To check on my daughter's updates

I know a lot of my friends and readers are coming here to see what's going on with my daughter, Rachel.  Rather than tell you every time she does an update, I've put her picture on the sidebar of my blog.  If you click on that picture, it will take you to her blog and you can see if she has updated.  I will continue to share her updates on Facebook from time to time, since not all my Facebook friends read this blog. 

Am I the first?

Am I the first mother who, after hearing her daughter has cancer, thought, "This should have happened to me"?
The thing is, my daughter has girls in school and holds down a job.  She drives a long distance to work every day.  She's gone from home for about twelve hours a day during the week.  
Rachel doesn't have time to have cancer.  
I'm retired.  I have all the time in the world, and Cliff isn't tied down by a job, either.  I could have cancer and he could take me to chemo every day, and it would all work out fine.  What else are we doing?  
I wouldn't mind losing my hair.  I was a bald-headed baby, and I'm pretty sure I could deal with a bald head again.  


After I made an appointment to get my tattoo, I had a discussion with my oldest grandson  that went like this:  
Arick:  "Now that you're getting a tattoo, Heather (his girl friend) wants to get one; I'm not letting her do it."  
Me:  "But she is of age.  If she wants a tattoo, you shouldn't stop her."  
Arick:  "I know her too well; within a week, she'd hate it and regret getting it."  
Me:  "Do you think I will regret getting a tattoo?" 
Arick:  "No, Grandma, cause you don't give a sh*t."  


He isn't wrong.  That's why I'd be fine with a bald head.  I might even get a tattoo on my bald head, if it were me undergoing chemo.  
But it isn't me, it's my daughter.  And there's no way I can take her cancer and make it mine.  I stand helplessly by and hope for the best. 

Rachel

My daughter is now in recovery.  As soon as the girls get out of school, we are taking them and going to visit her.  
Naturally we were hoping for the best possible scenario, but we don't always get what we want.  We hoped the worrying part would be over with the surgery.  Now, although we are confident everything will end OK, we remind ourselves to take one day at a time.   
We'll all feel better once we know the plan of action. 

Update on my daughter

Part one of Rachel's surgery is done: They found cancer in one lymph node, and sent off samples of others. Now a plastic surgeon is performing part 2 of the surgery. Thanks to everyone for your thoughts, prayers, well-wishes, and concerns. 
I will keep you posted.

A mood

Wednesday our baby girl goes in for surgery.  It isn't about me, it's about her, but it has me on edge.  The news, so far, has been fairly optimistic, and that has held my spirit steady until today.  Today I'm a mess.  I'm not pessimistic, I'm just nervous.  I'm hoping for the best, but wanting to know for sure.  Wanting it to be over.  Wanting her to be declared cancer-free.
If I am that nervous, I can't even imagine how she is feeling.
To add to that, a kid I care about tried out for something at school.  I couldn't believe she had the courage to try, because I never accepted any challenge in my life as a kid.  I wouldn't compete because I might lose; this is part (perhaps all) of the reason I don't drive.  What if I have a wreck, for heaven's sake?  To this day, I don't attempt anything at which I might fail.
This young relative of mine went for it and was disappointed.  That makes me sad.  I just hope she won't give up.  I want her to keep her eyes on the prize.  I want her to fight the odds no matter what.


Unless something interesting comes up tomorrow, I probably won't do a blog entry.  I just don't have the heart for it right now.

An update from my daughter

I'm nervous at this point, six days away from Rachel's surgery.  If I'm nervous, I KNOW she has to be.  At her request, Cliff and I will not be at the hospital during the surgery, but we will pay her a visit that evening, accompanied by her daughters.  She will come home the day after surgery.  
You can read her latest update HERE.

We aren't scared

To tell you the truth, Cliff and I aren't worried about Rachel having cancer.  We were at first, very much; but then we started getting positive news.  This seems to us like a battle she will win.  She feels very positive about the outcome too.  Of course we are sorry she has to go through surgery and recuperation; that's never fun.  We will breathe much easier after surgery has been performed, because that's when they "stage" the cancer, but they seem confident so far that it is not in the lymph glands.  
I was amazed to learn that insurance will pay for her new breast, which will be an implant.  The plastic surgeon will be right there in the operating room  to begin that work.  It's a process, and will take some time and lots of doctor visits.  When that breast is the size she likes, they will stop.  Then they will make her other breast match it.  Is that not amazing?  I wonder when this sort of treatment was invented, because I know women who had breast surgery twenty years ago that didn't get the benefit of this sort of treatment.   
I hope I got all this information correct.  My daughter was reluctant to blog about boobies, so I thought I'd share just a tiny bit of information.  Remember, I'm the woman who had a breast reduction and told my readers all about it.  I don't consider breasts a naughty subject.  
I hope one of these days, perhaps at some time after surgery, Rachel will share some of the details using her unique brand of humor... which of course is a family trait she inherited from both sides, but especially from her father.  
Among other news, it makes a person think when she hears that a former neighbor stabbed his drug dealer with a screwdriver because the guy gave him baking powder instead of the drug he paid for.  Yeah.  This idiot lived right next door.  

News from my daughter

FINALLY a date is set.  Click HERE.

For those who are following my daughter's latest adventure

She updated her blog HERE.

Good news

An update from my daughter HERE.

Report on my daughter

Rachel did an entry about what we know so far, on her blog.  You'll find it HERE.  


I've shared this before, but I didn't have a family member with cancer at the time.  Now I'm studying on it again:  What do you say to a person with cancer?


I receive inspiration and smiles from things I see on Facebook sometimes.  Stuff like these:

Yes, I know it should be "breathe".  People who make this sayings and put them on pictures should really learn to spell properly.

Oh, and this one, which I'm sure is the reason my daughter is keeping her sense of humor through trying times:  

On another note:  to the people who are leaving these pamphlets for my oldest granddaughter at her place of employment, do you REALLY think this is going to influence anyone to go to church?  Please!  What a turnoff.

Nice day yesterday

The kind neighbor across the road blessed us not long ago with a gallon freezer bag full of filleted catfish.  He suggested I semi-thaw it and package it in smaller portions, but I hesitate to re-freeze any meat, especially fish.  I decided to invite my daughter's family over; there were six of them coming, and two of us.  That bag of catfish looked like a lot more than eight people would be able to eat.  My daughter likes to take pictures of her food and post them to Facebook.

Frying all that catfish kept two skillets occupied for a half-hour.  

This is my daughter's plate:  slaw made from our last head of garden cabbage, scalloped potatoes, green beans (store-bought and doctored up, I didn't have enough from the garden), corn bread, and catfish.  Folks, if you've never tried Louisiana Fish Fry, you simply must!  We like the New Orleans style; it's spicy, the way we like our fish.  If you want it really spicy, dip the fish in buttermilk first; this gives a thicker, crispy coating that almost makes you want to slap your grandma.  Oh, and we did manage to eat most of the catfish.  
Pardon that expression, I think I picked it up from Cliff.  

Grandson Brett had to put brakes on his car; Kevin helped.  

The great-granddaughter finally got past her fear of tractors and got the feel of this one.  

And she looked good doing it.   

Here she is pointing out something to her dad, who is celebrating his birthday today.  
So, all in all it was a good family day.  I can sure tell I'm getting older, though; cooking a big meal absolutely  wears me out for the rest of the day!  
By the way, my Canadian secret admirer is back, reading every entry I've ever done on this blog. Hello, Canadian reader:  If you ever make it to current entries, let me know what led you here and why you find my every word so interesting.   As I write this, you're still back in 2007.

I've been pretty lazy with my blogging

But I really, really like this entry my daughter did at my request.  
Check it out HERE.

We finally got out of the house

The roads are treacherous, but our old pickup is a four-wheel-drive. Even with half-worn-out tires, it took us up the hill to our daughter's house in style. Rachel took this picture of us arriving; notice Hawkeye, the wonder dog, running around the front of the pickup to greet me. I'm pretty sure if you asked Rachel and Kevin to name the best dog they ever had, they'd say Hawkeye. How many dogs will howl at the slightest suggestion, just to entertain his people?

Speaking of best dogs, someone got the impression from my previous entry that I was calling Suzy a terrier. Believe it or not, when my sister-in-law bought her at a pet store, they claimed she was part terrier; I don't think so. I always figured she had some sort of spaniel blood in her, but you know how it is with mutts: you never really know, unless you're personally acquainted with their parents.

It was good to get away for the first time in three days, and our daughter lives less than two miles away. They still had plenty of Christmas junk food, and Rachel made some hearty soup from a home-made soup kit someone gave her for Christmas.

I don't know what it is with me, but after I've eaten dinner, around one o'clock, I get really sleepy. It doesn't matter where I am, even on the back of the motorcycle; my eyes get heavy and I fall asleep (that sounds more dangerous than it is). So yesterday I reclined on Rachel's couch and drifted off as usual. I awakened to snide remarks about my snoring, my husband telling them I always snore like that, and my daughter saying I sounded like her coffeepot.

Oh well, I got my nap in, didn't I? I can take the abuse.

If Cliff thinks we can safely get out in the pickup today, I'm wanting to go to Sam's Club. We'll see how things go. Those of my readers who have tried both, I'd like to know whether you prefer Costco to Sam's Club, and why. I'll make a poll on my sidebar, but would appreciate hearing the reasons for your selection in the comment section of any entry.

I took the Christmas tree down yesterday; there were so many needles on the floor that my Dyson got plugged up several times, but we finally got the worst of them. I'll leave my Avon Christmas plates up through the month of January, because I enjoy them so much. I'll also continue using holiday mugs for that length of time. Then I'll remove all traces of Christmas until next year.

I wanted to put a nice, wintry picture on the header of my blog, and I'm happy with the picture of Sadie running toward me down in the "holler"; however, I have tried every color of the rainbow for the wording on there, and nothing works very well. White seemed to show up better than any other choice, but it's not really satisfactory either. Until I change pictures, that will have to do. I changed where I put my usual quote because it was totally illegible on that particular picture.

Once upon a time....

In 1969, I gave birth to a baby girl in Kansas City, at Conley Clinic. She was born with three chins and rolls of fat on the back of her neck, and no hair on top of her head; she was so cross-eyed that my mother-in-law cried, the first time she held her. Which really made me feel bad, but I eventually forgave my mother-in-law. By the time my baby was six weeks old, her eyes only crossed when she was very, very sleepy and she had turned into a sweet-looking baby girl. She was a good-natured child who hardly ever cried without a good reason.

At exactly one year of age, she started walking, and applauded with us at such a wonderful feat.

She was cute and funny at eighteen months and got along with her big brother, although she refused to talk. By the time she was five years old, she was gorgeous.
Somewhere along the line she learned to talk, and now she makes her living doing just that: talking. Be kind to your customer service representative, please.

Tomorrow she turns forty (Yes, she looks scared in this shot; you'd be scared too, if you were grandma before the age of forty).

Where did the time go? Happy birthday, Rachel! (Your daddy still says about you, quite often, "Isn't she pretty?)

Go on over to her blog and wish her a happy birthday!

A blast from the past

In the process of moving, I unearthed a group of pictures from 1978 to 1980. I have very few pictures from that period, so I was elated to find these.
That's me on my horse, Lad, around 1980.
If I had to choose one dog to keep forever, it would be Suzie. How we loved that mutt. We think she crossed the highway chasing a rabbit and was struck and killed by a car. Cliff and I returned from a walk to find her lifeless body beside the road. We'd had her for perhaps four years. The kids loved this three-wheeler. The daughter's best friend, the local Baptist preacher's girl, broke her arm riding this thing. And tried to cover it up from her family. And then lied about how it happened so she wouldn't get in trouble with her parents for riding the three-wheeler. I spilled the beans.
My mom always made the kids unique birthday cakes. This was my son's "keep on truckin" cake. Must have been around the time of "Smokey and the Bandit". We had a friend named Tom with an in-ground pool back then. I think both kids learned to swim there.

That's Cliff with his mom and dad and siblings. Both parents have long-since passed, and also his brother Warren (bottom right).

Why this song means so much to me

In 1987, my son graduated his basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia. My daughter was in her senior year in high school... I think. Or maybe it was her junior year.

I so wanted to see my son's ceremony; Cliff hates to travel long distances. I don't drive, never did. But my daughter had her driver's license and loved to drive.

So she and I set off. I'll never forget that time, and I'm so thankful Rachel and I went.

It's a long, long trip back home from Columbus, Georgia, but Rachel was determined to get back as expediently as possible. I told her to stop the minute she got tired, and we'd get a motel.

She was wide awake until we hit St. Louis. By then she started getting sleepy, but we were in Missouri; and she didn't intend to stop at that point. It was only four hours to home.

Somewhere between St. Louis and Kansas City, this song came on the radio; and Rachel, trying to stay awake, said, "Come on, Mom; let's sing along." Or something like that.

So every time I hear this song, I get teary-eyed remembering a time that is precious to me, and would be totally lost, had not my daughter made me stop and listen to a song with which I wasn't even familiar.

I wouldn't take half-a-million dollars for the memory.

Oh, and by the way; Rachel's husband, Kevin, can tell you the whole history of Lionel Ritchie and the names of every group he was ever associated with.

You can play this one at my funeral; it's so tied up with fond memories of both my children.