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Apparently, I’m A Quitter

What a weird week I had last week. Ups and downs and ins and outs and upside downs. I guess that’s every week for most people, and for me too, but last week everything was even more pronounced than usual. It finally ended with a colleague referring to me as a “quitter.” And this is a colleague who knows enough about me to know that this is a pretty ridiculous claim. So here I am to refute it.

Before I can do that I have to explain a few things.

First of all, let’s agree that conflicts usually begin over really stupid things. I know this firsthand, because I’m estranged from a couple of members of my family due to of a lot of nonsense that could have been avoided, but eventually snowballed into situations that ended up hurting a lot of beautiful and decent individuals. We’ve all read that wars begin over small disagreements between parties. That dictators end up hating certain groups because of avoidable disputes. That grudges over miniscule differences can last a lifetime. What I’m going to relate here is similar. Here goes.

The colleague in question asked me to assist her with taking some decorations off a large piece of paper on her wall, with a plan that we would reuse them. Everything was taped, and when I tried to remove something the piece of background paper ripped about two inches. She FREAKED OUT on me, then quickly tried to justify why she did. My response: “It’s PAPER. I’ll tape it. I’ll get another piece. It’s not someone’s LIFE.” We got around it, but while I was pulling more tape off the same paper it started to rip again and she FREAKED OUT a second time. At this point I told her to do it herself. And these words fell from her condescending lips: “You quit at everything!” Students, taking their final, were staring at us. How embarrassing!

For a little bit of background: this same person has repeatedly shushed me in front of students when I try to respond to conversations that she starts, and is always quick to one-up me whenever I reveal some small victory in my sometimes challenging and multi-faceted life. Some of the things I’ve heard her say to students are questionable, at best. A lot of unnecessary comments that are clearly not well thought out are spoken. She is not a bad person by any means, just very sheltered, from what I have gathered. Like a lot of coworkers I’ve encountered, she has some major power issues. In spite of all this, our working relationship has been pretty good. Hard to believe, right?

Here’s the kicker: the day before this incident we had gone out to eat with a mutual friend, and had a great time. You’d think it would make a difference? Apparently not.

Although I woke up this morning just about “over it” and ready to move on without her in my sphere, I still think I should defend myself against her utter misstep. I’ll try not to be as self-absorbed as my buddy.

WHY I’M NOT A QUITTER:

You know this is coming. Check the statistics on Stage IV Lung Cancer. I’m not going to post a link, because I don’t look at them anymore. I’m over them. They aren’t me. But they could have been me. Only, I didn’t quit. Point made.

I’ve lost more people who truly loved me than I have left in this world. And yet, I still find joy in life. I could have quit, but chose not to.

I never had the comfort of having someone pay for my education. The only reason I got a master’s degree is because I tapped every resource I could find, including my own bank account. Furthermore, I worked full time jobs the entire time. I may have been exhausted, but I never quit.

My traveling life has, for the most part, been self-funded. Been doing this stuff for nearly 40 years, including three and a half of them with cancer. This sucky disease could have stopped me from doing something I love, but I didn’t quit.

Another thing I didn’t quit at is hiking. I’ve hiked thousands of miles since my diagnosis. In fact, I log more on foot miles in a day, a week, a month, and a year than most humans.

I could go on and on and on, but I won’t, because here’s an alternate thought.

My dear colleague might just have a point. I long ago quit losing my shit over pieces of ripped paper, over “spilt milk.” I’ve quit letting power-hungry colleagues and family members effect my life in any major way. I’ve learned to quit letting cancer decide how I live, what I live for, how long I live. I’ve quit having to “win” every battle and aim to conquer only the really important ones.

Perhaps I am a quitter after all.

About Utah and Me

I’m just back from a nearly perfect adventure in my Favorite Place on Earth! Sure, I was there with an open wound which isn’t healing as fast as I want it to. And I had a little hissy fit on someone I love dearly and have since made amends with. But other than that, my trip to Southern Utah could not have gotten much better.

I went to all familiar places and did hikes that I have done at least a few times before. The weather was stunning. The scenery following suit is expected, and the reason I can’t get enough of being there. I cried when I saw the Utah sign in front of me, as well as when it was behind me, for two different reasons. I was even suitably inspired to consider putting a forgotten dream back on the agenda. All this brings me closer to making a life-altering decision!

Anyone who knows me knows that I love to travel. Fifty states, six Canadian provinces, forty-two countries, six continents, nearly fifty national parks worldwide. Some pretty good numbers, by any count! I’ve taken a lot of heat and have been accused of many odd things for loving my globetrotting, and for loving life in general. (Imagine!) But this isn’t the reason that I’m getting closer to making this life-altering decision.

Okay, okay. Enough teasing. Are you sitting down?

Southern Utah moves me so much, I’m considering shutting down all other travel and spending all my leisure time and money there. For starters, I will likely return in the summer, even though I had other plans. I’ve managed to work my personal Promised Land into an itinerary that includes knocking off two more national parks. (I’m trying to hike all U.S. national parks, and I’m more than half done!) This is the behavior of someone who can’t live fully without something. I’m using every and all excuses to be back there again! And I’m thinking that maybe it’s time to stop making excuses and just go.

Well, here’s my disclaimer. Not so long ago I rethought, rewrote, and put out my Bucket List. And there really are some items on it that need to be done. A train trip through the Swiss Alps is bought and paid for. I’m traveling to Antarctica, my seventh continent, later this year! Another cruise on that list is a priority for next summer. And I want to continue to hike those national parks and see my niece in South Carolina. But maybe some of the other entries on that Bucket List aren’t as important as spending as much time as I can in Southern Utah before my time is up.

My time being “up” is another reality that I have to take seriously. Because no matter what anyone wants to think or do or say, my diagnosis of Stage IV Lung Cancer is no joke. Yes, it is a sad truth in my life that some people think that it is something to laugh about, that it isn’t as “serious” as it sounds, because why would I still be running around the damn world if it was so serious? Herein lies a strange truth: I am the beneficiary of the changing face of cancer, and that allows me to live my life much the way I always have.

But I digress. This was supposed to be a post about Utah and me, not cancer and me, and I wouldn’t want the world to roll its eyes at me and sniff, “There she goes again, talking about stuff that make people cringe.” Yet, another truth is that when I talk about Utah and me, cancer always has to be included, whether I want it to or not.

Which leads me to the aforementioned “forgotten dream.”

At one time I planned to buy a small RV and go on a really long road trip after retirement, for as long as I wanted. Naturally, a great deal of my time would be spent in Southern Utah. I also planned to buy a home in a 55+ park, though I could never quite figure out how those two things went together, and why I would buy a home, then go out on the road and leave it behind. Before I could figure it out, my friend cancer came along and made both of them highly unlikely.

But here I am, blogging from my little house in the 55+ community. And in spite of open wounds and a cruddy diagnosis, it appears that I’ll only have to go to Boston every three months now as long as scans keep looking good. Which suddenly opens up that RV road tripping dream to me again, that cancer not so much crushed, but that I let go of and decided to just keep doing what I’ve been doing all along. As I traveled through my cherished Southern Utah I was inspired to think that maybe, just maybe, it’s still possible, and that I can come home to my beautiful little house in between trips. I’ve figured out the mystery of how those two dreams go together!

The verdict is still out on the RV. I have a big scan day coming up on Tuesday, the 2nd. If all goes well I’ll plan my next trip to my beautiful land. Meanwhile, please enjoy some pictures taken on my most recent trip.

The Latest Glitch in the Plan

I’m heading to my beloved Southern Utah again soon, and I wanted to get this out into the universe before I get lost in fantasy land. The following update on my health doesn’t quite go with traveling and enjoying life, but there are some things in this world you just can’t explain. I heard that in a song once. Here’s today’s challenge: name that song without the help of dear old Google. I’ll just bet that no one remembers it!

Meanwhile, here’s my latest challenge: I recently had a tumor removed. For the record, my cancer did not “come back,” though that’s the word on the street. If the rumormongers were paying attention, they would know that my cancer never went anywhere, it’s just too small to see. What really happened is that one of my known tumors grew large enough to appear on a scan again. So there you have it. The tumor was one that was already there, so it’s not even “new cancer.” It’s a lesion that started growing again, one that was originally discovered in my second round of metastatic lung cancer.

The question that likely looms in your mind is: how can she be going on vacation after surgery and with Stage IV cancer? That’s what most people don’t understand, and the ridiculous posts that those who’ve never had cancer spread around social media just perpetuate the myth that the disease is the same for everyone.

It’s not. I repeat, it’s not.

But let’s get back to my surgery.

Way back in November of 2020, I found a really odd bump growing on my back. That bump turned out to be an outward sign of my well-managed cancer taking control again. Things were pretty messy when I had my next scan, and life wasn’t looking too hopeful. But I started a new medication and the cancer shrunk away to almost nothing. That included the bump, which had grown so big in early 2021 that it would spurt blood whenever something rubbed up against it. Believe me, there’s nothing much uglier than a cancerous tumor growing out of your body. I think of that line from Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sound of Silence” often, likening silence to a cancer growth. Take it from someone who knows firsthand, there isn’t anything quiet about a cancerous tumor. Cancer makes your whole life loud whether you want it to or not. But if you’re really lucky, like me, you can ease the noise. Unfortunately, what you have no control over is what others assume, then trumpet to the world without even asking you what’s really going on.

I kept my eye on the bump after all that shrinkage. I could still feel it in my right flank, though it was tiny. For two years it was under complete control.

Fast forward to three months ago. I became concerned about Mr. Bump. It sure seemed to be growing, albeit slowly. My February CT scan confirmed it, as much as I wanted to tell myself it wasn’t true. The other areas of metastasis (yeah, there are several) continued to be under control. I was offered localized surgery to remove the cancer. This option allows me to continue on the same medication I’ve been on since January of 2021. Anyone who knows about staying alive on cancer drugs knows that the longer you can make it on a drug, the better. My type of cancer is so rare that there are only a limited number of medications that I can take before my luck runs out. And believe me, I’m going to ride the wave of these miracle drugs for as long as I can!

I can still walk and hike and think and travel and take road trips and ride a bike and drink an occasional glass of wine and live a normal life. I’m very thankful that I had the option of surgery, and really, it wasn’t so bad. Yeah, I know you’re horrified, but for me, another scar is nothing compared to the alternative. I have a lot of stuff still to do in this lifetime!

Now, I have to wait until May to get scans and see if I’m back to the coveted NED (no evidence of disease), a hard won designation that I achieved after a year on this medication. Right now, I guess that cancer is a little ahead of me again in the fight for my right to live another day, another month, another year. But I’m not letting that stop me from making every moment count. I’ve tried not to miss a beat. I just wish I could take a bath again! That has been the biggest inconvenience.

Life rolls on!

I’ve officially been at this crazy game for three and a half years!

If you’re having a bad day and need some inspiration, here are a few pictures from my adventures since surgery. My next post will be about Southern Utah!!

Breaking news: After I finished writing this blog I woke up bleeding on a Sunday morning. My wound opened up during the night! The fun continues…

The Little Cactus That Could

I talk about some pretty heavy duty subjects around here: cancer survival, loss, family woes, struggle. So I think maybe it’s time for me to write something a little more lighthearted, about a Little Cactus That Could. And did.

Before I tell my story I have to admit that there are a couple of things wrong with this title that I should point out. First of all, I only chose it because it’s catchy and reminded me of a children’s book we had at home, called “The Little Engine That Could.” For you see, the cactus in question really isn’t so little. And the only reason that it could and did, is because of crazy old me and my will to make it do those things. Because unlike the aforementioned little engine, the cactus, though round, doesn’t have wheels, or a train whistle, or even tracks on which to travel. But The Little Cactus That Could did have wings, if you want to use your imagination.

Confused?

Meet the cactus in question:

Okay, okay, we clearly have another problem here. I’m not completely sure, but I think that this is a hunk of a Joshua tree, also known as the Yucca brevifolia, and a member of the Agave family. So it isn’t even a cactus, at least until you practically tear your hands off to stick it into a bag so that you can then try to stuff it into your suitcase…

Whoa! I’m getting way ahead of myself! I’d better stop here and backpedal to a few days before the suitcase scene…

It was a frigid day in Las Vegas, windy, with the highway to Death Valley threatened with snow. The storm forced me to change my plans for the day, to do a short local hike on the edge of Red Rock Canyon. Here’s what the view looked like when I got there:

Yeah, the snow was a bit too close for my liking, and it was damn cold with a swirling wind. But intrepid adventurer that I am (insert winking emoji!) I was going to do that hike if it killed me! So off I went. And that’s when I saw my cactus. Or Joshua tree baby. Or whatever it is. Note to self: pick that thing up on the way back. That anomaly that looks like a desert sunflower. I’ve been bringing home cool stuff from the desert for decades, but I’ve never found anything like the Little Cactus That Could. I was mesmerized!

A lot more mesmerized than I was with my hike. I gave it my best shot. But that snow was too close; it was bitterly cold and the gusts were just about gusting me over. After a half mile, I had to turn back. And there was my little burst of sun waiting for me. Yet as much as I wanted it, and I knew it would be a great and interesting addition to my new home, I started to procrastinate. Maybe I shouldn’t take it. My suitcase was already full with hiking stuff. I had not brought a second bag like I sometimes did when bringing boots and poles and backpacks. I’d probably just have to leave it behind, like an abandoned child.

I took it anyway, put it in the trunk of the car to deal with later. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

A few more days of more successful hiking ensued, and then it was time to pack to go home. The Little Cactus That Could lurked whenever I opened the trunk. Now, it was sink, swim…or fly? Just throw it in the bushes, I tried to tell myself. It’ll tear Muffin (my bunny) up if he gets anywhere near it, I reasoned. And yet, I put it in a Walmart bag and brought it up to my room.

It’s tradition that I repack my suitcase the night before I leave for home. This time, I had to try and get this damn spiny thing in between clothes and supplies. First, I had to put it in something that would make it less sharp, otherwise I’d have a bunch of ripped stuff when I got home. I always carry bags for food shopping, and it just so happens that the one I bring with me these days has a cactus print! It was just barely big enough to house my new accessory, and I got a few injuries getting it in there, but it worked. Lopsided for sure, and still poking through the fabric, but definitely better.

I’d bought some dresses for my sister Jeanne, a few things for myself, some small presents for my niece. And as already mentioned, I’d only brought one bag for my week of hiking. I knew in my heart that even if I managed to somehow get this un-little desert delight in my suitcase that it either wouldn’t close or it would get destroyed on the way home. And if the TSA happened to open the bag for a random check, someone was going to get hurt. My carry-on is always a backpack and is full of medication, camera equipment, and food, so that wasn’t an option. But here was the new conflict: we’d arrived at this point together and I just couldn’t imagine leaving my new sidekick. It was crunch time.

There was only one way this thing was getting to Massachusetts: it had to go on the plane with me. Which brought up a whole new slew of issues! A) What if the TSA officers think I’m bringing it as a weapon? B) What if they consider it like food or liquid, and throw it out because it weighs too much? C) What if they just think I’m nuts for bringing this thing to the airport and trying to smuggle it through security? I concocted excuses for all of them, not really caring if they thought I was nuts or if they tossed it out. Naturally, I was concerned about them thinking I’m a criminal wanting to tear up my fellow passengers with the Little Cactus That Could. But I decided I would just shrug and say that I was only bringing it home to decorate my new house. I’m a trusted traveler, have TSA precheck, Global Entry, all that stuff. My passport is well-stamped, without a single hitch. I tried to convince myself that it would be okay, one way or the other.

I slept well that night, and got up very early to fly. Dropped my rental off, got the shuttle to the airport. Overstuffed suitcase: check. Backpack: check. Barely legal cactus-print bag held cautiously away from body so as not to get pinched: check.

The Southwest Airlines rep had no clue she was looking at a possible criminal. The big guy waving me into the precheck line wasn’t savvy to what was in the nondescript white bag. The officer who handed me back my passport was unaware that an arrest might soon happen. Now, the moment of truth had arrived. The white bag went on the belt to be scanned. My excuse was ready. I had tweaked, reviewed, and memorized it.

I walked through the body scanner, then waited at the other end of the bag scanner for my stuff. Tense. Shifty-eyed. Worried. And out came the Little Cactus That Could as if nothing was wrong, while I tried to envision what it looked like on the scanner screen as it rolled through. Like a pointy bomb. A jagged, multi-blade knife. Something never seen before by TSA agents. Waiting with bated breath to be stopped, I snatched my stuff off the belt and split. No one followed me.

The Little Cactus That Could had just made it through United States airport security.

Said cactus continued to move toward Massachusetts. I warned the flight attendant that I had something in my bag that might hurt someone if they tried to shove their carry-on into the overhead past it. She was not interested. I petitioned my nearby passengers not to push the white cactus bag in the overhead with a bare hand. They were unconcerned. In fact, no one cared about the Little Cactus That Could. Except for me! I babied my new friend as we made our way from Las Vegas to Baltimore, then on to Windsor Locks, Connecticut. Through Bradley Airport. Onto another shuttle to my car. And finally, up I-91, across the Mass Pike, and over a few other roads to my little home.

What a journey!

Here’s the end result of a lot of hard work, and worrying!

A Hike for the Favorites List!

I’ve been lots of places and have done lots of hiking. 40+ countries, 50 states, 40+ national parks around the world. So it isn’t every day that I can say that I’ve done a hike that I consider one of the best I’ve ever done. It hasn’t happened in a while, as I’m sometimes drawn to going back to the same places (hello, Moab, Utah!) to do the same trails that are already on the list. That changed on the trip that I just returned from.

Before I reveal where I took all these incredible shots, let me offer my disclaimer for this post. You probably won’t find the usual choices on my list. You also won’t have to slog two hundred miles to complete one of the entries in my favor. My choices are not two thousand mile trails like “the Appalachian Trail” or “the Continental Divide Trail.” I find articles that site gargantuan trails ridiculous, and written by people who know nothing about hiking, who have clearly never completed the trails in question. I also get tired of the same long hikes on every list, like “the Milford Track” in New Zealand. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that all the hikes I’ve mentioned are incredible. I’ve experienced parts of some of them. But they’re general suggestions, not specific. The hikes on my list are specific and can be done in a day, some in a couple of hours. The one pictured here took two hours, and packed more of a punch than many that I’ve spent days and days discovering.

Where is this trail? Valley of Fire State Park, sixty miles north of Las Vegas, which looks like a national park. We’re talking Nevada, USA, and close to a major city and tourist attraction. I had been here two other times, and thought it was time to go back. In spite of some pretty crazy weather during my week in Sin City, I got a perfect day for hiking, just no sun or blue sky, which would have made for even better pictures!

I had already done the Fire Wave Trail on my last visit. Here’s a picture of me from 2015:

And here’s me this year:

The scenery hasn’t changed much. But the hiker sure has!

This is an easy trail to find, as it is right off the Parking #3 lot. It’s also simple to follow, as it is a one trail deal down to the Fire Wave. The change in scenery along the way is incredible! First, massive walls of red Aztec sandstone beckon from ahead, with soft green mounds of limestone in the foreground. Christmas colors for hikers! Where can you say that you’ve seen red and green rocks, and in the same place?

Once past the rocks, the whole landscape changes to red and white striped sandstone underfoot with pastel sandstone views of aptly named Pink Canyon in the near distance. After a short and mildly steep descent, the Fire Wave comes into view, with a smaller mound next to it. Turn in a three-sixty and just marvel at your surroundings!

Most people choose to do an out and back on this trail. But if you want to do the Seven Wonders Loop, which I’ve come to understand was just opened to the public in 2021, you can proceed to the bottom of the wavy rocks to this sign, and continue on:

Things get a little less obvious once you hit this trail, and they get worse as you go along. But don’t let that stop you! I latched on to a family and another solitary lady (from Germany!) to figure out how to do this loop. We figured it out as a team. Also be warned that a few of the slot canyons, which are normally part of the trail, had to be hiked around because of flooding. The incredible photo opportunities made the extra hiking well worth it! I call views like this “National Geographic material.”

Once you have gone around the water keep in mind that you will have to cross the park road to finish the loop. You will also have to climb back to the parking lot. If you’re really worried you can always take the road, which is plenty scenic, but the stunning terrain you’ll miss will make you want to take the chance of getting a little off track now and then. Don’t expect cairns like on many established trails in the American West (because there are often no trees to put blazes on!) but metal markers can be found along the way. Keep following the general path of the road and you will make it back to the lot without too much trouble. And you’ll see this jaw-dropping stuff along the way:

Seven Wonders? I vote to change the trail name to “A Thousand Wonders Trail!”

An extra added plus: the park was loaded with mountain goats that day!

For more on my favorite hikes, click here!

Cancer Builds Character

For those who don’t have cancer, the mere thought of it invading your body is mind boggling, shiver inducing, cringeworthy. You can lose sleep over this shit. I know, I’ve had plenty of sleepless nights. But those were early on in my journey. Three plus years in, I sleep like a baby. Which is not to say that I don’t think about it, that I don’t worry, that I’m not sad that cancer has changed my life in ways that I didn’t expect. Oh yeah, I experience all those things and more. But I’m not angry, and I know I’m a better person than I was before I was diagnosed. Cancer, my friends, builds character.

I’ve been called many things in the past three years, four months, and twelve days. (Yep, I remember the exact date I got the big news.) Warrior, brave, survivor, strong, bitch, sick, Cancer Barbie. I’ve been told that I have to die sometimes. (Imagine.) I’ve read crushing statistics on lung cancer. I’ve been asked time and again if I smoke. (Nope.) I’ve hiked thousands of miles. Traveled thousands more. Buried a sister. Retired from teaching. Seen cancer come and go in my lung, neck, sternum, stomach, pancreas, hips, and flank. Seen “healthy” people pass away before me. Bought a house. Wrote a book about my experience. Learned to like myself again. Learned who really loves me. Learned who my friends are and who aren’t. Learned so much about myself. Learned things that I never wanted to know. Cancer was there the whole time, guiding my way.

In fact, for me, cancer is not going away completely until a cure is discovered. To prove it, my little friend is flaring up in the aforementioned flank, and I will need to have day surgery to get rid of it, once again prompting the kinder of the words: strong, brave, amazing. I don’t feel any of those things. Damn it, I just want to live my life. It just keeps getting interrupted by this disease. I don’t have a choice but to be strong, brave, and amazing. It’s a whole lot better than the alternative. And man, I’m pretty lucky to have choices in the matter. To have a alternative to the alternative. To keep living my life with periodic annoyances. So many people with cancer don’t have these choices.

I’ve consistently and extensively traveled the world, the country, and my local area. Once, when it seemed that I had a lot less to worry about than now, I was in a group of travelers at my school. I still see the people I effortlessly traveled with doing the same thing I used to do with them. Truth is, I still do it too, just with more planning and caution. COVID19 slowed me down a lot more than cancer did. The point being, I can still do what I love. With cancer! But back to the crowd I used to globetrot with. I’m not asked to join anymore. That’s okay, I have a travel companion or two, and I love hitting the road and the sky on my own. I’ve changed too, my priorities are different. I’m not counting countries anymore. I’m going where I really want to go, even if I’ve been there ten times before, even if others are in “exotic” venues and I’m hiking a national park or exploring some abandoned place with cool graffiti. In short, I have nothing in common with most of these people any longer. Being left behind is fine. I’m good. I have experience now that most of them wouldn’t understand or acknowledge or care about. Why would I want to be with them? My entire way of thinking and seeing the world has evolved. I have more respect for the cancer infested me than the earlier me.

If cancer builds character, man, do I have character! And as mentioned above, I’m currently in the throes of gaining more, what with my “side bump” growing again, a literal “thorn in my side.” In some crazy way I’ll be happy to get rid of the little bugger; it’s lodged in my skin on my right flank at the tenth rib, and though it has not been any bother in two years, before then it gave me hell. Buh-bye!

What are the most character building lessons I’ve learned from cancer?

That cancer is a bigger bitch than I am. But only sometimes. That if I give up even for a minute, I’ll die. That I’m extremely lucky in an unlucky situation. That I can’t count on my current family members for anything, unless I want to play their game, stoop to their level, or be subjected to their vitriol. I’ve learned to reach out to friends, as tough as it is for me to ask them for anything. The rest of the time, I’ve learned more than ever to count on my cancer ridden self. I’ve learned that so many things that used to concern me really don’t matter in the big picture of life. I’ve learned to turn my back on situations and people that aren’t worth my time. I know how to pick my battles well now. I’ve truly learned the lessons of survival.

But what I have learned most of all is this: there is no bigger fight than the fight for your life. If you’ve never experienced having your very existence in jeopardy, you wouldn’t truly know what I’m talking about, no matter how much you think you do. Never underestimate the power of impending death to change you or that person that you know is struggling.

Respect, please.

Marie, I Get It

Did you ever lose someone in your life and realize that you didn’t really understand them while they were here? I lost my eldest sister Marie in May of 2022, and I understand her better and better every day that goes by. I wish I could talk to her and tell her, “I get it now. I know how you felt.” Of course, I do talk to her, but it isn’t like having her sitting across from me at the kitchen table, something that happened on a weekly basis the last year of her life. I’m so thankful that I had that time with her, even though our talks weren’t always happy or enlightening. Sometimes, it could be tough to get her to open up. But when she did, so much was revealed.

Our conversations would inevitably wind up on our family. Herein lies the biggest hurt of Marie’s life, one that I totally get now. When she was alive I always had her to fall back on, so the backlash from the remaining members of our immediate family didn’t matter as much to me. I tried to ease her pain by reminding her that she and I had each other and our sister Jeanne, and nothing else was all that important. We had to leave the past behind and count on one another. Now that she’s gone, the loneliness of not having anyone to talk to about the inner workings of our shattered brood is deep, and likewise, not having someone of my own flesh and blood that I can trust without question is disheartening. Though we didn’t always agree, Marie was the only one in my family that really kept on top of my medical concerns, and dealt with the ups and downs of our sister Jeanne, who is disabled and has nonstop health issues. Other than our parents, I have likely never met anyone that could be counted on unconditionally to keep her mouth shut and be a support system, even when the chips were down, like Marie could be. And in the final years of Marie’s life, the chips were usually down. I get it why she wanted to fade away, and did.

Don’t take this post the wrong way. I’m not suicidal. I’m not looking to check out, or to elicit sympathy. But my heart has been broken so many times by people I love and who are supposed to love me that I’ve lost count and I just keep moving further away from them. Marie’s heartbreak was tenfold to mine. So I have that to live with. I’m shattered for my parents too, who were the best people in the world, and deserve a better legacy than the one still playing out. We should have all been success stories. They gave us everything. We have no excuses. Yet we are unfixable at this point. There isn’t even a “we” anymore.

I’m also not jealous of anyone’s family. I don’t want yours. I want mine, the way it used to be before some poor examples of human beings were invited in and came between us. I want family members that, instead of celebrating those who trample them, celebrate those who celebrate them. But I know that this is impossible; the damage has already been done.

So, what is there to do?

Marie was never able to build a circle of friends outside of our family, and I haven’t done so well either. We were both born introverts. And with six girls, we didn’t so much need friends, because we had each other. I realized long ago, when we started to crumble, that a lot of my failure to have long-term friendships is because my sisters were my best friends. Now that they have either moved on to the next life, or have stayed stuck in place in this life and I’ve moved on, I’m at a terrible loss. Instead, for years I’ve been removing myself from situations that simply hurt too much, and counting on friends, and traveling, and writing, to get me through. Marie couldn’t find ways to cope the way I have. But she has found the peace she wished for. Whenever I miss her too much I have to remind myself of that.

I want to find mine while I’m still alive.

New family wanted. Apply here.

Don’t Rush Me

The eye of the storm. That’s where I was for decade upon decade. Life was seemingly calm, but in reality I was surrounded by thunder and lightning and high winds and debris, all ready to take me down unexpectedly at any moment. I was a moving target. The butt of sick jokes and harassment. The subject on everyone’s lips. Running running, running. And trying to hide from prying eyes.

That’s all over now. I’ve found peace, and silence. But the real world is never far enough away.

My cocoon is the retirement community I recently moved to. It’s located off a busy state highway. I’m way up in the back, away from it all, with a farm behind me and wildlife trotting and winging through my yard. Yet I only have to leave the premises in order to get a quick reminder that the uncivilized world awaits, and that the inhabitants are in a tremendous rush to go absolutely nowhere. Well, world, I will not be rushed by you anymore. I’ve earned my slow stripes. Please, pass me by as fast as you wish, and go along your silly, speedy ways. Put away your middle fingers, switch your low beams back on, and just GO.

My feelings about humanity’s need for speed is well documented, no big secret. What I don’t quite get, and never will, is what the gain is, and why people have to jeopardize the safety of others in order to satisfy their own stupidity.

Case in point: I left the retirement community the other day, and within thirty seconds, even though I looked both ways before I pulled out, I had a speeding white car on my back bumper. This, in total disregard of the fact that the speed limit falls ten digits where I pull onto the state highway, and it goes from a two lane divided raceway to a one lane regular road. A messy road construction job with barrels and lane shifts is right up ahead, with a greatly reduced speed limit. No way I’m driving through that too fast. Mr. White Car had no such qualms. On a solid line, he blew past me effortlessly and ploughed through the road construction without applying the brakes once.

Not far up the road and I’m minding my business driving forty-five in a forty-five. Someone cuts me off from a side road and proceeds to drive thirty-five. Before I’m driving for ten minutes I’ve been cut off three more times. But here’s the kicker: Mr. White Car Wanna Be Race Care Driver? Mr. Tailgater? I end up right behind him at the next stop light. What has he gained? Answer: nothing. Except for endangering his life and those around him.

Don’t rush me.

Next, I pull up to the ATM and start getting my card out of my wallet. I’m ready to open my car door and step up to the machine when a man pulls into the lot next to me, jumps out of his car, and strides toward the glass door ahead of me. Too bad for him that he has to fumble through his wallet to open the damn thing because in his rush to beat me to the money he didn’t have his card ready. Is it terrible for me to wish that he’s one of those people who has no money to take out in the first place, and that he will stomp out saying that the machine is “broken?”

And hey, what ever happened to “ladies first?”

My favorite is when someone is blinding me with their headlights only to pull into Dunkin Donuts and into a snaking line in the drive through. (And no one is inside!) Enjoy your coffee, dummy.

It’s not all about the way we drive. There are the shoppers in the supermarket sighing because I don’t put my food on the belt fast enough, or swipe my debit card skillfully enough, or move my cart out of the aisle exactly when they want me to. They start getting testy, I start making eye contact. And I am the queen of eye contact. I’m a teacher by trade. I can stare anyone down. Don’t tempt me.

Or rush me.

Believe it or not folks, not everyone feels the need to save thirty seconds to get to a stop light before someone else. Listen to John Lennon’s song “Watching the Wheels.” If a Beatle can stop playing the game, can’t just about anyone?

The bigger picture is that so many of us have stopped being polite, have stopped caring about anyone but number one, have stopped caring about much of anything, including safety and common sense and life.

No wonder I like my little retirement community so much. I’m thankful to have an escape from the nonsense.

And remember, if we ever meet, you can do anything as quickly as you want, but DON’T RUSH ME.

Good-bye, 2022

Happy New Year!

New Year’s used to be my favorite holiday, a pivotal day when everything is seemingly shiny and fresh. New pursuits, new goals, new, new, new! This year the day passed like any other. I had to remind myself on the eve of the new year that it really was the eve of a new year. I don’t know about anyone else, but the so-called “holiday season” didn’t feel like a holiday season this year, in fact it didn’t feel like much of anything. Maybe it’s because of what the past couple months of my life have been like. Whatever the reason, I’m glad it’s gone for another year. Please take down your trees and lights and save on your electric bill.

I got caught up in the Southwest Airlines mess. Instead of flying south to see my niece on the 23rd I received a text at 4:00am telling me to stay in bed because my flight was cancelled, along with 7,000 others. I didn’t make it to South Carolina until Christmas evening. After a couple of good days with my niece (and a big, beautiful turkey feast at 9:00pm on the 25th!) I got dreadfully ill with a sinus infection, made my first out of state visit to an urgent care center, and spent the next three days in bed. A fitting end to a year of many gains that failed to make up for a crushing loss.

No matter how many trips I took or successes I had they can never make up for the loss of my sister Marie. I miss her so badly, wish she could share in the good things that happened to me in 2022. Purchasing my beautiful little house and finally finding domestic peace, resuming international travel, surviving a deadly disease for yet another year; having Marie here to be proud of me would make all the difference, would have made 2022 a different kind of year. No matter what I do now the losses that I’ve dealt with always outweigh the good.

Sorry for being so depressing!

Yes, the traveling was great, I love my home, and I continue to beat the odds of Stage IV Lung Cancer. Perhaps the best thing that happened in 2022 is that my incredible sister Jeanne survived a potentially fatal surgery to remove a huge staghorn kidney stone. Click on the link and read a little about them. Look up some images. They’re disgusting. Jeanne had been fighting infection, sepsis, and constant hospitalizations that only worsened as time went by. Her surgery was a last resort, and she got the best care possible. I’ll just bet Marie had something to do with her success. What a bright spot that I still have her.

I have not formally made any resolutions for 2023. But I have something nagging at me that really is kind of a resolution: to get serious about writing again. Before cancer, all I blabbed about was writing, traveling and writing. Since my diagnosis I’ve managed to pen a book about my journey back to life, and I’ve blogged here all along. Yet I lost the passion and the hunger, and I have not gotten it back to date. It’s time to regain it. I once wrote two extensive books at the same time, and self published seven books in a matter of a few years! Recently I read through my “cancer journey book,” sent it to a close and brilliant friend of mine, and his interest has given me back a glimmer of the ambition I once had. I’m changing my in progress page to reflect my renewed interest in “Destination Life.” Have a look and tell me what you think!

I’m also making lists of publishers of memoires, short stories, and articles on health and wellness, hoping to kickstart my interest again by doing a variety of writing, and maybe even putting some of my old but worthy stuff out there and seeing if anyone bites. So many times I’ve vowed that I would put myself to making a part-time career out of writing. Vows and lists have to be backed up by action. Instead, I play with my phone or watch Hulu. I guess I’ve earned my right to do that. But I feel like I’m cheating myself. No time like the present to light a fire under my own butt, right?

Hey! I just changed the whole appearance of my website, yet another thing that has been on the to-do list for months and only got done now. Yay, me! Could the thirst to write again be just around the corner? My fingers are crossed!

Until then, please enjoy some of my favorite memories from 2022!

I’m Still Standing!

Hey, I thought that it would be a little while between posts, but I didn’t expect for it to be this long! It’s all good. If anyone missed me, thank you. If anyone was concerned that my absence was health-related, thank you also. I’m happy to report that I’ve been “away” for mostly good reasons! Not only have I bought myself some privacy and peace and quiet, but in between real estate demands I took my first trip out of the country with cancer as my sidekick, and enjoyed another holiday with my niece in South Carolina. In between all that, I’ve been moving, a thankless necessity for the most part! The best things about moving are that I’m getting rid of things I don’t need anymore, and I’ll hopefully never have to do it again! At least that’s what I’m shooting for.

As for the traveling, I’m shooting to do that a lot more! But let’s talk about what has kept me from blogging, and just about everything else normal, in the order that it happened. Starting with my new house!

If you’ve never bought real estate before and anyone tells you that it’s fun and a dream come true, don’t believe them. The end result should be a dream fulfilled, but the road to get there is full of disappointment, annoyance, and demanding people who don’t care that you have a life outside of their sphere. If you’re a dummy like me and decide to be nice to a brand new agent and help her get her first sale, you’ll be even more miserable. I can’t even count the times I wanted to ditch the entire transaction and rent for the rest of my life. But I stuck with it and am the proud owner of a beautiful home in a retirement community, a major chip off my Bucket List and something I’ve been planning for some time.

Ten days before my scheduled closing day I flew to Ireland to get away from it all. Yes, the timing was really crazy! But the truth is that I planned the trip way back in March and it just happened to come up in the middle of all the house buying madness! Here I am showing off at Giant’s Causeway. As you can see the weather was quite favorable. The sun was out most days, and if we got rain it was only a passing shower and didn’t ruin any plans. The rainbows were pretty great!

Amongst other things, Ireland is well known for its pubs. I swore that I would not fall into that mold. But guess who spent a lot of time sipping wine in pubs every night? Yeah, you guessed right! And I loved it! Ireland is a triple threat in my book: a beautiful country, with nice people, and great food. What’s not to love?

So then it was back home for more madness. Packing and moving time! I had been in my duplex for nineteen years and had accumulated a lot of stuff. What a job! I also had yet another trip on the schedule, to pup sit my dog children in South Carolina, Jaxson and Chevelle, while my niece visited her in-laws in Florida. This was some much needed rest and relaxation, and I had the good intention of putting out a blog while there, but guess what? WordPress wouldn’t open! I have no clue why. So, no blog. But plenty of dog.

Back home, my move continued. It’s interesting how you can get a taste for something even though it’s grueling, and I got a good taste for gathering boxes, deciding what was getting packed and what was going in the trash, and being ready for the mover, who was so great and helpful. In the end, we got a big job done in about a month, doing three small moves instead of one big one.

Deep sigh.

That wasn’t the end of my challenges. My precious sister Jeanne had kidney surgery and was laid up in Boston for two weeks. She just got home today and I get to see her before Christmas!

As I type this I’m supposed to be landing in Greenville, South Carolina. But my flight was canceled early this morning because of the huge storm blanketing many areas of the country. I’m rescheduled to fly in on Christmas Day, so all has not been lost.

And oh, I retired from teaching yesterday!

Are you dizzy? Yeah, me too! When your head stops spinning have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and I’ll will too!

Be back soon!