From A Slightly Frazzled Woman . . .

Have you ever worried about hurting the feelings of the place you live?

Naw, me neither.

However, just to make absolutely sure that my Outer Banks home knows how much I appreciate its beauty and just to reassure it that I‘m not comparing it unfavorably to the rolling hills I saw on my recent road trip, here are a few shots I took as I was leaving town last week.

I think the Outer Banks would hold its own pretty well in any Scenery Beauty Contest, don’t you?

My trip on Monday to my oncologist and plastic surgeon went fine; I don’t have to return to either doctor for about six months so that made me quite happy.

What didn’t make me quite as happy was being told by my oncologist that I’m still supposed to do a breast exam every month, paying careful attention to the skin near the scars. He said that there is fatty tissue under those scars and fatty tissue is what grew the cancer in the first place. It’s not a real common occurrence, but he said there have been some women who were diagnosed with cancer again—after a double mastectomy!

I will do what he said as far as the exams go, but I refuse to let my brain think too much about the reason behind what I’m doing. The last thing I need in my life is to be thinking about getting breast cancer again!

I was gone about nine hours on Monday and on Tuesday I spent most of the day in bed with an awful, horrible, painful, dreadful sore throat that started on Sunday morning and just kept getting worse and worse. I couldn’t talk and had no energy to even sneeze. (Which of course, since it's allergy season, I was wont to do on a fairly frequent basis.)

Today I dragged my little ol’ self out of bed and hit the day running since I’d already lost one day to doctors and another day to overall throat-based malaise. I am feeling a bit better today which is a good thing because in the next four hours I have to make dinner (leftover pasta salad with some meat thrown in), attend a staff meeting, attend our Wednesday night service and then sit in on a script re-write for our upcoming Easter drama.

I’m squeezing in the writing of this post in the midst of dinner prep, so if you see any glaring mistakes (or worse yet, you see a smear of butter on the edge of your screen) you’ll know why.

There are a few questions to answer that have come in; I’ll have to get to those in the next post.

Happy Spring! (cough, cough, sniffle, sniffle)

Berobed

If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably felt that one of the worst parts about going to the doctor is having to put on one of those dashing and delightsome gowns. You know the ones made with uninspired colors and patterns, with arm holes in odd places, and strings and snaps that are supposed to hold it all together but rarely do? Those gowns?

Well, on my Medical Sojourn to Greenville on Monday, I was reminded of something that I really, really like about my oncologist.

He provides his patients with robes. Real robes. With real belts. Robes that don’t feel like they’re going to fall off your person if you move too quickly. Or too slowly. Or even too medium-ly.

The robes are a dream to put on and a dream to wear. (Which is a good thing since I waited a month of Sundays for the doctor to finally appear in the exam room.)

It occurred to me while I waited that I could take a photo of my bedazzling robe so you could rejoice with me (with exceeding great joy) that at least one doctor on the planet is Robe Savvy. As I sat there in my robe-esque luxuriousness and read a magazine I thought, “Ahhh. This isn’t so bad.”

If they would offered me a choice of drinks and snacks, I would have been even happier but hey, one can’t have everything! Can one?

Anyway. Here is The Robe. Is it stupendous, or what?

After my robe and I had sat for quite a little while in the solemn silence of the exam room, my oncologist finally made his appearance and performed the anticipated exam. May I just say that since I’ve never before had a breast exam when the area under examination was comprised of only scars and silicone, the experience was just a tad disconcerting. I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually but it was just very, very different.

When he was finished with the silicone breast exam, the doctor then proceeded to give me a little mini-lecture about the sorts of symptoms I should look for concerning a relapse. He then made the pronouncement that I looked “really, really great,” patted me heartily on my berobed shoulder, told me he’d see me in six months and vamoosed from the room.

I was really sort of reluctant for the visit to end because it meant that I’d have to give up the robe. Eventually though, I tore myself away from that darling little number and and made my way to the check out area to pay. As I geared myself up to cough up the usual $50 co-pay (for the four-minute visit) the lady at the desk said, “Let’s see, here. It looks like you have a $240 credit on your account.”

A credit? At a doctor’s office? Whoever heard of such a thing?

So instead of me having to pay them something, she applied my credit toward the $50 co-pay and said they would send the balance to me in the mail.

A lovely robe? A non-co-payment-payment? A pending check?

Happy day.

_________________________

FROM THE COMMENT AREA . . .

Guerrina asked,
Wow! Different house! Quick question...are the shutters wood or vinyl? If vinyl/plastic stuff, what was the process to change them? I have a "berry" color and I want to go to the charcoal/black! Thank God I have no high ones to deal with!

Guerrina, our shutters are plastic. (And how funny is that we went from black to berry and you want to go from berry to black!) As far as I know, Steve just painted them with regular ol’ paint. I think he may have sanded a few rough areas first, but the paint went on just like he was painting a wall. Pretty quick and easy—all except for removing the ones from the second story! Glad you don’t have any of those!

Love Looks Beyond

My appointment with the plastic surgeon yesterday went great. Stitches out (ouch!) and recovery proceeding nicely.

I do feel compelled to add, however, that as a fairly reserved pastor’s wife, it is just a teensy weensy bit outside my comfort zone to have long and involved discussions with a strange man about my, well, you know.

My main goal is just to hold on tightly to my sense of humor throughout those discussions and not take it all too seriously. Fortunately, my surgeon is quite comfortable and casual with the whole scenario and so he can chatter away rather blithely and breezily about my, well, you know.

Sigh. So many interesting experiences to accompany a person on her breast cancer journey.

While I’m on this subject, I want to mention how thankful I am that I was diagnosed with this disease in 2010 instead of in 1970 or even in 1990. Twenty or thirty years ago, women who had breast cancer had to keep it all hush hush and deal with a heartbreakingly heavy burden without getting much support from outside a very small circle. I’m sure that they were probably even reluctant to specify the kind of cancer they had, simply because it involved mentioning a private part of the body.

But now? Wow.

Now there is support, and assistance and publicity everywhere. In fact, I am part of an online discussion/informational/support group which is just amazing; I have learned more from the experiences of my fellow cancer sisters (in all different stage of the disease) than I could ever learn from a book or a doctor.

One sad thing that I’ve learned from my involvement with that group though, is that breast cancer can cause serious damage to a marriage. I have been shocked and disheartened to read some of the things husbands have said to their wives about their breast cancer. Absolutely. Unbelievable.

And the men don’t just say hurtful things, some of them actually leave their wives--just because they have breast cancer and just because they don’t look the same as when they were first married.

Am I writing this to bash men and husbands? No, not at all. I’m simply writing this because I’ve been so moved by the stories I’ve heard from women who have put a very human face on this statistic—my heart goes out to them as I think of them trying to deal with cancer treatment and a divorce, all at the same time.

I’m also writing this to say how thankful I am that I cannot relate to that study. Not at all. Steve has been incredibly compassionate, considerate and affirming throughout this whole journey. In fact, he just recently had a little extra personal money on hand, something which doesn’t happen very often. He went out shopping and ended up spending most of the money on a new outfit for me!

I’ve never spent even one tiny little moment worrying about whether or not Steve would leave me because I had a bilateral mastectomy. Do I look exactly the same as I did on our wedding night twenty-eight years ago? Nope.

Do any of us look exactly the same as we did on our wedding night? Probably not.

Age happens. Gravity does its thing. Sagging commences. Pounds appear. Inches creep in. Wrinkles show up. Knees creak. Joints crack. In fact, after a certain age, the Rice Krispies commercial about “snap, crackle and pop” starts to apply to your whole body as you get out of bed in the morning.

Bottom line?

Love looks beyond the sinking and the sagging. Love looks beyond the mastectomy scars. Love looks beyond the changes and challenges that the years bring to bear.

Love looks beyond. And sees only beauty.

And I, for one, am thankful.

__________________________

Thanks to everyone who has chimed in about recycling experiences. I'll be referencing some of those comments in a soon-to-come post.

Hello Smithellanites!

Sarah here, Becky's daughter, to say that the Usual Blogger Woman went into the surgery room about half an hour ago. Dad and I just came back from our brief visit with her; we prayed over her and kissed her goodbye, then were skedaddled from the place. By then, Mom was already quite loopy and slightly forgetful, as she had been put on a relaxing medication about ten minutes previous. This aside, she looked somewhat aware of herself and she seemed ready to get this part of her journey over.

Thank you for stopping by.
Stay tuned!

--Sarah

Pre-Op Appointment. Age Poll. And Other Stuff.

I’m heading out in a few minutes for my pre-op appointment where I will have blood work done and will also probably need to sign papers that will promise my first born son to the financial person. Such a fun time.

Of course, I will also be meeting with my surgeon to make The Final Decision so that he can get the correct thingamadoochies ordered for my exchange surgery. From what I understand, they never order the permanent implants any earlier than a week before a scheduled surgery because they’re so expensive. So we’ll have our Big Chat and he’ll get the order placed and I should be good to go. Surgery is slated for Tuesday, August 17 and I am extremely and completely and inordinately ready to have that day come. (And go.)

In other news, it’s certainly been interesting watching the results be compiled in the Age Poll. There’s quite a battle going on between the 36-45 and 46-55 age groups. Every time I look at the poll, those two groups have either been exactly even or just a few numbers apart. I don’t know who’s going to end up winning that particular segment but at least I know where the majority of my readers are, age-wise. It’s been so much fun to see the results--thanks to all of you who have voted so far.

And as for whether any males are reading? Well, as of today it said that 462 votes had been cast and 455 showed up as female. So it appears that I have at least seven male readers. (Woo-hoo!) I guess “seven” isn’t big enough to be a blip on the poll meter which is why it isn’t showing up in the actual results. But I’m glad to know that at least we have a few fellas hanging out in our midst.

And on the subject of the Age Poll, here are a few comments that have come in. I especially loved this first one:

Anonymous said, “All right - where are all the old farts? Only 5 (!) in my age bracket???”

That one really made me smile.

Trine said, “Do you have any clue about how many readers you have, Becky?

Jodi added on the same subject, “Wow! Becky, that is all I can say, "WOW!" Did you know you had that many regular readers? Wouldn't it be great if all those people who answered the poll all commented on the same day? I bet you would be giddy with excitement. Congrats on all the readers you do have.”

Trine and Jodi:

Thanks for your enthusiasm! I am truly grateful for every single Smithellaneous reader who stops by. As for an estimate of the number of people who come here, here’s a graph from StatCounter which is installed on Smithellaneous. The big hike in April was because of my cancer diagnosis/surgery. (This graph just measures page loads and not unique visitors.)

At any rate, I feel blessed to know that “quite a couple of people” make the time to come by and visit on a regular basis. (“Quite a couple of” is something Sarah used to say when she was little.) You guys give me an outlet for my writing and a reason to share my story and I can never thank you enough for that.

I also have StatCounter installed on Sarah’s site and today the number there was 1,910, 465. Hard to believe she is nearing the two million mark!

Trine had a couple more questions:

2) Becky, do you ever print your journals out (from here and Sarah's site) or do you just save them on the computer? I mean it would be sad if your sites one day crashed and your computer, too.

No, I don’t have the journals printed out. It would be a huge undertaking (paper, ink, time) because I have written many hundreds of thousands of words between the two sites. I agree, though, that it would be great to print them out at some point.

3) Have you read the book 'My Sister's Keeper'? What is your opinion about the subject and the book/movie covers?

I only saw the movie but have not read the book. The movie was heartbreaking and inspiring and wonderful and I enjoyed it immensely.

4) Becky you write so much but have you ever written a fiction story?

The very thought of writing a fiction story makes me feel completely overwhelmed. I’m in awe of authors who can spin a story out of nothing, complete with plot and dialogue and flow and beginning and ending and the whole nine yards. How they ever accomplish that, I can’t imagine.

Pam D. asked, “What is Steve looking at in that last picture? He reminds me of Adam when we're at the docks in Destin. Always looking down into the water, hoping to spot a crab!”

Pam, I can guarantee that Steve wasn’t looking for a crab. I’m not exactly sure what he was looking for but I think the fact that he’s a very curious guy makes me him look at all sorts of things everywhere he goes, just to see what he can see!

Jenna said, “Wow- Becky, your writing is incredible. You write with heart, soul, and passion and truly have a God given gift. I urge you to submit this story (Where Seventeen Went) for publication (perhaps to a family or women's magazine)- and also to consider writing a book. You have a lot of wisdom and perspective that could bless others through your words (just as your blog is already such a blessing to so many).”

Jenna, that is so sweet of you; you have a gift of encouragement. You really made my day!

Catherine asked, “I love the carpet. What's the color called?”

Carpet is by Bliss. Color: 01 Saddle. Style: 2876 Relax.

I believe someone else asked about the paint color for our bedroom but I don’t have the paint chip on that anymore.

Steve (my hubby) said, “OK, I have to confess that I signed in at the poll twice. Once as my real age and once as the 85-110 year old.”

Sigh. There’s always a trouble maker in every group.

Anonymous asked, “By the way, when is Sarah's Birthday?”

Sarah will turn fifteen on August 23, two days before she starts High School. If you’d like to send her a card you can mail it to:

Sarah Smith
127 Raleigh Wood Dr.
Manteo, NC 27954

And speaking of Sarah, here are a few dishes from a meal she made recently. Can you tell she got the “arranging food decoratively” gene from her mom?

And here’s the ham and noodle casserole. Yummy. And completely calorie free. Well, except for the, um, calories.

Okay, I know I’ve been promising final pictures of our bedroom redecoration project and I haven’t forgotten! Really, I haven’t! We finally got curtains hung and with just one or two more touches, I should be ready to snap a picture or two for you. (Maybe later today or tomorrow at the latest.)

In the meantime, if you would like to be truly inspired, here is what our stairs looked like just a few short days ago. The old carpet on the stairs had to be taken up a few days before the new carpet arrived so that the trim could be painted by Steve and his helpful helper from church. That meant we were walking around on this yucky stuff for a while. Ain’t it lovely?

Snowy didn’t know quite what to think as he made his daily rounds.

Quite a change from this . . .

. . . to this.

And now, off to my appointment I go . . .

Cancer Road. Comments on Your Comments.

Edited to add: Buff just e-mailed me the link where you can get the "Old Guys Rule" t-shirts. (There was a question about that in the comment section.) Here is it is! http://www.oldguysrule.com/products/Legend_Badge-454-7.html Thanks, Buff.

I know I haven’t talked much about my breast cancer journey recently so here’s a wee little update.

My next appointment with “Dr. Brings-Me-Pain” is on Monday; thankfully (as far I know), this should be a non-hurting appointment. From what I understand, he just wants me to come in every month until the exchange surgery so that he can be sure that everything is looking (and stretching) the way it should.

I’m planning to ask him if he’s able to be flexible in the scheduling of the surgery as far as moving it forward 2-3 weeks. (Among all surgeons, the average wait between the last saline fill and the exchange surgery seems to range between six weeks and four months.)

Obviously part of the reason for the delay is to let everything stretch that needs to be stretched, i.e., the skin and chest muscles. (And no, that is not such a fun process.)

In my case, the nurse said I was “ahead of the game” as far as having plenty of extra skin; as a result, it’s not really having to do much stretching. However, I am really aware of chest muscles stretching, especially when I lie down or turn over in bed; there’s a deep ache in that area which comes and goes at strange times. (Which I guess is a good thing; it means something is happening.)

Ideally I would love to have the surgery before Sarah goes back to school. Even though the replacement surgery recovery won’t be as difficult as the mastectomy recovery was, it would still be nice to have someone in the house with me for a few days afterwards to fluff my pillow, soothe my fevered brow and bring me chocolate bars. (And lots of pain killers.) Since I won’t be in bad enough shape to summon family members from afar, a little part-time nurse would be ideal.

So we’ll see. If the plastic surgeon is adamant about waiting the full three months (even though other surgeons wait half that long), I could always kick and scream and throw something to try to change his mind. Apart from that, however, I suppose I could always choose to capitulate. Or else, I could absquatulate! (See yesterday’s entry for your new vocabulary word.)

I’m a part of a wonderful discussion/information forum at a Breast Cancer site which has given me all sorts of helpful information about this complicated journey. A good number of the women on the site wrote that they really looked forward to the exchange surgery but then were depressed after it was done. I guess the surgery represents the finality of the whole process and reminds them 1) that their old breasts are truly gone forever and 2) their new breasts will never be able to take their place. It’s just another layer of the cancer grief that has to be worked through. Of course, other women aren’t depressed at all so maybe I’ll land in that group and be known as the “The Happy Post Exchange Lady!”

On a humorous note, I read on the site about a t-shirt some of the ladies wear that says, “Yeah, these are fake. The real ones tried to kill me!”

Gotta keep a sense of humor!

______________________

Questions and Answers From the Comment Section:

Anonymous asked, “What is Snowy’s middle name?”

Okay, you all have to promise not to laugh at this answer. His middle name is, er, Studmuffin.

Seriously!

Well, it’s not actually on his birth certificate, but it is the name our family chose when he was handed to us as an 8-week old ball of fluffy, white cuteness. Snowy Studmuffin Smith. It just suits him, doesn’t it?

Anonymous asked, “Where did you get Steve’s 'Legend In His Own Mind' shirt?"

Actually, I don’t know the answer to that question since the shirt was a gift. I just know it was from a shop here on the Outer Banks.

Jodi asked, “Will a visit with Victoria be happening this summer?”

Since the girls now live 6 1/2 hours apart instead of 3 1/2 hours, visits have gotten a bit more complicated. The two girls would love to see each other, though!

Randee said she just realized we lived near a family whose blog she follows, Confessions of a CF husband.

Randee, yup, we are indeed about five or six miles away from them. We met Nathan and Trish a few weeks ago and they are as wonderful in person as they are on their blog.

Lesley asked, “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?

Hmmm. I don’t really have a favorite. I guess I would have to say that anything with texture or “chunks” would be high on my list. I love butter pecan, or ice cream with bits of Heath bar mixed in or any other sort of chewy, chocolate-y addition. Just plain, smooth, creamy ice cream is not something I like. (And if you want to hear something strange, I sometimes break up saltine crackers and stir them into plain ice cream. Salty, crunchy and smooth—all in one dish. Yum.)

Stacy asked, "Does Sarah like to cook dinner other than desserts?"

At this point, she’s pretty limited in that area. (And that’s my fault; I need to get a Cooking School going here at the Smith House.)

She has made Pigs in a Blanket (with hot dogs and crescent rolls) and various Hamburger Helper dishes. She’s also very good with getting a meal together if I have a pre-made casserole in the fridge. A couple times when I got home late from a doctor appointment, I called her and she got the casserole in the oven, cut up some fruit, made a vegetable, set out some bread and had everything on the table when I got home.

However, in the interest of making her future husband a happy guy, I do need to start some more intensive cooking training.

Mary H. asked, What classes did Sarah choose for her freshman year?

So far, the only thing that’s different from last year is that she added Chorus to her line up. However, her selections aren’t yet finalized. We’re still waiting on the results of her neuropsych testing since the person who grades the test was out of the country a few weeks. When we receive those results, we’ll have a better idea of which direction to head academically. At this point, her 8th grade teachers have actually recommended that she take several Honors courses in 9th grade; I’m a bit leery of her doing that for her first year in High School but we’ll see!

And as far as the other Smith Sibling goes, I had a couple questions about Nathan:

MN Mom asked, “How is Nathan doing?”

Mary H. asked, “When is Nathan coming back to visit?”

Nathan is doing well although he still hasn’t found a summer job. (Thankfully, he does have a job lined up when the school year starts.)

This job thing is actually starting to get a little bit ridiculous; the poor guy is halfway through July already! He’s had several interviews in the past few days and is just waiting on answers.

I think what may need to happen is that his mom might just need to drive to Florida, knock a few employer heads together and say, “Look. Just what IS your problem, dude? (or dude-ess.) This kid is the best employee you will ever have and if you don’t hire him immediately then I will, um, I will . . . .”

Hmmm. It seems as though my knowledge and usage of scary threats is just a tad rusty . . . maybe I’ll just let Nathan do his own thing. Without me. Sniff.

As far as when he’s coming back to visit, it might be a while. Once he does get a job, he’ll probably need to work it right up till the time school starts in mid- August. So it could be that the next time we lay eyes on the College Dude might be Thanksgiving. Which would mean a 7-month period of time without seeing him. Which is the longest I’ve ever gone! Which I may not be able to survive!

He turns twenty-one on September 18, but since we have the choice of either giving him a generous gift for that big birthday or traveling down to FL to see him, we’ll probably opt for the generous gift and just stay home and send him happy birthday thoughts in absentia.

You know what?

It’s really tough when a kid grows up and turns twenty-one and can’t come home and has his own life and a girlfriend and a job and college classes and friends and responsibility and car payments and, um, a real life.

But you know what? It’s also really wonderful when a kid grows up and does all those things because it means that we’ve done an okay job of getting him to this point in life and he’s finding independence and stretching his wings and getting ready to be a real grown up and make me even prouder of him than I already am.

So. That’s the Nathan Scoop. And just because I’m writing about him, I thought I’d share a couple of vintage pictures of him and me before a special event at his High School.

Before getting ready to go.

After.

And here is the mom of the College Dude (who was, at that time, the High School Dude) letting said Dude know that at any time and in any place, he should never forget that she can take. him. down.

Or not.