The skinny on my cancer

Looks like an innocent mole, doesn't it? Nope. It's the remains of a  bad guy mole, aka,  basal cell carcinoma. I'd noticed , many too many months ago, a brownish mole growing under my glasses and taking on a shape of it's own.
Not the usual circular, nor elevated kind, just silly looking.
I decided to finally ask my family doctor if it should be checked and she referred me to a dermatologist, who, as it turns out and why am I surprised? is the best in the Delaware area for Mohs Procedure.

Naturally I am not mentioning this because it is an interesting fact, but because it is another detailed way God takes care of me before I even know I need Him to. Proof, so to speak, of my personal relationship with Him.

Went into my appointment rather nervously because I do not care for doctors in general. To me they are like insurance salesmen , car dealers,  termite destroyers, or anyone else whose job I know little of and am skeptical about.

"Looks suspicious", says the cutter. "I'll just take a sample and send it out and we'll see." I heard C-A-N-C-E-R, so began preparing mentally.

When the younger than my youngest son 'medical assistant' told me she would be numbing my face, all I wondered was how many times she had to poke to make me not feel the excruciating pain of a knife removing tissue that belonged on my temple? I took a deep breath and waited.

Since I was beyond nervous at this point, I had enough sense to say to God, "please remember what my friends are praying for because I am going to die here." That, my friends, is panic prayer, as opposed to calm and deliberate prayer.

The waiting began. It took two weeks to hear what I already suspected-my  silly looking mole was definitely not a friend, but a rearrangement of my healthy cells into enemy cells.

Another two weeks, two days off work scheduled for the procedures, and back I went, less nervous and more surrounded by love.

God's love came in various sizes and shapes~ friend Judy came for an overnight. Who but Judy makes a cancer surgery into a reason for a sleep-over? Good grief she even brought chocolates~ daughter Margie came to drive me there and sit with me, bringing dinner and a smile~ several friends were praying~ some gal pals texted me that morning~ mt sisters emailed me ~and some fellow fanatics wrote on my Wall! Facebook fiend that I am, I checked before surgery ;-) . You knew I would .

The doctor entered, scraped off the cancer cells, making a medium -sized hole in the side of my face. I asked what size as he was bandaging me up. :-)

Then he tells me the best news- no more scraping! This was kindly interpreted for me as a good piece of information-he got all the cancer cells the first time. Relief. "oh, and come back tomorrow for suturing. It will be a bit more uncomfortable and may leave bruising," I was informed.

Tuesday afternoon I was ready. I knew my faithful friends and family were praying for me and for God's best for me, but my problem was more that I already knew that could include pain. As the doctor worked, I had been grounded (boy is that a weird feeling, since he described it as like a lightning rod for a house...and have I mentioned my distaste for lightning? ).

Great News ! Day two suturing took under an hour and I was not electrocuted, and the pain was tolerable, and I was able to bring to mind my praying friends when I started to freak.  Who me? Freak?

The glasses were a necessity because of the padding ! but aren't I stylish??

The Fab Five arrived with Chinese take out. These girlfriends were better than the antibiotics to ward off infection, the pain killers to stop the pain. They warded off fear and foolish thoughts. They fought the poison of self pity with friendship and fun! I love  these friends with whom I have only been connected for under  8 years .

Carolyn, Darlinda, Pam, Jean and me (with the attractive bandage)

Tonight I was sitting here and writing this blog when a knock came at my door. There stood my newest son-in-law Adam, and a plate of delicious dinner quite unexpectedly delivered, cooked by my daughter Julie.  As delicious as that meal was, the gift of sitting and talking to me with my grandson was equally as wonderful.

Son Andy was sound asleep this morning when I decided it was time for another pain killer. Imagine his surprise as the cell phone rang next to his ear, mom from the home land line saying she needed him- now. The pain killers were a bit potent for this weakling patient, and I thought of the irony of living through the surgery and dying from the pain relief. Guess I won't be taking a narcotic next time.

Where will I end up with this blog? I wonder that too. I guess I am not afraid of the word cancer anymore.

I started out on this journey into adulthood afraid of certain things. The list was way too long and cumbersome, so my very personal friend and Father in heaven has been helping me whittle down that list of fears, as I build up my faith and confidence in Him.

I feared never getting married and having children. Really? Yes, really.
God gave me a beautiful man for 31 years to call husband, then he allowed me to release that man and call HIM my husband.

    

I feared losing my children. Daniel Mark came to us for 9 short months and was gone.

     Naked I came from my mother's womb and naked I will return.The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, Blessed be the name of the Lord. [Job 1:21]

I feared divorce. I was a Christian and was sure divorce was impossible.   
  May 29, 1971 - June 13, 2002 are the dates of my marriage.

I feared so many other things, the list too long to share. I continue to battle the war with fear as a woman of God who loves Him, trusts Him and has salvation from Him. But I fear.  One of my head truths is this: Fear is NOT faith.

      My grace is sufficient for you for My strength is made perfect in   weakness.  [ 2 Cor. 12:9]

Have you figured out yet which fear was next on my list?

Well, there's the skinny on my cancer.

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3;22-23

Just watching

Parenting for this mother of seven has been a never ending, always working, ever busy job description. It used to be so enjoyable interacting, teaching, and helping them, while they developed through their own life experiences, growing into who they would become as adults.   My job was officially accepted and expected when the seven were still in schools ~ whether in elementary grades, high school, home schooled or college. Parental blame is cast as part of the process, whether for misbehavior or misdeeds, and praise is usually accepted, whether earned or deserved or just as a by product of the job.

I loved summers best because the kids were all with me and around me, playing in the yard, tromping in and out (and in and out),(and in and out) of the house, helping or fighting with each other, depending on the day. Bedtimes were observed, nap times were never let go of, (after all, moms need a few sane moments to regroup and rest!) and beds were always made. I was big on that one :-) and still cringe when I enter a child's home and find the door closed, meaning only one thing: Messy Bed.

For the ones who went to school in September, my favorite time of day was when the bus pulled up to the driveway after a long day of being away from each other. I loved parenting, I loved my kids(still do) and all of the things that went with it.

We home schooled several in different years, at different ages, using different methods albeit always interesting, which some of my current friends have no knowledge of.Sometimes it can irk me to be in a group and have people ask counsel from a younger mom who has a few years of teaching under her belt, totally disregarding me in the discussion.

Pride looms it's ugly head and I want to say, "Hey, I did that and my kids all are reasonably intelligent!"  Clarification: they are all extremely brilliant, earned scholarships to colleges and accolades from many, but how do I insert THAT in a casual conversation with young mothers? Anyhow, lest I digress into an entire Blog about schooling choices or young mothers, let me continue.

The assumption then, is that a mom would be extremely happy and content when her children, having been her responsibility for so many years, were able to make their own choices and decisions and actually leave the family nest, so to speak. In my case, firstborn son Paul was 15 years old when baby Andrew was adopted, so the spread of children was always wider than the average household. Thus it is, after 38 years of active , kids- in -the- home- parenting, I find myself in a new and different place.

My youngest two sons both chose to leave ,( granted they were older than the others were) this summer. Here am I, alone in a house once filled with laughter and fighting and crying and cooking and chaos. Alone.

I am not doing that well. Precisely, I am lost . The little fledgelings have flown and the nest is empty. I figure it must be a fairly significant event if there is a syndrome named for it The Empty Nest Syndrome. Knowing that something is common does not necessarily make the going through it that much easier.

In fact, I wanted the nest to be empty. I was weary of the dishes in the sink, the beds unmade( yeah, that rule held up until about age 18...), the grass long enough to be mowed and the mowers not interested, the
special foods missing in action, etc. I was anxious for the next phase of maternal development, having passed the 'do it as a single parent ' phase reasonably well!

In the meantime, the grown children are now growing adults, making their own decisions and figuring life out in their own ways. No longer are mom's ways best, no more are they looking to me for advice or answers. Oftentimes I am the last to know of some event that just a few short years ago I would have been orchestrating! Second fiddle was a spot I played in high school, not where I'd be sitting as a mom.

What am I supposed to do now? I just spent 38 years of my 61 years being a parent. I absolutely loved every experience and moment of it, even when there were some tears and heart breaks along the way. My complaining times were the run of the mill mom is going crazy type, not the oh my gosh I cannot do these kids a minute longer kind.

Recently as I prayed for one of my children, earnestly pleading for God's help in their life, it occurred to me that praying and watching was my new job description. Formerly it had been praying and acting, now it was watching and waiting. I have gone from an active role to a passive role. What a shock to  this task oriented , type A mother! Good grief, this is really tough! I suppose it is like going from writing a book to reading one.

Having seven children, and now 5 with spouses, gives me a variety unlike most others to my prayer life. Some days I am asking God for patience , other days finds me wishing He would make the kids be less patient and more decisive! Some need a home to buy, others need wisdom for my grandchild's schooling dilemma. Sometimes I feel ignored, other days I feel inundated by requests for babysitting or visits to their homes. Since eternity is never more than a thought away for me, I am often pouring out my heart to God asking for His mercy, His grace, His salvation, His protection, His goodness in their lives. This, I might add, even when they are not choosing to even glance at eternity.



I had been sleeping on the top floor, away from the previously noisy first floor level, and awoke to a CRASH! The thunderstorm was raging and since the lightning really felt as if it were coming through the ceiling, I decided to trust God from the lower level. :-) Pacing around in the dark, I had to admit that the days of terror during a storm were behind me and they had been replaced by a deep seated knowledge that everything would be fine, in time. The storm would pass, the house would most likely stand upright during it, the lighting would not, in fact, find me crouched on the couch and zap me into heaven, and I would indeed fall asleep again.

Perspective returned within my brain once again. I know this adjusting to the kids being adults is a matter of weathering the storm. I am not sure if this storm's duration will be long or short, smooth or rough, and whether my heart will heal with the help of friends, experienced travelers, or alone with God.

This much I know: God gave me the gift of children for a time, and that gift looks differently than the one wrapped so prettily with their smiles, giggles and trust.

The gift is now unwrapped. I am cleaning up the house, putting the wrapping paper away, throwing out the ripped pieces and storing the reusable things. Memories are surfacing of sayings and silliness and even stupidity, but also as I clean the clutter, I am loving the feeling of no regrets,, no wish I had done things differently, no lost opportunities. I gave it my best, my best was all I could give , along with my unending love, weaknesses revealed, forgiveness granted, and prayers continuing.

I am now just watching. Time for me to let go and let God.

Alone in Paradise

Target Hat @ $ 12.00 [too windy for my head]

 Crocs, bright pink, so as not to get lost on the Beach.

Swimsuit, new for the occasion.

straight up- Palm trees in blue skies-always

understatement

Nail Polish, feels rich on white sand

wedding dress, hard to zip the back up, asked the maid for help

got in the water twice

dinner wear

favorite spot-under a Palm tree , with a book

bus adventure into Nassau, alone, Straw Market

apparently there are people here

same sun setting, same God watching

the Lighthouse stands alone

Breezes on the Caribbean are more impressive swaying Palms rather than Maples

biggest regret: no room for the $5.00 conch shell