Ever since Justin and I moved out to California, we felt like our lives were missing something. We are, unequivocally, dog people, and we pined for a pooch, but we didn't live in a place where we could have a dog. Then, out of the blue, our landlord decided to change his "no pets" policy, and allow us to get a dog. We were ecstatic! From the beginning, we knew that we wanted to adopt a dog, so we began to search on the internet and at adoption events for our perfect pup. I had a general idea of what we were looking for. We agreed that we wanted a girl dog because, I'm sorry, but boy dogs are gross. They're always humping things and marking things.....no, I wanted a girl. Also, due to the space restrictions of living in a condo, we also decided that a small dog would be more appropriate, even though Justin was more naturally drawn to big dogs. Finally, we decided that we should adopt an older, adult dog, so that we didn't have to go through all the rigmarole or house training a puppy. And so, we searched. After a week or two, we found a little dog that seemed to meet our criteria, or at least most of them. He, that was the first criteria he didn't meet, was a small daschund/beagle mix, and he was an adult. His name was Buster, and we put in an application to adopt him, but we were rejected. They wanted him to go to a home that had other dogs. Dejected, we went home empty-handed.
Then, one day a couple of weeks later, we went to Petsmart to check out the dogs that were up for adoption, and made a pass by the different crates and enclosures, but saw nothing that particularly seemed to be the right dog for us. Except.....there was a small pen containing two black and white puppies. Of course, we didn't want a puppy, but....they sure were cute. Justin walked over to the pen, and the little white one, who had two black eyes, jumped up and began gnawing on part of the pen. Justin said to me, "What about these two?" We looked at them, and they were very cute, but they were puppies. And they were a cross between an English Bulldog and a Standard Poodle. I reminded him that we weren't going to get a puppy, and this 6 month old puppy was already 27 lbs. On the info sheet, it said that she was a boy, but a quick inspection informed us that they were incorrect. It was a girl.
To make a long story short, Justin picked up this puppy, she snarfled his face, and we applied to adopt her. The adoption people called her Oakley, because she looked like she was wearing sunglasses, but we renamed her Bailey. Bailey the Boodle, half bulldog, half poodle, only fit one or our criteria. I had to potty train her, and teach her not to eat my things. She weighs 52 lbs now that she is fully grown. But we love her. She makes my life better. I take care of her every day, taking her to the park, walking her, feeding her, and petting her. She inconveniences our lives many days, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Right now, she is lying at our feet, chewing on a rope, harassing us to take her to the dog park. And she just farted and it smells terrible. But having her around is everything we ever hoped it would be and more. She makes us smile ever day. Bailey is our puppy love.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mother Mine
Yesterday was a day for mothers. A day when we scramble to find a way to show our mothers at least a small fraction of our love for her. For me, however, Mother's day is bittersweet, because my mother has been dead now seven years. Almost exactly seven years to be exact, because she died on May 29, 2003. That makes May a particularly emotional month for me, because it is punctuated with reminders of her absence. Part of me always wants to wallow in self pity this month, but as the years have passed, it just doesn't seem useful.
Instead, I just want to remember her better. I want to hold on to memories more than I want to hold onto my hurt and anger. So I've been thinking about some of my favorite memories. I remember how she used to make dinner every night and wait for my dad to come home. (This was in the time before cell phones were ubiquitous.) She would wait and wait and wait, and finally she would sigh with exasperation and tell us that we would go ahead and eat without him. Of course, no sooner did she issue that pronouncement, his truck would pull into the driveway.
There was the time when my sister told my mother in church, very loudly I might add, that her lipstick made her look like a floozy. This was a concept she picked up from my grandmother, who told her that she shouldn't wear bright red lipstick because it would make her look like a floozy.
And of course, there was the time when mom decided to cook a brisket overnight for the next day. Unfortunately, she turned the heat up way to high in the oven, and we all woke up in the middle of the night to screeching smoke detectors and a house filled with the stench of burning meat. By the time the brisket was removed from the oven, it resembled a charcoal briquette more than a piece of beef.
My mother was kind and funny and determined. She was brave and giving and had a great heart. I love her so much, and I still miss her, but I am determined to hold on to her memory. I am determined to remember the best of her and to apply the things she taught me to my own life. So, as I endured my own PET scan this morning for my own cancer, I tried to emulate her own grace under fire and her trust that the right thing would happen.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
Instead, I just want to remember her better. I want to hold on to memories more than I want to hold onto my hurt and anger. So I've been thinking about some of my favorite memories. I remember how she used to make dinner every night and wait for my dad to come home. (This was in the time before cell phones were ubiquitous.) She would wait and wait and wait, and finally she would sigh with exasperation and tell us that we would go ahead and eat without him. Of course, no sooner did she issue that pronouncement, his truck would pull into the driveway.
There was the time when my sister told my mother in church, very loudly I might add, that her lipstick made her look like a floozy. This was a concept she picked up from my grandmother, who told her that she shouldn't wear bright red lipstick because it would make her look like a floozy.
And of course, there was the time when mom decided to cook a brisket overnight for the next day. Unfortunately, she turned the heat up way to high in the oven, and we all woke up in the middle of the night to screeching smoke detectors and a house filled with the stench of burning meat. By the time the brisket was removed from the oven, it resembled a charcoal briquette more than a piece of beef.
My mother was kind and funny and determined. She was brave and giving and had a great heart. I love her so much, and I still miss her, but I am determined to hold on to her memory. I am determined to remember the best of her and to apply the things she taught me to my own life. So, as I endured my own PET scan this morning for my own cancer, I tried to emulate her own grace under fire and her trust that the right thing would happen.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
Monday, February 8, 2010
What am I doing with my life?
Hello everyone, and by everyone I mean the 2-3 people who still randomly check my blog to see if I have posted anything in the past year. I've been promising that I would pick up my blogging again, and so here goes. It's been an interesting time lately. A year post stem cell transplant and it would seem that I am still in remission. I am having blood work done on Thursday and meet again with my oncologist a week from Tuesday. I'd like to say that I am anxiety free and that I don't worry at all about each and every check-up, but that would be a lie. I get a little nervous. To be honest, after the death of my friend Donna whose cancer came back with a vengeance, it's hard not to be a little scared. Not to mention still somewhat down. I miss her, and I still haven't fully come to grips with the fact that I'll never joke with her or talk with her again.
These past months have been great in terms of my health, as I seem to move from strength to strength physically, and yet have been somewhat tumultuous personally and professionally. I have yet to find a ministry position, which is frustrating, and leaves me wondering what it is that God wants me to do. I don't know if I should just take any job that I can get, or if I should hold out, or if I should just focus on my writing. I have been encouraged by several people to write a book, and I have been slowly working on that. I just don't know, and I am a little confused.
So that's where I am right now. Happy to be healthy, and wallowing in confusion. More to come.
These past months have been great in terms of my health, as I seem to move from strength to strength physically, and yet have been somewhat tumultuous personally and professionally. I have yet to find a ministry position, which is frustrating, and leaves me wondering what it is that God wants me to do. I don't know if I should just take any job that I can get, or if I should hold out, or if I should just focus on my writing. I have been encouraged by several people to write a book, and I have been slowly working on that. I just don't know, and I am a little confused.
So that's where I am right now. Happy to be healthy, and wallowing in confusion. More to come.
Monday, June 1, 2009
An Musing About Being A Young Cancer Survivor
Saturday morning I trekked early in the morning with my husband and our trooper friends Shannon and Gabriel to the annual American Cancer Society's Relay for Life in Santa Clarita. It's an event that is held multiple times over around the country which raises money for cancer research. It is one of those few places, other than your oncologists office or an infusion room, that you encounter multiple cancer patients and survivors with multiple diagnoses. It's a 24 hour event which had people walking around a loop continuously, and the loop is lined with different booths which are raising money by selling donated products or raffling things off or selling activities, and 100% of the proceeds goes to cancer research. My cancer center, UCLA Santa Clarita, has a large team and one of the nurses invited me to come out and walk.
Up until recently, I have avoided getting heavily involved with groups and activities which raise awareness and money for cancer research. Even after my mother died, I never really got involved with anything, and that made me feel guilty. You always hear about different people whose lives are touched by cancer, and they try and make a difference by starting a charity or non-profit, or running a 5k, or so on and so forth. However, I really never felt the urge to do that. Mostly, this was a selfish decision because I was tired of thinking about cancer. I just wanted to go and live in a little bubble where I didn't have to think about the stupid disease anymore and the havoc it had wreaked upon my life. Flash forward 4+ years, and I found myself diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I had kicked around the possibility in my mind that I might have to face breast cancer one day like my mother had, but I had never dreamed that I would face cancer again at 25. It seemed like I simply could not get away, and even then I had no real urge to get involved in any organization or fund. I just wanted to get cured and put it behind me. Then I was re-diagnosed.
I have slowly come to the conclusion that I will never exactly be able to put cancer behind me. It has left an indelible mark on my life story that cannot be erased, no matter how much I shun advocacy or Grey's Anatomy. Amongst the other survivors at the Relay on Saturday there were, maybe, 10 people who were my age or younger. That's not because we're not out there, but I think it's because we're afraid. You see, when you're 45 or 55 or 65 and you get cancer, you've already lived a good portion of your life. That doesn't mean that you aren't severely impacted, it just means that you have lived and had experiences, family, and careers and cancer is another piece of your journey. As a twenty-something, when we get cancer, we fear it defining our journey. I think we avoid walks and raising money and other survivors because we just want to put cancer behind us and not let it define us. We're afraid that it will be not only the defining part of our life journey, but possibly the end.
I've decided that it will not define me, but I cannot ignore it. I have to use cancer to my advantage, to help others and to be a better person. So I'm not going to pretend I'm normal. I'm a cancer survivor....and that's ok.
Up until recently, I have avoided getting heavily involved with groups and activities which raise awareness and money for cancer research. Even after my mother died, I never really got involved with anything, and that made me feel guilty. You always hear about different people whose lives are touched by cancer, and they try and make a difference by starting a charity or non-profit, or running a 5k, or so on and so forth. However, I really never felt the urge to do that. Mostly, this was a selfish decision because I was tired of thinking about cancer. I just wanted to go and live in a little bubble where I didn't have to think about the stupid disease anymore and the havoc it had wreaked upon my life. Flash forward 4+ years, and I found myself diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I had kicked around the possibility in my mind that I might have to face breast cancer one day like my mother had, but I had never dreamed that I would face cancer again at 25. It seemed like I simply could not get away, and even then I had no real urge to get involved in any organization or fund. I just wanted to get cured and put it behind me. Then I was re-diagnosed.
I have slowly come to the conclusion that I will never exactly be able to put cancer behind me. It has left an indelible mark on my life story that cannot be erased, no matter how much I shun advocacy or Grey's Anatomy. Amongst the other survivors at the Relay on Saturday there were, maybe, 10 people who were my age or younger. That's not because we're not out there, but I think it's because we're afraid. You see, when you're 45 or 55 or 65 and you get cancer, you've already lived a good portion of your life. That doesn't mean that you aren't severely impacted, it just means that you have lived and had experiences, family, and careers and cancer is another piece of your journey. As a twenty-something, when we get cancer, we fear it defining our journey. I think we avoid walks and raising money and other survivors because we just want to put cancer behind us and not let it define us. We're afraid that it will be not only the defining part of our life journey, but possibly the end.
I've decided that it will not define me, but I cannot ignore it. I have to use cancer to my advantage, to help others and to be a better person. So I'm not going to pretend I'm normal. I'm a cancer survivor....and that's ok.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Drumroll please....
Tomorrow is my next doctor's appointment and I am extremely nervous. Of course, I'm always nervous when these things come around. On the plus side, I've been able to fend off the anxiety until the day before, which for me is a real improvement. I am hoping to show up and hear the Doctor say, "Everything looks fine," and make me an appointment for 3 months from now for my next PET scan. We've been praying about this for months, and I've been feeling really good. My energy is great and I've been working and working out. Justin and I just joined a small group last night and we are really excited about it. I've got my Final Assessment in less than 3 weeks. It seems like my life is really back on track, and that makes this appointment even more nerve-wracking. I'm just working on trust; trusting that no matter what happens that God is in control of my life. So instead of letting myself devolve into a mess of nerves, I am going to turn tomorrow over and instead work on my PIF (kind of like a resume for you non-presbyterians), and after that work out and go teach a lesson. It's cliche, but I refuse to let cancer have me. I am going to keep walking the way I am walking and trust that God will see us through this no matter what. Still, prayers are appreciated.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Ode to a cat
I ask myself oh why, oh why
Does the cat so like to lie
On my stomach, legs and chest
And on my face which she likes best?
And why is it I find her hair
here and there and everywhere?
They're on my clothes, sheets and couch
and, whoops, just found one in my mouth.
I yelled at her and shook my head,
when she she used for scratching post my bed.
And I never felt such stress
As when she attacked my bridesmaid dress.
But when I think I've had enough
and cat-sitting became far too rough
The cockles of my heart she stirs
When she cuddles and when she purrs.
She killed a spider on the floor
And waits when I come in the door.
So it seems I've decided that
I kind of like the stupid cat.
Does the cat so like to lie
On my stomach, legs and chest
And on my face which she likes best?
And why is it I find her hair
here and there and everywhere?
They're on my clothes, sheets and couch
and, whoops, just found one in my mouth.
I yelled at her and shook my head,
when she she used for scratching post my bed.
And I never felt such stress
As when she attacked my bridesmaid dress.
But when I think I've had enough
and cat-sitting became far too rough
The cockles of my heart she stirs
When she cuddles and when she purrs.
She killed a spider on the floor
And waits when I come in the door.
So it seems I've decided that
I kind of like the stupid cat.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Check-up creeping near
I can't believe that it has almost been 3 months since the last check-up with my oncologist and that the next one is only 2 weeks away. I am trying not to get nervous. I know that I feel great. I have tons of energy and I am teaching swimming lessons. I am very hopeful that this is a sign that everything is still great. No pet scan this time, just simple blood work. So this blog will be short. I could use some extra prayers to get me through these next couple of weeks. I'm really trying to not worry about it and to give it over to God. I am just trusting that whatever happens is his will, although I will confess that I have my own wishes as to how this all turns out. In the mean time, I plan to be looking for a new dog. The owner of our condo has reversed her pet policy and allowed us to get a pet. On top of that, she's reduced our rent by $25 a month, which might cover the expense of a new dog! (Not likely) That's all for today. Not a very witty blog, but effective none the less. The next one will be better. I promise.
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