The Good News…and the Bad News…and the Good News…and...

When my sister Becky called me last May and said the two of us now belong to the same club (Breast Cancer), I had no words. All I could do was cry as she told me of her diagnosis that day, and that it was in her lymph nodes, and now what? We spent hours on the phone every day as she made it through tests and scans and consultations and the mind melting process (where you feel like you are drinking water out of a firehouse) of trying to get answers and figure out what to do next but you never can get an answer that tells you exactly what it will take to make this all go away. And then she went over every concern about telling Mom that another one of her children had cancer, then telling the other siblings.

In June my sister Jennifer skyped me from Australia and said she had good news and bad news. When she said that the good news is that her breast cancer was not in her lymph nodes I managed to find a word. After I screamed it for about 10 seconds I moved on to the crying and listening to what was next.

Good news – Skype.

I am really grateful the three of us could be on Skype at the same time to share what was happening, and support each other through it.

Bad news – some of the treatments Jennifer needed were not readily available in Australia.

Good news – Jennifer was able to return to Utah for additional treatment. All three of us were able to have some time together while she and Becky were going through treatment.

Bad news – How to tell Mom that nearly 12 years after Dad died of cancer, three of her daughters are fighting breast cancer.

Good news – Mom is tougher than any of us can imagine. And when we have room for miracles, they are there to get us through. Thank you Dad, for being so near.

Bad news – Becky had a type of cancer that had mutated.

Good news – Becky is married to a great radiologist, and has friends who are great doctors, who spoke very frankly with her about her options. There are treatments available now that can work on this mutation.

Bad news – Becky had cancer in her primary and secondary lymph nodes.

Good news – Beyond the tumor and lymph nodes, there was no sign of cancer anywhere else in her body.

Bad news – Chemotherapy sucks. There is no other way to put it. It hurts, makes you sick, fries your brain, takes all energy, kills your hair, destroys your skin, takes over your life, the one it is supposed to help you keep.

Good news – Sometimes, the chemo really does what it is supposed to do… kill the cancer.

Bad news – Becky had to go through 5 months of intensive chemotherapy before having surgery.

Good news – It worked.

Bad news – It was hard for family members to find out 3 of us had cancer.

Good news – I have the most amazing family. My kids and nieces and nephews have handled this well, and are paying attention to what it could mean for their health. My siblings and in-laws overwhelm me. Their patience, love, prayers, understanding, just being there, is beyond what I could have hoped for.

Bad news – It was hard for my adult kids to hear about my diagnosis. But Becky and Jennifer have younger kids at home. I can’t imagine.

Good news – We have a heritage in our family of knowing that the prayers of children have an impact on all of us.

Bad news – The week I stopped taking the cancer medication because the side effects had become intolerable, was the same week I had to have surgery to remove a basal cell tumor from my eyelid.

Good news – The surgeon was able to remove the tumor and reconstruct my eyelid without needing to do a skin graft.

Bad news – I look at my left eye and see evidence of the surgery (scars and no lashes on the lower lid).

Good news – Mike says he can’t see any difference. But I think that is because he has male pattern blindness.

Bad news – Lots of medical bills, deductibles, patient payments.

Good news – We all have insurance and excellent medical care.

Bad news – It is a terrible, frightening thing to hear that your wife has breast cancer.

Good news – My sisters and I have husbands who take this fight on, each in their own way. Bless them.

Now I will concentrate on the good.

What a journey this has been, and will be.

I would have given anything to be able to take this away from my sisters, and go through treatment in their place. But I have seen everyone in the family share the burdens in whatever way they can. When Becky went to get her head shaved before her hair fell out, Mike and I were invited to come and take pictures. Her husband Jordan got a sympathy head shave, and Mom and other sisters were watching it on skype. It was a community event. Becky was laughing as we cheered her on. When I suddenly walked out because I didn’t want to cry in front of her, Jordan comforted me. What a guy.

My daughter Charlotte was training for a marathon during all this, and decided she wanted to run one dedicated to us. She dreamed of crossing the finish line and seeing the three of us there.

But she didn’t know if that would work with how Becky was feeling and when I might be in Utah, and when Jennifer would be done and returning to Australia. But when she ran it, we were all there. She wore a shirt that said "Running for 2nd base, because my mom and my aunts fight like girls". Becky had rested up so she was able to cheer Charlotte on part way through the course, and be at the finish line with me, holding a balloon bouquet. Charlotte worked and trained hard, and took on something that required enduring through something difficult, to show love, empathy and support for us.

I am so grateful for her. It was a bit of a love fest at the finish line.

When Jennifer was in the hospital after surgery, Becky and I were there with her on a Sunday. I asked at the nurses station if there was a chapel in the hospital where I could attend sacrament meeting. Right then a couple showed up to bring the sacrament to those who wanted it. When they came into the room and the husband began preparing the bread and water, the wife gave a message about the healing power of Christ’s love. I felt as if the bread and water were spreading throughout my body, bringing peace. It was a moment of grace in the midst of difficult pain and worry.

On the day of Becky’s surgery, after she had completed 6 rounds of chemo, she asked that only Jordan be at the hospital with her. The hope was that the chemo had shrunk the tumor, and hopefully diminished the cancer in the sentinel and secondary lymph nodes. Mom and I were at one of our rental properties, painting some rooms. We called and spoke with Jordan several times, up to when Becky was taken into surgery. It was hard to stay away, but we estimated how long it would be before surgery was over, and the tissue tested, and results known. I had to keep Mom (and myself as well) occupied to keep from pacing, or freaking out. Then Jordan called. No cancer cells in the tissue or lymphs nodes. The chemo had done its job. Her oncologist calls it “extraordinary results”. If you are going to be invited to be a part of a medical study, you want it to be for that reason.

I will always be grateful for the moments where Becky or Jennifer and I would hold each other, bless each other, and pray together. When we would share our pain, our fears, and believe each other when we promised we would make it through this, no matter how things turned out, and we would be there for each other, and those we love.

The Good News: I never know how miracles, help, strength, answers, grace or love will come in my life, or to those I love. Sometimes it comes with the ability to endure for one more day, to find hope in a moment after I felt none, to suddenly be overwhelmed with love and sweet memory of one who is gone, to have someone unexpectedly be there to help or comfort, to feel connected with something that is stronger than death, to have faith. Sometimes, there is miraculous healing.

The Good News wins.

Not A Piece of Chewed Gum...and Happy Day to Heavenly Mother

Mother’s Day is coming up. I am fortunate to be able to call, speak with and try to honor several mothers on this day.

My own mother, who is a saint, even though she doesn’t want anyone to help her even in her 80^th year, and that drives me nuts. But I am so grateful for her, who she is, what she teaches me, and that she is such a huge part of my life, and those of countless others.

My mother-in-law, who has always been loving, kind, generous and very accepting of me. I am most grateful to her for her part in raising such a wonderful person as my husband.

And I always think on and send extra communication to my Heavenly Mother. I am grateful that I have been taught, and known of her since teenage years, and sensed her even longer. I have always embraced the part of LDS doctrine, and yes, it has been a part of our doctrine since the early days of the church, that lets us know we come from Heavenly Parents, who are as much a part of each other as a couple can be.

Even though church members are all over the place in our ability to acknowledge and appreciate her as an equal partner with Heavenly Father, I think that has more to do with our own cultural traditions, and is something we need to look beyond in order to receive greater light and knowledge. I especially appreciate actions such as a recent historical survey done by “BYU Studies” that found over 600 references to Heavenly Mother by church leaders. Here is a link if you want to download the survey… https://byustudies.byu.edu/showTitle.aspx?title=8669

I highly recommend it.

I love this part of the introduction…

“Contrary to criticism in some quarters, Church leaders have not relegated this deity to a confined role. Statements from the late 1840s onward show that leaders and influential Latter-day Saints have explored her roles as a fully divine being, a creator of worlds with the Father, a coframer of the plan of salvation, and a concerned and involved parent of her children on earth.”

So I look for ways to honor my Heavenly Mother, especially at this time. This is a tough time for me as a mother. My mother’s heart aches and rejoices as I see my children try to find their way in a world that can be dangerous and painful, as well as wonderful and thrilling and joyful. I have learned from my Heavenly Parents that, no matter how much I love and reach out to my children, no matter how precious they are to me, they are infinitely more precious to Them.

I think every mother goes through a time when she needs to let go of all the ways she imagined her childrens’ lives would look, then acknowledge the ways they are making their own life journey, and love them wherever they are. I have looked to my Heavenly Parents as I learn to do this. 

I imagine how Heavenly Mother’s heart aches when she sees any of us turn away from Her, or doubt ourselves, and how She and Heavenly Father will never give up on reaching out to each of us, and wanting us to return, and that She loves us, no matter where we are on that journey. She loves us now.

So when I read about Elizabeth Smart speaking about why she did not try to run after being kidnapped and repeatedly raped, my mother’s heart ached, and I can only imagine how Heavenly Mother must have felt seeing her daughter Elizabeth struggle with these feelings in the midst of the most horrific circumstances.

Here is a quote from a Salt Lake Tribune article by Peggy Fletcher Stack about Elizabeth Smart…

“Kidnap victim Elizabeth Smart made national headlines this week by saying that she didn’t try to escape from her captors because she felt like a "chewed-up piece of gum, nobody re-chews a piece of gum, you throw it away."

Having been repeatedly raped, Smart told a Johns Hopkins human-trafficking forum, it was "easy ... to feel like you no longer have worth, you no longer have value. Why would it even be worth screaming out? Why would it even make a difference if you are rescued? Your life still has no value."

She said she had heard the chewed gum analogy from a school teacher. I was fortunate to have never had that kind of object lesson thrown in my face, but I heard similar analogies from many sources – school, church, friends, movies and T.V., advertisements. These need to end.

And the scriptural references that equate virtue with virginity, and suggest that rape or assault can rob you of your virtue are hard to sort into the realm of cultural phrases and ignorance if there isn’t an immediate discussion about it.

Virtue is about personal choice and agency, about our ability to turn towards God, and about being Christlike. No one can rob anyone of that. Do not confuse it, or encourage anyone else to confuse it with the abuse that can occur due to circumstance or the actions of others. Ever.

Here is more from Stack’s article about Elizabeth Smart…

“For Smart, comfort came partly in the form of a "blessing," or healing prayer, by the late LDS Church President Gordon B. Hinckley, who assured her that she was not responsible for anything that had happened to her when she was being controlled by her captors.

That is in line with LDS teachings, according to church spokeswoman Ruth Todd.

"Victims of rape, incest, or other sexual abuse are not guilty of sin. If you have been a victim of any of these crimes, know that you are innocent and that God loves you," reads a church pamphlet, For the Strength of Youth.”

I am glad Elizabeth was able to receive that comfort, and return to parents who had never stopped searching for her. My heart aches for those who have not found comfort, or loving arms.

I was sexually assaulted by a stranger when I was a child, before I had heard any type of “chewed gum” analogy. I still struggled with feelings of shame. I was also comforted by the unconditional love and acceptance of my parents. And I found comfort and healing in many moments of divine grace over the years. I have come to realize that whatever evil happened at the hands of that stranger, it would be a greater evil for anyone to see me as damaged and unwanted. It would also be evil to assume that the stranger was beyond help as well.

What about those who have chosen to do things that turn them away from God, or through choice have been promiscuous, or manipulative, or judgmental, or abusive, or controlling, or destructive?

In other words, all of us.

Are any of us any less precious, of any less worth? What is the redemptive power of the Atonement for, if not to heal us from all pain and sin, whether our own or someone else’s? Who did Christ come for, and offer his loving act of oneness, if not for each of us?

I love this quote from Chieko Okazaki about Christ…

“He’s not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don’t need a Savior. He came to save us in our imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He’s not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and in our grief.”

Healing, and forgiveness, and recovery might take time and effort, but it is there for us all if we will receive it.

Here is one way I honor Heavenly Mother this Mother’s Day. I ask that if any of you hear anyone, anywhere suggest that anyone can become damaged and without value for any reason, please have the courage to say, “Nobody will ever be unwanted by God. There is no healing that is beyond the power of Christ’s Atonement.”

If it is too difficult for you to do that, please find me, or someone who will help you remember that you are precious, and have infinite worth.

And if you ask and listen, your Mother will remind you as well.

Happy Heavenly Mother’s Day.

Life is hard, then you fly.

My sister is flying to Australia. She is going there to visit another sister and be a tourist. She has been looking forward to this for a long time. Hours before her flight was supposed to leave, she found out it was cancelled and she would have to take a flight leaving 22 hours later.
I am glad I was not in the room with her when she got that news.
She somehow survived that delay. She sent out a photo to us when she did finally board her flight to Australia. Needless to say, she was thrilled to be on her way.
I sent her the message..."Life is hard, then you fly".
This blog, and that message is really for some people I love who are going through tough times. And for me.
It is not easy when things (relationships, jobs, school, faith journeys, health, missions, plans, family, life) do not go the way you hoped or expected.
It takes courage to recognize when you need to let go of what is not working, and move forward to a different life that you will create in a new way, in each moment.
And it's hard. You know the law of inertia. There are plenty of forces that will try to keep you from changing direction. Bullying does not just occur in schoolyards and Jr. High hallways. There are those who only want you to look back, who want you to think that is the best you will have, who don't want you to see yourself as more than what you have been for a while. Not stronger, or more brilliant, or more loved, or more creative, or more courageous.
But you are more. And you have many more people who will remind you of that.
Please turn to them when life is hard.
I promise, your flight will come.

Fight Like A Girl!

This is for my friend who just had surgery, a bilateral mastectomy. My 32 year old friend who had to quit nursing her 3 month old baby girl, cold turkey, two weeks ago when she had a biopsy and diagnosis of breast cancer...who will be starting chemotherapy soon, and radiation after that...who has two other young children who are probably wondering why their mom is not the one who has been picking them up from school and friend's houses.
This is for you, dear friend.
You are not alone. Never alone.
Now strap on that pink armor, fellow warrior, and fight.
Fight like a girl!
October will start in a few weeks and with it, Breast Cancer Awareness month. Be prepared to be awash in pink. Let it remind you that you are surrounded by legions who are fighting for themselves or their loved ones.
Trust that you, your husband, your children, your family and friends are stronger than you know.
Many of those helping you are unseen. Let yourself feel their strength and company in times of pain, confusion and despair. The veil is thinner than you might think.
Whatever you are going through, we are with you. And Christ has felt it all. This is all part of the Atonement. Let its healing powers consume you. Let countless prayers being said for you bring you comfort. Miracles might not come the way you expect. Just let them come.
And just in case you need a reminder of what you can do, I am making shirts for your kids to wear.
They will all say the same thing.
"My Mom Fights Like A Girl!"

Going To Pot

Pardon my French, but this oral chemo medication is kicking my derriere. Lucky for me, I have enough derriere to be kicked and still plenty left for cushioning when I sit down.
The hot flashes, the nausea, the occasional panic attack, the joint pain in places that I didn't even know were joints, the sleeplessness, the weight gain...all of it has become much worse.
I live in Colorado, where medical marijuana is legal. Not to get on a soap box or anything, but this whole justification for legalizing pot for everyone because of medical needs is a crock.
Does that make it a pot crock?
Sorry, that was a mommy joke.
Most of the thousands of medical marijuana permits that were issued in the months following legalization were for young people, nearly all of the permits coming from only a couple of doctors, many of them having the reason of "being stressed out". One said "I get stressed out when I can't get pot". If marijuana is going to be legalized, at least tell the truth about why. If it is going to be easy for anyone to get it, then treat it as a controlled substance and put the same restrictions on it that apply to liquor and narcotics, and second hand smoke.
Okay, I am off my soapbox.
I met several people at the cancer center who used medical marijuana to deal with side effects. One was a young man who was dealing with brain cancer. He said he regretted smoking for 20 years before he was diagnosed, that he mostly liked the marijuana because he missed smoking, and that there were other medications that would be more consistent in treating the pain and nausea, but he liked smoking. Another patient was battling a second recurrence of breast cancer, had lost an eye to surgery during the first recurrence, was learning how to walk again after surgery for the second recurrence, and was using marijuana in pill form to deal with side effects. She had also been a long time smoker, and did not want to return to any kind of habit like it.
I appreciated them honestly sharing with me. The smell of pot makes me nauseous, and since there are few restrictions on where people can smoke it, I run into those fumes in many public places. I let them know how hard it has been for me to deal with that, and they assured me they were aware of how pot impacted them and those around them, and used it in private. I think we each need to find our way to safely deal with our burdens, and try not to add to the burdens of others while doing so.
My wonderful niece asked me, if it would really help me with the side effects of chemo, wouldn't I be willing to give medical marijuana a try? I told her that all my efforts right now are to try and extend my life. I don't want to do anything that dulls my thoughts or feelings, or checks me out of life.
One of the ways I see gifts of grace in my life is the reminders that what I am dealing with is not more than I can handle, that things could be much worse and I would still choose my own challenges, that when I need strength or help, it is there if I am open to it.
So I am glad for ceiling fans and air conditioning, for yoga breathing, communication and stress relief tools, for massage therapists, for really good shoes, for Vernors ginger ale and nutritional supplements, and especially for the ways I feel the kindness, prayers and support from others. My heroes are those who have been through this, even while I have known them, and done so with grace and courage.

And Michael, bless him, is right there through it all. Here it is, Father's Day, and he did more work on today's dinner than I did. On Mother's Day I didn't have to lift a finger.

I look in the mirror and see the full physical impact of all this. He wraps his arms around me and loves me no matter what kind of day it has been. Not always an easy thing to do.

And I get messages from friends at unexpected times. Here is a recent one from Melanie that gave me some laugh out loud therapy. I'm not sure I could enjoy it as much if I were stoned.

Enjoy.

Firming the Foundation

There is something wonderful about being in a room with women of all ages and backgrounds who share a common desire to honor each other, wherever we are on our journey of faith, and share our stories that could make a difference in that journey.

I got to do that in two places last weekend.

Last weekend I was able to go to the Rocky Mountain Retreat with other Mormon women. We were able to share writings, ideas, experiences, music, and, most of all, faith.

Faith in our gifts, our heritage, our strength, our knowledge, our loved ones, our connection, our church, our God.

Then I got to have a similar experience in Relief Society at church on Sunday.

Yes, I know. That does not happen for everyone, every Sunday.

I mentioned in my last blog that LDS wards are determined by geographical boundaries. You might be in a ward with others who are similar to you, or very different.

Some people like being around others who are different. They enjoy hearing various ideas, and learn from other points of view. Others prefer to be with those they agree with, and might feel nervous or even a bit afraid around those they perceive as different.

I think the Gospel of Christ asks us to see how we are all connected, coming from loving Heavenly Parents, and will find our greatest joy embracing each other with all our differences and sameness.

But that is not always easy. So we are all on a journey together. Sometimes we are helping each other, sharing the burden. Sometimes we listen to our fears, and throw up obstacles to those we think we need to fear.

It would be wonderful if every moment spent in church is one where all feel honored, acknowledged, loved, strengthened, fed, their burdens lightened.

But church isn’t for those who have already completed the journey back to God.

It is a place we can go to renew our promise to turn to God, to study together and find out that we each have our own way of interpreting scripture, to repent and forgive each other even when we don’t feel like it, to serve people we would usually not choose to be around, to struggle together, to learn to love each other in the face of our failure, and to do this while respecting the organization and structure created so this can happen worldwide.

It is human nature to connect religion to politics, to cultural and ethnic traditions, and to justify divisiveness, even war, by claiming to know who is loved and not loved by God. It is human nature to even connect religion to taste in art, books, hairstyle, clothes and choice of movies and television.

All this can make for an unpredictable experience at Sunday meetings.

But in the lifetime of my church attendance, I have learned that I usually find what I look for at church. I find harsh judgement and intolerance when I look for it, I find acceptance, compassion and love when I look for it, and sometimes that shows up in the midst of the intolerance.

Again, it is all part of the journey.

We all want to be honored and heard and included. While it frequently does, that might not always happen at church. It doesn’t mean we don’t belong there. Each of us can learn to honor others there.

And we can express what is not expressed at church in other places. I have book groups, discussion groups, political meetings, forums, conferences, classes, blogs, facebook….each gives opportunity for discussion and conversation. I find myself drawn to all ways that strengthen how I can live the Gospel in every aspect of my life.

The Rocky Mountain Retreat did that for me. Friday evening I got to hear readings from Joanna Brooks, Phyllis Barber, Dani Dubrasky, and was honored to be asked to read from my essay “A Pope Story”. On Saturday there were wonderful presentations from Joanna Brooks and Sheila Taylor (thank you thank you thank you to them), a long walk with my daughter Charlotte where we talked about the Relief Society lesson I would be teaching, and she helped me find a good direction for it, then a fascinating question and answer/discussion session in the evening with Joanna and Sheila leading. Such generous sharing of so many different faith experiences. In between the presentations, the fabulous food, the small group discussions, we made music. There is no way to describe the experience of singing hymns after learning to make a drum circle, so I will just let you see it for yourself. That's my Charlotte at the keyboard.

Every gathering needs music and food.

Then on Sunday morning in my ward I taught the Relief Society lesson, and was overwhelmed again with the generous way sisters there shared their experiences of faith and love for each other.

One of the discussions at the retreat was about what we saw as the greatest concern for Mormon women worldwide. I think it is learning to see that we are all connected, no matter where or when we live, what our culture, religion, gender or country, we are all a part of each other through a God who knows and loves all, that we are loved and accepted more than we can comprehend. It would be a good foundation for making a difference in the world.

Thank you, dear sisters, for making a difference this weekend.

We are given and give much, our foundation is firm, and the gifts of grace are amazing.

The Bishop's Wife

That title refers to one of my favorite movies with Cary Grant, David Niven and Loretta Young.
As of today, it also refers to me.
Mike was sustained as the new bishop of our ward today. For those who do not know what language that last sentence is, I will translate some Mormon Speak...
The LDS church is basically divided into congregations called wards, and groups of wards called stakes. Each ward is led by a bishop, his two counselors and his executive secretary. This group is called a bishopric. The stake is led by the stake president and 2 counselors. The LDS church has a lay ministry. That does not mean we spend lots of time napping (although I have seen plenty of nodding off going on during church). It means all of those who serve to meet the needs of the wards and stakes do so without pay.
As I have said many times while serving, "You couldn't pay me enough to do this job. I will only do it out of love." Sometimes the love I am feeling is only for God, and that leads me to want to follow His admonition to "do it unto the least of these". Other times, I know I am one of the least of these, that mercy will come where mercy is offered, and I want to be among those who are willing to serve as well. My formal calling right now is counselor to the president of our women's organization, the Relief Society, which handles education, welfare and service needs.
So we don't have paid jobs in church, we have callings. We receive callings (a request to serve in a particular way) from church leaders, who can receive inspiration through prayer and promptings as to who to call to a position. It is not something that can be lobbied for, or applied to. Well, it can, but that is not a good idea and usually doesn't work. Over the last 6 months, Mike actually had some promptings that this might happen. He tried really hard to apply for another job that would require us to move. He called it "pulling a Jonah". None of his attempts worked out. He just got thrown out of the belly of the whale onto the beach.
After we receive and accept a calling, the congregation is given an opportunity to sustain us by raising their hands to show support.
One of the most difficult, involved callings in the church is that of bishop of a ward. One that compares to it is that of bishop's wife.
A stake president can only call someone to be bishop after they have been approved by the First Presidency of the church. Some suggest that the potential bishop's wife is scrutinized more closely than he is. I doubt it. My years as a hippy during the 60's should have kept Mike out of consideration if that were the case.
While I was consulted extensively, there is no formal calling for me as bishop's wife. No instruction manual at all. That does not necessarily put me at a disadvantage. Mike has several manuals and lots of training available on lds.org. But he still has a deer-in-the-headlights look of "I have no idea how to do this". I get to rely completely on prayer and promptings. He has that... along with all the instructions swirling around in his head.
That's understandable. He is now in charge of the spiritual and welfare needs of everyone (I do mean everyone, Mormon and non-Mormon) within a certain geographic area. Those needs are rarely predictable, or on a schedule, and never at a convenient time. All this while he continues working his regular, more than full time, high stress, I-don't-do-this-out-of-love-I-do-this-for-a-paycheck job.
And the ward is determined by geographic boundaries. We don't go to a church we pick because of who we agree with or are friends with. We go with those in our area, and we learn to love and serve and be served by them. We do it that way because it teaches us how to give and receive love, even when it is not convenient, even when we don't feel like it, and especially because of the miracles that happen that can't possibly be predicted.
So, in a nutshell, Mike's church calling is now to help people find their way home to God, and experience a bit of heaven here while in the trenches of life. I have known Mike for over 28 years, and been married to him just under 28 years. Through those years I have seen him go through hell (sometimes I'm the one who put him through it), and choose to follow Christ out of it. He has chosen to acknowledge his jerkiness and stupidity that all humans have, and learn love and mercy and strength and faith .....and I could go on but I don't want to sound too biased.
He will do a great job as bishop. I don't think he knows how to not do a great job.
Me? I'm still figuring out my job description. I do not need to know any of the details or private information of ward members to know we are all carrying our own burdens. These ward members have been there to share my burdens, and make them lighter. We all need to be reminded that we are never alone, and we are known by name and infinitely precious to God. I can do that.
One of those ward members is my bishop, my husband.
Share the journey, Michael. You are known by name. You are infinitely precious to God. You are never alone.
Don't worry, I'm here to remind you.

Share the Love of Creation

A great mixed media artist, Michelle Allen has a wonderful blog and she is hosting a great giveaway. Check it out at...
http://www.close2myart.com/blog/
I will have a new post very soon. The side effects of oral chemo are tough, but I am dealing with it by making things.

Worth Living For

How do you get someone excited about life?
You give them something they can look forward to.
I am glad I have people who remind me of many things worth living for.
When my daughter Charlotte was born over 26 years ago, I got a breast infection that turned into toxic shock syndrome. Mom came to help take care of me while Mike took care of Charlotte. Within hours I was in so much pain, and so out of it, I told my mom I was ready to die. She said in her most I-am-your-mother-and-you-will-doo-what-I-say voice, "No, you will not die! You have a new baby in the next room and she needs you. You need to be here to take care of her."
Something in the back of my fevered brain remembered, "Oh yeah, I have a baby. I want to hang around  and get to know her."
Things got worse before they got better. I was soon in the hospital. The doctors told Mike they didn't think I would make it. Miraculous, and I mean miraculous turnaround. I spent 10 days there before being able to go home and recover completely. But the whole time I was thinking of getting strong enough to take care of Charlotte, and get to know this amazing little baby.
She and my mom called me back to life.
5 years after that when I was pregnant with Joseph and daughter #2 Anna was 3, she caught a cold. We thought she had gotten better, but didn't realize the infection had settled in her lungs. By the time I got her to the doctor she was taken directly to the hospital with serious pneumonia.
While I was sitting next to her hospital bed, trying to calm her fears, and feeling total mother-guilt for not realizing how sick she was, I saw that "I give up" look in her eyes. It was too scary, too painful, too hard for her to keep trying to breathe.
I had to think of something that would get her excited about life, get her to want to keep breathing.
I asked her which videos we wanted me to bring her from home, and I told her that all the limits about only watching one movie a day didn't apply in the hospital. I started talking about her favorite stuffed animals, and the trips we had made to Sea World and Disneyland to get them, and how we would go there again, and that I would bring all the stuffed animals for her to have on her hospital bed. Then I promised her new markers and crayons and drawing paper so she could make all the pictures she wanted while there. And I promised she would never be alone, either her dad or I would be there with her day and night. And we would read to her all she wanted.
The doctors told us she would be in the hospital at least 7 days. She came home in 3, and recovered quickly. She wanted to be able to play again.
We reminded her she had something to live for.
2 months ago some dear friends of ours in Utah invited us to join them for a weekend in St. George to relax, visit, bike, hike and just be able to spend time together. They were willing to move it to the last weekend in January so I would be as strong as possible and so Mike could come. They said if I came, I could just sit and they would make sure I would relax. This invite came when I was at my radiation treatment weakest, when I could hardly walk, and I was wondering how I would handle another surgery in January.
But these friends are some of my favorite people in the world. I miss them and love spending time with them whenever I can. I started feeling stronger just before the surgery, and worked hard to recover well after. That weekend was something I wanted to live for. I wanted to be strong enough to at least ride the bike a little, and go on walks with them.
The timing was perfect. The sides effects of the oral chemo had not yet taken over, and I had recovered well enough from the surgery, so I was able to go on a long but not too hard hike. And I was able to ride the tandem with Mike through stunning Snow Canyon. It felt so good to ride again, through such beautiful scenery, I wanted to yell with joy. And I loved seeing so many dear friends, visiting with good people who are doing so much good in the world, and having a great time with them.
These wonderful friends had given me something to look forward to.
Since then I have continued to walk and to ride the bike on the trainer. But the side effects of the oral chemo have gotten much worse, and some days the thought of five years on this medicine seems like forever. I know that I will make it through this, I know there are harder things, and everyday I see so much to be grateful for.
Best of all, people I love give me so much to live for. My kids are each moving on to new stages in their education, work, lives. My family and friends keep reaching out to me with patience. And Mike is there, always. We always have an adventure planned. Some involve scuba equipment, some involve sitting next to each other eating a bowl of popcorn while watching a movie, some involve talking about the books we are reading, some involve holding hands while we walk the dog and talk about jersey designs for the next bike event.
Mike makes them all become something to look forward to, all worth living for. I think I will stick around for that.

I Canyon, Can You?

Here is how you know you are hiking on slick rock. It takes as much time and effort to go down as it does to go up. And the shortest route between 2 points is never a straight line.
Here is how you know you are hiking slick rock in Canyonlands National Park. Every step is worth it because each step brings stunning views.
That said, I am very glad we didn't go there until Thursday, because as of Wednesday I did not yet have enough strength.
When I found out that Mike was arranging to go with me to visit friends in Utah, and he suggested we stop at Canyonlands on the way and watch the sunrise through Mesa Arch, I decided I would try to increase my walking each day up to 3 miles. Mesa Arch trail is less than a mile.
Then Mike told me about other places in Canyonlands. False Kiva trail is about 3 1/2 miles. Horseshoe Canyon Trail to the huge pictographs, Mike thought it was about 6 miles.
Mike has been to all of these places, but I still am a bit skeptical when he says it is a slight climb, or it is only a few miles. I learned this when he always would say something is not very spicy so I would taste it and then have to spend 20 minutes quenching the inferno in my mouth. In other words, a hike that is easy for him might be easy for me, or it might require every bit of effort I can muster.
So I looked at the official description of these hikes. I had to take Mike's word for it on the False Kiva since it is not an official trail. Park Rangers will disavow any knowledge of it.
I felt ready to do Mesa Arch at sunrise, and then do the False Kiva, but I didn't think I would be able to then do Horseshoe Canyon after that.

Mesa Arch at sunrise.

We stayed in Moab and got to Mesa Arch before sunrise. There was one photographer there before us. Getting photos of slick rock formation vistas at sunrise and sunset is a big deal. He and Mike started talking about what they had photographed in the parks and the number of their megapixels and comparing the sizes of their cameras and so on. I found a place to perch next to the arch and enjoyed the view, which changes each second as the sun rises.
Then, as the sun came into view, it was so still and quiet.
Perfect.
Then there were more photographers, and tourists to come and enjoy it, and we were ready to go.

View from False Kiva

Then we went to False Kiva. It was another stunning view. And the hike was the way Mike described it. It was about 3+ miles. We walked through a wash on a plateau, then an easy descent down a cliff face below and to the other side of an alcove, then back up into the alcove to find these native structures that are centuries old. But the best part is the view.
By the way, the photo can't do it justice.
Then we went on a short, less-than-a-mile hike to the huge Salt Upheaval Dome. Very dramatic and also as Mike described.
After that, I was ready to believe that Mike was describing these hikes with some degree of accuracy.
When I continued to feel strong and able to be active over the next few days, I suggested that we might try to do the Horseshoe Canyon hike on the way home. I have wanted to see those amazing pictographs for over 15 years. And I thought if I could do 5 miles of hiking that first day, with some descent and some climbing, I should be able to do 6 miles a few days later after doing more hikes and riding the tandem.
Big mistake.
It is easy to forget that even as I am getting stronger, I need to give my body a rest day every once in a while. It's easy to forget that even if Mike remembers some hikes well, his memory of conditions on another could be way off. It's easy to forget how quickly it gets dark at this time of year. It's easy to forget how exhausting it is to hike slick rock in the dark.
Our day became memorable because of all the things we forgot.
It was a gorgeous day and a beautiful drive to the trailhead. I was reading all kinds of information about the pictographs of the canyon and the experts saying these were ceremonial and religious. I think some were, especially these Horseshoe Canyon images that suggest visitations of divine beings. But any mother of kids who love to paint knows that some of these might have been done by energetic kids and adolescents who were seeking a creative outlet. How could they resist rigging up a tall ladder and displaying their stylistic talents with family portraiture on those dramatic canyon walls?

Each thing I read gave a different estimation of the hiking distance, all over 6 miles. I got a little concerned, but also more excited to see the images.
By the time we got started on the trail, it was past three. The sun will set at 5:30. We didn't think about that. We were about 1/2 a mile into the hike, and I was thinking we will turn a corner and be at the canyon floor since Mike said it was a slight descent, but then I got my first glimpse of the full view down to the canyon. We had a long way to go just to get to the bottom. Then a long walk to get to the best pictographs. I should have aborted the mission right then. But I didn't.
Another big mistake.
We did make it to the end of the canyon before dark. The pictographs were better than I could imagine. But by then my feet and knees were really hurting, and so were my incisions. I wondered how I could feel so wiped out if we had only gone 3 miles. And I was wondering how we were going to get out of there.
It got dark soon after we started back. Mike found a walking stick for me and tried to light the way with his small flash light. But it was harder than I thought it would be and it seemed to never end. Mike practically hauled me out of there. Even with the best equipment and conditions, it is not a good idea to climb out of a canyon in the dark.
I was so glad to see the car. It was late by the time we got to Green River and most food places were closing. I was so hungry by then I was even willing to get a sandwich at Arby's.

Another big mistake.
The canyon is well worth the trip. The pictographs are stunning, some are over 7 feet tall. But I suggest going in the morning with plenty of time and energy. This time Mike took his GPS so he would have an accurate mileage reading. So for future reference, the "slight descent" is over 1 1/4 miles, then it it 3 more miles along the canyon floor to get to all the sites. Total...8 1/2 miles.
I think I will take more than one day of rest this week.

I'm Out of Estrogen, and I've Got A Gun

Okay, the first part of the title is true, the second part isn't. I don't have a gun. Don't want one.
So the next stage of cancer treatment has begun. I mentioned in a past blog post that there is this amazing test that can determine the genetic makeup of the tumor, and all kinds of details about it, including what it likes to eat. This tumor fed on estrogen, ate it all the time, liked to consume it even more than I like to consume fine chocolate.
Obviously beneficial treatments are surgery to remove the tumor - done - and radiation treatment to kill off cancer cells in the tumor area - done. Now we get into a statistical wilderness. I might be in the 84% of women who have this kind of tumor and this kind of treatment who will not have a recurrence in 5 years even with no further treatment. Or I might be in the 16% of women who will have a recurrence unless I do further treatment.
More tests, more scans, more discussions with doctors, more questions, more prayers. Any follow-up option includes being on medication for 5 years. The one that is most effective is considered a long term chemotherapy that would shut down estrogen production from my adrenal gland. That combined with surgery to remove my ovaries would shut down the cancer food source and starve any remaining cancer cells. So when I gather all this in and learn about all the possible horrific side effects, and find out that this will lower the chance of recurrence to 6%, I must admit to having some "My Brain is Melting!" moments.
I considered just risking a recurrence, but I found out that when cancer recurs, it does so with major attitude. It comes back with a vengeance. I would have a better chance surviving a whole new cancer than a recurring one.
Several times a day I meditate and pray for strength and guidance. I have learned to be open to that coming in any possible way. While I was trying to process all this information and make some choices, I was meeting new patients at treatments each day, and they would share their journey with me. One amazingly positive woman is on her 48th round of chemo. Another woman is dealing with her second recurrence. This is taking on life in the trenches. Then I woke up one morning and realized that if taking on this next stage of treatment will give me even one more day with Mike, and with my kids, it is worth it.
I had the surgery 2 weeks ago, and started on the medication the next day. Unlike easing into menopause, this is like taking a high dive off a cliff. The worst side effects might take a while. Since I am healthy, and more active as my strength returns, I am hoping things won't be severe. For now, instead of hot flashes, I seem to be having extremely warm spells. If suddenly feeling like the world is going to end and  sobbing uncontrollably for 2 minutes, then feeling fine again counts as a mood swing, I've had a few of those.
Poor Mike.
My current mantra is "There are worse things". I need to remember to just say it to myself. I think I said it to others too often when there were 30 of us gathered at my mom's house for Christmas and anyone happened to complain about anything. Oh well, with family it's all relative.
That was a "Mommy Joke".
Anyway, I hope I can learn to be as patient with others as people are being with me. I have come to learn that everyone is waging their own battle.
If I act weird for the next few years, this is just one of the fierce battles I am waging.
And I promise I won't get a gun.

I Am Glow-In-The-Dark Radiant

Almost exactly to the minute two weeks ago I heard the results of the Onco-type pathology which tests the genetic make-up of the tumor. I didn't know tumors had their own genetic make-up, but apparently they do.
The results of that test determined that I will not need chemotherapy. I won't even try to describe to you how relieved I was to hear that.
I started radiation treatments the next day. As of this morning, I have now completed 10 treatments, with 25 more to go. Mike says that I glow in the dark.
Now let me back up a little.
3 weeks ago my children did the most wonderful thing possible. They all came home. All as in our son, both daughters and our son-in-law. They did yard work, and house work. They even cleaned their rooms.
I would have been thrilled with just a visit.
Every time I went out and picked up a tool, my son-in-law scolded me to put it down. My daughters made me sit and sort through things. Then they hauled loads to the dump, and to Goodwill. And it was great having all 4 of them with us at the dinner table. That has never happened since the wedding or before, and who knows when it will happen again, so I enjoyed every moment.
Mike had to go on a quick business trip, so I asked the kids to go with me to the radiation mapping session. That is when you lie down on a skinny metal slab while they take all kinds of x-rays and measure the exact area that will get radiation. Then they tattoo several dots on you so they will always be able to line you up for each treatment. Even though the kids couldn't be in the room for that, I wanted them to see the place where I was being treated, and all the ways the building and the people work to promote healing.
The girls were able to come in with me for the exam, meet my doctor and ask questions. He took all the time they needed to answer concerns, give advice, and tell them about my case. I appreciate his efforts to point us all in a positive direction. During the 40 minute mapping session, after he and the nurse got me set up on the slab, he said, "Okay, close your eyes and go to your happy place while we do the work."
Uh huh, sure.
It was a nice thought, but even with the nice pictures of trees and sky on the ceiling, it was hard to forget that I was having to lie still on a metal slab while a radiation machine moved around me.
After that, I showed the kids the beautiful waiting room for radiation patients, and the connecting enclosed serenity garden, and they met some of the people there who want to do all that can be done to make this turn out the best way possible.
I think it was good for them to see this place, and helpful to have a better idea as to how things will go, and where it will happen. But I remember how I felt when I would help care for Dad when he was being treated, so I can only imagine what was going through their minds. I guess they were probably thinking that no matter how nice it looks, and how great the people are, this is where my mother is coming because she has cancer, and cancer means that things might never be the same.
It was great to have them here. I needed at least one more week, but I'll take what I can get. Anna said she had to pull the C card to be able to come. One of her professors wanted her working on a project during her Fall break, but she told him she was going to help her mom who had cancer. I told her she could pull the C card any time she wanted, as long as it would make it so she could come and see me.
Now I go to radiation treatment every morning, Monday through Friday. Here is an extremely over simplified version of how radiation works. The waves are directed to the area surrounding the tumor location. They cause all of the cells to lose the ability to regenerate. Normal cells recover from that fairly quickly, but cancer cells explode. Then the dead cells are carried out by white blood cells. That explains the exhaustion. My good cells are working overtime to regenerate, or to carry away the dead cancer cell garbage.
I apply special cream 4 times a day to prevent burns. I deal with being tired all the time, and go on long walks to get my heart going for physical reasons and not just for emotional ones. I don't panic when I can't retrieve thoughts (Mike calls it "radiation brain"). I let so many people around me bear me up.
When I am on that slab I think about the waves going through me zapping the cancer cells. I think about how insidious this cancer is. It is not as straight forward as having surgery that cuts it out, and pathology that shows the margins and lymph nodes are clean. There could be cells out there beyond that, and who knows where they are. Because even with all that can be done, there is still the possibility of recurrence. I am shooting for zero with that.
I am grateful for the example of my friend (see the last blog entry below). I have learned from her to do all that can be done, learn all that can be learned, surround myself with people who do the same, then hope, pray and have faith for the rest.
And through it all, enjoy the miracle of being surrounded by love.

This Amazing Not Fair Life

You know when you have a friend that makes you feel like you won the lottery every time you are around her? And even if you are only able to see her for a few hours, a few times a year, and even if you have only known her for 3 years, you feel joy each time you think of her.
And you are so amazed at the joy and courage that radiates from her, even as she battles ovarian cancer. And you love the idea that she is a part of your life so much, that her name is in every personal prayer you offer, and you write it every time you go to the temple.
And when you find out you have cancer, she and her wonderful husband send you messages of hope, sharing their experiences of the miracles they have experienced, and the love that has grown as she battled this cancer over the last 4 years, without letting you know that her cancer has returned and invaded her whole body.
Yes, I have a friend like that. It would not surprise me if thousands of people could say the same thing about her.
She died this morning.
Life is not fair.
I only became aware yesterday that her children and grandchildren were there with her and her husband to have every moment with her before she had to let go of them and move on.
It was 10 years ago when I was there with my siblings and Mom in the last months, then days, then moments of Dad's life.
Nothing can make it fair when a wonderful parent and partner is gone from family far too soon.
Life really is not fair.
10 years ago, after Dad died, I lived that thought for a while. About 6 months. I didn't sleep. I felt crummy. I was quick to get upset at anyone around.
Yeah, life with me was a real joy.
Then, in what I consider a moment of divine grace, I was able to see how blessed I was to have had such a person as my dad.
Life is really amazing.
Not a day goes by where I do not miss Dad, often so much that it hurts. And when I think of the amazing life I have because he was my dad, then all that is great about him comes to me.
So I am grateful for this life where I get to have such a father as my dad, and I get to have such a friend as Robyn.
So my thoughts and prayers are with her family. I hope and believe they also embrace the blessing of their wife and mother.
In that gratitude, love is stronger than death.
And cancer will never win.

I'm Blue...And Tickled Pink

There are phrases I do not want to hear used in the same sentence, especially when said by certain people. For instance... I would never want to hear a police officer use the phrases "Your child" and "missing for a week" in the same sentence.
So when one of my doctors used the phrases "nuclear lab", "radioactive fluid" and "injected to trace your lymph nodes" all in one sentence, that went to the top of my Do Not Want To Hear list. But I'm sure something else will come along to knock it off the #1 spot.
Just to let you know, the next paragraph or two might be too much information. Feel free to skip it. Wish I could.
So, a couple of days ago, a few hours before surgery they wheeled me from pre-op to the nuclear lab. For some silly reason they did not let Mike come in there with me. They explained the whole procedure again. The fluid would be injected and given time to flow from the tumor to the related lymph nodes. My surgeon would use a type of geiger counter to track those nodes and remove them, then remove the tumor.
Okay, got that. I will just work on my cleansing breaths until you're done.
And the radiologist was amazing. She was so careful, she was done quicker and with less pain than I expected.
Then the nurse went over the logistics with me. She gave me a certificate explaining the procedure and said I would need it if I had to go through any metal detector or screening process in the next three days, since I would set them off. She said, "You're hot. I know your husband already thinks you're hot. Now you really are, as in radioactive."
The fluid is blue, and I could see it showing up just below the skin. Mike calls it Spidey juice, and said it should give me super powers. Is it a super power if I can set off a metal detector alarm? I would rather be able to fly. But for a few days, I got to be a blue blood.
By the way, when you are going through all this, you can get as many heated blankets as you want. That and the early pathology results saying the nodes and the tumor margins are clear were the best things about that day.
Did you know that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month? Not that I need any reminders, but I do appreciate more than ever all the events and promotions. Who would have thought I might personally benefit from the research I had supported?
So Pink has become the color of my armor.
An anonymous friend gave me a bracelet with a pink awareness ribbon charm on it. My surgeon gave me a pink water bottle. The hospital gave me a very soft pink robe.
Then the best came yesterday. Two little angels who live in my neighborhood came over with a pink wrist band, a pink cake with very pink frosting decorated with an awareness ribbon and hearts (they made it themselves, with some help from Mom), and........A BRIGHT PINK FEATHER BOA!
It tickles my neck.
I know I can handle anything when I wear it.

You Outta Be In Pictures

I am working on another entry about Nauvoo, but I wanted to post this short one about the ride. So pardon the interruption.
This is a long, tough ride. Mike and Brad are feeling the effects, especially since they rode for several hours in the pouring, drenching, very heavy rain yesterday before it finally cleared up. I got exhausted just driving through it, thinking about them trying to ride their bikes on roads that were solid ponds of water.
That being said, the farm roads and historic highways of the midwest are stunning. I feel like I am riding through locations for movies I have seen. There is Field of Dreams, or It Happened One Night, or Friendly Persuasion. The sunsets remind me of one of my favorite things about living in Minnesota years ago. The little towns that have been proudly preserved are like the historic parts of Philadelphia, without the crowds.
Today, Mike and Brad were able to do part of the ride on a bike path that has been created along a river. It led to the longest covered bridge in the state of Ohio. It is probably longer than 200 yards. It is on the Mohican path, and can only be accessed on foot, horseback, bicycle or buggy.
Yes, I said buggy. We are in Amish country, where even Walmart has a section in the parking lot for buggies.
We made our way along the path to the covered bridge, and Mike and Brad cycled through it while I waited on one side. While I was there, a horse drawn buggy with a family came up the path to the bridge. Sam barked at the horse while I held him back, but they all smiled and waved at us while they passed and rode through the bridge past the others on the other side.
For a moment, Mike wasn't tired or sore. He was just thrilled with the whole experience.
Ahh, real life.
Better than the movies.

Gearing Up

I am writing this while sitting by a huge cornfield in Illinois. I am reminded of what my curly hair does when it is 99% humidity outside. And for several hundred miles I have seen field after field of corn or soy beans. Isn’t anything else grown in the midwest?

Anyway…

Mike and his brother are doing the Nauvoo to Kirtland Temple to Temple Ride. My doctor strongly recommended we go ahead with this ride, and I will have surgery two days after we get back. I have been going over the volumes of information she gave me, and I can see why she wants us to do what we can before the surgery. So much will change afterwards, and since we know part of that will include at least 7 weeks of radiation, and I won’t be able to leave town during that time, and Mike needs to be recharged, prepped, energized, geared up and fortified with more than 47 vitamins and minerals in order to hang in there through this with me, going ahead with this planned trip was important.

I’m enjoying this, too.

We were able to drive to Missouri and see some church history sites around there before picking up Brad in St. Louis. Then we went on to Nauvoo. This is the first time we have been there since the Nauvoo temple was rebuilt. I will write more about that in the next blog.

It has been nice seeing Mike and Brad doing this ride together. We have not lived near Brad since we were in college, so it has only been short visits at reunions and during travels for 25+ years. This is a rare chance for them to spend time together.

Like any two siblings, they have much in common, and they are also completely different from each other. So this is interesting for me to see the dynamics.

When I periodically pass them on these farm roads, I like seeing them in active conversation, sharing their thoughts and experiences as they ride through this beautiful countryside. They are catching up on all their childhood to middle age stories.

When we sit down for dinner each night, and the conversation goes in all directions, I can tell when Mike is either just relaxing and enjoying it, or keeping his opinion to himself so everything stays relaxing and enjoyable.

Each also brings a different physical experience to this ride as well.

Brad lives at sea level. When they go up a slight hill, he can feel the air thinning.

We live at 6000 feet. Mike is feeling like he has to chew each time he breathes in, the air is so thick. When we were driving over the state line from Colorado to Kansas there was a sign that said that was the highest point in Kansas at 4039 feet. It’s been downhill since then.

Brad is in good shape, but has not been riding a bike as much as Mike. So they stick together and Brad drafts off of Mike. But several times a day Mike has to stop and be on a business call. Brad will keep riding to get ahead for a while. When Mike is done he “time trials it” until he catches up, and he loves that. I love that crazy man of mine.

I think of what it would be like to have this much time with just one sister at a time, or my brother, doing something that we both really wanted to do. Or just having time together. What an unusual and precious experience that could be.

I am glad Mike is doing this. He is covering a long road this week.

The much longer road starts next week.

"C" Is For Cookie, That's Good Enough For Me

Today is brought to you by the letter "C".
C is for Compassion and Courage.
Thanks to all of you, for everything.
I am overwhelmed. So many people sending cards and messages, sharing their own journeys, fasting and praying with us, leaving homemade cookies, soup, fresh picking from their gardens, listening, answering questions, and so much more. I knew of a number of women who are cancer survivors, now I know of many more. Some of them are very private, but they have generously and courageously told me of their experiences, let me ask many very personal questions, and helped me have more information about what is ahead.
Every time I go somewhere, when I return there is something on my doorstep. Handmade cards, drawings from children I know, nourishing foods, special treats. The other day, 10 people from church showed up to help us finish a yard project. It all lightens the load, and lets Mike and I have our strength for what cannot be handed to someone else.
I debated sharing this whole experience with others. But I remembered how much I want to help when those I know are carrying burdens. I need to take this beyond a concept, and let it be the way I live.
And I feel the thoughts and prayers of others working on me.

C is for Care, as in the Red Rocks Cancer Care Center.
I guess timing really is everything. Apparently, this tumor probably started growing about 8 to 10 years ago. I felt it a few months ago because fibrous tissue grew over it. This new cancer center was opened a few months ago. I have met with several of the specialists there, and I am amazed. They took all the time needed to go over every scan, test and report, every option, every part of my life that will impact the healing. My surgeon is not just looking at her part in removing the tumor, my radiation oncologist is not just looking at his part in therapy. They are helping Mike and I form a team with them to overcome and kill the thing that is trying to kill me. And they want me to come through it healed and stronger than ever.
After Dad died, there were people who had worked with him who told us how he was one of the few bosses or teachers they had who would pray with them and for them, and who would hug them. I can now say that I have doctors who pray for me, accept prayers for their own guidance, and who hug me.

C is for Comedy. This is not only from my sisters, it is now officially doctor's orders. So I look for ways to endure with joy. I will take surface level humor as well.
I could go with pop culture, such as the line from "The Devil Wears Prada"..."I'm only one stomach flu away from my goal weight." Maybe I am only one treatment away from my goal weight.
If you need some great humor around this subject, go to youtube and search for Jack Black Mammogram.
This is also a good time to see what kinds of crazy head pieces my artist siblings will make for me, even though (at least for now and I hope never) there is no chemo planned.

C is for Chocolate. The really good kind. I think there should be a clinical trial on the healing properties of fine chocolate. Sign me up for that one.

C is for Cheese, as in "Do you want some cheese with that whine?" Please ask me that if I ever do. Whine that is.

C is for Choice.
Since this is early detection, I still have some choice in some aspects of my treatment. So if you are wondering how important it is to get regular screenings, check-ups and do self-examination, stop wondering. It horrifies me to think how little choice I would have otherwise.
And I always have a choice in how I live. So I choose my life, and every part of it, including the cancer. This is part of my journey, and I am blessed with a wonderful life journey.
Besides that, if I gripe about not wanting this life, and complaining that things should be different, it is exhausting, boring, and makes me unbearable to be around. I'd rather not be alone right now.
Michael told me yesterday that when he gave me a blessing the night before the biopsy, he knew it was cancer, but that we would make it through this together. That is when I knew that he had chosen to make this his battle, as much as mine.
This is how powerful choice is. A few days ago I had an MRI. I had to lie on my stomach, my face laying in an uncomfortable cutout, my hands over my head, not moving for 40 minutes. The physical discomfort was there but not extreme. The mental and emotional strain of thinking about why I was there, and what the scan might show is overwhelming. Mike had talked the technicians into letting him be in the room, holding my hand the whole time. Even though we couldn't talk to each other, he would squeeze my hand every minute or so. This is our battle. And each time I would feel overwhelmed I would think of all the people praying for me, and God's awareness of each of us, knowing us by name. I felt unseen hands placed gently all over my back and legs, easing the tension and worry.
That is the journey I choose.

The Big "C"

So much can change in a second, even if the days leading up to that second seem to take forever.

A few months ago I felt a lump in my breast. It didn’t change, so I went in to have my doctor check it. Within the week, I was having the diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound she had ordered. Within moments of that, they told me I needed to return for an ultrasound guided needle biopsy (yes, it is as bad as it sounds).

Now, here is the part that I don’t understand. They scheduled my biopsy 12 days away. 12 days! Plenty of time to worry and wonder and imagine what kind of things are growing out of control in my body. They said there was not an opening any sooner.

My brother-in-law is a brilliant radiologist in Salt Lake City. I talked to him about this and he was apalled the biopsy was scheduled that far out. His team has worked hard to make sure they can schedule the biopsy within a day of the diagnostic, and they are very busy as well. It takes effort, but it can be done.

This is one thing I am willing to make a fuss about. So far it has resulted in an inquiry about changing things.

But my biopsy was still 12 days out. A very long, stressful 12 days.

That part came to an end yesterday. The biopsy was in the morning. They told me I would get the results today at three. Those 30 hours dragged like the previous 12 days.

When my doctor called, even as she was saying it, I wondered if there was a class in medical school about leading a conversation to the point where you say, “Your biopsy is positive for breast cancer.”

So time has shifted again.

I give myself my moments of falling apart. But there is so much love and support. Within moments of setting up an appointment with a surgeon, and holding onto Mike for a while, and sending an email to friends and family, one of those friends was at the door with homemade frozen strawberry jam, telling me she would go through it in my place if she could. And I believe her.

There were immediate expressions of love, support and prayers through email.

This is what we do, as family, friends, Mormons, women.

It will be hard, but it will be okay. As my brilliant brother-in-law said, “Years from now, you will be in the survivor’s group at a Race For The Cure event, and this will just be something in your past.”

Surrounded by love, I can handle anything. I am so blessed.

And “C” is just a letter in the alphabet.

The Long And Winding Road

We are home and trying to get back into regular life. Mike has told me several times how much he misses riding his bike 100+ miles a day, especially when the ride is through stunning scenery. We made it through the week with no crashes or serious injuries, meeting many interesting people, seeing so much wildlife and some of the most beautiful places in the world. There is a mention of the ride in the Deseret News.
Here is a rundown of superlatives, moments, memory keepers...

Friday, July 15th - Provo to Salt Lake on the Tandem. Mom was there to see us off at the Provo Temple. Everyone else was sleeping in after dressing in costumes and going to the midnight showing of the final Harry Potter movie. One of my sisters looked exactly like Bellatrix, another exactly like Trelawney. But Mike and I were ready to go early in the morning. We geared up to self support. The weather was perfect, and we made good progress to Mount Timpanogos, up over Eagle Ridge to Draper, and west to Oquirrh Mountain. That was when I wondered if we made every single red light across the valley. We spent more time waiting at lights than riding the bike. When we headed toward the Jordan River Temple we changed the route and found some residential roads with no lights. Our first real interruption came after leaving Jordan River when I was stung by a wasp. After a short break we continued. Charlotte and Reed met us at the cemetery with cold water. I realized what a difference it makes to have support. We rested and visited by Dad's grave. I had been drinking plenty of water, but did not want to eat more than an apple. I (with the metabolism of a slug) can't stand all the energy goop Mike (with his race horse metabolism) fuels himself with. We were doing the final climb to "This is the Place Park" when I said, "I feel strange" and "Whose idea was this?" and "Why are we doing this?". Mike made me sit down on the lawn in front of the house where my grandparents used to live and eat a whole granola bar, every bite, even though I didn't want to. I think Charlotte got a kick out of that. I felt better after that. At the park I told Charlotte about visiting the monument each time we would come to Salt Lake to visit family when I was a child. My grandpa would lift me up so I could climb on the statues, and he would point out which figures were our ancestors. Then we coasted all the way down to the Salt Lake Temple. It was nice to sit by the reflecting pool, talk about the memories and connections we have with this temple, and watch so many people visiting this place. Most of them did not speak english, but managed to communicate when we offered to take their pictures for them. Then we biked to Charlotte and Reed's place where they fed us and helped us recover. A good day.

Highlights - having Charlotte and Reed support us the last few miles, and cooling off with the water from the temple reflecting pool.
Saturday, July 16th - Salt Lake to Logan. Harry and Nef met us at the Salt Lake Temple to ride with Mike. Amy and Anne saw them off with me and Amy joined me in the support vehicle. Joel met Mike to join the ride within a few blocks. At the Bountiful Temple, we met a group of young women who were driving to as many temples as they could. They got a kick out of seeing the bikers ride up the same road they had driven.
In Layton we went past the house we had lived in and restored for 13 years. The family who has it now has done wonderful additions to it. They let us go in and look at what they had done. It was nice to see such a home in the hands of people who love it so much.
The Ogden Temple was a construction zone, Brigham City Temple is taking shape. We sat next to the irrigation ditch across the street and cooled off while remembering wading in irrigation ditches when visiting grandparents. Mike was born here, and we wondered where that hospital was.
Once the bikers had made it to the top of Sardine Canyon, and refilled with cold water, they blasted past us at the next support stop calling out, "See you at the temple!" Logan Temple was closed for maintenance, but some of the grounds workers let us in for a picture. It was nice having the place to ourselves. We talked about this temple and this place. My dad was born here.

Highlight - Our dear friend Nef telling us that he was dedicating his ride to his cousin who had recently died. He was only in his 40's, had a young family, was healthy, but cancer had taken this good man. I like seeing people deal with loss in positive ways.
Monday, July 18th - Logan. Mike Perdue and Mark Bolton, along with Juanita Bolton, son Trevor and friend Wyatt, met us at the temple for an early start. It was a beautiful morning. When I stopped at a store to pick up supplies, the clerk there asked me about my Temple to temple jersey. Then shared with me several amazing experiences she and her family had had at some of the temples. A little moment of grace.
We met up in Preston where Juanita and the kids enjoyed looking for Napoleon Dynamite souvenirs. Wherever we stopped, the kids would find a way to have a great time. It was fun to see them play. The Boltons had their RV, so we always had a place to set up to make lunch.
We drove and rode through National Forests, green valleys and historic towns. It was nice to be out of the cities and in gorgeous country. I drove a little way off the route to Paris, Idaho to see the historic tabernacle there. It was built by a shipbuilder that had emigrated from Europe 150+ years ago. It is nice to see the pride these little towns have in their historic buildings.
As the day went on, the bikers got further apart, and we had no cell phone coverage. I was trying to shuttle over 20 miles between Mike and the others. At one point, Mike was out of water and waiting for me at Salt River Pass. He went up to an RV that was parked there and asked for some water. They were some kind Norwegian tourists who insisted he take 2 bottles of cold water. I got there a few minutes later and he took some time to rehydrate. With support the other two made it to the pass. It was a beautiful place to end the ride for the day.
We had to keep a close eye on one of the bikers who was not recovering well. But he was better by morning.

Tuesday, July 19th - Afton, Wyoming to Jackson. Mike enjoyed riding Trevor's bike while we finished breakfast. I think the bikers were glad with the way today started, 15 miles coasting downhill. Riding through Star Valley and then along the Snake River was stunning. It was greener than I have ever seen, and the river was high and dramatic. Everyone did well, and we made it to Hoback Junction, where the Boltons and Perdues (Michele and daughter Tana joined us here) were camping, in good time. Mike decided to keep riding his bike on to Teton Village to where we were staying in a hostel. I went ahead, checked in and unloaded in time to walk out and greet Mike as he came in on the bike path. This is a beautiful place at the south end of Grand Teton National Park. 5 minutes after Mike got there, a furious storm hit with stinging rain blowing sideways. Nice timing.

Highlight - Talking with a woman in Afton whose sister organizes biking events, and will teach us how to get sponsors and raise money for humanitarian causes. Several people have asked if we were raising money for something. I think it's a great idea, so I will work on that with anyone who is willing to help me.
Another highlight was coming into view of the Tetons and the stunning cloud formations over them.
Wednesday, July 20 - Jackson to Yellowstone. Since Mike loves riding through this country, he rode into Jackson to meet the others for breakfast, then back out with them to ride through Teton Village into the Park. At the park entrance, we put all the bikes on the rack, and the three riders crammed into the car until I rode into the park. It was quite a feat.

Grand Teton is beautiful, and we soon learned to avoid the crowds. An amazing thing about this park is that the perspective and view of the range changes with each mile. So as I was stopping every few miles to support the riders, I was seeing new angles of canyons, peaks, snow fields and lakes.
After leaving Teton, I was waiting for Mike at the entrance to Yellowstone so I could drive him in. A motorcycle club drove into the pull out to take pictures. They all went nuts over our dog Sam. They were fussing over him and giving him treats and talking about their dogs and how rescued dogs are the best. Sam was loving it, until they got on their motorcycles and started them up, then Sam wanted to eat the tires.

Mike and Mike both got there for me to drive them into the park. Just inside the park the Mikes went swimming under some falls next to the road. It refreshed them for the final climb and 22 miles to West Thumb. After we all met up there, we split up for the night. Mike and I were staying at West Yellowstone. Unfortunately, the Boltons and Perdues had no cell reception so we were hoping we would somehow know where to find each other the next day.
Can I just say how glad I am that Mike really wanted to get a hotel room with a full bath rather than camp out after a long ride.
Thursday, July 21 - Rest Day. We were hoping to see some of Yellowstone, leave Sam in the air conditioned RV while we rode the tandem for a few hours, then see more of Yellowstone. We were able to see many sites on the Grand Loop, including elk, bison, moose and bears, but were not able to meet up with the others, so there was no way to leave Sam. We finally found the others when we were waiting for Old Faithful to be faithful. After dinner, and arranging to meet in the morning, and seeing Old Faithful do its thing, we walked the geyser trail as the Sun set. The mosquitos tried to carry us away, but it was beautiful seeing all the geysers. As we drove back out of the park, we saw a wolf, and a herd of bison walking down the middle of the road, with a police escort. Good night, World.

Friday, July 22 - Yellowstone to Cooke City, Montana. Today would have been Dad's 78th birthday. He has been gone now for 10 years and I miss him more all the time. We continue to add things to his website EugeneEngland.org and I dedicate my part of this Temple to Temple Ride to him and the difference he made in the world.
Each day just gets more beautiful. Driving into the park as the sun rose, steam was rising off the river which had been heated by the hot geyser water that flowed into it. We saw a mother elk and her tiny calf next to the road, with steam rising behind her. As we drove by middle basin, a large geyser erupted and poured into the stream. Maybe Dad was saying hi.
Soon after the bikers met up and started, I drove ahead. There in the middle of the road was a huge bison, slowly walking forward. I passed it and pulled off to get a photo of Mike passing it. But he rode by me as I got out of the car, pausing with a huge grin on his face and saying, "Wow that's cool!" before taking off. I was able to get a photo of Mike Perdue with the bison. At one of the viewpoints I was able to see a mother grizzly and 2 cubs playing in a meadow next to a bison herd.

When I was waiting for them at Dunhaven Pass, I met some retired couples who were riding their bicycles through the park, carrying all their gear with them. These couples were definitely enjoying their 70's. They would sing as they were riding to keep the wolves and bears away, since we could see bear sign all along the road.
After lunch we were on the road in the northeast corner of the park. This is where there are the fewest people, and the most bears and wolves. At one viewpoint, I stopped to looked at a huge herd of bison, hundreds spread over a long distance. Then I noticed a large grizzly in a meadow next to a bunch of mothers with calves. As it got closer to the calves, the mothers ran them off and a number of male bison moved to surround the grizzly. It was fascinating to see him try to get through them and there was a skirmish before I drove off. It was a great National Geographic moment, but I was a bit worried about the guys riding their bikes on this lonely road with bears around.
Most terrifying moment - after seeing Mike just before he left the park, we agreed he would wait for us at Cooke City. There the three bikers could decide how much further they would ride today. After checking on the others and going back to the little town, I could not find him. I went back and forth, in and out of town before seeing him in front of one of the cafes there. It was an emotional day anyway, thinking of Dad and how much he would love all this. But that part was not fun.
After they rode 15 more miles to a great waterfall, we drove to a cabin that a friend was loaning us. There were bear tracks around the cabin, and a large fox that would boldly come up to us because the neighbor fed it. So we decided to keep Sam inside.
An amazing day, with much to be grateful for. Happy Birthday, Dad.

Final day. Saturday, July 23rd - Beartooth Pass to Billings, Montana. In every direction we saw different dramatic mountain ranges. Several times I heard the guys say, "I can't imagine it getting more spectacular, and each day it does." The 27 mile climb to Beartooth Pass went up through forests, rocky gorges, waterfalls, alpine meadows, hundreds of lakes, then snowfields as the switchbacks got sharper. I missed seeing Mike at the pass, which is really a peak, and I was several miles down the other side before I turned around to look for him. He was at the top, shivering and waving me down. I made him stay in the car and thaw out before he started the descent. I got a picture of the Mikes looking down at the sharp descent. After a 20 mile descent, we met up for lunch at the bottom, and they had an almost 60 mile stretch of long flat road into Billings. I led them along the farm roads that skirted the city, and we got to the temple at 6 p.m. Since it was closed for maintenance, we had it to ourselves. It was a quiet ending to this epic ride in a beautiful setting.

Mike will be posting the route and other links at temple2temple.weebly.com
In the end, it was almost 700 miles of riding, and over 32,000 feet of climbing, taking us to 11 temples and many heritage sites, meeting many people who asked many questions and shared so much with us.
Come September, we will head to Nauvoo where Mike and his brother will bike from there to Kirtland, Ohio. I could say, "What a long strange trip it's been", but it really has been a great ride.
On to the next.