of healing . . .

It's been 40 years since I lost my father to cancer . . . six years since my child embarked on a cancer survivor's journey . . . I've bought and displayed the showy purple ribbon, donated to cancer research, worn the t-shirt, decorated a luminary or two. What I could never bring myself to do, until this year, was to join, with others like me, others whose lives have been changed by that "C' word, to remember and to honor those who have fought the good fight for living and dying well . . .

I did not purchase or decorate a luminary this year. But, for the first time (forgive me, Daddy), I chose to celebrate my survivor child by joining a Relay for Life Team. The experience was a healing one in many ways--rediscovering old friends whose lives had also been touched in this way, walking and walking and walking and walking some more, sending prayers up to heaven on purple balloon ribbons . . . But, most of all, in the quiet dark of night, reflecting in the flickering candlelight presence of those gone before us and those still with us . . .

OK, so maybe not a glamour shot exactly but . . .

this girl is so pleased she challenged herself to enter this event and that she followed through :-)

Not toooooo bad for an "after" photo anyway . . .

Next challenge? Relay for Life!

. . . got the T-shirt to prove it!

I'm certifiably insane by my own standards. If you'd have told me I'd gladly pass up sleeeping in on the Saturday morning of my first no-obligations weekend in a while, I'd have raised my eyebrows. If you told me that, instead of sleeping in, I'd be voluntarily traipsing up and down city hills in sub-freezing temperatures, I'd have been thinking about having you committed.

But I guess I'll do almost anything, within reason, to have the t-shirt--a size small--and to be able to fit into that t-shirt.

There weren't a lot of us hardy souls this morning running or walking in the first-ever Run/Walk for Books. But I was there--lived to tell/write about it (walked 4K in 40 minutes 14 seconds)--and brought home the proof!



Let's see if I can say the same after April's longer, higher, tougher Cooper River Bridge Run/Walk . . . I would have gladly rested on my Grace Memorial (1994) and Silas Pearman (1995) laurels/t-shirts, but there's this new bridge . . .

3-28-09 FOOTNOTE (from Wikipedia, b/c I couldn't find the 1995 t-shirt ["get over it," right???]): With entrants exceeding 8,500 and a new 7,000 meter walk added, totaling over 10,000 participants, and tighter restrictions on weight on the Grace Bridge, in 1995 officials returned the Bridge Run to the Pearman bridge, with all three lanes being used, as traffic to Charleston could now be diverted to the Don N. Holt Bridge near Daniel Island on Interstate 526, which had opened in 1992.

to be happy about today . . .

62. 5.5 years since LASIK and still seeing 20/20. . .

and my reading vision is pretty remarkable also :-)

So maybe doctor's visits aren't all

frustrating

jumpthroughus

hoops

???

psyching out the lotus focus . . .

OK, here goes!

Confession time . . .
Three weeks of Wii Fit and I am sooooo addicted.
The powers inside the balance board can read my mind.
I'm hopelessly unbalanced!

I may have to admit defeat in the Soccer Ball heading game. Deflecting a ball in full motion with my head is not a sacrifice I can wrap my brain around. Every instinct in my body says DUCK!!!!

I've arrived at level 8 (for beginners) in Table Tilt (navigating Level 5 is my nemesis most other times). After many, many, many unsuccessful attempts, I am now a Ski Slalom amateur . . . sometimes. Navigating my Mii-in-a-Bubble up the river seems do-able. Sometimes my penguin Mii celebrates amateur status in catching fish without falling off her iceberg (too much). Walking her across a Tightrope is a save-for-later.

And, thanks to my persistence, in the face of unbalanced verdicts, yesterday I unlocked Lotus Focus.

Let me just say that, when all else fails, I turn away from the Balance Games to Yoga--and some of the Strength Training--Wii challenges to boost my self-image. I'm pretty good (aka trainer or master)--naturally, it seems, since I've had not a single "how-to" lesson until now--at Yoga. And I know enough about Yoga to recognize that this Balance game is essentially a Yoga thing and therefore a way to progress, in Balance, beyond unbalanced and the occasional amateur status.

Just figuring out how to get my bottom and legs lotus-positioned (well, close . . .) and balanced on that small balance board surface was tricky--even at 5'5", with a bull's-eye perfect BMI! My first four attempts--two at 27 seconds followed by two at 32 seconds--were unbalanced.

I've figured out that my weak(est) area--this has been lifelong challenge which LASIK has lessened but in which I still need major brain training--is orienting myself in space. Rapid onslaughts of visual stimuli (like those soccer balls and foreign objects) rattle my composure. Managing my reactions to auditory stimuli, on the other hand, is a relative strength.

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooo, on the fifth attempt at Lotus Focus, I closed my eyes (except for the occasional peek) and sat and sat and sat some more until the game ended itself.

180 seconds of sitting still enough to be a

Lotus Focus CHAMPION

I have arrived!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

all I want for Christmas is . . .

After another both harrowing and funny hour in the dentist's chair, I'm one step further along the path to normalcy.

Let's see . . .

Imagine someone installing an Erector set contraption in your mouth--and one of those tiny one-of-a-kind pieces slips out of her gloved grasp. I figured it was in the chair under me because I'd felt it graze my shoulder. She thought it was lurking somewhere inside my clothing. We were both wrong! This medical marvel that was soon to become a permanent part of my mouth had landed inside the dentist's shoe!

Sometime later the porcelain crown did an almost repeat, bouncing across the room.

The verdict--after multiple screwing and rescrewing and installing and reinstalling of the pieces--was that the mold for the tooth had twisted slightly somewhere between here and the lab and that I would need yet another 2-3-weeks-to-construct permanent crown. Which, of course, meant another 5 minutes with plastic goop congealing on my upper teeth . . .

The good news is that, after a considerable amount of scraping, the composite that was gluing my fake replacement tooth to its neighboring healthy tooth is gone. I feel like someone's removed a parasite from my mouth!

The other good news is that the crown that wasn't exactly right (too much space so debris would have collected between my teeth on a regular basis) is now attached, with temporary cement, to the permanent abutment which is attached to the permanent implant which is attached, hopefully for life, to my jawbone. I can floss and brush normally. I can bite. I can chew (just not sticky stuff yet) on both sides of my mouth. I can eat bagels for breakfast!!!!!!!!

So now, like the "All I Want for Christmas" song, I'm shooting for permanently-in-place-by-Christmas . . . ?!

Oh, and I can hang on to the $800 balance (of the $3600 tab) for another 2-3 weeks . . .

more to be happy about . . .

51. coming out on the right half of a 50:50 chance
52. having your adult daughters, in the same week, call you their . . . buddy :-)
53. laughing at what makes you afraid
54. laughing at yourself
55. crying over a good book
56. staying up late and sleeping in later
57. making the most of Daylight Savings Time
58. noticing contrail-crossed autumn-afternoon skies


59. remembering what was once good about October . . .
60. resurrecting the mending pile

more quirks ;-)

43. cherishing crystal clear credit in chaotic times
44. owning too many books but ordering even more
45. taking summer clothes to the cleaners before the first leaf falls
46. investing in Ace braces and reaping wellness dividends
47. rediscovering apple butter
48. fueling imaginations with a forest face and a tree door
49. not having to do everything today
50. holding fast to someday . . .

quirky things to be happy about . . .

33. going shopping in the closet
34. slowing into the therapeutic zone
35. renewing a Lincoln rocker
36. conversing in old glass: slag, goofus, opalescent, carnival, whimsey, custard, rose bowl, nappy, jack-in-the-pulpit, coin dot, hobnail, vaseline, epergne
37. enjoying neighborhood walks with an mp3 bff
38. blogging on Friday evenings when Monday seems forever away
39. collecting everything adagio

40. knowing a Seagull guitar is tucked away for someday . . .
41. finding blue paisley capris at 75% off (and in a size you thought you'd never see again!)
42. holding fast to dreams . . .

home improvements--the next installment

Here's a quote that made me smile--something from my February blog on dealing and blessing . . .

Had to laugh when resolution time rolled around a few weeks ago. I was still wedged uncomfortably in the throes of 2007's three top-rated resolutions. Never mind the rest of the list--the usual stuff like exercising semi-regularly or replacing porch railings or thiswouldbetheyearI'dgobacktoFrance. . .

Maybe the way to approach the list is to put the really hard stuff at the top? Sure makes planning for and doing the tasks of lesser importance much easier.

Take replacing porch railings , for instance.

Thank you, Mama!

Or take thiswouldbetheyearI'dgobacktoFrance. . . OK, maybe it wasn't--but next year is. I've actually picked up (but not yet completed) a passport application and, get this, bought new luggage!

Exercising semi-regularly? I tried! My left knee is functional again. Yes! I've bought serious walking shoes. Any day now, I'll be back on the streets, earphones and all!

Seriously, I did tackle the big three first . . . major league resolutions: taking stock of life, health, career. Between me and this blog, I'm glad to be dealing, once again, with minor league resolutions. It's a blessing that I can . . .

August . . .

A third gone already and I haven't posted . . .

OK, maybe life isn't all a case of simple pleasures.

But, under all the stuff of getting through the days, there are a few . . .

If I weren't on a baby food diet at the moment (long story, hopefully with a not too distant happy ending), I would never, ever, in a million years made myself the best-ever eggsaladwithrealmayonnaise and ateitall! today. I didn't even know I liked egg salad!

If I weren't temporarily sidelined with an overstressed knee, I would never, ever, in a million years have given myself permission to read all the books I've read so far this month alone! I would never have ordered the serious walking shoes to go with my serious mp3 player and my serious conviction that yesIdoneedtoputmyselffirst . . . at least sometimes.

Bet there's more simple pleasures under the stuff of getting through the days of August . . . I'll keep digging :-) And maybe even posting . . .

admitting my mother was right. . .

. . . gets no easier with age, I'm afraid. But I had to call her this afternoon, knowing I was fueling her lifelong passion for "I told you so." I did call. She did say, "I told you so."


I don't like (some people actually do, weird as it seems) going to the doctor. So mostly I don't. The last few years have been so crazy, so full, that it was always next week or month or year that I was going to schedule that long overdue physical, with the myriad of tests sure to be exacted of someone my age. I'd have almost convinced myself that this was the week, when my mother would ask me if I'd made that appointment. I'm contrary that way. Nag me about something and I'm out the door, in the next county or country, doing everything but what you want.


This summer I finally cut her a deal: stop nagging and I'll make the appointment. She did. I did.


Doctor, lawyer (another story for another day), Indian chief was the first installment. This is hopefully the last.


I think the label is Tis. . . looked surprisingly inocuous as I watched it being snared (my insides on wide screen TV and I was loopy enogh to be fascinated!) and glimpsed it again in its zip-loc bag. Just eight days ago. An innocent little time bomb, as it turned out. Perfect timing on my part, as it turned out.


But my mother was right. And I had to tell her so. And I did. . .

doctor, lawyer, Indian chief

What I really want to write about is pretty simple, but certainly not a simple pleasure . . . so should I? But, if I don't write something today, November slips by unrecorded . . .

I could write about . . . finally finding
a new primary physician
I might be
willing
to see
again

but I can't write about the fact that,

because I don't go to doctors as a rule,

my insurance won't cover

a penny of her bill

("not covered,"

"exceeds allowable,"

"you haven't started

using your deductible")

or, I could write about being

thankful for the gift of

good health

but not that I question why

"borderline" is

"normal"

or, I could write about how

I've figured out how to do

the last seven--

and next two--

doctor/dentist

appointments

without missing

a day of

work or summer

but not

that I have my priorities

confused

or I could save

writing about

health

and

doctors

and

all things related

until . . .

maybe never?

Good idea!

But,

you know,

there is something to be said

for being told you have

a good

(AKA perfect EKG)

heart. . .

Enough said!

LASIK

Subject: One more thing--

Date: 7/24/2003 8:56:24 AM Eastern Daylight Time

--and this may be a major key to why the world looks so different with my new eyes... I went outside to get the paper this morning around 7--my very first trip outdoors (beyond the screen porch) without anything covering my eyes. The first WOW was the grass near the front steps. And something finally clicked! The entire world is closer and larger than it has ever been! I've always known that glasses reduced my world (amazing how much thinner everyone is when I'm wearing my glasses...) but contact lenses must have done that also, if to a lesser degree. Since that view of the world is all that I've known for forty years, I thought that was how the world looked to everyone. Add that to depth perception (just pray that I don't get too carried away with my new-found confidence as a driver) and amazing colors/variations in color...absolutely awesome...

...and overwhelming. I have cried every morning since the surgery--tears of joy and wonder at it all...