A CURE!!!*

So ya know how people find out ya have cancer and they are sure they have the cure?  We've got our first one.  Mr. Lime was waiting for me anxiously to arrive home so he could give me the simple alternative to surgery involving the words "neck dissection" (and isn't that a fun word for the day, kiddies?) and follow-up ingestion of radioactive isotopes rendering me untouchable for a week or more. (I wonder if that comes with a complimentary goat-hair dress and some groovy temporary tattoos replicating leprous lesions so I can go about alerting passerby than I am "Unclean...unclean!!! Stay away!  I'm unclean!")

Yes folks, with just a little cannabinoid oil I can be cancer free!  According to this reputable source, it's derived from.....(looks around suspiciously)...marijuana!  In case we're worried about the hallucinogenic effects we are to fear no more because the oil distills out all the nasty stuff and leaves us with the godly bits intended for our health and healing.

I kid you not.  This was the recommendation given to us.

Here then is the subsequent conversation at Chez Lime.

Mr. Lime: I'm telling ya, this is it...we have to move to Seattle now.  Forget the states where it's only medical marijuana that's allowed.

Isaac: We don't need to move I can hook ya up with all the pot you need.  I know about 50 kids at school who sell it.

Calypso:  Yeah, just down the block we can find four kids who sell it.

Me: Ok, you all are talking about moving to where pot is legal and everyone but me knows where to buy this stuff locally and yet I am the one regarded as the crazy hippie liberal.  I can see my job is done here....

One thing I know for sure is we had a good laugh.  And good laughs are good medicine.


*Cure may cause cravings for snack foods

Happy Mother's Day

 For Mother's Day one of my requests was to be able to take some family pictures.  We usually do that on Easter but folks were flung in all different directions.  My family indulged me on Sunday.  Aren't they a lovely looking bunch?

We all get a bit bored with traditional, everybody say, "Cheese!" pictures. So we decided to get some good actions shots.  What?  You don't canoe in your moss covered front yard?  Well, I can't help it if you lack a sense of adventure.

We needed to practice looking our best.

I wanted Calypso to be well-groomed so I decided to emulate a proper chimpanzee mother.










Diana found the whole process very tiring.

Isaac is 6'3" now.  I needed to squish him down a bit to fit him in the frame with shrimpy little me.










Everybody ready?  Smile!

Oooh, look what some smiles and a black and white filter does for this bunch.

The Bad, the Ugly, the Good, and the Funny

Next step for me is to get into a surgeon's office to have my thyroid out.  Calling the one I was referred to I was told they could see me in...August....four months from now...after we've been dicking around for two months already.  I asked if they heard the word cancer at which point the charming woman on the other end of the call asked snidely how I knew I had cancer.  I let her know I was looking at the pathologist's report for my biopsy, I am actually literate, and just in case I couldn't read the ordering physician had explained it all to me.  She grudgingly suggested the doctor fax over my records and maybe they could squeeze me in sooner.  Seriously?  Don't do me any favors.  Really, don't put yourself out.  So I called another office and they wouldn't even answer the phone.  Next up in ideas for Slice of Lime posts I get literal and perform my own thyroidectomy in the kitchen with my steak knives and a bottle of rubbing alcohol....

In other news in the "I can't make this shit up" category, Mr. Lime very lovingly and supportively sent me a beautiful basket of flowers at school the day after my diagnosis.  They were gorgeous and so appreciated.  Since my library is ridiculously small and my desk is student-sized without even enough room to put an extra book on it let alone a large basket full of flowers I asked the secretaries in the office if they'd like to enjoy the flowers for the day and I'd pick them up before I went home.  They were delighted. 

I was wiped out at the end of the day so I just put the flowers in my car without looking too closely at them.  After I got home and went to add water to it I noticed the arrangement was missing 4 roses, 3 carnations, 2 tulips, a skinny iris looking flower, and a significant chunk of filler bits.  That's a LOT of flowers, folks.  The only thing they didn't take any of were the daisies.  What? Too common? Forgive me but my first thought was, "Who the fuck steals someone's 'sorry you got cancer' flowers?!"  Does this lowlife troll funeral homes waiting for mourners to dab their eyes so he or she can make off with lilies and gladiolus?  All I can say is karma's a bitch, baby.  I wish I felt more charitable but I don't. 

Ok, rant over.  Onto the good stuff.

I've been really touched by the kindness and support I have received already from so many people.  I'm humbled by it.  Emails, phone calls, posts full of punchlines to make me laugh, gag gifts and books, prayers and good thoughts offered, and well-wishes from someone I figured would be happier If I didn't even exist.  Some of it has left me speechless it has touched me so much, ALL of it has encouraged me greatly.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

And now, I will end with something I hope makes you laugh they way it did me.

As a preface, you need to know my children now roll their eyes almost audibly when I make some ridiculous request....because I have cancer.  Calypso was describing her love of Jane Austen.  She mentioned the opening line of Pride and Prejudice never fails to make her laugh.  I had to confess I'd never read it.  She went on to extol the virtues of this work against others in Ms. Austen's oeuvre.  I had to confess I'd never read any of it.  I'll pause a moment while some of you gasp in utter horror.........................................and we're back....feel better now?  As I waited for Calypso to regain the powers of speech I admitted I realized I now risked being disowned by her.  She recovered, sputtered, "Well yeah, you do!"  Then she smiled wryly and added, "But I won't.....because you have cancer."

Well played, kiddo!

May Day!

The day started with lovely sunshine and warm weather.  I was at school helping a class of second graders check out books when my phone vibrated in my pocket.  I had called my endocrinologist before classes hoping to get the results of my biopsy. She was calling me back.  I had to play phone tag and returned her call once the class and the substitute teacher filling in for a particularly inept coworker were both gone.

Over the last two months I have gone through many tests and procedures.  I've changed family doctors due to inexcusably poor communication and totally inaccurate information being given.  I've been on medication to deal with symptoms of the whacked out thyroid so I can function in daily life and they have helped greatly.  I have, however, noted changes in my body over this course of time.  I have found reputable sources of information and read up on my situation.  I have read reports of my own tests before doctors have been bothered to communicate with me.  In spite of the odds being in my favor and although I do not tend to consider myself a worrier I came to suspect what the results of the biopsy would be.  Nonetheless, nothing really prepares you to hear the words "confirmed malignancy."   Upon hearing them I called Mr. Lime at work and decided to go home.  One the way I had a bit of a cry.  I am deeply grateful to the friends who let me rant and cry as I made my way home and waited for Mr. Lime to arrive.

He let me rant a bit more, made me some lunch, and we sat down to watch "What About Bob?" together because I needed a laugh.  After the movie we went to the doctor to get the details.  The good news is I am told I have the most treatable form of thyroid cancer and the form which has the best long-term outlook.  For that I am very grateful.  Next step is surgery and if I understand correctly, that's when I will find out how much this thing has or has not progressed.

Because I need to maintain a sense of humor in order to not go nuts and because laughter is the best medicine (and eating an apple a day has not kept the doctor away) I decided to milk this thing for the day and get a few things done I haven't been able to do thus far. 

I needed an extra gooey hot fudge and peanut butter sundae....because I have cancer.

I need my son to pick up his shoes.....because I have cancer.

I need my daughter to clean her room....because I have cancer.

I'm going back to work tomorrow and tell the incompetent coworker he needs to get off his lazy ass and do his own damn job.....because I have cancer.

I need some new pants because mine are falling off me....because I have cancer.

I need a new bookshelf to hold my to-read pile of books...because I have cancer.

I need the holes in the basement wall to be repaired...because I have cancer.

I need the grocery store to run a special sale just for my order....because I have cancer.

I need the electric company to waive this month's bill....because I have cancer.

I need May to be full of perfect weather....because I have cancer.

I need Hugh Jackson to go ziplining with me...because I have cancer.

Ok, your turn.  Suggest some ridiculous or outrageous demands I ought to make.  I need to laugh....because I have cancer.

The Power of Books

I am in fourth grade.  We have a period in our school day called SSR, sustained silent reading.  For fifteen minutes a day we are all, including the teacher, to be reading for pleasure.  We are allowed to choose any book we want, even a comic book.  The teacher sets a timer to let us know when our time is up. 

I look forward to SSR every single day.  It's part of what is keeping me sane this year because the teacher is a nightmare.  I've never gotten in trouble in school.  I am careful to do my homework and turn it in.  I get good grades.  For some reason though this teacher has it out for me and for about three other girls in class.  He looses our homework and makes us re-do it.  He accuses us of misbehavior when we are behaving.  He makes nasty comments at every turn. 

SSR is my chance to retreat into some pages and find relief. I may only be nine years old but books have been my refuge for a long time already.  It's easy to get lost in the world between the pages and I often do.  This is something encouraged by both my parents.  They regard it as a good thing.

Two years ago I discovered a biography of Helen Keller.  I was amazed by her teacher Anne Sullivan who was able to reach into a world of silence and darkness and anger and rescue a little girl who had no way to make herself understood before.  I was impressed by Helen's determination to overcome once she understood there was a world of words at her disposal.  It gave me hope that I could deal with whatever problems I had because mine certainly weren't nearly so challenging. 

This year I have found biographies about Martin Luther King, Jr. and Harriet Tubman.  They are more people who overcame more than I ever imagined could happen to a person.  I read about how Dr. King was able to allow himself to be mistreated without striking back in order to make his message be heard and to demonstrate the rightness of it.  I learn his powerful words that challenge us to our best selves.  I read about Harriet Tubman's bravery to not only escape the abuse of slavery but courage to walk back to it in order to bring others out.  I learn she could not read books but she could read people and nature and she did not allow her deficiency to define her.

I read all of these things during SSR, during the respite from harsh words and taunting words and what I will one day learn are entirely unprofessional and inexcusable words.  I am lost in my book, inspired, refreshed, strengthened, when I hear more words.  "Miss Lime... Miss LIME....MISS LIME.  Well class, I suppose we'll just move on to math class without her since Miss Lime can't seem to be bothered to join us.  She's too involved in her books."  His last word drips with disdain before he lets loose with a derisive cackle with the class joining him.  When his words and laughter register I feel a fleeting moment of shame before I remember the character and lessons of my true teachers in between the pages of my books.  This man and his methods are unworthy of my embarrassment.

April

April seems to keep accumulating negative sorts of anniversaries both for the world at large and for me personally.  This April seems to also be refusing to allow Spring to fully arrive.  One thing I do like about April is that it's National Poetry Month.  I have not yet honored that so today I will share a poem I heard for the first time this week.  It reminded me of one of the places I have found solace since I was a child.  In a week which involved bombings, and health crises, and a celebration of the Earth, it seemed so fitting on so many levels.

I know a number of other folks are having their own set of struggles so I offer a simple poem which spoke to me in the midst of frustration and concern. I hope others may find a moment of rest as well.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.


— Wendell Berry 

Endurance to Overcome

I am not a runner.  I never have been.  I don't expect I ever will be.  To me, running is a form of torture.  It it endless, pounding torment and an inability to breathe.

Mr. Lime is a runner.  He has been a runner since he was a teenager.  He has run more races than I can count, two of them have been marathons.   For him, running is sanity.  It is how he clears his head after a long day at work.  It is where he finds peace.

I freely admit I was not in the least bit happy when he decided to run his first marathon because I was an at-home mom with three young children and Mr. Lime was already very busy with work and volunteer activities.  The training regimen to prepare for a marathon was, to my way of thinking, just more time away from home for him when I was already feeling rather desperate for a break.

I also admit I did not have an inkling what running meant to my husband until the day came when he could not do so.  Then I understood clearly that this activity was what made him fit to live with.  I am happy to say he was able to recover from that which prevented his running and get back on the road. It keeps him healthy both physically and mentally.

Over the years he has coached a number of different sports and Isaac has played several as well.  It has been interesting to note the personality tendencies among different sports or among positions within a given sport.  Perhaps to those who have always been athletically inclined this is all quite obvious, but for me, the non-athlete, the one who avoided organized and competitive sports it has been a revelation.

I've grown to understand that runners are a different breed, marathoners especially so.  Over the years so many of the races Mr. Lime has entered have been connected to the benefit of a charity in order to raise money for research and awareness within the community.  I don't have any actual figures but I can't think of any other competitive sport that would so consistently have such events in such great proliferation.  Charity games may occasionally be organized within other sports but so often they are mere exhibitions if they occur at all.  And believe me, I'm all for that, make no mistake.  It's just that if you're looking to see real competition don't expect it in a charity baseball game because the players aren't going to want to risk being injured for their real games.

Another difference is the more egalitarian aspect of races.  You'll find elite world-class athletes who have teams of professionals coaching them running in the same race as guys like Mr. Lime who train themselves, as well as people who run under adverse conditions such as various "disabilities"  (I use the term loosely because if you manage to complete 26.2 miles you're doing better than many able-bodied folks).  Of course, Mr. Lime and the others aren't going to give the elites a run for their money but they will run the same course at the same time and cross the same finish line.

There is also the respect between runners.  The fiercest competitors may actually be training partners and though they give it their all there is often a genuine happiness for whoever has won because they understand what was required to get through a long distance race.  Although it is a solitary activity and competition there is a community that emerges from enduring the endless road hours in preparation through all sorts of awful weather, through injury and illness, through your own mental roadblocks, and sometimes through the disapproval of the people around you.

I don't know any of this from personal experience because I'd rather crawl over broken glass than run.  I know it from observing my husband and others like him.  And so, from observing both his character and the character of other runners I've known, I was deeply touched, but not at all surprised, to see during the London Marathon this weekend a massive crowd stood in silence before the race to remember the victims of the Boston Marathon Bombing and that so many of the runners held their hand over their heart as they crossed the finish line to honor the same victims.  May those victims find similar endurance to overcome the obstacles in their paths.