In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
Am I allowed to say I’m a cancer survivor when I didn’t know I had cancer? On the fifth of May, as I lay groggily in a hospital bed, the Husband relayed the good news to me from the Surgeon. “’The surgery was a success!’” the Surgeon said. Cancer was found but it was noninvasive.” Huh? Last week, I went to my follow-up appointment with the Surgeon, who said again, with a big encouraging grin, “The surgery was a success!” He gave me a copy of my biopsy report, summing it as such: A benign tumor was found on the layer of muscle tissue of the uterus wall and paratubal cysts were discovered on a fallopian tube. There were a lot of cancer cells, but they were all contained within my uterus. They had not yet embedded themselves into the uterus wall—the saving grace. Several days later, my brain has begun to process it all. I don’t understand it. How I got cancer. Was it because my womb, who really ought to have a name, didn’t get to carry life? I imagine my uterus was looking
Two Fridays ago, the sunflower plants (those standing green guys in the background of the photo) were about one-third the size they are today. Two Fridays ago, I was sleeping off the effects of a robotic laparoscopic hysterectomy in a hospital room over an hour's drive away from home. I am healing well, thank you. I think I have inherited the Mama's resilience genes. It could also be described as the gene that resists letting go, chilling, and not doing anything at all. Fortunately I have also inherited the Daddy's gene of that's enough being whatever, so I have decided that I will not work in the yard unless the Husband is with me. Did you think I was going to say not work at all? Ha! I appreciate all your warm thoughts, prayers, positive vibes, and well wishes. They're all helping me get stronger each day. Love you, one and all, Su- sieee ! Mac P. S. I'll write about by not-so-hysterical adventures soon.