Oh Christmas Tree, oh Christmas Tree

I love decorating for Christmas. Usually I go on a decorating frenzy, and put everything up in a day or two. But this year is just isn't working that way. I start decorating then after 20 or 30 minutes I am so tired I have to stop and rest. I feel guilty just sitting sometimes when I have so much to do.

I am determined, though. I am going to get this finished because there is something about looking at Christmas decorations that makes me smile even when I don't feel like it.

Giving Thanks

In 1971 I was in New York City on Thanksgiving Day. My high school drama teacher arranged to take some of the students to the city to see several shows, and we stayed in the Time Square Motor Hotel. It wasn't exactly a high class hotel, and I believe it was condemned not long after we were there.

The most interesting thing about the trip was the fact that we were not required to stay together as a group. The teacher just told us where to meet each afternoon and we were turned loose. I rode a subway, went to Macy's, ate from a hot dog cart, wandered around Broadway, and toured Central Park. I don't think we could get by with that these days, but all of us survived.

The highlight of my trip though, was not the big Thanksgiving parade. It wasn't even the Broadway shows. In fact, I barely remember either. What I do remember is the first time I stood at the base of the Statue of Liberty. I just stood there a long time and looked up in awe. Then I climbed the spiral stairs and looked out the windows in the crown. I'll never forget that moment.

This Thanksgiving I have a new never forget moment. It was on October 1, 2010 when I was told "The preliminary report says it is Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma."

Thanksgiving is a little different after being told you have cancer. You still enjoy the turkey and dressing, you laugh at the weirdness of the relatives, and you still pretend to like watching football. But deep down your prayer of Thanksgiving is very personal.

Today I am grateful for a successful surgery. I am grateful for scientific advancement, and for the skill of my doctors as they continue to treat me.

I am grateful that I can still enjoy pumpkin pie.

But most of all I am grateful for the people in my life that surround me with love and hold me in their thoughts and prayers.

I am blessed.

I need a little Christmas

I usually start listening to Christmas music sometime in August. I hide it of course, because some people just wouldn't understand. They might think I am weird. I'm not. Well, maybe I am a little. I imagine people in the cars next to me think I'm really weird if they see me singing Frosty the Snowman at the top of my lungs...while it's 102 degrees outside.

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I know it's overly commercialized, but what I love about it is the feeling of Christmas. If you are like me I don't even need to explain it. It just is.

Last night we went to a wonderful community theater production of "White Christmas." The stage play is quite different from the movie, but a lovely story just the same. The play captured a little of that feeling I'm talking about, especially when the audience was invited to sing the well-known and well-loved title song. This time one of my favorite songs made me really sad, though.

I can't sing.

The doctor doesn't believe my vocal cords have been affected, even though much of the time I can't speak very loud. But I can't sing at all. Believe me, I've tried. Nothing comes out, nothing even remotely recognizable as a musical note. I don't like it. I will have to just sit and listen this Christmas, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. I'm angry, I'm sad. I'm frustrated.

And it's not fair.

meltdown.

I am so sorry I forgot to put my cancer on your calendar. What was I thinking?

Sure. I'll take it easy on my first days back. I'll get right on it as soon as I meet all your deadlines.

Heading for the hump

I made it through Monday. I made it through Tuesday. I'm not sure I can make it through Wednesday. I am really tired after my first two days back at work.

I don't feel like I've even been doing anything. I've been in meetings. I haven't been running around the block, I haven't walked any distance, and I even took the elevator down two floors when normally I would have taken the stairs.

I don't think I could possibly have done less. Well, maybe I could have. I guess I could have propped my feet up on the desk and just spent the day reading Facebook. But I didn't. I really tried.

I want to get back in the swing of things and do my job. But it's slow. I'm ready to get this cancer thing over and done with.

I have stuff to do.

Hi ho, hi ho...

It's off to work I go.

Tomorrow I go back to work after three weeks. I am actually a little nervous about it, but it has nothing to do with the cancer. I am nervous about how in the world I am going accomplish everything that has piled up on my desk. I've already checked my calendar and know that my boss has me scheduled for meetings all week. I have three meetings tomorrow alone - on my first day back.

I am worried that I can't do it. I am worried that I will try to do it.

This is hard.

Just sayin.

Today someone that I have always loved told me that I was using my cancer as an excuse to avoid stress.

If that were the case, I think a shot of tequila would actually have been more effective.

Through the storm

A couple of days ago we had some really intense weather that woke us up in the middle of the night. It had been a long time since we'd seen rain. I think I heard on the news that it had been more than 50 days, so the rain was actually welcome. But this one was a whopper of a storm.

It's hard to imagine how anyone could sleep through thunder and lightening like that. I have talked to people before who have said they can sleep through anything, but I can't.

Eventually the storm subsided and we went back to sleep. When we woke up it was much cooler outside and looked like we had quite a bit of rain. It was a beautiful morning and even the plants in our garden seemed to be smiling a little bit.

This week I saw my surgeon and he gave me good news. Since we caught my cancer early (and there was no visible spread) he said he would put me in a "low-risk" group for metastasis. Good news indeed. I'm still somewhat nervous about what my future holds, but now I feel like I've weathered the worst of the storm.

Some day it may rain again, but right now I'm smiling a little bit, and I am grateful for beautiful mornings.

A three-hour tour

Gilligan and the rest of the passengers on the USS Minnow's three-hour tour became survivors the minute they knew the Minnow was sinking.

I would think that being stranded on a deserted island would tend to bring out the best in a person's survivor skills. Even though they all got wet when the boat went down, Mrs. Howell never lost a diamond, Ginger never had a hair out of place, and Maryanne never lost her perkiness. Then there was the Professor, who topped them all. With nothing but a coconut, palm fronds, and fish bones he built a 1.21 gigawatt radio tower.

There is a saying among cancer survivors that says "You become a cancer survivor the day you are diagnosed." I don't feel like a survivor. I feel like I am just recovering from surgery.

Survivors have had a mastectomy and lost their hair. Survivors have scars all over their heads from melanoma surgeries. Survivors are weak from chemo. Survivors fought hard through their life and and continue the battle every day.

I am not worthy of the same status as those courageous individuals who are still in the fight for their lives. They are the true survivors.

I'm just on the island with the other seven castaways.