cancer

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUZANNE–BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

/ middlesisterkathleen / 10 Comments

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUZANNE—BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

She doesn’t remember, but I remember clearly that Suzanne said: “I wish for my birthday that everyone would bring me toilet tissue.”

It was perhaps six years ago on Easter Sunday.  She hosted dinner for our siblings and all the offspring, so there were likely twenty-plus people in her home.  She stepped into the  bathroom off the kitchen to change the toilet paper—again—and I heard her say it.

The ding-ding-ding of the great idea bell sounded in my head, and the light bulb lit up too.  “We can make that happen,” I thought to myself, but didn’t say a word to her.

That was Easter Sunday in the spring, and Suzanne’s birthday is August 16th, a few days from today.  She claims it as her day before she had to share it with Madonna when she became famous, and she had seven years of that day to herself before Elvis died on the same day.

I mentioned the idea to Gail, and she too, thought it was brilliant.  We let it rest for several months.  Then, in perhaps mid-July, we started making plans to make her wish come true.

Be careful what you wish for.

Gail sent out mass emails, and if we were even on Facebook then, we probably posted it unbeknownst to her; I don’t remember.  We spread it by word-of-mouth, with the admonition that A: it was to be kept secret from her, and B: there must be a card or note attached that read be careful what you wish for.

She was still living in the small town where our parents lived; she moved to my small city only six months ago.  She worked in one of the two banks there, and she knew everyone in town.  Gail had lived there as well some years prior, but, being Gail, she still knew everyone.  She got the word spread around town, and we sat back and waited.

It was a success.  Fortunately, her boss had a sense of humor, as multiple rolls of toilet tissue were carried in the door that day by customers and non-customers alike.

Multiple, soft packages were showing up addressed to her in the post office, and the postmistress was a bit confounded, but fully appreciated the humor when she found out the story.

There was personalized toilet tissue, toilet tissue with pictures, toilet tissue with jokes, as well as the standard garden-variety toilet tissue.

Still, she didn’t remember making that wish.

Be careful what you wish for.

At the end of the day, she ended up with over 300 rolls of toilet tissue.  She loved it.  Who wouldn’t love 300-plus rolls of toilet tissue, especially if you had storage space, which she did.

**

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUZANNE—Love, Cancer.

Several years later on her birthday, it wasn’t so funny.

The generation before mine remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news that John F. Kennedy had been assassinated.  My generation remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard the devastating new on September 11th, 2001.

I remember where I was and what I was doing on August 16th, 2012 when Suzanne called to tell me it was cancer.  I was pulling into the driveway of a rural home health patient.  There was no way the strong, healthy and invincible Suzanne could have cancer.  I tried to collect myself and go in.  I was visibly shaken, but the kind gentleman and his family knew something was wrong.  They listened while I explained to them, and then I managed to get on with my business.

Suzanne tells me it was all business for her from that point.  She blocked out the ugly word and plowed forward with the doctor outlining the treatment plan with her husband beside her for support.  She continues to plow through the aftermath.

Suzanne is one of the strongest women I know.  As noted in Lessons From My Sister (July 30th), she passed the five year mark, and aside from the scar, there is no visible trace.

Suzanne, and all of us, wished for healing, and she got it.

**

I had the entire day yesterday to spend cleaning, sorting and purging useless stuff out of my house.  It had been too long.  Again, from the July 30th post, recall that Suzanne has inspired me to get rid of the useless stuff.   As I nodded off the night before, I sent up a little prayer, asking for bountiful energy to complete the herculean task of letting go.

Be careful what you wish for.

I woke with boundless energy, and tackled the house, but I wanted to work in every room at the same time.  I wanted to spin like a whirling dervish, getting all the work done in minutes instead of hours, so that I could move on to the basement, the garage, my car, the laundry, etc.  I found my attention splintered, so much that I had to sit for a bit and collect myself.  One task at a time.

I thought about this post I was writing, and wished I had more pictures of Suzanne in her younger years.  I had looked through a box of old pictures Friday evening, and found only one that was marginally suitable.

I did move on to the shelves in the garage, and there was a shoebox there that Suzanne had given me several months ago when she moved, but I had not addressed it since then.  I couldn’t even remember what was in it.  I took it down and took a peek inside.

Be careful what you wish for.

Inside was the mother lode.  It was a box full of pictures that Suzanne had taken from Mom and Dad’s home, and didn’t know what to do with it.  She entrusted it to me to share with the rest of our siblings.

I had to put the brakes on my sorting/cleaning/purging efforts, which were now in high gear.  I had to sit for awhile and take a trip back.  These pictures were gold.  Mom was so good about labeling pictures, and these two are the perfect additions to this post:

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Happy Birthday Suzanne, 42 and 41 years later.

**

Name this tune, again it is from the same artist in the July 30th post:

“You get what you want, but it’s not what you need.”

In my several-hundred song iPod, I heard this one Friday morning as I ran.  It is the same message; the same reason the age-old adage has stayed around.

A wise woman once told me that instead of wishing for a specific outcome, we should pinpoint the exact feelings we are seeking to find in that outcome.

I am a runner with no desire to complete a marathon, but I know many runners do.  A runner friend of mine held on to that goal for years, but finally admitted with a sense of defeat that he knew, for health reasons, that it would not be possible.   His friends in his running circle had all completed one, and he felt utter disappointment in himself for not reaching this goal.

I asked him if he would have had that same goal if his friends had not met his goal.  He thought for a minute, then looked at me for a moment without speaking.  After a bit, he said, in an introspective tone of voice:

“I never thought about it that way.  I guess I was holding myself up in comparison to them. If it were only me, I don’t think I would have cared so much.”

Getting to the heart of the matter; the real meat of the goal should be our first step.  If it is not the best thing for us in terms of positive growth, perhaps you should re-examine it.   Perhaps we should be careful what we wish for.

Life is too short to waste time on something we don’t really want.

**

Don’t get me wrong, goals are good things.  Wishes are good things.  I am simply suggesting you step back and look at it as an outsider.  If it is indeed what you want, then proceed full steam ahead, and Godspeed to you.  Make your wish and say your prayers, appeal to the universe or whatever force you seek to enlist.

Your wish for a bigger bank account or a smaller stomach, or whatever it is should be accompanied by your best efforts.  I believe God/The Universe/The Force treats anyone with a wish much like we should treat our children with their homework.  We should expect them to give their all in their homework efforts, and then we can help them if they still need it.

We need to do our homework too.  We need to make the wish and do the work.  We need to put our backbone where our wishbone is.

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May God/The Universe/The Force be with you.

**

Recall from last week’s post that fair only comes once year, so we seized the opportunity last night to savor it in our small city, complete with a demolition derby.

 

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On Wednesday, August 16th, I wish for my dear sister Suzanne to have the best birthday yet.  I may even throw in a package of toilet paper with her gift.

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Suzanne and me, circa 1973.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lessons From My Sister–And The Sea Creatures

/ middlesisterkathleen / 7 Comments

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LESSONS FROM MY SISTER—AND THE SEA CREATURES

I sat sweltering and sweating, but savoring the sun and steam at the beach with Suzanne and her daughter, Julia.  The waves rolled in, crashed, ebbed and flowed, high-tided and low-tided, drug in seaweed, reflected the sun and the moon and then did it all over again.   All the while, the sea creatures did their thing too.  And then did it all over again.

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We made it to the beach again—safely.  Just as Suzanne said we would.   Our plane didn’t crash—just as she said it wouldn’t.  I need to listen to my little sister more.    I need to look up to her more.

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There were three kind strangers behind me in the airport who picked up my things as they fell out of my bag and caught up to me to give them back.

These should have been my first three clues.

My carry-on bag was obviously overstuffed, and losing its contents.  I struggled to carry it in my arms as I wheeled my suitcase along, so I tried to strap it to the handle of my wheeled bag.

Suzanne glided along smoothly, with her light load, consisting of a (smaller) wheeled suitcase, and a small, over-the-shoulder carry-on.  Julia had an equally small wheeled bag, and a small backpack on her back.

I had seven books packed in there.  I had snacks.  I had my jewelry holder.  I had water, which, of course, had to be drank before security.  I had my Kindle.  I had other stuff.  Too much stuff—obviously.

**

Jettison:  to throw or drop something from an aircraft or ship; to throw away as no longer useful.

I am a self-proclaimed word nerd; I wear the badge proudly.  This particular word was the word-of-the-day not long ago on my calendar, and it quickly came to mind.  As I walked through the airport with this ridiculous load in tow, this word wouldn’t leave my mind.

I watched my little sister advancing easily along toward our gate.  Her 21 year-old daughter did the same.  I, however, struggled.  I, however, signed up for this.  I didn’t expect their help.  I did expect Suzanne to tell me I didn’t need all this stuff.  She did, and she was right.

Unlike Gail and me, Suzanne is a minimalist.  Gail and I strive to be more like her, but so far, it’s not working.

When Suzanne moved to my small city about six months ago, she jettisoned many of her possessions.  She sold or gave away much of what she owned, and started over—minimally.  Gail and I have been collecting stuff, and living in our homes 20 and 21 years respectively.  We want to be like Suzanne when we grow up.

Perhaps it is her minimal nature.  Perhaps it is her experience with cancer that made her realize she doesn’t need stuff. Perhaps it is both.

Perhaps she feels at one with the sea because the sea offers that same lesson to anyone willing to listen.  All one really needs on the sea is a minimal amount of clothing.  The creatures of the sea also offer that same lesson.   They may or may not carry a shell on their back, and sometimes they shed that.

“…but the sea does not change.”  These lyrics were the first to come through my earbuds after I turned on my iPod (name that 80’s tune, if you can) as I started my morning run on the third of our four mornings there.

I don’t believe in “coincidences,” so I will take it as something meaningful.

I should have left the iPod in the room and listened to the crashing waves, because I can listen to music any other day.  These precious few days here are the only ones I can tune in to the ocean.  Ocean music trumps 80’s music—or any music for that matter, but, like so many other habits, I rely upon my daily patterns, this one with music to get me running.

Another habit I engage in during my daily run at home is the mental lamentation of my left knee pain.  I know the point as I take off down the driveway when it starts, I know the downhills hurt more and the uphills hurt less, and I focus on the exact spot inside my knee where the pain resides.

Except today.  I wasn’t in that daily groove like I am at home, so I didn’t think about it.  And there were no hills on the beach.

And it didn’t hurt nearly as much.

The sea does not change, but I did.

I know the power of the brain.  My day job is in the field of brain rehabilitation.  I know how habits are formed.  I know how patterns in the brain are made.  And I know they can be changed, starting with conscious awareness of them, followed by simply thinking differently about them, then ultimately acting differently.

I have some nasty habits, some patterns that should have been turned around long ago; some that should never have been started in the first place.

So I started looking around here on the seashore.  There before me was a wealth of learning opportunities, lessons from the sea and its creatures waiting to be learned.  In the spirit of keeping my 51 year-old brain in better shape than my left knee, I am always up for taking in new information, no matter how or where I can find it.

SEA TURTLES:  I didn’t see any sea turtles, but I know at least one had been there, and more would soon proliferate there.   A female Loggerhead Sea Turtle had crawled ashore and buried her eggs in the night, and returned to the sea.  The rule on the beach is that sea turtle nests are not to be disturbed—under penalty of law.   The nests are roped off, monitored, sponsored, studied and revered.

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When the buried eggs hatch, they climb out of the nest and go toward the light.  Hopefully, this light is the moon reflecting on the sea, and they crawl back in.   To minimize the chance that they will go toward artificial light instead of the sea, beachfront property owners are urged to keep their lights down because the baby turtles will not survive long if they go the wrong way.

Following the true light is a survival matter.  So it is with humans too, but we can survive longer than the sea turtles in the darkness if we choose to follow that.  Except that the darkness is the wrong way, and too often we don’t listen to those forces that try to guide us into the right light.

SEAHORSES:  I have long had a fascination with seahorses.  Julia does too.

In my work with the brain—and as a word nerd, I latch on to the cool words that describe its structures and functions.  Hippocampus is one such word.   It is the structure largely responsible for memory.  It is shaped like, and named after the seahorse, as hippocampus is the species name of the seahorse.

The male seahorse takes it upon himself to gestate and give birth.  Having been the star of Act One in the delivery room twice, I have a respect for him that is beyond words.

Both seahorse sexes shake it up a little bit and swim vertically as well horizontally.  I like any person or creature who goes against the grain, and I try to examine the grains of every social fabric before I go with it or against it.  Even if everyone else is doing it, it might not be right for me.

Seahorses aren’t easily found on this beach, and we weren’t lucky enough to find one. Julia, however, did find one on a trip to Mexico with her mother four years ago, and she has been fascinated ever since.   To commemorate this creature and this trip, I found this necklace in a cool little shop called Landing Company.

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In celebration of Suzanne’s five-year cancer survival, she deserved her own special piece of jewelry.  With the capable, kind and personalized attention from the amazing jewelry lady Dawn, we were able to find the perfect necklace in Landing Company, something Suzanne truly wanted—and she doesn’t want for much.  It was a beautiful silver image of her favorite sea creature:

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THE MERMAID:  Don’t bother telling Suzanne they are not real, because she has chosen to believe they are.  She has a new-found fascination with this mythical (real?) creature, and to show her just how happy I am to still have her with us, I put it on my tab with the seahorse necklace.

The mermaid is noted to have powers of telepathy and immortality.  Suzanne has always had an intuition that I cannot explain.  Before she was diagnosed with thyroid cancer five years ago, she consulted several doctors.  An ENT and a radiologist pronounced her without cancer, but nevertheless, she persisted.  She knew something wasn’t right, and she moved on to a doctor who found the problem, and began treatment.  Now, five years after she visibly exercised her power of telepathy, her powers of immortality have commenced.

May these powers live long, and may she continue to inspire all of us with her powers that, like the mermaid for her, are very real.

 

CRABS:  One of our favorite restaurants in this beach town is Crabby Bill’s.  Seafood is a local specialty—of course—and this spot is our favorite. I am not a crab eater, but there is a lesson to be learned from crabs.

In a bucket of crabs being harvested, if one tries to crawl out, the others will pull it back down.  No wonder they are called crabs.

Don’t hang out with crabs.   They will try to drag you down to their level.

Our host at Crabby Bill’s was Ed.  Our dad’s name was Ed.  He even has the same sweet smile that our dad had.

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We also found an old friend there from last year.  Gregg was the host we mentioned in my first blog post, and of course, he remembered us.  Gail was the one who hugged him upon his introduction last year, but he remembered us too.

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Now, because I don’t want any of you to suffer the fate that the next creature can deliver, I must bring you down for a moment.  I promise I will bring you back up.

SEAGULLS:  Recognize them for the beautiful creatures of God and Nature that they are, but beyond that, be careful.  They are takers.  They may charm and woo you with their natural beauty, but don’t be fooled:  They are there to take.  And when you give them—even a little, they will stay for more, because they already know your weakness.  They know they can get something for nothing from you, so don’t even give a little.

Leave them to their own devices and vices, because they are not going to change.  Give up hope, as I mentioned in my last post.  Give up hope on changing a creature who only knows how to take.  Bless them and send them on their way.

Shoo.

**

We missed Gail terribly.  She was with us last year in this beach haven, and even though we thoroughly enjoyed Suzanne’s daughter as proxy, there is no one like our sister Gail.  She is the spark plug that ignites our fires inside and outside.

People remembered us.  Even before we checked in to our hotel Friday night, one of our favorite restauranteurs greeted us heartily when we stopped in for a late dinner.

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Gail was not able to join us, as she had recently returned from a trip to Michigan to see one of her older daughters.  Suzanne and I, however, kept her spirit and her memory alive here.

We were able to reach out—without Gail–and make a few new friends.  Fred B. happened to be sweeping his driveway as we walked by his house.  He lives adjacent to our resort, close to the beach walkway.  We were staring, slack-jawed at this perfect little house, perfectly located by the beach.  His house has been in his family since the 1930’s, and he has lived in it since he arrived in the 1940’s.

We are so jealous, but a house like this couldn’t belong to a nicer man.

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Dawn at  Landing Company, and Terri Anne at The Tervis Store are now counted among our friends there, too.

**

The sea does not change, but after spending this trip with Suzanne and her daughter, I am motivated to change.  Suzanne’s spirit of minimalism is admirable and I want to be like her when I grow up.  So I am starting small, but starting nonetheless.  Despite the purchases I made that, perhaps I didn’t really need, I am trying to jettison other possessions at home.   I am trying harder to recognize the patterns of thought in my brain that lead me to repeat the same futile actions over and over yet again.

Next time I’m preparing for a trip, Suzanne has volunteered to pack for me.  She said she will be able to fit it all in a Zip-lock bag.

Like the sea creatures, we shouldn’t need all this stuff.

Like Suzanne, we should all celebrate every day of this life we are granted, because, unlike Suzanne, we are not immortal.

**

This post is dedicated to Suzanne the Survivor, and to Denise who is fighting the fight right now.  Denise, let’s plan a trip to Florida in five years—and maybe even before.