Commenting

I am having problems with the comment page. Please email me if you would like to comment.

mrsbeasley123@yahoo.com

Sorry, I am trying to fix this, not sure why it isnt working.

A Lesson in Healing

Last night was the end of the Arts in Healing Class that this was the final project for. While I still have work to do on it, I am very proud of what I have done here.

For me this class was a way to begin a healing process that has been put off for so long due to prolonged exposure to more tragedy, more death.

The project was difficult at times and very time consuming but it never felt like work.

As my classmates presented their projects, I felt a peace and relief coming over each one of us. I was captured by some of the stories and my heart ached for some who are still experiencing pain and heartache.

We all bared our souls, and the class listened without judgement. We exposed ourselves in a place that was warm and loving and I think we all felt inspired by our stories.

The class was like a giant therapy class. Everyone was given a turn to share and we ended with an incredible presentation of a beautiful ceremony for healing and peace. It couldnt have ended any other way.

After the class everyone talked to each other and listened and one very sweet woman came up to me and said "I want to give you a hug, would that be ok?"

I am a hugger. I think hugging someone is one of the greatest ways to express comfort when there are no words. My husband and children disagree and find hugging awkward and uncomfortable. They are all unable to express most of their feelings and I think it is easier to hide when you are standing away from someone, not enveloped in their arms.

Thank you for your hug. I truly appreciated it.

After saying goodbye to KD and Marianne, I felt such a sense of peace as I walked to my car. I thought that I would feel that way because I would have Tuesday nights back again, but I was actually dissapointed that I wouldnt be there anymore.

No, the peace I felt was the beginning of a road of healing that I am going to finally allow myself.

If anyone is reading this and would like to include their stories or poems or anything you can leave a comment on any of the posts or you can email me at
mrsbeasley123@yahoo.com.

You all have made a difference in my life with your stories and I appreciate how much it took to do that.

It was a lesson in healing and I think this is one lesson we all deserve an A in.

Too little time

The story of the dragonfly has helped my sister in law get through some of the most painful moments of her life, even more painful than having hodgkins disease at 18.

My sister in law is the baby of 5, all the four above her boys. She is the baby and the only girl. We always wondered what kind of man she would marry. Who could ever fit in with the mix of brothers she had?

And then she met Jeff. He walked into the family like he had always been here. Just another one of the brothers. And yet just as easily an "outlaw" with the wives of the brothers. He treated my sister in law like a princess. He cooked and cleaned and when their son was born became the dad that all kids wish for.

He loved being a dad and he loved being a husband. He was up for anything. He fished, he drank, he was a good ol boy from Massachussetts. I know that doesnt make sense but just go with it.

They moved back to Long Island and bought a house near the rest of the family in the Hamptons. He built a chicken coop in the backyard and ordered baby chicks that he raised. He was your perfect neighbor always offering to lend a hand and making friends with everyone he ever met.

In September of 2004 he was in his work truck and someone ran a stop sign and hit him. He was hurt. He had ruptured 2 discs in his back and spent months getting steroid shots, going for physical therapy and taking drugs that never worked.

Finally the pain was just too much to bear. He saw a doctor who recommended surgery. He couldnt work, he couldnt move and he could not take the pain. And let me just add that this guy could cut off his own finger and then play an entire football game. He was not a wuss. He was a big, strong guy and the pain was killing him.

We picked up their son Ryeguy from their house on a Monday. Hubby said the pain in Jeffs face was unbearable and he was glad he was finally having surgery to fix it. They checked into the hospital on Tuesday morning and he had surgery at around 8am.

He was supposed to come home the same day. He came out of the surgery in such excrutiating pain it was unbearable. My sister in law came over and was crying and saying this isnt right. My mother who had had the same surgery just 20 years earlier said No I felt that awful too, It takes time.

Jeff wanted to stay in the hospital. The nurses wanted him to get up, walk around, drink a ginger ale, eat a jello, pee and then go home. Jeff couldnt get up. The doctor spoke to him on the phone and said you have to get up. Jeff said I cant, the pain is unbearable. The doctor said Fine stay in bed, get a blood clot and die and he hung up.

The nurses said Jeff must have been a vicodan addict because the pain killers werent working. Jeff said I never took the vicodan because it never worked for me. She said yeah sure, you're a drug addict and we arent giving you anything else. He was slowly dying and being tortured the whole time.

Wednesday comes and he is not feeling any better and they tell him he has to go home the insurance wont pay and he still cannot walk. So my sister in law calls the doctor from my house and finds out the doctor who did the surgery is on vacation and his brother is on call. He will be fine the doctor says. He needs to get up. He cant says my sister in law. He has no choice says dr. killer.

So my sister in law returns to the hospital to find that they have packed Jeffs bags and checked him out of the hospital. She can barely make it to the car with him and calls ahead for her cousin to meet her at home so they can get him out of the car.

They live an hour away from the hospital. I tell her we will keep Ryeguy so she can get Jeff settled and we will bring him home later or tomorrow. She half argues but thank god finally agrees.

On the way home Jeff feels sick, he wants to throw up, he cant breathe. She figures it is the anesthesia and he just needs to get home and rest in his own bed.

They are not in the door for more than 2 minutes and he collapses in the front hallway. They call 911 who is there immediately and they take him away in an ambulance.

But he is already gone. A blood clot, lots of blood clots to the lungs and brain. Blood clots that had been building since the surgery. Blood clots that took away a father who wanted to be there for little league, for school events. A husband who wanted to take care of his princess, and give her more little children to love.

Hubby got a call while I was shopping at BJs that Jeff had collapsed. He got in the car and headed to the hospital. He got another call in the car that he had passed. Kaka his sister asked him to please go in and say goodbye for her. He did. And then he called me.

Hey whats up I say? Um Jeff passed away a little while ago. No Hubby No I collapse to the wall. I have Ryeguy in the tub and it takes every ounce of strength I have to keep it together for him. But somehow I look into the face of that beautiful boy and I say no honey everything is fine, because I just want him to have one more peaceful night of sleep before his life is turned upside down.

Was it preventable? The judges and lawyers said no. I say maybe. Maybe if the hospital has paid attention to a man who was crying out in pain. Maybe there was nothing that could be done but the last moments of his life did not have to be in such torment and despair. All that was needed was a little compassion, a little understanding.

I get angry when I think about what my sister in law has lost. I am angry that there was no one to blame except for the guy that hit him in the car. I am angry that there is a 7 year old child without a father because no one would listen.

My sister in law just got a dragonfly tattoo to remind her that maybe Jeff is in a better place. Maybe we are all just the waterbugs and someday we will all be together flying gracefully through the sky with our beautiful wings.

We never know how long we have or what our lifetime is. Jeffs was only 35 years but he made an impact that will last a lot longer than that.

Every time I see a dragonfly I know it is Jeff. Watching over my family and my sister in law, making sure that someday we will be together again. And we will make up for lost time. We miss you Jeff.

The Poems

When Professor Kronenberg visited our class and shared some poems with us I knew immediately that I wanted to write as part of my Arts in Healing final project. When she asked us to write two poems about ourself, one from the "I" perspective and another from the "she" perspective I had no trouble writing but I cried through both.

My sister in law had just passed away just 6 days before and my family and I had spend the whole weekend at the wake and funeral.

Although the poems were supposed to be about us the only words I could find where ones to describe the intense pain I felt at her loss.

The poems are below and I am still working on her story.

Her name was Stacie and she was only 27 years old. She died of a rare form of cancer called Osteosarcoma and Chondrasarcoma. Please visit the link I have provided of a cancer blog that discusses this terrible disease.

Poem #1

My heart aches

My heart races

It is raw

and the pain is all I feel now

The butterflies in my stomach land and take off again

Tiny bumps break out up and down my arms.

My hair stands on end.

I've been here before.

Too many times.

I know in time

the pain will ease, the butterflies will fly away for good

and all I will have left

is the memories of you

And the rainbow you once brought to my life.

Poem #2

She seems so strong
yet so soft
Rigid, Unwavering
Yet soothing and comfortng
She wants more
yet settles for less
She hides her aching
She thinks
Yet tears fall without thought
She hopes for better
but knows better
She always comes through
then cries alone
she is certain every time
it will be different now
Yet there is more pain, more death, more suffering
She wants time to pass
so healing can begin
She wants time to stand still
so no one else can pass
She wants to go back
And see you again
if only for one more smile
that you always brought her way.

Healing lesson #3
I do not pretend to know everything about life. And I do not understand why our loved ones seem to be taken so soon but I do know we have one life to share and every day that we do not use it to do something to heal another person or ourselves is just a wasted opportunity for growth.

There's just too much that time cannot erase

My brother in law George was in a snowboarding accident January 6th, 2004.

He suffered a permanent Traumatic Brain Injury.

He has returned to life with my sister as a husband, father and employee.

But he will never be the same.

This song reminds me of him and I miss him everyday.

I spent a month in Reno one day

I spent a month in Reno one day. This is a joke I told often as I sat in the ICU waiting room of Washoe Medical Center in Nevada. It never got any funnier, yet I felt compelled to repeat it as new people were introduced into our circle of despair.
In reality, I spent a month in that ICU waiting room. It is extremely accurate in its name, “waiting room”. There isn’t much else to do there. Unless of course they called it the “hoping room”, in that case it would describe the life of the people, waiting and hoping, that was all we did.
As the days went on we made friends with the other “waiters”, all with the same dull expression on their face. We would glance in the direction of the new members of our exclusive club, what are you in for? Car accident, you? Snowboarding accident. Oh. We all jumped when the heavy white door would swing open. We all cringed when we watched a family being called into the conference room. The news was never good. Good news was shared immediately in the waiting and hoping room. Bad news was saved and sheltered until the words could be spoken behind closed doors. Away from the hopers who already were holding on by a thread. No… we could not hear bad news in the waiting and hoping room. It just couldn’t be done.
Marilyn’s mom and aunt knitted all day long, in between visits into the circle of pain and suffering that went on behind the big white door. Only two people at a time were allowed to pass through that door to the place where the smiles were painted on while tears of pain and suffering dripped down your face. Most came out through that door sobbing like a child who just lost their puppy. Uncontrollable, heart-wrenching sobs that became as common place as exchanging smiles or handshakes when you meet someone.
Some only had two people waiting for them in that room. We were 3000 miles from our home on Long Island but we had the most people there, about 10. When the doctor said, “Tell anyone that wants to see him to come now”, we took that to heart. Streams of friends and family raced to JFK airport to make the 5-hour trip to Reno in the dead of winter. They left their jobs and their families to see him one more time. Or so that is what we thought.
Comas are hard to predict. The longer you are in the coma the less chance you have of coming out of it. The initial diagnosis was the worst it could possibly be. The lowest score on the Glasgow Coma Scale you could get was a three. That was what George was, a three. A three meant he did not open his eyes, did not make any sounds and had no movement even in response to pain. A three meant he might never see his unborn child. Just 6 months along, my sister sat with pain for two, not just herself. A three meant my children would lose their favorite uncle, the one who babysat more times than my sister and made ice cream waffle sundaes for breakfast. A three meant I would lose the brother I had always wanted and had found just 7 years before when he married my sister.
Nan’s family was called into the conference room many times. We held our breath for them, the husband and the two children in their 20’s, who eventually were forced to make the most devastating decision a family can make, when to pull the plug, when to give up and walk away from the waiting and hoping room. I desperately wanted to leave that room, but only with my brother in law, certainly not alone with that decision weighing heavily on my shoulders.
Jose’s family got good news frequently as they waited. There were a lot of them, his parents, his younger siblings, and his girlfriend who waited and hoped and filled the waiting room with bags of junk food, which included every fast food chain in Reno. He would live, but riding that motorcycle was definitely going to be impossible after the loss of that leg. It was good news that all he lost was his leg. We worried with them for his life and head injury. Yes, life could go on as an amputee. It was something we celebrated with snacks from the cafeteria.
The waiting and hoping room was closed for two hours during the day and from 10pm-8am at night. This forced us all to leave. If not for these rules we may have stayed forever. We had lunch from 12pm-1pm every day and dinner from 6pm-7pm. Life was so structured, so regulated. We began our mornings with coffee and a banana. A bit of a advice, don’t ever enter into a crisis situation with a pregnant woman. All I wanted was to indulge my pain and sorrow in ice cream, candy and fattening buttery delicacies. She ordered us fruit from room service. You cannot drown your sorrows in fruit. We ate at the hospital for lunch, soup and salad bar every day- broccoli cheddar soup and salad with ranch dressing, every single day, for a month. Dinner was our big excursion out of the hospital, especially after we were in Reno for ten days and moved from Harrah’s Casino in the high rollers room to the calmer confines of the hospital apartments. We were closer there, just in case.
We very rarely left that building but when we did those dinners out were filled with deep emotion. We never knew what we would find when we got back. Of course we all had our cell phones glued to us but with a crisis they tend to take care of the crisis first and then call later.
I had to leave for a week in the middle of the crisis. I had a conference in Florida that I could not miss. I tried to get out of it but I couldn’t and I agonized over this for every second leading up to my departure until I could get back to my position in that waiting room. I got the call when I was sitting in a movie in Florida that I had forced myself to go to for some peace from my overactive imagination.
“He opened his eyes”, my mother screamed into the phone. She had flown in and taken my place among the other waiters and hopers when I had to leave. “What does this mean?” I yelled back as I exited the painful screening of Cheaper by the Dozen. “Well, not much” my mother responded disappointingly “but I just feel like its something, right?”
It was something. He progressed from there, albeit very slowly. Time stood still for us that month in Reno. Life somehow had gone on around us but the lives of our fellow ICU friends and the others who waited and hoped never changed. It was hard to go back to our lives before. George was never going to be the same and neither were we. We felt scarred somehow with deep wounds that would soften but never heal completely. We felt unsure and we felt ill prepared for the future. The future that included words like Traumatic Brain Injury, memory loss, cognitive difficulties and lifetime care.
Waiting and hoping is what we did like it was our job. And it was, for the month I spent in Reno one day.

The Day the Mountain Screamed.. an original poem

The day the mountain screamed
it was a Tuesday
I think about 8 at night
I heard the gasp
I saw their face
I knew nothing would ever be right
they tried to hide it
they tried to smile
but they left on the next flight

there were wires
there were beeps
the room seemed to stay still
the time went fast
the time went slow
the hours were tough to fill
I prayed for strength
I prayed for him
God please…. its me Jill

he had the face of a rock star
a smile that melts hearts
he made us laugh, he fed us ice cream
I thought we would never be apart
But we don’t know where we are going
We don’t know what life has planned
Now he’s just there in our dreams
that day the mountain screamed

life went on
the years have flown by
the time spent together has been lost
he looks the same
but all is gone
Why did we try, what has been the cost
I am not the same
How could I be
the warmth we once had is just frost

what has happened to this man
a father to be
now he’s like a little boy
I want to scream
This is not fair
my family has lost its joy
we’ve pieced it together
we’ve held each others hand
we’ve cried oh how we’ve cried oh boy

he had the face of a rock star
a smile that melts hearts
he made us laugh, he fed us ice cream
I thought we would never be apart
But we don’t know where we are going
We don’t know what life has planned
Now he’s just there in our dreams
that day the mountain screamed

Oh yeah we don’t know where we are going
we just don’t know what is our life’s plan
He is there in our dreams, so many dreams
the day, oh that day the mountain screamed

Happily Ever After 7-30-84 for Eternity

This is our wedding song and everytime I hear it, it reminds me of how special our relationship is and how lucky I am to have someone in my life that I still adore after 25 years. Cancer can't take away what we have and no matter what the future holds I know we have lived for the moment and taken every opportunity to make the most of what ever time we have left.

Healing Lesson #2

When I came up with this idea to write a dedication blog for my final project, I didnt think it would be this hard. I knew all the stories were in my head and I just had to put them together and get them down "on paper".

The idea of the class, the healing, is truly coming through as I find myself crying as I am writing or laughing to myself about some of the stories. I find it emotionally draining to sit for an extended period of time and write such personal things. I cant help but make jokes and I know that may be offensive to some people but that is my way of moving forward. I love to laugh and I believe it is a big part of the healing process.

Healing lesson #2
Things I have learned along the way

I have learned to remember that we are only here for a short time. We only have one chance to journey through our days and make an impression that will last after we are gone.

It is very hard to remember that, when homework is due, the kids need shoes, the cesspool backs up. The day to day drearyness that tries to undo our perfectly planned life is what we have to watch out for. It can easliy engulf us and we will drown under the weight of it.

I laugh now.

As often as I can.

Quick Example...

My husband has a 2003 Nissan Murano that he loves and treats like his fifth daughter. It has 150,000 miles on it and can only live so long. About 6 months ago he was coming home from work when he got hit in the back.

Wait... here is the first funny part...the girl who hit him was a 19 year old girl with a bird on her shoulder.

Yes a bird.

Not only is that bizarre and weird but my husband is petrified of birds.

He walks up to her car to see if she is ok and sees the bird and says "oh you are ok, good you better stay in the car"

It was annoying and it was a pain, getting the car towed, getting a rent a car but everyone was ok, no one was hurt and the girl and the bird went on their way.

We call her pirate girl.

A few weeks ago, my husband is on his way to work and he calls me...

Nancy, you arent going to believe this.

I just got hit again in the back by another 19 year old girl.

My first response.. of course.

Did she have a bear in the car?

My husband sometimes forgets to be grateful and I have to remind him with inappropriate timing for my humor.

A bear?... why would she have a bear in the car.

I dont know the other girl had a bird.

I was passing by where the accident was and I beeped and waved.

He looked angry but I reminded him that no one got hurt and there was no bird in the car. Two things to be grateful for.

We just got the car back Thursday.

He was so happy to see his car that he had it cleaned and waxed. I think he may have kissed it hello.

Maybe not but you know what I mean.

Tuesday June 30th...I have a doctors appt in the city. My husband has a meeting in the city. We decide to go in together. Should we take his car or my car? I have no gas. The decsision is made then. We take his car and I keep thinking, this isnt a good idea, city drivers are crazy.

I drive all the way home in the car and go to work.

On my way home from work,(I live 1 and 1/2 miles from work)I am sitting at a stop light and all of a sudden...

BAM!!!

I get hit in the back... by a Lexus Truck.

I call my husband. You arent going to believe this. I just got hit in the back of your car.

Silence.

Are you ok?

I dont think so I said.

And then an ambulance came and took me away.

The brand new bumper, totally smashed, the fender, broken off, the tailgate, bashed in.

Me... a concussion, and whiplash, and hoping nothing else.

After they came and towed the car yesterday morning... I said to my husband, did the auto body place laugh when you brought the car in.

No he said they were really upset.

Really I said... I would have laughed. I thought they may have installed a magnetic bumper.

How do you feel he said?

I feel like I got hit by a truck.

And then I laughed because you have to.

Cancer Schmancer

"You look like a cancer patient."

I say that every time my husband gets a haircut.

I used to say things like...

Oh dont think you are going to die and leave me with all these kids.

It may not sound funny to you.

In fact you may not think Cancer is funny at all.

But let me tell you something, for a few months in 1993, I had the funniest cancer jokes you would never hear.

I cant remember even one of them now but a few weeks ago when we thought the cancer may have come back... so did my comedy routine.

I am not sure what makes me funny when Cancer is around. I guess it is my way of saying Screw You Cancer. I am still laughing and you cant take that away.

I got married when I was 18. I had my first child at 19, my second at 20, my third at 25 and my fourth at 27.

The only reason I got to have a fourth child is because of Dr. Boland, the GOD of our world.

Dr. Boland saved my husbands life.

From a cancer that had only affected 8 people at the time.

It is called synovial sarcoma and it is very rare.

My husband, Patrick, was my high school sweetheart and is the love of my life.

I met him when I was 13, became friends with him at 15 and started dating him at 16.

He joined the Navy so we could have a better life and I couldnt wait until we could finally be together.

In bootcamp he hurt his hand doing drills with his gun.

The Navy doctors diagnosed him with everything from tendonitis to "it's all in your head" itis.

The pain got increasingly worse and he started to avoid using it.

At one point a doctor prescribed steroid shots and they injected his tumor with miracle grow.

Some Captain decided to operate because it was swelling up and he pulled out a fatty mass that they still claim wasnt cancer.

Captain Idiot operated on a Friday morning, went to his retirement ceremony that afternoon and left the Navy.

He never left any instructions for the hospital personnel so they never gave Patrick any pain medicine after the surgery.

When I got there to visit him after the surgery he was screaming in pain. The officers who were doctors, RN's and other nurses said "Stop screaming and address me as sir".

He was completely denied pain killers and the bandages were never changed because... it didnt say that in his papers.

So 2 weeks later when he went back for his follow up, he had gangrene in his hand.

He needed another surgery to fix the damage.

Only in the past few years have we discovered that this is what most likely caused the cancer.

The pain never went away and he stopped using his hand completely. He started to have back trouble because his whole left side was atrophied.

Another doctor thought he could fix it by operating again.

After surgery #3 we decided the medical care of the United States Navy wasnt for us.

He faked being well to stay in until he completed his four years.

He was given an Honorable Discharge from the United States Navy on March 5th 1989.

The pain in his hand got worse and worse until some days it was unbearable.

He sought medical care at Stony Brook University where without an X-ray or Cat Scan they began physical therapy and more injections into what we would soon find out was a tumor.

I was 9 months pregnant with my third child when we ran into our doctor at a Lamaze Class. He told Patrick to come and see him about the hand. He recommended him to a hand specialist who took one look at it and said this is scar tissue and we need to fix it.

My daughter was born June 7th 1993 and on July 14th my husband went into surgery for the fourth time.

I told him it was just so he didnt have to change any diapers and I thought it was a ridiculous plan to get away with that.

On July 15th, the doctor called me at home and said "Uh, Um, Uh, I dont know what this is".

I was so confused.

He said "Well we should test this just to be sure"

Test what I thought.

Like a tumor I said.

Yes.

Ok go ahead, I said.

I didnt really believe it could possibly be cancer because people do not have cancer for 9 years just laying dormant in his body. Cancer would have killed you by then, right?

Each time we visited the hand specialist we waited for the results, but these things take time they said.

One visit I was nursing Daughter 3 in the car before we went into the appointment.

Patrick said he would go in and wait for me there.

No no I said wait for me.

No we are late anyway I will just go in I will probably be done before you.

When Patrick arrived without me Dr. Liebowitz said "Where's Nancy?"

In the car.

Lets wait the doctor said.

No go ahead said Pat.

Dr. Liebowtz started to cry.

Wow that is never good.

By the time I walk in Dr. L is crying, Pat is as white as a ghost and I have no idea what is going on.

Dr. Liebowitz tells us the name of the cancer and we dont hear anything after that.

Synovial Sarcoma blah blah blah..

He tells us that if he or anyone in his family had cancer he would go straight to Sloan Kettering.

He picked up the phone in his office and called Sloan Kettering and we had an appointment in three days.

That is when we met Dr. Boland. He is a tall, white haired man with an Irish brogue.

He wanted to run his own tests but he thought Huntingon Hospital probably got it right.

This cancer is very tricky he said.

It lays dormant in your body for a long time.

Then it spreads, quickly.

We didnt know then if it had spread or if it was contained in his hand.

I wanted to know the worst case scenario but Pat and our dads werent so sure.

Lets wait, they all said.

No I want to know what to expect.

Dr. Boland said "Well we probably wont have to amputate the whole arm, most likely just the hand or up to the elbow"

I was shocked to find out that amputation was still being used as a way to treat anything.

What about chemo, radiation...

That doesnt work on this kind of cancer.

It has to be cut out.

He went for a million tests and scans.

All the news was good from the initial diagnosis.

The cancer hadnt spread, it was just wrapped up into his pointer and middle finger in his left hand.

He had surgery on August 17th 1993, getting out of changing diapers indefinitely at that point.

At the time of surgery they didnt know how much cancer was in there. If it is too far into his hand we will take the whole thing until we see a clear margin.

He ended up having two fingers and half of his left hand amputated.

He was an electrician and thankfully worked for an incredible company that allowed him to come back slowly and figure out how to wire neon signs without fingers.

It has been a struggle.

Synovial Sarcoma is a cancer that never stays away. In other cancers you feel somewhat safe at 10 years. This is when synovial sarcoma comes back.

He has gone to see our GOD Dr. Boland in Sloan Kettering first every 3 months, then every 6 months, now every year.

At last years visit, Dr. Boland said you know its been 15 years and I thought we could say goodbye to you but we just had someone have a recurrence after 15 years.

The survival rate of this cancer was .17 percent. It has gone up a little over the years but still...

I tease him all the time, is that just you?

Cancer has changed Patrick's life but it has changed our whole family.

Our fourth daughter knows she wouldnt be here without Dr. Boland.

I know this story is long and I am thankful to anyone who took the time to read it.

I could go on and on with so many stories but there is just one lesson I want to share.

Healing Lesson #1

Cancer has changed our lives. There was a time when getting stuck in line would freak me out and I would be so annoyed. I try now to always just be grateful for the moment. For the chance to spend time with the ones I love and know that they may not be here forever. Life is too short to worry about things that you cannot change.

When the cesspool backed up at 2:30pm on Christmas Eve, we laughed, called desperately until we found someone nice enough to come over. When our daughter, weeks after she passed her road test, backed one of our cars into the other in the driveway on her way out to get oreos and milk, I laughed. And when I stopped laughing I realized the real tragedy. "You arent going to get oreos now are you?"
Then I cried.

I cant teach anyone to appreciate life like I have learned to with the love of my life almost being taken from me. All I can tell you is that if you knew the person you loved would be gone tomorrow would you be so quick to yell that he didnt change the toilet paper roll or dragged mud in on his shoes?

There is always a chance his cancer could come back. He has two lumps in his arm right now that they are monitoring. Any day our lives could change and we could be back to spending our days at Sloan Kettering waiting for test results. We never know and that is why we make every moment count.

When we cut out of work early or spend our entire savings on a vacation, when we spend our last dollar on going to a movie or taking the kids for ice cream... I know this is the right thing to do because I am sure that if I found out tomorrow that I only had a week to live I would not wish that I spent more time at work or saved a dollar and missed out on making a memory, which may be all we have left after someone is taken without warning.

Here is picture of Patrick on our recent trip to Jamaica. You can see where his fingers were amputated. We went to celebrate, 25 years together and our oldest daughters graduation from college, our second daughters return from a semester in Spain, our third daughters Sweet 16 and our fourth daughters graduation from middle school. It's all good and even when our flight was delayed and they lost our luggage and it rained every day... we were together and no cancer could ever take that away.



If you are ever looking for a charity to support please donate to Sloan kettering. You can click on the link above to see their website. They saved my husbands life and they made the journey as painless as possible. They are truly wonderful people who run an amazing hospital.

Not sister by blood but straight from the heart

Sisters By Heart

It was 1989 when I first heard the words Hodgkins Disease.

"What is that?"

CANCER...!!!

It's Cancer?

The Big C word?

How can an 18 year old girl who is just beginning college have cancer?

It started with night sweats and a small lump in her neck.

The doctor's suspected right away it might be cancer.

A biopsy confirmed it.

Before the days of internet, you had to look things up at the library.

I think that probably protected us from all the information we really shouldn't have.

She had her spleen removed, a somewhat radical approach to hodgkins disease but one that ultimately saved her life.

She had radiation, she was sick, some of her hair fell out.

She kept going to college though.

And she only lost one semester.

She wasnt my sister by blood but instead by marriage.

My sister in law.

A girl I had known since she was 12.

She got better.

She graduated college.

She got married.

And yet somehow her life took a horrible turn later on, and it had nothing to do with the cancer.

For more information on Hodgkins Disease please connect to the link above.

Queen No one but you, only the good die young

The Phone...the phone is ringing

The first time I knew the phone could bring bad news was in 1987.

My daughters first Thanksgiving.

My husband was in the Navy and stationed in Florida and so we were celebrating alone, just the three of us.

We could barely afford a turkey and some potatoes but we were excited and thankful for what we had and we were looking forward to a very special dinner.

Before the days of caller id we just answered the phone to see who it was.

"Nan its your dad."

"I already spoke to my Dad, what does he want?"

Seriously thinking they wanted my recipe for the best gravy in America, I hurried to the phone.

"Hey Dad, What's up?"

"Richard was killed by a drunk driver, I am only telling you now because I know you are supposed to see Grandma and Papa tomorrow and they are already on their way to the airport to fly up here."

Richard Kalderon, my only boy cousin, older, wiser, artistically talented, loving, gentle, sweet, funny...

Gone in one blink of an eye.

A drunk and drugged driver right through a traffic light a block away from his house. At one in the afternoon.

Richard had a trunk full of groceries for a family that couldn't afford a Thanksgiving Feast. He was delivering it to them so they could have a happy Thanksgiving.

My aunt was on her way back from the store when she saw the horrible accident.

"Wow, that looks like my car" she thought.

She stopped to question the police officer.

"Is everyone OK here,I think my son may have been driving that car?"

"No ma'am, this car is registered to a woman."

She drives home frantically, believing she will see her car in the driveway and all will be fine.

No such luck.

She drives back to the accident and asks the officers where the injured were taken.

She drives to the hospital, knowing that she is just being overprotective, that he must be OK, that this is all a mistake.

But when she arrives at the hospital her greatest fears have come true. It is her precious son just weeks away from his 24th birthday.

He is gone.

He was a Christmas Baby.

An angel you might say.

Newsday wrote a huge article about him.

He had recently taken over my uncles store Danny's Rideaway in Levittown. He started a club so kids could come ride their bikes safely in his parking lot. He reached out. He touched lives.

For such a short time, but forever in our hearts.

Please visit the above site for MADD. They are a wonderful group who has done so much for drunk driving awareness.

The Journey

This is an intensely personal journey for me as I recollect about the tragedies that have been a huge part of my life for so many years. I don't want you to think that I am stating that my life is bad or that I think that I am the only one who has undergone life changing events. This journey is mine to tell and I share it with you for my own healing. Please feel free to comment on any posts or share your own stories with me.

I love to write... short stories... poems... blogs... letters...I love the physical aspect of writing... I do calligraphy... and the emotional feelings that surface when I write... I cry often... This project is something that I feel will connect the words that are forever in my head and my heart and the love I have for the people that are in my world.

This is me...

Healing begins with the story of the Dragonfly

Down below the surface of a quiet pond lived a little colony of water bugs. They were a happy colony, living far away from the sun. For many months they were very busy, scurrying over the soft mud on the bottom of the pond. They did notice that every once in awhile one of their colony seemed to lose interest in going about. Clinging to the stem of a pond lily it gradually moved out of sight and was seen no more.
"Look!" said one of the water bugs to another. "one of our colony is climbing up the lily stalk. Where do you think she is going?" Up, up, up it slowly went....Even as they watched, the water bug disappeared from sight. Its friends waited and waited but it didn't return...



"That's funny!" said one water bug to another. "Wasn't she happy here?" asked a second... "Where do you suppose she went?" wondered a third. No one had an answer. They were greatly puzzled. Finally one of the water bugs, a leader in the colony, gathered its friends together. "I have an idea". "The next one of us who climbs up the lily stalk must promise to come back and tell us where he or she went and why."
"We promise", they said solemnly.

One spring day, not long after, the very water bug who had suggested the plan found himself climbing up the lily stalk. Up, up, up, he went. Before he knew what was happening, he had broke through the surface of the water and fallen onto the broad, green lily pad above.

When he awoke, he looked about with surprise. He couldn't believe what he saw. A startling change had come to his old body. His movement revealed four silver wings and a long tail. Even as he struggled, he felt an impulse to move his wings...The warmth of the sun soon dried the moisture from the new body.


He moved his wings again and suddenly found himself up above the water. He had become a dragonfly!!

Swooping and dipping in great curves, he flew through the air. He felt exhilarated in the new atmosphere. By and by the new dragonfly lighted happily on a lily pad to rest. Then it was that he chanced to look below to the bottom of the pond. Why, he was right above his old friends, the water bugs! There they were scurrying around, just as he had been doing some time before.

The dragonfly remembered the promise: "the next one of us who climbs up the lily stalk will come back and tell where he or she went and why." Without thinking, the dragonfly darted down. Suddenly he hit the surface of the water and bounced away. Now that he was a dragonfly, he could no longer go into the water...


"I can't return!" he said in dismay. "At least, I tried. But I can't keep my promise. Even if I could go back, not one of the water bugs would know me in my new body. I guess I'll just have to wait until they become dragonflies too. Then they'll understand what has happened to me, and where I went."

And the dragonfly winged off happily into it's wonderful new world of sun and air.......