Sunday, March 22, 2009

the perspective ive been waiting for

I'm ready to take a break from writing about cancer for a while.

I don't think about it much now, although it has shaped the way I think. The way I feel. The way I act.

I went back through my blog about the last couple of years (has it been that long?). I'm so glad I wrote it down, it seems so out of focus now. It was a bitter sweet read. Bitter because it reminded me how I felt when there was no light at the end of the tunnel. There wasn't even a tunnel.

Sweet because I know how it ends. How space will be carved around me and light will flood in.

And then I step out. Squinting.

They say cancer is about life, not death.

I say it too.

I dance it in the family room.

I sing it in the shower.

I breathe it in the morning air.

I feel it when the sun shines.

I hear it when my kids laugh.

I know it.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


This week has brought me my first episode of 'survivors guilt'.

I have been following Linda's blog since I was diagnosed. She is a 35 year old mother. Her mole was on her knee, kept getting bumped and bleeding. The timetable of diagnosis and surgeries were almost identical to mine. She had 5 lymph nodes involved, where I had 3. She did interferon, and developed lymphedema in her leg. She rode the same emotional roller coaster Ive been begging to get off of. So many similarities.

But her cancer came back. And last week it took her life.

I try to understand this.

I watched a documentary on WWII veterans, and one was a leader of my church, Boyd K. Packer, who talked about how soldiers all around were dying, and soldiers right next to them living. He thought there was a certain amount of 'randomness' when it came to who survived.

I know I have been so lucky so far. I know Lindas journey could have just as easily been mine.

It humbles me. It saddens me. It reminds me. It inspires me. It creeps me out.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

when you read this post humor me and say 'slash' in your head when you see the /. i love it when people talk this way. stephanie/fugal?

8 years ago today life blessed me/the world with James/my first born.

I could blog/brag about him all day, but that would be boring for you/time consuming for me.

Recently though, we took him to be tested for an accelerated program in our school district. We of course had told him how great he would do/how easy it would be for him to get in. As I stood in line that morning I started having my doubts/regrets. There were what seemed like hundreds of kids cramming in geography/math books with their well-put-together parents hovering over them. We finally got the table with folders that contained their bubble sheets/instructions. Linton was in the middle of names such as Wang/Lee/Chu/Chen. You get the picture/problem.

As we walked to his classroom I suddenly panicked and nervously/discreetly laughed the whole thing off. "You know James, this is really just about your time. And...trying to do your best. That's all, just like a little game. It will most likely be pretty hard, so no pressure!

After 4 hours/all morning of filling in A/B/C/D and writing essays....It was a highly anticipated/hilarious reunion (for me).

"How did it go James?"
"Oh..." He says disappointed. "Okay."
I look at him all sorry-that-I'm-pushing-my-child-and-making-him-feel-inferior-ish/embarrassed-to-think-he-was-above-average-ish.
He looked down. "But...I think I missed 3 questions."

Love you James!!One of my favorite conversations with James was age 4 while eating lunch/high tea. "Mom, where was I born?" "In Provo." "Oh! Provo!....Well then where did I grow up?"

Sunday, March 8, 2009


This week, it has been cold here as winter struggles

This week though, the crocuses came out boldly (but in their tiny way). Dormant season is almost over and life is...waiting.

It is exactly how Ive been feeling...

This week, there has also been running. For the first time in I don't know how long, I felt like intead of walking the track-running it. Running away from whatever has been holding me back. Insecurities. Fatigue. Wrinkles. Laundry. Guilt. Swollen leg. Reality. With my legs pounding to Coldplays steady rhythm, I started. And for two glorious laps I ran my heart out.

Oh well, you have to start somewhere.

This week, there has been planning. Like-for the FUTURE. Ive looked into going back to school. Doing something long-term.

I havent thought this way since diagnosis.

This week, there has a great deal of waking up early and not so many naps.

Energy level high, all around.

This week there has been...hope. Huge amounts.

...the rest is still unwritten.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

dir dad

In primary today Sam was given a little love note to write and put in his dads shoes as a surprise. "I even know what shoes he is wearing tomorrow!"

Sam was devastated when Josh got a hold of it and read it on the way out the door.

Just now, on a bike ride in the dark with Sam, I was praising his recent advancements in reading (it didn't come exactly natural to him). He beamed and bragged he even wrote a letter on his own today.

"Oh?" asks I.

"Yes. When dad found my surprise note, I wrote him another one and put it on his pillow."

"How sweet! What did it say?!"

"Dear Dad,
I hate you.