Why Are We So Angry?

Something happened to me this morning and I can't stop thinking about it.  I saw something on social media, Facebook, and I was so troubled by what I read; so disheartened by the words of a few people, that I lashed out at a whole town.  A town that I call home.  A town full of people that I love.  A town that is reeling and hurting.  I denied my hometown and I am ashamed.  I worry that I offended people and I am sorry.  I let a few haters color my perspective, change my mood and affect my behavior; and for that I am deeply troubled.

I've been thinking about the nature of negativity and anger.  We seem to be an angry people these days.  We are quick to offend and easily offended.  We watch our leaders attack each other verbally, and we tune into news broadcasts which seem to thrive on keeping us angry.

I read an article a while ago titled, "I Lost My Father To Fox News."  The writer claimed that his father, a once reasonable man, had spent so many hours listening to the rhetoric of hate and anger spewed by Fox News that he had turned into an angry, frustrated man with whom it was impossible to have a logical, reasonable conversation.  If you know me very well, you know how I feel about Fox News, so you can imagine how tickled I was with that story.  I quoted it and used it as ammunition against the faux news channel.  But, this morning as I sat in my bed watching CNN and finding myself filled with righteous indignation over some teaser story or other, I realized that it's not just Fox News...it's all of them.  Some are more blatant and obvious about it, but it does in fact seem that the media thrives on keeping us angry.

Today I watch as the newscasters debate some story of social significance, taking different sides and actually yelling and getting worked up to make their respective points.  They bring in experts who speak in circles and try to sound smarter than the other expert, they argue their points, they make sarcastic comments to and about each other and anyone who doesn't agree with them.  I watch the anchor actually pound his fist on the desk to emphasize how angry he is about the subject at hand.  

With the report of the fist banging still echoing, the same anchor turns his body slightly to look into another camera, the angry grimace melting magically into an ingratiating smile as he announces, "Up next - Do you like dark or milk chocolate and what does that say about your personality?  We'll be back after the break," and the camera pans out as that same group of newscasters, so adamant just moments ago, now debate what kind of chocolate they prefer.  No wonder we are angry.

It's troubling to me how quickly people are to jump on social media to spread some message that is sure to offend or even incite, without even checking the facts.  People share and spread memes, blogs and articles without verifying the sources or confirming the truth.  Why are folks so quick to jump on the anger band wagon?  Why does it seem we are looking for a reason to get mad?  Why do our news media engines feel the need to feed and fan the fires of that anger?  Who benefits from so much anger?

Maybe it's time to try something different.  Instead of letting them get us worked up, turn them off, tune them out, and turn up the love.  Turn up positive thoughts and good deeds.  Make only positive posts and loving comments on social media.  Turn off the violent television shows and movies.  Turn on loving conversation with family and friends.  Turn off gossip.  Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you.  The greatest thing in this world is to love and be loved in return.  Give and receive so much love that there is no room in your heart or your world for anger or hate.

I am making a vow right now to think more positive thoughts and kick out negativity and anger.

Won't you join me?  Let's all work together to bring more love, light, joy and peace into the world.

Turn off anger, turn on love.

What are your thoughts on stopping negativity and spreading more love in the world?

Wondering Why

This is an oldie that I came across in my scribble files.  It was written about the same time as "Song Of The Sea" and kind of shares a common theme.  


Wondering Why

I’ve been wondering why

the world turns the way

that I’m walking into the sun

And I’m listening as

the sea sings its song

I feel like my new life’s begun

I’m not arguing that

the goings been good

but it’s wearing me to the ground

We’ve been weathering storms

with sticks and with stones

without ever making a sound

I’ve been harboring ghosts

who’ve haunted my dreams

and it’s high time to set them free

No more lingering doubts

or long lonely nights

It’s clear as the sun on the sea

I’ve been wondering why

the world turns the way

that I’m walking into the sun

And I’m listening as

the sea sings its song

I feel like my new life’s begun

Like Your Eyes

A little scribble inspired by a stormy morning at the beach.  There were ominous storm clouds over the ocean; rain, thunder, pounding surf...then a rainbow.  

Like Your Eyes

The wind howls for you
The sky cries
     There is violence in the sea
     The ocean is angry with me
The surf pounds for you
The sun lies

The sky is grey for me
Passion dies
     There is violence in my head
     My heart aches for you instead
The sky is grey for me
Like your eyes

The wind lays down for you
Heavy sighs
     There is violence in my dreams
     My world torn apart at the seams
The clouds part for you
The sun tries

The sun shines for me
Hope flies
     There is calmness in my soul
     The sunshine comes and makes me whole
The sky is blue for me
Like your eyes

Hope Is Where The Heart Is (3)

It has been 6 months since Scott finished cancer treatment, and it's time for the first post-treatment scans.  It's been almost one year since we first heard the word "chordoma."  Life has gotten more or less "back to normal."  Scott is working regularly, and is doing very well.  His strength will take a while to come back, he still gets fatigued, and he still has a deal of pain, but when we think about all that he went through, it's a miracle he is doing so well.

Now we prepare for a return trip to Boston for scans.  I've picked up a new term over this last year, "scanxiety."  Following the chordoma support group on facebook, I've read many stories of the fear and anxiety leading up to follow up scans.  Chordomas like to come back, and that's a scary thought.

In it's own weird way, almost scarier than initially hearing the diagnosis.  Thinking back, once the "C" word was out, all focus, thought and energy went into figuring out what needed to be done next and dealing with setting up treatment, surgery, travel, lodging, caregivers, insurance, financial aid, etc.  There wasn't enough time or energy left over to worry about even the possibility of treatment failing or a return of the tumor at some point in the future.  But now, with all that behind us, I find myself terrified at the prospect of going through it all again.

Having watched Scott handle whatever was thrown at him for 6 months, I can't imagine having to watch him endure it all over again.  I have figured out that when people refer to cancer patients and survivors as warriors, and talk about fighting and staying strong, it's because the cure is hell.  Cancer patients go through hell to come out well again.  To watch them making that journey through hell with grace and especially with a sense of humor, is truly something amazing to observe.  But, they do it because it's what must be done.  Life wins.  But, to knowingly take that same path again, and sometimes again and again...to walk back into hell, with the memory and scars of your last visit there still fresh on your brain and your skin and bones, takes more strength and courage than is right to expect of any human being.  But, they do it everyday.  You do what you have to do to live.  Because life wins.  Still, it breaks my heart for Scott having to even contemplate the possibility of walking back into hell while he is still healing from his last trip.

I know that his scans will be clear.  I KNOW they will be clear.  And, I truly think he believes that they will be clear.  He hasn't expressed a lot of fear or scanxiety, but it must be there.  I've joked that I am more nervous about it than him, but of course that isn't true.  I think his dreams are troubled, how could they not be?

His scans will be clear this time, his scans in 6 months will be clear, and the next and the next, and the next, and so on...  HOPE is strong, HOPE is strength, HOPE is courage, HOPE IS WHERE THE HEART IS.

Hope Is Where The Heart Is (1)
Hope Is Where The Heart Is (2)

Alligator Alley

I can see the first glow of the sunrise in my rear-view mirror as I go through the toll plaza, heading west on Alligator Alley.  The posted speed limit through the toll booth is 25 MPH, but only the tourists go that slow and nearly cause the local drivers to have accidents and strokes.  I tap the brakes, slowing to a modest 40 as I cruise through the lane marked “Sunpass Only.”  The credit card sized sticker on my windshield makes no sound, and I smile to myself thinking about the old transponders. 

They were clunky grey boxes that stuck to the windshield with suction cups, which didn't always do their job when the glass was heated by the Florida sun and often ended up on the floor.  When passing through a toll booth, the old transponders would beep reassuringly to let you know the toll had been paid.  Years ago, when my mother could still travel and my parents visited often, I had given them a Sunpass transponder and set up an account on my credit card.  On one of their drives from north Georgia to the Keys, the battery was weak in their transponder and it didn't beep when going through a few of the tolls.  My mother worried the entire drive and the way home (even though we replaced the battery for their return trip.)  She was convinced they were going to be arrested for not paying those tolls.  A few years later they were planning another visit, when Daddy told me that Mama was scared to go back to Florida because she worried as soon as they crossed the state line they would be arrested for dodging those tolls two years earlier! 

Accelerating rapidly, I merge from one of 6 toll booths back into two lanes.  Thanking my Honda Pilot’s V6, I quickly pull ahead of the slower traffic and make my way to the left lane.  The speed limit on Alligator Alley is 70 MPH, so when the needle hits 80, I set the cruise control and relax.  Nothing but straight, flat, smooth interstate for the next 80 miles or so.  I hope it’s early enough that I won’t hit much traffic.  I left my house at 5 A.M. for a 10:00 meeting in Sarasota.  Normally that drive takes me just a little over 4 hours, but it's season and the traffic in all of south Florida has been terrible for a month.  The snowbirds have definitely arrived.  So, I allowed 5 hours, giving myself plenty of time for a relaxed drive.  I lean back in the seat and turn up the music.

The road in front of me is straight and flat.  The median is wide, so wide that in some places the oncoming lanes aren't visible.  The terrain is flat and scrubby.  Scraggly palm trees dot the landscape, surrounded by lush palmetto, cattails, saw grass and wire grass.  A canal borders both sides of the interstate, but I know there is also plenty of water under all that green.  They don’t call it the River Of Grass for nothing.  As the first rays of the early morning sun reflect off the surface of the canal to my right, I see a dark shiny arrow shape cutting a wake slowly across the glassy surface of the water.  My first ‘gator of the drive!  A little further up the road, another glance to my right reveals two large alligators sunning themselves on a rock beside the water.  I am both fascinated and terrified of alligators at the same time.  One of my biggest fears is crashing into the canal and being eaten by ‘gators!

Singing along with Adele about being your one and only, I am really getting into it when I notice that I’m approaching a car ahead of me in the left lane.  For a brief moment, I allow myself to hope that he will see me approaching and move over to the right lane as it is wide open.  Getting ever closer and with no sign of a turn signal, that slender hope fades.  Hoping to avoid releasing my cruise control, while I’m still several car lengths behind him or her (in my mind, I’ve already named them Indiana Lexus,) I go ahead and move over to the right lane preparing to pass without even getting upset about it.  As I come alongside Indiana Lexus, they suddenly accelerate, pulling ahead and leaving me behind.  Shrugging and shaking my head, unsure what reason could have prompted such behavior, I’m just happy to be rid of them, and continue in the right lane without ever changing my speed or coming off cruise.  I go back to singing.  Adele has been replaced by Brandi Carlile singing about the lines on her face.  I glance up at my reflection in the rear-view mirror and think about the stories the lines on my face tell.

For almost ten minutes I drive in the right lane with no other traffic in sight, singing and ‘gator spotting.  After a while, I notice that I am approaching a car in the right lane ahead, so I verify there is no other traffic behind and slowly drift over to the left lane.  As I get closer to the vehicle in the right lane, I realize that it is Indiana Lexus.  Once again, as I come alongside them, this time on the left hand side, they suddenly accelerate and speed off ahead.  “Weirdo,” I say aloud.  No problem, I continue on.  

Within just a few minutes, I start to close the gap between myself and Indiana Lexus, who is now in the left lane because there is a semi in the right lane ahead.  I peer around and it doesn't look like I can get around IL before catching up to the truck.  So, I approach patiently, releasing my cruise control for the first time.  Looking down at the speedometer, I watch the needle drop from 80 to 75, now 70…Indiana Lexus slows down to 65 miles per hour as we are passing the truck.  I admit that I cuss at this point.  As IL finally starts to pull ahead of the truck, I assume they will move over since they are going so slow.  But, no.  I am forced to wait until I also finally pull ahead of the truck, and have to change lanes and once again pass Indiana Lexus on the right.

As I come alongside them, what do you think happened?  At this point I am getting angry.  My peaceful morning drive, singing and looking at wildlife, is being seriously harshed.  But then, after hanging neck and neck for a mile or so, they finally drop back and I see them in my rear-view mirror, moving over to the right lane.  Satisfied, I turn up the music and once again begin to sing along.  Now it’s the Avett Brothers, “Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in…”  It’s fun to sing along with the Avett’s, especially when they get to the screaming parts; as long as there is not another soul within ear shot.

There is another semi-truck in the right lane ahead, so I make sure it’s safe and move to the left lane to pass.  In my rear-view, I see Indiana do the same and fall in behind me.  Without changing my speed (I’m still on cruise control) I begin to pass the truck.  Indiana Lexus is coming ever closer in my rear-view.  By the time I am clear of the truck, they are on my ass so bad that I can’t see their headlights.  Now I am really mad.  Of course I don’t move over once I’m clear of the truck.  Resisting a strong urge to tap my brakes and scare the crap out of them, I just maintain my position and speed.  Finally IL moves over in front of the truck, accelerates and speeds past me on the right.  Resisting another very strong urge to flip them my middle finger, I admit that I look over, hold up my hand and give him (yes, I finally see that it's a him) the “WTH?” gesture.  My will power is rewarded with a middle finger out the window as the Lexus speeds by.  

Thankfully, I have reached the end of Alligator Alley and the first Naples exit is only a couple miles ahead.  I slow down just a bit and decide to stop for the usual pit stop stuff, and for a “breather,” but mostly to let that jerk get out of my life before I respond and ruin my day.

I make my way back onto I-75 north a little later, sipping a fresh hot coffee and listening to Little Feat sing about all the trouble I've had today, and I wonder about Indiana Lexus.  What do you think was going through his mind during that time?  Did he think that I was being aggressive and that he was totally innocent?  I often wonder about the mentality of people on the road and wish that cars had cartoon thought bubbles over them with the driver’s thoughts inside.  I’m always saying, well probably yelling, “What are you thinking?!”  In discussing this phenomenon with others in the past, I've heard people say that it is of course a competitive streak, and that we are all guilty of it.  As much as I drive, I've given this a lot of thought and I don’t agree. 

I think it’s probably two different types of people.  1)  The competitive driver doesn't like to be passed, likes to aggravate other drivers just because he can, even possibly without truly realizing it.  2) The distracted driver who just doesn't pay attention to their speed or lanes until they realize another vehicle is involved, and then they respond in such a way to make the matter worse.  Either way, I don’t have much patience with them.  

I try to drive the speed at which I’m comfortable; I move over for faster traffic and expect the same in return.  In general, I try to drive in such a way that my actions never cause another driver to change their behavior because of me.  And, I expect the same in return.  Unfortunately, I realized long ago that my expectations are always miles too high.  

I hope my return trip across Alligator Alley will be uneventful.

The Way You Say My Name

She misses the way he looked at her
The way he said her name
The way his kisses caused her to shudder
His touch like igniting a flame

He misses the way she wanted him
Made him feel like a man
The way her kiss set his head to spinning
On fire from the touch of her hand

     Has the spark gone cold?
     I miss the heat of the flame
     Has this love grown old?
     I miss the way you say my name

     I miss the way, I miss the way 
     I miss the way you say my name
     I miss the way, I miss the way 
     I miss the way you say my name

She misses the way he looked at her
The way he said her name
He misses her kisses that caused him to shudder
Her touch like igniting a flame

     Has the spark gone cold?
     I miss the heat of the flame
     Has this love grown old?
     I miss the way you say my name

     I miss the way, I miss the way
     I miss the way you say my name
     I miss the way, I miss the way
     I miss the way you say my name

Blame It On Sunday

(I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote most of this, dictating it into my phone, tune and all.  Blame it on insomnia!)

Blame it on a day where 

   there’s nothing else to do

But sit here in my chair     

   and think about you

I might have a couple drinks     

   to calm my shaking hands

Then I’ll have a couple more     

   just to wash them down

Just to wash them down

Just to wash them down

I have memories of moments     

   they’re frozen in time

They play out like a movie     

   across my mind

I can keep it all inside     

   hold it all at bay

But the dam bursts open wide     

   every single Sunday

Every single Sunday

Every single Sunday

Blame it on a day where     

   whiskey takes control

Numbs me so I don’t care    

   breaks down the wall

I’ve cried rivers of regret     

   the tears of a clown

Drowning in a bottle     

   head spinning round and round

Head spinning round and round

Head spinning round and round

We said that we’d be okay     

   just you wait and see

Now I wallow in self-pity     

   this one day a week

Blame it on Sunday     

   don’t lay the blame on me

Blame it on Sunday     

   don’t lay the blame on me

Don’t lay the blame on me

Don’t lay the blame on me

Never Is Enough

The question you asked is hanging in the air

Just floating in between us there

Time around me seems to be stopped

The temperature in the room just dropped

As I realize that we aren’t getting anywhere

People always said that we were such a pair

When we went out they’d stop and stare

Things didn’t turn out like we’d hoped

Would’ve been different if we could’ve coped

Now it’s time to analyze how much we still care

You asked me when is enough?

When is enough, when is enough enough?

When two people are in love

Some are never asked to prove

Most will never force the move

Not until the pushing comes to the shove

Or their lover calls their bluff

Then they’re forced to choose or to lose

So, tell me, when is enough?

When is enough, when is enough enough?

When two people are in love

Never is enough,

Never is enough, never is enough enough

When two people are in love

The question you asked is still hanging out there

Begging me to answer if I dare

Trust is a bubble that shouldn’t be popped

But love is a mountain that can’t be topped

Nobody ever promised you that life would be fair

They always said our kind of love was rare

Flying high on a wing and a prayer

If love is a power that can’t be stopped

A signal so strong it won’t be dropped

Then there’s nothing in this world that we can’t bear

You asked me when is enough?

When is enough, when is enough enough?

When two people are in love

Some are never asked to prove

Most will never force the move

Not until the pushing comes to the shove

Or their lover calls their bluff

Then they’re forced to choose or to lose

So, tell me, when is enough?

When is enough, when is enough enough?

When two people are in love

Never is enough,

Never is enough, never is enough enough
Never is enough,
Never is enough, never is enough enough

When two people are in love

__________

Surrounded By Palm Trees

I was going through some old writings and I found this poem and journal entry from one month after moving to the Florida Keys, so this would have been written in December 1997.  It's funny to try and put myself back to that girl, newly arrived on an island with the whole world waiting outside her door.  In some ways it seems like just yesterday, and in others like an eternity ago.  I have truly come to take it for granted that the sun shines most of the time, I see palm trees if I look out my window and the ocean if I leave my house.

Palm trees.  I am now surrounded by palm trees.  Every way I look, I can see palm trees.  The wind in the palm trees sounds like rain.  I love that. 

Mangrove trees are cool too.  Like the palms, they co-exist with the ocean and the elements, tough yet flexible, clinging to life and to the land against all odds.  Mangroves not only dig their roots into the land, but help to create the very land that gives them life.  In the movie Key Largo, Lauren Bacall compared herself and people who made their homes in the Keys to Mangroves, digging their roots in and becoming a necessary part of the land. 

I really love the Keys.  I am still in awe of the fact that my home is on this tiny strip of land surrounded by ocean on all sides, joined to the mainland by one road that is nothing more than bridges between islands.  Nearly 100 miles from mainland Florida, about 100 from mainland Cuba.  It’s like living on the edge of the world.  Frightening, exhilarating, and yet just life, we live day to day and work, love, laugh and play and in only one month have come to take it for granted in small ways.  This is where I live.  And I love where I live!

Song of the Sea

I hear the cry of the wind, hear the song of the sea. 

I feel that hot tropic sun shining down on me. 

Give me the wind in my hair, give me love, set me free. 

Give me peace in the shade of a swaying palm tree.

I've wanted to do this for years

I’m going to do it this time

I’m learning to hold back the tears

and I’m leaving old ghosts and fears.

I've finally made the decision

I’m sticking to it this time

my senses and intuition

are honed to a fine precision

There's a yearning inside me

that can only be eased 

by sunshine and sea

I can't deny, it’s meant to be

My soul needs the shade 

of a swaying palm tree

I hear the cry of the wind, hear the song of the sea. 

I feel that hot tropic sun shining down on me. 

Give me the wind in my hair, give me love, set me free. 

Give me peace in the shade of a swaying palm tree.

I Had A Dream

I think I had a dream or a vision

Or maybe I saw it on the television

They were rioting in the streets again

When will the poor people learn they’ll never win

The police shot another unarmed black kid

One side is full of contrition

One side stands by its convictions

It’s only when the fights begin

The people start to understand

They have no voice and they never did

It seems I’m having that same dream again

I watched as the fighting and crying began

Some marched in the streets chanting hands up don’t shoot

Some yelled and encouraged to burn and to loot

The police shot another unarmed black kid

One side demands justice for all

One side stands above the law

Until they’re made to pay for their sin

And look past the color of their skin

People will rise, the light of peace will be hid

I heard a great man say I have a dream

He tried to tell the people what it means

Tried to teach and preach the path of peace

Ushered in equality and sweet release

Then the police shot another unarmed black kid

_____________

Thankful Heart Happy Heart

Thanksgiving was very interesting this year.  Several weeks before, I had been trying to decide whether or not to cook Thanksgiving dinner.  I wanted to go back to Chattanooga, but we just weren't ready to travel again after being gone so long and home so little this year.  We often spend the holiday with some good friends here in the Keys, but hadn't yet made plans, so we were up in the air.  Then, Scott received an email from Al.

The very first phone call Scott made to Massachusetts General Hospital back in April was answered by the admitting RN, Al Ferreira, at the MGH Center for Chordoma Care.  Al was our contact at the hospital for pretty much everything.  He navigated the red tape, scheduled the appointments, coordinated the whole team of doctors/nurses/radiologists, answered our questions, assuaged our fears, and fought the insurance company for pre-approvals and pain med authorizations.  He was a friendly face during morning rounds in the hospital after surgery; he took Scott’s stitches out, and he was a friend to just shoot the shit about Dr. Who when that’s what Scott needed.  Just a few weeks ago, he was kind enough to take time from his busy day to get on the phone with me and the insurance company fighting another charge they were trying to deny.  He was the first person Scott spoke to at the hospital and the last person we said goodbye to.  The entire staff at MGH was amazing, but Al made it all work.

So, the email said that he and his wife were going to be waking up in Key West on Thanksgiving Day, leaving at 10:00 a.m. and driving to Fort Lauderdale.  He wanted a recommendation for somewhere to get a turkey dinner about 2 hours up the road from Key West.  Of course, we suggested that since our house is almost exactly 2 hours from KW they should join us for Thanksgiving dinner, and they accepted.  I was happy to cook and we were tickled to get to host them in our home.

I have written about Scott’s battle with Chordoma, and there is a lot more about it on his Caring Bridge page.  

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/scottyoungberg/journal

Basically, it is very rare bone cancer.  Very rare.  They call themselves one in a million.  There are only about 300 cases in the U.S. per year.  About half of those are treated at MGH, which is why Scott was there and also why we actually know quite a few chordoma patients from all over the world even though there are so few of them.  But, the one that totally blows the statistics is the other sacral chordoma warrior right here in the Florida Keys.  Out of roughly 80,000 people in our little chain of islands, there are 2 in a million.  How ‘bout them odds?

And it gets stranger.  The guy lives right here in the upper Keys.  And we have, like, a ton of friends in common.  We had never met Jeffrey and his lovely wife Shevaun before this all started, but I guess life or fate or karma or something has a way of bringing people together.  As soon as friends in the Keys started to hear Scott’s story this past spring, the first thing many of them said was, “That sounds like the exact thing Jeffery has.”  Before we knew it, mutual friends put them in touch, Scott called Jeffrey and a friendship began.  Jeffrey was also treated at MGH, had the exact same team of doctors, and basically the same procedures except unfortunately, his was significantly worse.  His chordoma was one of the largest they had treated at MGH.  His battle has been even longer and harder than Scott’s, with a few more after effects, but he is also finished and cancer free! 

Of course, Jeffrey and Shevaun knew Al, so we also invited them to join us for Thanksgiving dinner and they accepted as well.  It was quite a day of giving thanks!  Just being in the company of both Scott and Jeffrey for their first holiday since kicking cancer’s ass was such an incredibly positive and uplifting feeling. But when you added Al into the mix, one of the people directly involved in saving both of their lives, it was kind of magical.  I know Jeffrey and Shevaun both felt it, I hope Al and his sweet wife Ginger did as well.  We all tried to thank Al and tell him how much he meant to all of us throughout the whole process, but he shrugged it off.  I just hope he got a feel for how much he means to the patients he helps. 

I don’t think anyone can go through something like cancer treatment and not be changed by the experience.  Just being the caregiver of someone in treatment has changed me.  Life seems a little more precious.  I feel like I've been given a gift of seeing more clearly the people who truly love and support me and to more easily forgive and let go of those who don’t.  Sometimes it’s been surprising to learn who is in which column.  The generosity of people has humbled me.  I will be forever a more charitable person as a result of this experience.  Every day is a gift and I will try and greet each as such.

 

I am so proud of Scott for how strong he has been and how he fought and won his battle.  It was a hard year.  Cancer treatment is weird medicine…making people sicker to make them well.  The treatments were tough and I know there were days when Scott wanted to quit, but he kept going.  So did Jeffrey, so did little Madi in California, so do all of the Chordoma and all the cancer warriors every single day.  If they can wake up with a smile and a thankful heart, we should all strive to do the same.

It was a real pleasure to have such an amazing group at my Thanksgiving table this year.  As Jeffrey often says, “Peace, love and light” to you all.

Our good buddy Wood was invited to join us as well but wasn't able to make it.  He did, however, do his usual rogue decorating…

__________________

Where In The World Is My Mama?

Mom is not getting better.  If anything she is getting worse, according to Daddy.  Since being put under anesthesia for surgery on her wrist over a month ago, she has not been the same.  The theory seems to be that sometimes elderly people have trouble coming back from being put under, especially if there was any dementia at all prior to.  And she did have signs of slight dementia starting.  She imagined bugs and got some crazy notions in her head, but nothing serious.  I mean, she’s always been a little bit crazy, but I had noticed some slight slipping over the last year or two.  But, it’s like my brother Ken said, “On a scale from 1 to 10 of dementia, she went from a 1 or 2 to an 8 or 9 overnight.”  It is very frustrating because it’s now been 6 weeks since the surgery and she shows no signs of improvement. 

It seems like she cannot differentiate between her dreams and reality.  And she apparently has some doozy dreams…

She gets fixated on things and will not be convinced they are not true.  It’s almost like she’s in a waking dream…or series of recurring dreams.  One of the recurring ones is that the nursing home is shutting down and they are kicking her out.  One day Daddy arrived at her room and she kept talking about all the furniture out in the hall.  She said they were gutting all the furniture from all the rooms because the place was shutting down the next morning.  Of course Daddy tries to humor her by going back out into the hall and looking around.  He tells her there is no furniture out there, but she argues with him about it.  Then she tells him the nurses told her the power was being turned off later that day because the place didn't pay their electric bill.  She insists they are “putting her to the street in the morning.”  I know how badly she wants to go home, and I’m sure this is just her mind working out a way for that to happen.  In her mind, if the facility kicks her out, she’ll have to (get to) go home.

The nurses and staff bring all of her meals and drinks and manage her medications for her now.  For years she has been very meticulous about her pills; organizing them in her pill boxes and keeping charts of when she took what.  Now she is often convinced that the nurses are getting them all mixed up and giving her the wrong meds.  On those days she refuses to swallow the pills; one day she even spit a pill back out into the water glass.  Other times she is positive that they are trying to poison her and she won’t eat.

Another of her recurring fantasies involves money.  I’m sure her subconscious mind still holds onto all the worrying she did about their financial situation before the house was sold and most of the bills were paid off last spring.  She gets upset at Daddy, telling him that it’s his fault, he messed up something and now they owe thousands of dollars and everyone is mad at them and they are going to be homeless.  He tries to explain to her that they are ok and the bills are being paid, but she argues and won’t believe him.

The kind of comical one is the imaginary party going on at the hotel across the street.  She claims there is a hotel across the road from the nursing home, and people are always having big loud parties.  Apparently, they come and get her from her room in the middle of the night and make her go to the party even though she tells them she doesn't want to go.  We think she imagines the hallway outside her room is the “road” and when she hears people talking or laughing in the hall, she imagines they are having a party.

 

She constantly sees people who aren't there.  She thinks people spend the night in her room.  One day there was a cat that got into everything and ended up hurt but nobody would help it and it was running around crying.  Her ongoing bug/insect hallucination has just gotten worse.  The bugs from the house in the valley that had followed them to the mobile home have now followed her to the nursing home and the place is infected.  The other day she asked Daddy if he saw those firemen come through the wall.  She said there was a smoke in her room and a hair dryer caught on fire so the firemen came through the wall and took care of it…no, they didn't tear down the wall, they just came through it.  It would be almost funny if it wasn't so disturbing.

 

The one that hurts is that she imagines I am there a lot, sometimes there in her room, sometimes I’m at the party, and I either ignore her or I am outright rude or mean to her.  Daddy tries to tell her that I wasn't there, and she says she knows I’m in Florida, but then she will still insist that I was there the night before and was mean to her.  When I got to visit her last month, she asked me why I wouldn't speak to her at the party the night before.  I explained to her that I had just gotten to town and wasn't even there the night before, and she said maybe she had dreamed it.  I agreed that she must have dreamed it.  I told her how much I loved her and tried to tell that the next time she thought I was there and being rude or mean, she should tell herself that she must be dreaming because Suzi wouldn't treat her like that.  But I spoke with Daddy yesterday and it seems I had spent the night with her the night before and had been “plumb ugly” to her.

I know I shouldn't take it personally.  Poor Ken had her look him right in the eye and say “I hate you” because he wouldn't take the cast off her broken wrist.  And I know Daddy puts up with it every day and is able to let it roll off.  I know it’s not really what she thinks or feels, it’s just the disease or whatever it is that has gone wrong with her wiring.  In a lucid moment she will tell me that she loves me so much and doesn't know what they would do without me.  I know that she loves me and that she is proud of me and that she realizes how much I have been there for them and how much I've done for them.  But, I can’t help but wonder what is it in her subconscious mind that defaults to making me the bad guy.

Maybe it’s because I took charge of their financial situation last year and told them straight up how things were and what they had to do.  Perhaps somewhere in her poor mind she resents or even blames me somehow for having to move.  I know she feels like we forced them into the mobile home, even though we tried to make them understand they really didn't have a lot of choices.  Again, I know that in a lucid moment she fully understands what happened and realizes that we more or less saved them from a very scary financial future.  But, if she is currently acting out her subconscious and her dreams, it seems obvious that she is still working through all of that, worrying about money and housing.  Perhaps her worried mind has somehow put me in the role of the authority figure, the parent so to speak.  That doesn't really explain why she would imagine me ignoring her…I know I’m stretching.  Maybe it’s simply because I haven’t been to visit in a while.  Perhaps she simply got used to me being there so much over the last few years and now her confused mind doesn't understand why I haven’t been around lately.

 

I know I shouldn't take it personally.  But that is easier said than done.  As of today, it seems she is having trouble remembering how many children she has.  When Daddy told her she had three, she argued and said she thought maybe she only had two.  Of course Daddy said it broke his heart to hear her ask that.  I've tried to brace him for the day he shows up and she doesn't know him.  He says he knows it might be coming.  We talked a little bit longer, and something was said again about her not remembering her kids.  I laughingly said that I didn't even want to know which one of us she didn't remember.  Daddy didn't volunteer an answer, just laughed and changed the subject.  So, hmmm … but don’t take it personally, right?

We have decided to go home for Christmas because I can’t stand the thought of Daddy alone his first holiday in the new place, and I want to see Mama.  I’m really worried that she is giving up.  Daddy said she has made several comments about it not being worth it, and how maybe her time is over and she should just give it up.  When he questions her further on the subject she waves it off, but I can tell it worries him.  And I know it has to be so frustrating to her in her more lucid moments, because she does realize that she gets confused.  And now Dad said she has stopped talking about going home.  That worries me.

Ken took this picture a few weeks ago.  She doesn't even look like the same woman I've always known.  The way she holds her mouth and the set of her eyes are completely different.  I just wish we knew what has happened.  Where in the world is my Mama and is she coming back?

I Dreamed It Snowed Like Buffalo

If you have turned on a tv, listened to a radio, read a newspaper or simply logged onto Facebook lately, you probably know that Buffalo NY suffered a record early snow fall this week.  Not just a little light early November snow, but feet and feet of snow, thunder snow even!  Of course, watching the weather channel from the comfort of my home in the fabulous warm Florida Keys, my first thought is "How do people live like that?!"

It's interesting for me watching the news footage of cars and portions of houses nearly covered in snow drifts.  To be honest it is how I always think of Buffalo, New York.  When I was a child I remember hearing about a big snow storm in Buffalo.  I think now that it must have been the blizzard of '77 which left Buffalo frozen under for days.  I just remember hearing about the cars buried in drifts, people trapped inside their homes because of snow drifts over their doors, and I was both fascinated and terrified at the same time.  I would try and imagine snow that deep but at that point I had never seen more than 2 or 3 inches of snow in my life.  The thought of snow deeper than I was tall stretched even my pretty vivid imagination.  That's when the dreams began.

It was a recurring dream theme for a while afterwards.  Usually it began with my brothers and me opening our front door to find a solid wall of snow packed against it.  We would dig a tunnel out into the yard, then start digging upward so we could get above the snow line.  Since we were just children, and in my dreams the snow was a good 12 feet deep, we had to make a ladder of our bodies and would send Mark up to pop through the top since he was the smallest.  Once Mark confirmed that he could get through the top crust, we would make stair steps in the vertical tunnel so we could all climb up and have a look around.  Of course Ken designed the tunnels and figured out how to get rid of the extra snow with a special process he came up with (the engineer even then!)  Yes, I had very vivid dreams as a child.  I can still remember the feel of the cold smooth snow tunnel, the cold air in my face when I stuck my head out the top; and the look of the world, all still and white and undisturbed, dotted with nothing but roofs and treetops poking through.  We would try to crawl out onto the top surface and see how long it took to start sinking.  My dream snow was very hard packed.

I swear I dreamed it so often that it almost feels like a memory instead.  As a teenager I met some girls who had lived in South Dakota for a winter as children.  They told stories of a snow stack in their yard that stayed all winter long, and how they had tunnels dug all through it and played in it all season.  It was funny how their stories brought back "memories" of my dream adventures.  And now, after all these years, hearing that Buffalo is snowed under brings to mind my dreams of snow tunnels.

Word Dancing

About a year and a half ago, I wrote a song called "Word Dancing."  I posted the lyrics on here back in June 2013 as "My New Song."  Since I don't play an instrument, the music that accompanies my words can be heard only inside my own head.  Earlier this year, my brother Mark and I were discussing song writing and I had mentioned having a couple of fully written songs in my head that needed to come out.  He volunteered to take a stab at writing the music for me.  So, several months ago, I sent him the lyrics for "Word Dancing" along with 2 recordings of me singing it a capella (bless his heart!) and here is what he did with it.  I am so tickled with his interpretation.

So, give a listen to our first sibling collaboration song.  

Is There A Doctor On The Plane?

It was like a scene from a movie.  We’ve all seen it.  Someone is sick in a public place and you hear “Is there a doctor in the house?”  Happens all the time on tv, in movies.

I was flying home from Boston the other day, on the last leg, after lunch and a couple of beers during the Baltimore layover.  Quietly dozing in my window seat, I startled when a flight attendant came over the speaker asking, “Is there anyone on the plane with medical training?...a doctor or a nurse?... please come to the rear of the plane.”  Several people got up and hurriedly walked to the back.  I was seated mid-plane.  I turned my head to look, but from the window seat I couldn’t see anything except for the flight attendants walking back and forth, looking worried.  One of them finally came back on the speaker and announced that there was a sick passenger in the rear lavatory and asked that no one go back there.  We were instructed to use the front lavatory only. 

Looking around at my fellow flyers, I was relieved and a little surprised that folks were so calm.  With the media inundating us with Ebola fear, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see more panic on the faces around me.  Luckily, most everyone looked to be taking it in stride.  They looked curious but not scared.   I wondered if we would have to land early, depending on just how sick the person was.  But other than a lot of hubbub in the rear of the plane, nothing more happened and we continued on our way.

Later, when the flight attendant announced that we were approaching Ft. Lauderdale and would be landing soon, she said that there was a very sick passenger on board.  She asked that everyone stay seated once we landed so the sick person could get off the plane quickly.  Upon landing, once again everyone was asked to stay seated for a moment and they actually did!  An older couple walked quickly from the rear to the front and exited the plane; the lady was wearing a mask.  As soon as they were off, everyone jumped up and the normal circus began.  Not another word was said about it.  

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Things I've Learned

Always try to be friendly
Don’t lose your temper in public
Never get too comfortable
Don’t lie because you will get caught

Everybody cries
Everybody makes mistakes
Everybody lies
Everybody gambles the stakes

I've learned how to cry myself to sleep
I've learned some secrets you should keep
I know I sleep hotter on my right side
I know how to smile when I’m dead inside
I've learned to lose and not keep score
I've learned to love the sound of your snore

Make the most of the here and now
Don’t waste time on worry
Remember this life is all that you get
Don’t expect more than someone’s got to give

Everybody cries
Everybody makes mistakes
Everybody lies
Everybody gambles the stakes

I've learned you catch more love with honey
I've learned you need more love than money
I know there’s no cap on your quotient of sorrow
I know that the sun will still come out tomorrow
I've learned not to wrestle with regrets
I've learned that this may be as good as it gets

Everybody cries
Everybody makes mistakes
Everybody lies
Everybody gambles the stakes

Everybody tries
Everybody strives for their own sakes
Everybody dies
Everybody ends doing what it takes

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Missing The Feline Familiar

I didn't write this, but I really like it.  Missing  my SugarBear.  If all goes well, he will be home in less than 6 weeks.

The Cat’s Song

by Marge Piercy

Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.

My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says

the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing

milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.

Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.

I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,

to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.

Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.

You feed me, I try to feed you, we are friends,

says the cat, although I am more equal than you.

Can you leap twenty times the height of your body?

Can you run up and down trees? Jump between roofs?

Let us rub our bodies together and talk of touch.

My emotions are pure as salt crystals and as hard.

My lusts glow like my eyes. I sing to you in the mornings

walking round and round your bed and into your face.

Come I will teach you to dance as naturally

as falling asleep and waking and stretching long, long.

I speak greed with my paws and fear with my whiskers.

Envy lashes my tail. Love speaks me entire, a word

of fur. I will teach you to be still as an egg

and to slip like the ghost of wind through the grass.

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Showing My Age

Spending so much time in the hospital recently has made me aware of my age in relation to the majority of the working professionals.  The staff at the hospital was all SO young.  I expected the nurses to be young, but I swear some of them look like teenagers to me.  Even the doctors were young. From the dashing young intern to the oncologist, all were much younger than I would have expected.  Even the surgeon, a renowned and published surgeon, director of several departments, professor at Harvard Medical School, and on the Who's Who list of surgeons for not only Boston but for the entire U.S., is one year younger than I am.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm not so old yet that I don't trust those young whipper snappers to know what they're doing.  I am impressed and amazed by the whole operation of Massachusetts General Hospital.  There are a lot of great minds working there, so what if a lot of them happen to be younger than me.  But, it does hamper the use of pop cultural references and movie quotes.

One morning during rounds at the hospital, the doctor was attending to Scott's incision, etc., and it was obviously causing pain.  At one point, Scott cried out "Candy bar!"  The group snickered but I could tell they just thought it was a silly thing to say; not one of them got the reference.  I said to Scott jokingly that they were all probably too young to be familiar with "Little Shop of Horrors." Their blank faces told me I was right, and we didn't bother trying to explain Bill Murray's masochistic character...

"I definitely need a long, slow root canal" 

...or even attempt to describe Steve Martin's brilliant portrayal of the crazy, sadistic dentist.  

"You'll be a dentist, 

you have a talent for causing things pain.  

Son be a dentist, 

people will pay you to be inhumane."

"Oh that hurts, wait I'm not numb."

"Open wide, here I come!"

A few days later, not to give too much information, but Scott was having the normal difficulty getting things "moving" after surgery.  The doctors had told him he couldn't be released from the hospital until there was movement. His very young and cute little nurse, Meghan, offered a laxative. She assured him it would be mild, to which Scott replied, "Well if I'm going to take one, give me one that's sure to do the job.  Like Gallagher said, 'rough me up!'"  Meghan smiled an indulgent nurse smile, but again, it was obvious she didn't get the pop culture reference; she had no idea who Gallagher was.  I laughed and once again said as much, and she confirmed she had never heard of him.  This time, we decided not to just let it go.  So, we started trying to explain Gallagher to her. Of course, we thought she would have heard of the sledge-o-matic.  Nothing.  

"The handiest and dandiest kitchen tool you've ever seen...and don't ya wanna know how it works?  The tool that is not a slicer, not a dicer, not a chopper in a hopper. What in the hell can it possibly be?  It's Sledge-O-Matic!"

We described it in detail, "So, he would take a sledge hammer and smash watermelons with it, and it would spray all over the crowd!  And the people in the front row would wear plastic because they knew they were going to get covered in pulverized fruit!"  Etc., etc.  We were laughing just talking about it.  But Meghan looked at us in all perfect seriousness and said just one word.  "Why?" Absolute silence in the room.  Why indeed.

Later when Scott was trying to get out of bed and walk around for the first time, we didn't even try to explain to the sweet young nurse on duty why we laughed when he told himself "Wiggle your big toe."  Didn't even mention that we had watched both Kill Bill movies the night before his surgery or clue her in that it was the reason for the catchy little tunes we were both constantly whistling or humming.  (For me, it was Elle Driver whistling "Twisted Nerve" as she walked through the hospital resplendent in her nurse uniform and matching white eye patch with the little red cross on it.  Classy creepiness.  For Scott it was Bill's haunting pan flute rendition of Zamfir's "The Lonely Shephard."  I think I need to get the movie soundtrack.  Who can resist singing along with the 5,6,7,8's..."who who, who who who. who who, who who who..."  Tarantino always has the perfect quirky music.)

"You didn't think it was gonna to be that easy, did you?"

"You know, for a second there, yeah, I kinda did."

"Silly rabbit."

"Trix...are...for kids." 

My favorite quote from the Kill Bill movies, but apparently the younger generation doesn't get that one either.  I saw a Quentin Tarantino forum recently where someone wrote:  Just wondering what the phrase "Trix are for kids" refers to. Is it perhaps from a past QT movie or is this only explained in Vol.2?

Of course, it's a play on words of the name Beatrix, but what got me on the forum was how many were clueless that it was an old cereal ad.  I really didn't even know it wasn't still a current ad. Do they even make Trix anymore?

So, for at least the remainder of the hospital stay, we just kept our pop culture references and jokes between ourselves, and felt superior to and a little sorry for the poor younger generation because they just don't know what they missed.

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