The Great Wall

I am not sure when I started wanting to go to The Great Wall of China. I think it started when I used to travel to Asia back in the 90's for my job.  All I know is it has been on the top of my list of places to see before I die for as long as I can remember.

When I was sick my list sort of disappeared.  What I became hyper focused on was my family.  I wanted only to be with them.  To live long enough to see them fulfill their dreams became my number one priority.

And I thought if I died I would not be disappointed that I missed seeing things in the world, I would simply be devastated that I was leaving my children much too early.

I was lucky enough, at 40, to feel as if I had seen more than most.

Except for one place.

I really wanted to see The Great Wall of China.

I thought if things got really dire, I would do whatever I could to get there.  I had visions of taking the Eikenclan on some sort of pilgrimage to this one place I have wanted to see for as long as I could remember.

Somehow the universe I travel in landed me there today.

It was completely and utterly imperfect.  And humbling.  And more than I could ever imagine.

On my way down I decided to sit here:

I told the group I was with to head down off the wall without me.

I just wanted to sit and take it all in.

Alone.

This was a very personal accomplishment.  The importance of the moment was only known by me.

So I sat in this spot, thankful for light mist mixing with my tears.

Thankful that I had a moment to myself.

Over 20 years I have wanted to sit here, to see this Wall.

I didn't want to just check it off a list, I wanted to remember why this became so important to me all those years ago, before cancer ever entered my life.

What I realized was that this place just seems impossible.

For as far as the eye can see the Wall just goes, and goes, and goes.

And maybe that was what has always drawn me to it.

Maybe I wanted to feel something that goes on forever.

My Medical Choice

I woke up yesterday surprised to learn that I have more in common with Angelina Jolie than just a hot, successful, husband.

Unless you have been exploring the outer regions of the universe, I am sure most of you have heard that Angelina, after discovering that she carries the BRCA 1 mutation, decided to go on the offense against cancer and have a double mastectomy with reconstruction.

As informative as her op ed piece is for the masses, it also paints a picture that feels a little too rosy for me about this whole cancer business.

Cancer is not just about shinny ribbons, inspirational survivor stories, pretty reconstructed breasts and walking with your girlfriends.

It is about a disease that is caused by gene mutations, environmental factors, too much sun, booze, fat.  It is about a disease that mutilates the bodies of infants, kids, teenagers, adults.
It is about a disease that we have not even scratched the surface of understanding, let alone treating.

So while I applaud Angelina for understanding her choices, and taking personal action against this confounding disease, I wish the discussion would now shift to the people involved in cancer research and treatment.

We should know the countless men, women, and children who right now are fighting their cancer with experimental treatments in clinical trials that will likely not save their lives, but will help inform the treatments that may one day save yours.

That would be My Medical Choice.

"I did it!"

Most of my success in the first part of my life came from athletics.  My first sport was Softball, and I can remember, at 5, hitting a home run and feeling like I had never felt before in my life.

From that moment on I was hooked.  I am not embarrassed to say that I was always one of the first people to be chosen for a team, boy or girl.  And if another girl was chosen before me, it was either my friend Gretchen (best softball player in the country in 1988), or Jennifer (All-American Volleyball start and eventual UCLA National Champion).

We sort of ruled recess - we were a force to be reckoned with.

So it surprised me a little when my first born was not a superstar the first time he played organized sports.  It wasn't about me trying to fulfill my athletic dreams through him (I already did that for myself), but it was more about wanting to make sure he loved sport and had similar positive experiences like I did.

Graham really loves baseball.  This has not been influenced by us in any way - but once he told us he wanted to play, we signed him up and became a Little League family.

Right now we are AA - which basically means 1/2 the game the coach pitches, and the other 1/2 the kids pitch.  This is a big change from last year when we were just little t-ballers trying to figure out where first base was.

For 5 games straight Graham has gotten to the plate, swung 3 times, and walked back to the dugout.  

Each night he asks Doug to practice hitting with him, and each game same thing, swing, swing, swing, dugout.

All the coaches and all the kids have seen how hard he is working, and each time he gets up to bat words of encouragement are shouted, and each time he strikes out a coach comes to him to reassure him his time will come.

On Saturday as he came up to bat I was sitting near right field.

I always try to sit as far away from his dugout and home plate as possible.  The last thing anyone needs to hear is the constant chatter, clapping, and noise coming from my chair (thanks mom).  And each time he is at the plate I promise myself to not say a word.

This day, on the first pitch, Graham took a swing, made contact, and as the ball rolled past the short stop we all lept to our feet, cheering as if it were the bottom of the 9th in game 7 of the world series.

As he reached first base, arms out stretched, Graham shouted, "I did it!" with such happiness, pride, and relief, that I thought my heart would burst.

For me that moment is what I want sports to be for him.  

I want it to be about working hard, reaching your potential, and shouting, "I did it!" when you finally do.

2 years later

It goes without saying that I can not believe it has been 2 years since that fateful day when my Dr. called and simply said, "It's cancer".

You know that sound your TV used to make when you turned it on late at night as a kid.  Black and white snow buzzing with such intensity it usually made you jump.

That's what hearing the words, "you have cancer" feels like.

And it feels that way for a good hour or so.

I assume it is the rush of adrenaline that your brain has a hard time processing that causes the world around you to disappear, and for the buzzing to start.

When I reminded Doug what today was, he said, "is that something you want to celebrate?".

And I thought - yes it is.

I want to celebrate all of you who:

Cut braids
Shaved my head
Sat with me at Chemo
Took care of my kids
Sent me cards
Cooked meals
Read my blog
Said my boobs looked good
Brought me funny movies
Spent one moment praying to whomever you pray to for my well being

It is not something I ever want to go through again - but I am glad I had each of you to help me along the way.

Heal and Deal

I have a new hero

Let's move past how long it has been since I last wrote shall we?  Chalk it up to what I am calling my great big fat cancer hangover.  Gladly I feel like it is moving on.

Now on to my new hero.

Monday I came home from work with a touch of the flu.  Sometimes it is best to call it a day and go undercover.

My sick day ritual is simply put on comfy pi's, lay in bed, and sleep.

When I woke up and popped open my computer I was shocked to see that a bomb had gone off at the Boston Marathon.

The very first thing I saw was the image of the man in the cowboy hat helping the young man who, as I learned later from an un-cropped photo, lost both of his legs.

I assumed that the pair were friends.  That one friend happened to be in the wrongest of wrong places, at the wrong time, and somehow his friend, was, well, not.

At the time we knew from media reports that there had been 2 casualties, so when it was later announced that 3 people had died, I wondered what happened to the guy in the photo.

Today I learned his name, Jeff Bauman Jr.  And that he survived, having both legs surgically amputated above the knee.

I also learned his friend was actually a stranger.  A man named Carlos Arredondo who has seen his fair share of pain and tragedy.  One son killed in Iraq, during his second tour of duty, and another by his own hand after spiraling into an unfathomable depression after his brothers death.

He was at the marathon supporting the runners and handing out American Flags to spectators.

You see, after his sons died, Carlos decided to dedicate his life to PEACE.

I think it is time for more of us to do the same.

tests tests tests

So today I had a bone density test.  No need to be alarmed, simply a test I need to have because of the medication I am on.

3 things I liked about this test:

1.  I didn't have to take my clothes off or put on a dumb hospital gown (seriously...gown?  I think not).
2.  I waited literally 30 seconds before I was called into the examination room.
3.  The test took about 5 minutes.

3 things I did not like:

1.  It was in the same office where I had my biopsy, almost 2 years ago, and you know the rest.
2.  The only open parking spot was where I  parked my car, almost 2 years ago, and where I retreated and cried harder than any time in my life after what I thought was going to be a mammogram ended being far more evasive and scary.
3.  That I had to be there at all.

Like a good friend, and breast cancer survivor said to me today, "I could do it again if I have to, I just don't ever want to have to."

Heal and Deal

Family

My mother was the oldest of 4 kids, and the only girl,  until, in her teens, she became the oldest of 6 kids.

Suddenly,  out of no where she had a sister.  And because her parents didn't want baby #5 to be lonely, they decided to have another, and sister #2 was born.

This created a pretty fun family dynamic.  I have Aunts who are not that much older than me, who then gave me cousins, who are a lot younger than me.

We have first cousins who are super close to their second cousins because they are all around the same age.

And my young cousins sometimes get confused and think of me and my sisters as their aunts, which I like just fine.

Oklahoma is where all of my mother's family lives - including all the little cousins.  It is a place synonyms with my childhood, and as I have said before, even after traveling the world, it is one of my favorite places in the world.

The people who know my life history live there.

So I was thrilled when my mom called to say that our baby cousin Bailey (not a baby any more) was engaged, and had set a wedding date for this summer.

Not that I needed an excuse to get to Oklahoma - but sometimes life gets so busy we forget to do the things that make us happiest.