints (which really aren't that bad) were a good excuse for using some of my sweet scented, pampering gifts. I soaked in the tub and I realized... I don't need an excuse for this.  

Lounging is Good

Tub soaks and rocking chairs and lounging in general, is plain good for you. Especially, if it leads to some kind of good thought. 

While soaking, I thought about the ridiculous noun, excuse. It's a negative word, associated with blame. I've decided to use that word as little as possible. If I just swap it out with the word motivation, it takes away the blaming tone. Nobody is blaming me for having a bad hair day. I need no excuse.  My cancer was a motivation for change, not an excuse to change.  
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Ahhh. I feel much better now. If only I had a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains and a rocking chair. No one needs an excuse of old age or cancer, to enjoy that scene! 

It's time to renew my passport, which means getting a new photo. 

Ugh!

My chemo curls are wilting. This is a dreadful look. So now I have a wig license and a wilted chemo curl passport!
But... I'm healthy and I can travel. Yay.

Two weeks later I was still bugged by this "45" that couldn't be played and I called Hallmark. The woman I spoke to handed me over to the woman above her. I had to explain what a record was and I still don't think she understood. She offered me a $5.00 gift card, but I told her that wouldn't do. My complaint was sent to corporate. Oh my.

I complained enough that they offered to let me keep the red dress, with an extra 10 percent off. That was ridiculous. I returned the dress and shopped elsewhere.

We thought our held mail had been delivered, but began to wonder if we'd gotten it all. After a week, I went to the post office to check. The man at the special door gave me a box of mail with our yellow card on top. I pointed to the card, "This says it was supposed to be delivered a week ago." "Well," he shrugged.  "We've got a temporary carrier in your area. You know anyone who wants a job?" When I got home I went through the mail and discovered 5 Sports Illustrated magazines and numerous pieces of mail that belonged to other people. I could have carted them to our nearby shopping center and played mailman to the dentist and the vet and Subway. But I returned to the post office to complain. I got very little satisfaction out of that.

Focus

I needed to complain and I'm done. Now I'll just sigh about the rainbow we saw in California and the snow covered mountains we flew over...

These 3 magazines were sitting on the table the other day.  My eyes were drawn to the images of the elephant and my favorite cathedral. I found myself pushing the "Cure" magazine away from me. I hate it when that cancer related magazine comes each month. Why do I need to be reminded of cancer? Do I really need to think about it?

Yes I do. I'm supposed to have learned something from all this. I can't forget about all the things I can do to help prevent my cancer from recurring... from proper meds, to exercise and diet.

So I opened that magazine and I actually read a couple of articles. It wasn't torture. I learned a few things. I gave myself some time to NOT ignore cancer... which is what I like to do. And most of all, I was reminded to check in on the few people in my life who are dealing with cancer worries right now. That felt good to connect and offer a little support from afar. I'll never forget how good those surprise connections felt to me 18 months ago.

So, it's not that I don't like pampering. It's just that I always think pampering is for other people. Look at this photo I snapped, after my shampoo.
​I clearly loved my pampering.

Since starting this blog, I've had such fun with these 2.  Whether wearing a wig, scarf or swim cap... whether I'm bald, have curls or no curls... we've always had fun!

But it was 19 degrees when I got up. This was the first time in my year of hair growth that I felt the need to blow dry my hair for warmth. I already had a stupid cold and my patience was at its lowest. Maybe if I'd had some giddy enthusiasm, I could have grabbed the flat iron or some hair products and really put myself into making myself presentable. But by the time I got to this dried mop, I was exhausted. I just marched into the other room and told Don, "This is how I'm gonna look today!" It was sad.  Luckily it was funny, too. I had nothing I had to do all day, except stay home and get over my cold and jet lag, so who cared.

But it may be time to start making hair decisions. Go back to a Pixie, since it's getting straighter now? Buy more hats? I may have to start learning how to deal with this hair.

It's January 16 and I'm sick for the second time this year. How is this possible? I never get sick. But today, schools are closed due to ice/snow issues and I'm sitting on the couch with my box of Kleenex. It's a cozy day to be sick.

January 1st

​On New Year's Day I was zapped with a sudden touch of flu. We had just arrived at Railay Beach in Thailand. What horrible luck! 

Not really. It was actually decent timing, if I had to get sick in Thailand. I was surrounded by beauty, with sunshine and balmy temps to soothe any ailments. 
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Rest

Best of all, Don and I had our own bungalow, so I could slip off from the group of 9 we'd been traveling with... and rest. After spending a week exploring and celebrating with family in Thailand, I suddenly had a quiet hotel room to hunker down and  cough as loud as I liked.  When others went off to explore, I laid on that bed like a 10-ton slug. I felt achy and feverish, grumpy and pouty.

I felt sort of perplexed as I lay there. It had been a very long time since I'd felt sick like this, but it was oddly familiar. Then I recognized those miserable, dumpy symptoms. "This feels just like a bad chemo day." Suddenly I was reminded, that I've been feeling so well for a very long time. I've been taking my wellness for granted.

Missing Out

I laid on that bed, too weary to read. I heard my cell beep and squinted to read a thread of group texts, communicating and updating. I felt like a grumpy little kid who had been told to stay in bed. The texts alerted me to what I was missing... monkeys and sunset and tropical drinks... I rolled out of bed and felt determined to join the gang for sunset.

Bolted In

​I grabbed the key and headed out of the bungalow, then stopped at our wall gate and fumbled with the bolt. "Why won't this open?" I whimpered. Again, I recognized that "poor miserable me" feeling from chemo days. Just like a baby, I wanted to cry. "Let me out!" 

I texted Don and he texted back, "Oops!" He had bolted the gate on the outside when he left. He came and set me free. I caught the very end of sunset, then went back to bed.

Luckily, I Didn't Miss...

So after 1 bad day at the beach, I came around. That's it. I didn't miss anything important. The week before I'd been well for Chali & Scott's Thai wedding. I'd been healthy and happy when we had our day at the elephant sanctuary and when we visited the temples and cruised the river, I was raring to go. And now today, I've got a cold and I'm missing nothing. 

Today instead of radiation, I went to a Christmas lunch with my book club. We talked about a million things, which is why I love this group. I didn't think about December 2016. But later I thought about my own odd anniversary and I dragged out the photo from our gathering, a year earlier. We 6 looked pretty much the same in both photos... except my half-wig and my scarf are gone and I have curly hair. 

Much has happened in all our lives in 12 months. For me, there have been travels and weddings and graduations and celebrations and a 60th birthday.  A lot has happened with my hair, too!


​Yay, for this year of odd hair growth!

Here's a little slide show, starting with my bald head and ending on December 13, 2017.

So as I look back on 12 months, I have to smile. The hair growth has been slower and a little more frustrating than I ever expected. But it has made this year entertaining and memorable! On New Year's Eve I will privately toast to my Crazy Hair Year!

Thanksgiving came a week after the wedding. It was a whirlwind and I forgot to be thankful!

But now that I'm caught up on sleep, I can stop and think about all that amazing Thai food Linda cooked. Our children were married in Texas a week before Thanksgiving, so we ended up gathering and celebrating for a few days in our home. 

Thanks For Time

While the honeymooners spent a couple days in Santa Fe, the rest of us basked in the fact that the wedding was over.. all went well and there was time to just hang out and relax.

A year ago, I was still focused on finishing treatments. This Thanksgiving, I didn't even think about my health. Now I'm looking back on this past holiday and I'm thankful for the good health in both our families... or we wouldn't have been able to have had those crazy ping pong matches.  We wouldn't have been able to go on that 4-mile dog walk before our feast. Too bad none of us are healthy enough to jump as high as Lola.
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The newlyweds were back in time for champagne toasts and turkey feasting. We didn't sing our family's traditional song and we didn't go around the table saying what we were thankful for this year. We sort of forgot. But now I'm taking time to feel grateful for all the food and drink... especially since the leftovers are gone.

I feel pretty darn lucky and grateful to have such a fun and flexible family. I know we'll always find a way or a time to come together. I'm thankful for that.

A year and a half ago, I got good at speaking up for myself. I had the cancer excuse, which allowed me to put myself first sometimes. In this photo at Chali and Scott's wedding, I look a little bossy/sassy... the way I'm hanging onto that boy of mine. (That's really just how the photographer posed me.) I kind of wish I'd been a bossier mom at that moment and made a few photo suggestions. But I was enjoying the moment.

But besides the family poses and the Mother/Son dance, I don't recall a moment when Scott and I were near each other. If only I'd thought it through before, I would have been a bossy Mom-of-Groom and dashed up to him at some point. I could have grabbed someone and asked, "Hey! Would you take a pic of us and text it to me!" So simple. Why didn't I?

 

I'm going to share a few thoughts and photos, starting with this photo of me prepping for rehearsal dinner. I'm not faking the glee. I was pretty giddy about the festivities ahead.

Rehearsal Day

Don and I rushed from the rehearsal to Salt Lick BBQ to set up the drinks and flowers for the dinner. 
 

However, time started running out and I forfeited my turn with the hair specialist. That sounds like a gracious sacrifice, but honestly I looked at my towel dried hair and noticed my curls were on their best behavior. How crazy and lucky that I could go to my son's wedding without even messing with my hair at all. For the first time ever, I felt lucky to have chemo curls.

Wedding

By the time the bride and groom said their vows, the sun was casting a magical glow.  Don and I shared Kleenex while watching, listening and sniffling. I know Scott and Cha so well, so how could they stun me so?  The first the sight of them, put a lump in my throat and then their thoughtful vows did me in. Seeing their tears just about put me over the edge, until a gentle breeze played with Chali's veil and made me smile and laugh. 

The newlywed's first dance was delightful and upbeat, ending with a playful/dramatic dip/kiss. Chali looked graceful as she danced with her father to Harry Belfonte's, Turn Around.  It was a perfect father/daughter choice... a song with which I already had strong sentimental ties. Scott and I danced to Si Tu Vois Ma Mere and I chuckled, when I fumbled a step. Why didn't I take a moment to be more serious during that special son & mom dance. It was the only moment all day that I'd had with that crazy boy of mine.  Why didn't I use it to tell him how proud I was of him. Suddenly the wedding was over and they were on their way. I had missed my chance.

Remembering

The wedding was more beautiful and touching than I ever could have hoped for and yet I felt a bit of melancholy for the next 2 days. Some sad family news came the morning after the wedding and that was the biggest part of it. But even without that news, I recognized those feelings and I think they would have been there regardless.

Oddly, just as I was finishing up this post I noticed a message on my cell. It was the imaging center calling about a refund for an overpayment in May of 2016. That was the day I went in for my biopsy.  So even though this blog post was hardly related to my cancer, the phone call was an important reminder. I am so incredibly grateful to be here today. A year and a half ago, Scott and Chali were newly engaged and my sudden diagnosis gave me no hints of where I was headed. I am borrowing this beautiful photo from youaremytrue photographers to remind me of just how very lucky I am! 

Good grief! Why did I bother! By the time the cleaners left, I was calling the company to complain and Don and I were racing through the house with dust rags and brooms, while packing our bags for the wedding. Why did I hire them! I growled at myself! I didn't even hire cleaners when I was going through treatments. I guess I just don't like needing help with my house.  Grrr!

Enough!

Instead, I'm thinking of the fun we had with some last minute prep, here in Sugar Land.

​It was fun to realize at that moment, there were just as many women as men in the shop... the shop that has always catered to men. I was pretty content focusing on the past and imagining the atmosphere 57 years ago, when A.D. started up. 
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Questions
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But it was time for the interview and Diana began by asking questions about my cancer. She asked when I was diagnosed and what stage of cancer I had. She wanted to know how I took the news and what was the hardest part of my cancer.  ​

I stopped by yesterday and A.D. had my paper waiting. He made sure we autographed each other's copies. A.D. was more than pleased with the write-up. I didn't worry that Diana had gotten a few things wrong. I was just happy that my barber and his shop had a good spotlight.  
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Advice?

​After more thought, I guess I wouldn't necessarily advise getting a post-chemo head shave, to just anyone. But I would tell others, "Figure out what delights you and indulge." 

A year ago, I started the hair growth adventure with a freshly shaved head. It took a couple months to really get things started. Then I let my dandy hair-dos inspire some characters.

Suddenly Curly

In February, my straight hair suddenly turned curly and annoying.  I tried a new color, but I still looked like I had a bad perm. Luckily I found some characters that enjoyed my hair.

One Year Down

In recent months I've sported nerdy and retro hair-dos, raggedy Brillo Pad hair... and hair so dark and festive, it makes me want to stomp grapes or drink Margaritas!

It's been a slow process these 12 months. But maybe it's time to get on with more important things and stop focusing on my head. Then again, I don't want to miss any new character inspirations.

​Let the next year of growth begin! 

I learned a year ago, that the best way to face your hair woes (or lack of hair woes) is to go see your barber! So today, the day after getting my new hair color, I went to see A.D.!

 

I was sorry we missed the customer who had just left. A.D. told us he'd been cutting his hair since 1960. I asked A.D. to pose with me, when Don grabbed the camera. Then A.D. reached in a drawer and handed Don a disposable camera. Don snapped another.

Sitting a Spell

There were no customers so Don and I got to look at old photos and ask lots of questions.  A.D. filled us in, on some of the history of the shop that opened in 1949... after operating in a nearby building since the 1800's. He laughed about the stories that had been shared, not just from the barber chairs, but the seats along the wall. Men and boys of all ages...ranchers and a few notable Texans... but no women asking for hair cuts or head shaves, besides me.

Next thing I knew, A.D. was on the phone talking to someone with the Richmond paper. "Yes, she's in my shop right now." I laughed with Don, because I'd already told Don that the shop made me feel like I was in Andy Griffith's Mayberry. The fact that A.D. picked up the phone and dialed the newspaper without looking up the number, made me feel like we'd stepped back in time.

I'm not a big shopper and I don't like malls.  I don't like the crowds and I also don't like it when the mall's quiet... and I become a magnet to sales help. The music often annoys me and the strong scents make my eyes water. 

Luckily I still had lots of energy, since I needed to make the cross country hike to Dillard's. The mall was fairly quiet on a Wednesday morning, which meant there were fewer shoppers to dodge. But there were also no crowds to hide me from the sales people standing beside their kiosks... looking for victims. I tried to remember my daughter's advice. "Don't be so nice, Mom. Avoid eye contact."  I scurried along, close to the shop entrances, but I was still invited to taste this and smell that. I was also invited to answer questions. 
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I made it halfway through the mall when I heard an older voice behind me. "Excuse me Ma'am..." Those are the very words I usually ignore, but the voice made me turn back. An older, African American woman, wearing a fanny pack, was obviously doing a mall walk. But she had a question.
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A few moments later she responded. "I lost my hair with chemo, too. It was harder losing my hair than my breasts."  Then it made sense why she stopped me. I made an attempt to bond with the sweet looking woman. "Yes, it's tough isn't it." But she didn't  have much else to say, which again made me wonder why she'd stopped me. If I'd answered, "Yes, my curls are natural." Would she have had more to say? Since she'd brought up the curls, I wanted to ask, "Wasn't your hair curly before cancer? Do you have tricks?" But of course I didn't. Usually this kind of people encounter would sort of delight me, but it felt odd. We chatted awkwardly a bit longer before going our separate ways.

As for the woman... Was she just curious? Was she plain lonely? Was she a pickpocket and I'm missing my wallet? Or was just friendly, in an odd way? I guess I could go mall walking tomorrow and find out. Except, I don't like  malls.

I don't usually worry over my routine doc appointments, every 3 months. But when I headed to see my oncologist yesterday, I found myself dreading the blood pressure cuff more than the needle for lab work. I hoped the stresses of the past 8 weeks wouldn't be revealed in my blood pressure. Luckily, my worries now aren't about cancer. But they seem to be about everything else.  

Even though John and Lorrie were safe in Texas, I worried over them and California for 3 days. By the time I headed to my appointment on Thursday, the fires were still burning and their beautiful home was gone. 

One day, we stopped at a CVS and I decided to find out if the stress was affecting my blood pressure. I felt like a kid getting a bad grade back on a test. I hoped no one could see my numbers.

But at least the TV in the waiting room was turned to HGTV and there was no remote, tempting me to change channels. At home I've had a hard time turning away from the news. There's been a steady stream of disasters between Houston's devastating floods and California's horrific fires. Even after Harvey, I was glued to the TV for updates on the hurricanes headed towards Florida and Puerto Rico. Then I was suddenly staring in shock at the images of the mass shooting in Las Vegas.  Along with all of the disaster updates in the news, I've been cringing and fuming at the constant drama in the White House. This can't be healthy.

And then, I began to think about all those who have dealt with cancer plus tragedy in these past weeks. Chemo patients in Houston, who had their treatments and care disrupted... cancer patients in Santa Rosa who have no home to return to after a morning of chemo or a radiation... or what about all the people who received a cancer diagnosis on October 1, the day we learned of the Las Vegas mass shooting...
​

When I finally saw Dr. P, he asked about hurricane damage, before asking health questions. Then he studied his clipboard and rattled off a few comments in his doctorly way. "Your labs look good. Your weight is fine. Your hair's looking nice..." The comment cracked me up, because only your oncologist can offer a hair compliment with such a business tone.

After all my concern, Dr. P. didn't even mention my blood pressure. It was closer to normal. I left feeling grateful that my appointment was so dull. I drove home feeling lucky that Pink Month was not as stressful as last year. By the time I reached home, I vowed I would find a way to keep up with the news, without being addicted to it!
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Less focus on TV and more focus on people. That might even put my blood pressure in the normal range!

Last October, I wore my Lake Tahoe hat when I visited my great nephews in California. I felt pretty normal with my half wig. Only once did I come close to revealing my bald head, when 3-year old Colden made a grab for my hat.  

This Year

It was fun being back in California this September. The boys were almost a year older and I was  11 months stronger.  Last October when we visited, I had just finished chemo. I was all giddy about my hair growing back. I'm glad I didn't know then, how slow the process would be.

Goofy Hair

​I didn't wear a hat when we saw the boys this time, but I probably should have. 

We had a wonderful hike near Squaw Valley and paused for a photo. All 3 boys look like they're laughing at my worn out Brillo Pad hair, in this photo. That's not true, though. Nobody, including me, was thinking of hair when this photo was taken. 

But there was another moment during our visit, when 7 year old Silas did take notice of my curls.

I'm used to adults cautiously mentioning my hair, but I'm not used to the honesty of a child. It was such a simple remark, with no concern or opinion. I laughed and agreed with him, that my hair was indeed curly. Silas turned his focus back to his building, but he continued to talk. 
"I have a girl in my class and her hair is really, really curly. There's nothing she can do about it. She tries to use barrettes sometimes, but it's still curly." I asked if his friend was okay her hair. Silas answered, "Yep, I think so." 

I loved our little hair talk. I loved picturing the little girl, who probably looked adorable in her barrettes. She could probably give me some pointers!

Now we're worried about those we know in the path of Hurricane Irma. ​

I'm already forgetting how it felt 12 days ago, when we hiked back to check on the house. We were still on edge, waiting for the river to crest... anxious as we visualized homes flooding.  For many in Texas and Florida, it will be a long time until there can be any forgetting.

Advice

It seems like we Texans should have advice for Florida. I feel like I should at least have some tips, for those very friends in the southeast who recently checked in on me!

We were lucky with Harvey. This was our third hurricane scare in 12 years. This was our first evacuation and I need to do my work and make notes to be better prepared if this ever happens again.  Like cancer, you hope it's a one time deal.  But I might as well figure out what I've learned from both experiences, so I can better help others.

We returned home after 4 days of mandatory evacuation. Our house didn't flood, but over 100,000 homes in our area were affected. I felt guilty that I got to sleep in my own bed that night. But no one really wants to hear about my survivor's remorse.

I was turned away because I wasn't 3 years cancer free. I no longer felt guilty. I felt mad.  Mad to be in that stupid cancer club with rules that make me feel like my blood is flawed. Mad that I couldn't join the club of Givers that was lined up.

​Relaxing When Others Aren't
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I started feeling guilty before we even knew our house was going to be safe.  We were invited to evacuate to a safe home just miles from ours. 

The sun came out by the second day and I was able to run... which helped with stress. The dry paths were lovely in the morning, but I could hardly enjoy, when I felt I should be helping others. Everything looked oddly normal, until I approached the closed grocery stores and restaurants. The sounds of rescue helicopters reminded me that all was not well.

How to Help?
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The day we got home, I began fretting over how to help. I saw images on TV of boat rescues and flooded homes with neighbors pitching in.  I wanted to jump in and be a part of the help. But how? I'm the person who doesn't do groups. This is when it pays to be a part of an organization that pulls together and helps others. So much for my independence. 

I wasted lots of time on the internet and phone, trying to find areas of need that were reachable. Don learned that a friend in the flooded and neglected town of Wharton, was preparing a BBQ for over 400. We drove out and delivered some goods, but there was little else for us to do. The small group seemed to have everything under control. I was in awe, watching how smoothly they prepared for the crowds, around pots of beans and rice and the giant grill.  This was a hardworking group, used to pulling together and helping one another. Cooking a pot of beans to feed 300 was no big deal. I took it in and vowed I would learn from what I saw.

Shelters and Centers

I felt disappointed the next day, that they didn't need my help when I showed up at an evacuation shelter in Richmond. I drove to a church shelter, but it had already closed. I don't know why it took me so long to realize I just needed to get back to being with the people in the centers, where I already volunteer. I had gone in circles for days, before returning to my senior groups and the kids at the Women's shelter. Everyone had been affected by the hurricane whether they had dealt with floods or not. 
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Helping Each Other

It was a joy to hug some of my sweet seniors and hear their stories.  We had all been worried about each other when the center was closed for 10 days. We shared and then we forgot about Harvey and distracted ourselves with fun. I left realizing they had helped me as much as I'd helped them.

Kids and More Seniors

My Alzheimer's group delighted me with their ability to live in the moment. No one was talking about hurricanes! Then I moved on, to the Women's Shelter where the moms were the happiest to see me. After almost 2 weeks of school closings, there was a fair amount of tension in the air. After games and songs, puppets and outside play I left the kids worn out... but not as worn out as me.

So, in the future I'll try to remind myself to keep this guilt thing from getting in the way. Sometimes my urge to race out there and do something "big" distracts me from caring about the people who are right near me. 

Exactly a week ago, we woke to images on TV of the devastation in Houston. I couldn't imagine the horrors of escaping, in flood waters. I worried about the people I knew in those areas, 20 miles from our home in Sugar Land. But, I didn't worry about our house. Fort Bend County has had 3 major floods in 3 years and we've always been fine. 
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A Week Ago, Sunday

On Sunday, we grew more concerned as we learned about the Brazos River, which borders our neighborhood. Predictions of rising waters had us slightly on edge. Then, late Sunday night we got word of the mandatory evacuation and I suddenly realized how unprepared we were.

Luckily we had until the next day, but we began frantically working. I texted and phoned friends and neighbors for the next couple of hours, carrying the phone with me as I made endless trips up and down stairs... carrying what we could from the first floor to what we hoped would be the dry floor. At 2 am, we tried to sleep for a few hours, but it wasn't restful.  

Monday Morning

This time last year, I had just begun chemo treatments and often pondered the obvious question. "What is really important?" I was more anchored to home then, with so much time to stare at the "stuff" surrounding me. I did spend some time in the late summer and fall, sorting, deciding, donating and discarding. Now it's clear, those efforts hardly made a dent.

On Monday, before we locked up, I took one last look and hoped "the stuff" would be safe. Surely my grandmother's bears, the Sicilian puppet and the Uncle Sam doll, would be safe upstairs. Downstairs the only thing I really worried about was the old Meyer family table. I was pretty sure if we flooded, our lame attempt to lift the pedestal on bricks would not keep water from the lion's mouths. I said good-bye to the house.

4 Nights Away... Then Home

During our hectic scramble to get out, we changed our evacuation plan 3 times. News of flooded roads stopped our attempts to leave town. We ended up staying in a safe home, thanks to our generous friends.

It felt odd that first night, to eat dinner in a nice home, 3 miles from our evacuated neighborhood. I allowed myself to imagine the river rising 59 feet and flooding all our homes. Oddly though, I felt calm. I thought back to those anxious hours of frantic decisions and stair climbing and it suddenly seemed like the biggest stress was over. "If we lose it all, that will be okay." (I may have been fooling myself) But maybe a year ago, I really did learn more about what's important. It seems so cliche, to claim your cancer taught you that. But this past year, I've begun to face the reality that our "treasures" and "keepsakes" can be a burden. I had 4 nights to stew over that, before we returned to our dry home.

We came home yesterday and I spent a fair amount of time planning how I could volunteer this week. Today, I have spent many hours making more decisions as I put things back in order... and box up the things, I now plan to part with.