Ta-ta(s) Bosomundheit

It is time to bid Bosomundheit farewell -- our mission to kick the CBitch's ass being well accomplished. I have considered this idea before and rejected it out of a state of emotional unreadiness. Today the timing seems to be right, the stars aligning for moving beyond what this blog was intended to achieve.

There is, however, a restlessness astir within me to keep on writing through another blog, although it's hard to say when that endeavor would get underway. Bosomunheit, though static, will remain live for now, serving as a notification board of when my new writing venture begins.

I am grateful to all of you who have not only followed me on this journey via my blog, but have supported me through prayer, friendship, laughter, and love. To all of you from Bosomundheit:

Through Our Eyes

I am at the Spielman Center today for another six-month check up with my oncologist, Dr. Lustberg. The parking lot is at capacity this afternoon, which is bad and good. It means too many women are going through treatment, but it also means they are receiving treatment at a state-of-the-art facility from a dedicated staff and world-class doctors. I am humbled to have had that advantage.

On these check-up days, I always arrive wearing my coat of invincibility, the one that helps me believe that I am cured of cancer. It is a cloak I wish to wrap around every woman I see in the waiting area so that they too can again experience a life free of the CBitch. I am not naive. I know not all battles are won, some warriors are lost. For me, that's where the gift of faith, my belief in Christ's promise, makes all the difference. Note I said makes a difference, and is the difference, which isn't the same as saying the trial is any less.

My visit with the doc is more than 30 minutes behind schedule. Not complaining because I know she gives every woman she cares for 100 percent and more.

Pics o' the Day

Veteran's Day sunset.

Froggie Friday!

Lost in Thought

A relentless reflective mood has stalked me the last few days. I'll be in the middle of a project and, WHAM, my thoughts go skittering forward then backward and finally in circles. I'm guessing that what has me stirred up is the new job, six month check-ups, approaching holidays, my mom, my dad.

That's really all I have to say. Pretty sketchy for my first post in more than 30 days. Nevertheless, the thought-bug was buzzing round in my head and it had to be let out somewhere. I'll do my best to come up with something more substantial for my next post.

"I shall not die but live and declare the deeds of the Lord." -- Ps 117:17

Leave-me-nots

Authentic cranberry bog growing at the
Governor's Residence & Heritage Garden.

Pics o' the Day

Xtreme-ly Xcellent

I'm stating the obvious by saying that no matter how old we are there are still many "firsts" to be experienced -- big and small. A recent "first" for me was watching the odometer on my faithful Xterra turn more than 100,000 miles. I've never owned a vehicle -- new or used -- that achieved so many miles, let alone being the sole individual responsible for putting on those miles.

When I divide the that number by the age of the Xterra by how many years I've owned it, it comes out to approximately 16,600 miles annually. Pretty average all-in-all.

There is more to this, of course, than the "turning over" of the odometer. I bought the Xterra one month after losing Ron, so this mileage observation has me looking back at where that truck has taken me, physically and emotionally.

Fort Myers Beach -- three times (one of which included pulling a camper to-and-fro)
Multiple Ohio State Park camp outs
Countless nighttime ramblings with Sedona, up, down, and around central Ohio roads in the wee hours, driving out grief, working through the challenges of the CBitch, and figuring out how to navigate other general life challenges
Through breast cancer diagnosis and 30 days of radiation

To my most favorite, special spot in Ross County -- Holcomb's hill

Golden Memories On A Silver Anniversary

RJ's childhood friend, Keith Mills and his wife Linda
with us on our big day, Sep. 30, 1989

Twenty-five years ago today, I stood at the altar of Holy Name Church and married the most handsome, gentle-hearted, and loving man. It was to me a storybook day: the skies were clear, the temperatures cool, we were surrounded by people we loved, and our life-adventure together was underway. We were blessed to have a perfectly imperfect marriage. And, in the face of some notable challenges and deep sorrows our love never flagged, it only grew stronger.

Yes, I so very much miss my RJ and wish he was here beside me today. The fact that he is not cuts my heart deeper than I will ever be able to acknowledge. Still, God gave us 20 love-filled years together and I can't argue that gift.

My dad and mom with us on another
big day: renewal of our wedding vows,
on Culebra Is., March 19, 2009

Today Is About Joy

A few posts-ago, I hinted that change was afoot for me; it has now come to pass. On September 29, I started as Chief of Staff for the Buckeye State's First Lady. It was an unexpected offer, a once-in-a-career opportunity, and one in which the only answer was "yes!" I am blessed that both my professional and personal life experiences have prepared me to take on this new and exciting role. I will for sure miss my colleagues and friends at JO, but fortunately, we will continue to work in close proximity to each other.

Life is an ever-twisting path, upon it we find days of joy and days of sorrow. I am thankful to have the good Lord holding my hand along the way!:)

"I saw the Lord ever before me, with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed." -- Acts 2:25

Pic o' the Day

My first First Lady event; celebrating the graduates of
CATCH (Changing Actions To Change Habits) Court.
Click on the link above to learn how this amazing
program is helping to support victims of human trafficking.

Done, Over, Finito!

Nurse Judy and Mickey on "graduation" day!

I drove home from Florida two weeks ago. Got Sedona and the Turtle all settled in at the house then flew back down to Fort Myers Beach to be with my mom for her final chemo. Before returning, however, I asked if she wanted to wear my skull-and-barbed-wire do-rag to her last treatment and she said "yes!" I tell you, my mom totally kicks ass -- she rocked it on that last CBitch treatment. I have no doubt she'll start feeling stronger and more confident about her health the farther away she gets from Sep. 23.

My mom and I had some really great conversations during the nearly 2.5 months that Sedona and I called Fort Myers Beach home. While the insidiousness of cancer was not an infrequent topic, it certainly did not rule our exchanges. Lots of reminiscing and lots of looking forward -- we also talked about the grace we've received from God to help us through this trial.

It's been an adjustment returning to Ohio, and I'm not referring to the weather. I miss being around my parents every day. My siblings and I are fortunate to have a mom and dad as wonderful as Mickey and Bill.

September 27

Happy Birthday, baby - we miss you.

Different, But Not. Gone, But Here

Lindsay & Ron at Bucca
on her 16th BDay

There are certain days of the year when being uber busy and focused on the "now" is a good thing. September 13 is one of those days; it is one of the "torment-a-versaries" in my timeline. On this day 12 years ago, we lost our Lindsay to a brain aneurysm. Lindsay was a beautiful, vibrant 17-year-old high school senior with a big heart and contagious smile -- and the apple of her dad's eye. I often wonder what she might be doing had she remained with us. Would she have pursued a career in nursing? Would she be married? And, almost impossible to consider, would she have a child? But, I get stopped in my fantasy tracks every time over the incongruity of it all. Dreaming of her life  means dreaming of Ron's life. Emotionally, my heart no longer separates Lindsay's death from Ron's death. I do not cry for one without crying for the other. September 13 and April 8 belongs to both of them.

Andy with our nephew, Josh

Of course, as I go down the path of ruminating first on the loss of Lindsay and then the loss of Ron, I inevitably examine the loss of my brother, Andy, who died in a car accident Feb. 4, 1996. It is not with disrespect that I lump all of these torment-a-versaries together, rather it is love that binds each of these extraordinary lights of this world.

I don't know if any of that makes sense. Their deaths don't makes sense, so I guess it doesn't matter. I miss and love you Linds, ditto RJ and Andy.

(l-r) Harvey, Lindsay, Aunt Helen & Andy

Hopefully the video below will work. It's from 2002, just about two weeks before Lindsay died. I was trying out our new video camera and we recorded a message for Ron's mom...

Final Phase for Her and Something New for Me

My mom has two more treatments before putting her own wrap on the CBitch. You would be amazed to see how well she's doing. Her greatest nemesis at this time is pronounced fatigue, but even that seems to be more bearable for her as she moves closer to the last treatments. To quote a recent text from my cousin, "she's tuffer'n a leathery ol' reptile!"

As Sep. 23 draws near, I have begun to recall my own treatment finale. A nearly uncontainable elation filled me in those days as I considered how the much-dreaded chemo cocktail would soon cease poisoning my body. Yet layered within that inextricable joy was an irrational fear that I would hear Doc Lustberg say, "We underestimated how much chemotheraphy you needed and we have to keep on this schedule until the end of the year." And that was just one of the crazy thoughts that kept me up at nights!:) In trying to stay zen, I often recited the following from St. Francis DeSales:

"Do not fear what may happen tomorrow. The same loving Father who cares for you today will care for you tomorrow and everyday. Either He will shield you from suffering or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace then and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginings." 

I mention emotions because while my mom and I have talked about many other things relative to her cancer, we haven't talked about what's buzzing through her brain on that level. We've talked about logistics (getting to and from the Lee Memorial Regional Cancer Center). We've talked about how long we think it will take for her hair to start filling back in (it's thinned, but not all gone).  We've talked about the absurdity of cancer's attack on the women in our family (my sister, me, her -- in that order). In the end, though, not talking about some emotions is just fine. I get it, because strength can sprout by keeping the very personal to one's self.

Oh, and the something new for me I alluded to in the title of this post? I will be back in Ohio full-time as of Sep. 29 with a new assignment. More to come on that subject!:)

Pic o' the Day

Sedona can now add gator-tamer to her list of accomplishments!