MRI Results - OK !

Appreciating the lovely day and the opportunity for exercise,
I walked the three miles home after today's women's meeting at church.
I picked up the mail on my way in.
Ah, an envelope from my oncologist.
I opened it to find the results of my MRI.

Results:
No cancer, just "ordinary" pain, called "Trochanteric bursitis".
It is mostly in my left hip, and somewhat in my right.

"There is no occult fracture or dislocation."
"There is no avasular necrosis or metastatic disease."
"No suspicious pelvic visceral abnormality is identified."

I am glad for this news.
I am glad for what it is not.
I will figure out what it is and how to live with (or heal?) it.

Again and again, I am thankful for your care and prayers.

"Oh, Lord....
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well."
Psalm 139:14 (New International Version)

MRI Results Unknown

Thanks for asking.
Thanks for praying.

I would love to report results to you.
I would especially love to report healthy results to you.

However, I just do not know last Tuesday's MRI results yet.
I called the office Friday, and was told it usually takes a week.
I called today, and was told that the nurse (who gives lab results)
is not in, but I can call back another day.

I am glad I decided not to sit home and wait for a call today.
I spent a couple hours at the poll for a friend in my hometown, Dearborn.
[George Darany, running to remain on City Council.
George is the brother of classmate/friend Theresa (Darany) Smith]

Driving in to town gave the opportunity to listen to music from a singer I recently heard on my "mom's retreat", Kathy Troccoli. First I listened to her lively 60's and 70's adaptations (wake-up songs!).

Then I listened to one song over and and over. You can see the lyrics and hear her sing the song at this link: "My Life Is In Your Hands".

Some of the words that kept going through me:
My life is in your hands
My heart is in your keeping
I'm never without love
Not when my future is with you
My life is in your hands
And though I may not see clearly
I will lift my voice and sing
Cause your love does amazing things
Lord, I know, my life is in your hands
(Kathy Troccoli, Bill Montvilo)

Autumn Colors

(Photos coming)
There are more than one way of looking at and reviewing time.
One is day by day, moment by moment.
Another is to look at events and event groups.
They can become a picture of coordinating and contrasting colors, like a tapestry or an autumn day.
So here is a view from standing back and viewing colors of the season.


Company from Florida
This fall, we were blest with company from two sets of our Florida friends
(in whose homes we have stayed on our visits).
We didn't want to let them go.

Bill and Jean Adcock were in town primarily for doctor appointments.
We were honored that they also made time for a visit to our "new" house.
Unfortunately, we forgot to pull out the camera.
But we sure enjoyed the chance to catch up and eat together!

Kent and Marta Martindale came up to experience the peak beauty of Michigan fall.
Color and rain are both hard to plan, and they had plenty of both.
But our visit was warm and fun!
They had to leave too soon, but not before Marta had our next vacation planned for us. Ha!


Health

Flu shot
Early in October, John and I both had our (basic) flu shot at Kroger.
I wondered how it would work to get a flu shot at the grocery store.
There are a couple chairs in the middle of the aisle, as a little waiting area for the pharmacy.
Would the pharmacist come out while the seated person rolls up a sleeve?
Would patients be invited into the tiny pharmacy one at a time?
No. It is more like drive-through-window style.
I walked to the side pharmacy window and rested my elbow on a little pad on the window sill,
while the pharmacist reached over to my shoulder, and presto!
Done.


Neosporin Toothpaste Mix-up
I mention this for comic relief (and a warning).
While traveling to my parents', I reached inside a small pocket of the suitcase and pulled out a small tube and squeezed some out onto my toothbrush. It looked more clear than I remembered my toothpaste being, so I took a better look at the tube. (Maybe I turned on a light.)
Neosporin First Aid Antibiotic Ointment!
My hero mom gave me a new toothbrush.
But you might be surprised how similar those little tubes look on the backside.

Exercise
I am still living with the hernia (navel area), needing to do "gentle" stomach exercises, in hopes I do not get more. I am also still being sporadic with that exercise (from a book of back exercises). I was temporarily excited about a newsletter from a physical therapist I know. But I think because my initial (phone) request involved the word "Pilates", my doctor was reluctant to let me go ("Absolutely not"). I moped a bit, then made a check-list which I followed faithfully for a week. Then I went out of town.

I will have to start again.


MRI
I have had some mysterious mild hip pain for about a month. So my oncologist sent me for an MRI last Tuesday. I am in waiting mode. It is not that I am praying for arthritis. But I am asking that it is generally something I can live with, and specifically, not cancer.

All for tonight.. more "Colors" tomorrow...

Canoeing the Au Sable River

A rather spontaneous idea.
Maybe it started with one of those "Pure Michigan" ads.
(Turn on your sound, sit back, and listen.)

John had a rare day-and-a-half available.
(Sort of. He still worked on his sermon.)

So we drove up to see my parents over last Friday night.
And we put the canoe (with my dad's help) into the river for a couple hours.
There was not a lot of "color" change, but the views were still beautiful.
And the air... Ah, the air felt so good. So fresh.

Bonus: We saw two noble-looking great blue herons!

First Haircut

(First haircut in over a year and a half, anyway.)

Unfortunately, the photos that included Julie either were not in good focus, or the flash reflected too brightly in the mirror.









But you can see her work, my "before" look, just letting curls reign free, and then my "after" look, Julie's masterpiece.

By the way, that photo leaning against the mirror, IS a photo of Julie that has been "yearbooked".

One Year

September 23, 2008 was the date of my last chemotherapy treatment.
I am thankful for its healing.
I am thankful for healthy cells.
I am thankful for my doctor's watchfulness.
I am thankful for caring prayers and caring family/friends/those I may not even know.
I am thankful for God's mercy.
I am thankful for God's breath of life.

Sunday to Sunday

Enjoying the Garden

We have been enjoying tomatoes from our garden:
-growing;
-changing colors;
-tasting plain or in recipes.

- Gazpacho (a couple versions)
- Tabouleh
- Tomato-Basil-Swiss-Cheddar Quiche (only more like a casserole, as I omitted the crust)
- Bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwiches
- Tomato with a little pomegranate-balsamic vinegar

We have also used the basil for pesto, good with pasta, and also on pizza. Mmmm.
The parsley and green pepper (only two so far) have been good in the tabouleh as well.
We are thankful!


Tomato Triage

A couple Sundays ago, I had an experience in the garden that started with my feet.
It is one of those stories where one thing leads to another.
My feet/legs tend to swell, especially if standing, so I am supposed to wear elastic stockings.
Higher ones are better than lower ones, but I usually only wear the higher ones with skirts.
So Sunday when I came home from church, I just changed into a comfortable jeans jumper.
Long, with slits on the side.

I hiked it up to step over the little garden fence (built to discourage bunnies, which seems to be working so far).
I picked my little handful of basil, and started to step back over the fence. But I must not have picked everything up high enough; something caught and I fell backwards. A pretty soft fall actually onto my garden floor. But my arms flung out, and took down several tomato plants, including snapping off their stakes at the base in the process.

They went down like dominoes. It looked like a tornado hit. Pretty sad. I was fine, except for a small bruise I did not even notice until several days later. I thought of theater masks, comedy and tragedy, side by side, and knew with enough distance this might be a really funny sight.

I called for John, and he kept a calm face as he rescued the garden, putting in new stakes and re-tying the branches. We repaired for hours what only took a moment to put down. Amazingly, most everything still seems to be surviving.

Life is fragile. Life is tough. Life is good.


"Something There is That Doesn't Love a Wall"

What does it take to get down a wall?
Not take down a wall.
Get down.

Last Sunday, our church had a welcome-to-the-new-season (Of course, not just "Welcome Back". We have been here all summer! ) Block Party after worship. As part of the Outdoor Ministry, Jon Cline and son Greg, who are experienced at rappelling, were demonstrating their adventures by making some descents down the four-story church building. Sometimes I watched; sometimes I turned away. Too scary.

But eventually, I learned more about it, and began to see Jon's expertise more in context. Not only did Jon seem very skilled, but his son trusted him. That said a lot to me. His son trusted him.

Through the afternoon, they started teaching a few others to rappel as well. Eventually, I saw possibilities in it. John/my husband climbed down, raising some fun-money for the church.

John rappelling down the church wall

And I wanted to see what the roof looked like anyway. So I ascended the steps and followed Greg to the roof, listened carefully to Jon C.'s instructions, and asked plenty of questions. I put on the full armor of rappelling: the harness; the helmet, the gloves. I watched as Jon securely attached the rope to the harness. And I saw where the other end of the rope was securely tied down. Jon said it was about trusting the equipment. I needed basis to trust. And so I paid attention.

Laura climbing over the wall.

I tried to follow directions the best I could. But since I had previously avoided watching others descending, I did not have much vision. He said the hardest part was just getting over the edge and leaning back. So I am pleased to say that I accomplished one version of "the hardest part". However, once over the edge of the wall, I got stuck there. I did not seem to have the core strength to push away from the wall with my tangled legs.

I grew fatigued as I hung there, not getting my legs into position to push. Finally, I suggested that maybe I just could not manage it. And then Jon calmly related, he could not pull me up from there, so I would have to go down. Ha! Not a scenario we had rehearsed! Of course, I thought maybe someone else could come help. And almost immediately, someone did: Craig Sleeman, down on the street knew that he was needed (no one cried out, "A LITTLE HELP UP HERE!"). So he and Jon quietly pulled me up together. My thanks!

Stuck

Besides a small scrape on my finger, the worst that happened to me that day was the sunburn.
I cannot remember how old I was the last time I was burned this badly!

Not the end of the story.
I had thought about taking a pilates class advertised by a physical therapy group that had helped John/husband's back. I have been frustrated by my lack of discipline for those core muscles and trying to protect and prevent further hernias. So my weakness motivated me to call. The instructor/physical therapist wanted to evaluate me first, and perhaps to work individually with me before any such class. So I called my doctor for a 'scrip. However, he said no (actually, the nurse quoted, "Absolutely not!"), to just wear a girdle and do gentle exercises.

I was really hoping to make some progress before I see him again in December.
I need to call him again, or maybe go in, and maybe rephrase my question.


"He Made Us to Praise Him"

In the spring before I moved to Royal Oak, I read a small book that had been loaned to me about living with cancer. One idea that caught my attention was the healing aspects of writing and of music.

I thought maybe it would be a good idea to join the choir when I moved to my new church.
I sang a long time ago, and used to love it.
Maybe it is time for a new song, I thought.

However, this did not seem like a good motivation to join a church choir: for my own healing.
It sounded self-centered.
So I thought about it and did not proceed.
Then, when fall came and the choir started singing again, they sounded wonderful and the loft seemed so full. They did not seem to need any new people.

So I just listened.
But sometimes at home, I would find myself humming, and I still thought about singing.

I thought of how good the breathing would be for my stomach muscles
(especially since I am having such a hard time being disciplined about regularly exercising them).

And the choir people seemed really nice.
Maybe I could make friends there.

And maybe if I die here, they would sing at my funeral.

Plus, the director does not seem the yelling kind.

I wanted to sing.
But maybe my motives are not pure enough.
And what did I have to offer?

Answer:
I breathe. I have breath.
Not astounding breath.
But, aside from trying not to do anything too embarrassing, I will offer my breathing, as in Psalm 150:

Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty firmament!
Praise him his mighty deeds;
praise him according to his surpassing greatness!
Praise him with trumpet sound;
praise him with lute and harp!
Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings an pipe!
Praise him with clanging cymbals;
praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!


I breathe and so I need to praise.
And I need to sing.
Complaining is so easy.
There are difficult situations all around, wherever I look.
I ask to share prayers, and the list grows longer.
But I need the discipline of praise.
Beyond all the daily needs.

New Choir friend (and possible relative!) Mary at Fall Choir Picnic

I decided it is ok if there are reasons that singing seems good for me.
Maybe there are a lot of reasons to sing.
But one is that praising God is both good for God and good for me.
It is the order of things.
It is how we are made.

So I have attended two choir practices and have felt warmly welcomed and we are singing praises!

(And that is enough excitement for this Sunday.)

He Made Us to Praise Him
By Bryan Jeffrey Leech/Tom Fettke

He made us to know Him,
to love Him, to serve Him.
We do not deserve Him and all of his grace.
He made us to praise Him,
to need Him, to seek Him,
and then to express Him in wonderful ways.