Merry Christmas!

The chestnuts are roasting by the open fire ... the stockings are all hung by the chimney with care ... Is the calendar actually right? December 22, already? Crazy schedules and unwell family members have kept my attention other faraway places -- not on being a breast cancer survivor and not on writing a blog post. This December has been very unlike the last, when I lived in my La-Z-Boy rocker, forced myself to do my rehab exercises, and tried my best to be the household peacemaker with lots of kids and husbands about.

Although I have no new updates from doctor appointments or test results, I simply couldn't let this holiday season come and go without leaving you with my holiday wishes. In the hallway at my high school, huge sheets of green and red paper were strung from ceiling to floor for staff and students to write their "wishes for the world" this holiday season.  Now, these ARE teenagers I'm talking about, so I shouldn't have been surprised when I read inspirational wisdom like "I wish everyone in the world could eat bacon." Oh my!!

My list can be summed in a few simple wishes. It goes something like this ...

I wish you kindness -- from those, and to those, you meet each day.

I wish you to truly treasure each moment -- do whatever you can with each moment to make yourself, or someone else, feel more joy, more love.

I wish that the world would remember the real reason we celebrate Christmas.

My Gifts for You

May silent stillness

encircle you

with gentle arms

to quiet your racing mind.

May childlike wonderment

overwhelm you while

gazing at crisp,winter sunshine

on glistening hoar frost.

May timeless treasures

comfort you,

magical memories

shining the light of love

into every corner of

your heart.

Love, Yvonne, December 2013

Good News on All Fronts

The crystal, clear sky showcasing glorious sunshine today is the perfect twin for my elation while celebrating ONE YEAR CANCER FREE!!

Until a few days ago, I did not realize that I could proclaim this statement from the mountain tops, however Dr. P. tells me that people start counting their "cancer free" status from the day of their surgery.  In his professional opinion, my surgeon did her level best to remove 100% of my cancer on the day of my surgery, and the chemo and radiation that followed were precautionary measures in case some microscopic cells made their way to any other parts of my body.  But, for all intents and purposes, December 7, 2012 marked my return to a "cancer-free" standing. I am ONE YEAR CANCER FREE!!

My ears like the ring of the "one year" part.  It sounds so much more optimistic than six months or even eleven months.  A year is a L-O-N-G time, after all ... and it's been a jam-packed one that has taken an eternity to elapse, yet flew by in many regards.

Dr. P. also read me every word from
  -  my one-breasted mammogram report - all clear!
  -  my abdominal CT - 1 cm hemangioma still presenting the same characteristics
  -  my follow-up check x-ray - haziness gone, all clear!

After a very thorough physical exam of neck, chest, armpits, breast, and tissue expander, he declared me in excellent health with no unusual lumps, bumps, or concerns.  He will see me in another six months for a similar check up, and then will "close my case".  After that, I will see my GP every six months for several years, and then go back to life as usual ... AKA ... only go see the doctor for routine, boring stuff.

This past week, I went for my first dental check-up and cleaning in quite some time.  During chemo, no one is to be messing around in your mouth both for the sake of possible infection and because smells and tastes make you want to puke.  To my amazement, I was praised for my excellent dental hygiene.  It didn't seem that long ago that I could barely brush my teeth for wanting to gag, and feeling like my gums were sloughing off and eating themselves alive.  Guess I was able to bring things back to "normal" in the months since chemo ended.

Time to bundle up and head outside to enjoy the sunshine and balmy -15 degree (C) weather.

Hair, Glorious Hair!

For more than five days, a thick, dense, pea-soup fog has hung over Ashcroft, causing freezing rain and reeking havoc with driving on icy roads and maneuvering along slick sidewalks. It seemed that the mood of everyone I encountered matched the dismal weather conditions, from crabby students to impatient teachers. It may have been easy for me to succumb to such dreariness in mind and spirit, but I had an exciting event looming which drove me on to get through the week ...

... my first real hair cut and colour!!

It was a much-anticipated reunion between my stylist, Natalie, and myself.  My last visit to the shop had been just about exactly one year before, when Natalie gave me an extremely short, but cute, "do" so my hair was easy to manage after my surgery. Almost the entire 2+ hours yesterday were jam-packed with updates on my year -- the nasty bits AND the numerous blessings.  Natalie heard it all!

Even though Maureen had tried to convince me that this was a perfect opportunity to go graciously grey, I just couldn't do it!  The hag-like hue, when added to the wave (I hate!) made me feel far older than my 55 years.  I wanted colour!

The highlights aren't easy to spot in this photo, but my hair is a deep, rich brown with warm burgundy highlights.  I love it! Natalie also gave me numerous tips for straightening the loop-di-doop wave I get on top, and taught me how to use the curls to my advantage in the back.  It's such a tremendous feeling to leave the hair shop 100% satisfied.

I almost forgot to say "Happy December", "Happy Advent", and "Can't wait for my 6-month check-up on Thursday"!

Happy Thanksgiving!

     To my readers in the U.S., Happy Thanksgiving!!

And ... I'm giving thanks especially today after a call from the Cancer Agency yesterday afternoon.  I had myself worked into a frenzy about the impending results of my chest x-ray, having convinced myself it was either pneumonia or lung cancer -- neither one being a great option at this stage of the game. The mind is an intricate, fascinating factory, but it often works overtime when it should have gone home for the night!  Joy showed me a perfect saying yesterday,

 

 

However, I was finding it extremely difficult to not hit the "play" button on the "What if ..." song that loves to reek havoc with my well-being.

 

After a few exciting rounds of telephone tag, I eventually got to talk to a nurse.  She told me she couldn't read the report to me word-for-word since she's not a doctor, but that there was absolutely nothing that should stress me out, worry me, or cause me to not sleep.  In other words, the initial haziness seen on the CT must be gone, and there were no new alarm bells to sound.  When I see him on Thursday, I will ask Dr. Proctor to read me the report from start to finish -- as well as the report from my mammogram, which I keep forgetting about -- just for extra assurance that all is well.

 

I think I'll fire that Negative Committee!  Even though they have outstanding work ethic, are committed, and persevere  on most tasks, I'd rather live my life without them taking up space in my head!

 

 

 



Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of ... November

Yes, that old, classic song title usually ends with the word "summer".  However, with the below-zero temperatures that have been happening in Ashcroft (and, unfortunately, inside my school building!) over the last week, November is more fitting -- for more reasons than one.

On Friday, I received a call from my Kamloops oncologist, Dr. P. with the results of my abdominal CT.  Thankfully, all looked good with my liver lesion.  It is still presenting exactly the same way it has on the other three CT's, with the radiologist sticking to his earlier predictions that it appears to be a cavernous hemangioma, or blood vessel malformation.  According to Nurse Maureen (AKA ... Doctor Lewis), hemangiomas are extremely common in the average human being. The annoying part of the phone call came after that good news.

Apparently, the bottom 1/4 of my lungs that could be seen on the CT showed that my lungs appeared "hazy".  Dr. P. drilled me about colds, coughs, shortness of breath, amount of energy, etc. etc.  Haziness is most commonly associated with infection and/or pneumonia.  Well, I have endured two of my usual "back-to-school" colds this fall, just feeling close to 100% a few days ago.  However, during neither of these colds did I cough much or feel like I had chest congestion.  Cautious Dr. P. wanted to follow up with a full chest x-ray.

As luck would have it, yesterday was a Professional Development Day in our school district, so I didn't have to plan for a substitute teacher.  After listening to a fabulous speaker in the morning, I headed off to Kamloops at lunch.  The most frustrating part of the day was trying to find a parking spot in the hugely-inadequate hospital parkade.  Thank Heaven, they're in the process of "paving paradise to put up a parking lot" (Big Yellow Taxi). Actually, it's an enormous shame that the grass, trees, and flowers at the front of the hospital were ripped out to construct a concrete parkade, but increased parking capacity is highly necessary.  It definitely took 10 times longer to find a parking spot than it did to get the x-ray.

Now, the waiting game again ...

I made the mistake of googling "hazy lungs" this morning.  WHY did I do that??? There are some very logical explanations, but also some very scary ones.  I'm desperately trying to NOT let my brain go to any of the scary places unnecessarily.  I will be tremendously relieved to get Dr. P.'s call that all is well, or that I need a simple antibiotic to clear up the remnants of a slight infection.

I'll keep you posted.

Plan A and Donut Rides

Yesterday was the first of the much-anticipated myriad of appointments that have been marked on my calendar for quite some time.  First stop was Dr. M's office, my plastic surgeon. Imagine being quite used to stripping off the pretty hospital gown to be measured (like literally -- with a ruler) and "manipulated" by a strange man.  Well -- he's a lovely man -- but you know what I mean. A few weeks back, his receptionist had told me Dr. M. might want to do my surgery as early as mid-November (that's right now).  However, after learning that I have a Mexican vacation planned for December, she thought it unwise to take a chance on wound-healing complications in a country that does not share our standard of health care. 

I was, therefore, quite surprised when Dr. M. relayed to me the Cancer Agency's recommendation that women wait 6 months from their last radiation treatment before considering reconstruction surgery.  That puts it right about mid-February for me.  Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart!!

Another surprise came when Dr. M offered me the possibility of carrying through with the TRAM reconstruction procedure if I had changed my mind about being comfortable with the thought of an implant.  This was a very sad statement indeed, since that meant I was no longer the woman that did NOT make a good TRAM candidate because of no belly fat.  My belly fat is back full force!  I told him I was mentally prepared to have an implant, and that I was not worried about its safety or "feel". The OR time for Plan A (removing the tissue expander, inserting the implant, and a lift to my left breast) is about 2 hours with no hospital stay, and then 2 weeks at home.  Plan B (TRAM reconstruction) is 6 hours in the OR, 4 days in hospital, and 4-6 weeks at home.  No thanks! I'll stick with Plan A.

Next, it was off to the hospital for my 4th abdominal CT.  The extremely-patient tech reassured me over and over once he understood that needles aren't my favourite thing.  He even found a vein for my IV on the first try -- yay! With arms stretched out over my head, I got one ride in and out of the donut before being injected with the contrast material. It is an incredibly strange sensation when they inject the dye and you're POSITIVE you just peed yourself!  Not a nice feeling! After I was warm and tingly inside (AKA ... the dye had traveled through my system), I got one more trip in and out of the donut.  I was finished before I had time to freak out, and I did it all Ativan-free :)

Now, it's a waiting game again.  On December 5th, when I go see my Kamloops oncologist, I should get the results of my mammogram and this CT.  I'm feeling very confident that all is well.

Letters From "Home"

The teacher who replaced me at Ashcroft Elementary School attends morning workout.  On Wednesday, before class began, Gloria handed me an over-stuffed, large brown envelope.  My first thought was that she had found something I had forgotten when I cleaned out my old classroom in June.  However, when I immediately started to tear at the seal, Gloria told me her advice was to wait until later to open it. Hmmm??

While eating breakfast after workout, I remembered about the envelope I had slid into my workout bag, and dashed out to the car to retrieve it. The second I realized what it was, I literally flooded my breakfast plate with tears ... letters from my former students.

Obviously, after Monday's workout when my supportive workout buddies ran laps with me, Gloria must have told her students it was my "anniversary" and asked them to write me letters.  The Grade 7 students -- my former Grade 6's from the start of last school year -- poured their hearts and souls onto that paper, reliving what they felt the day I told them I had breast cancer and they would be getting a new teacher.  The Grade 6's relayed what it was like for them to hear and see crying students that day, and how the school wasn't the same without me.  Many expressed their disappointment with my decision to move to the high school, instead of returning to teach them this September. Several told me about their loved one who was also struggling, or had died, from cancer. I will cherish each and every one of those letters for a very long time!

Although every letter was enjoyable and special, one line, in particular, struck a cord with me. Wyatt said, "You're not a survivor. You're a thriver!" Upon further investigation with my online thesaurus, "to survive" means to "get through" and "persevere".  Yes, I HAVE persevered!  However, "to thrive" is equated with prospering, flourishing, succeeding, and having vigour.  That description resonates with me!

As excellent timing would have it, that very day I was scheduled to go to a meeting at Ashcroft Elementary School.  Imagine my delight when I went and visited all those precious students in their classroom at the start of their day.  Not only did I get bowled over with bear hugs, it gave me an opportunity to catch them up on my year of treatment, how I'm doing, and what the future holds. So many of them told me they couldn't wait to get to Grade 8 so we'd be at the same school again.

In many ways, Ashcroft Elementary still feels more like "home" to me than the secondary school does -- I know that's because of all the hours I spent there over 3 years.  What a delight to get letters from "home"!

"ONE YEAR" - Forgot something :)

        

I forgot to tell you something really important last night -- my brain was fried from being up early, racing through a hectic day, and celebrating all evening.

Yesterday, being Monday, was a morning workout day. As soon as I walked into the gym, Vicky (Coach Trill) asked me if I was getting close to my one-year anniversary.  I responded that, yes, it was in fact my one-year anniversary that very day.  She commented that as she watched me bound down the stairs on Hallowe'en night (she and her daughter were at the door, and I got elected - by David - to be the hander-outer), I looked like "an athlete" (Imagine! ME?!? An athlete!!). After leaving my door, she thought it had been about this time last year when I left morning workouts for good and, therefore, figured my diagnosis day must be coming up soon.

When Vicky learned that yesterday was my anniversary, she asked if we could do the cool down in my honour.  Of course!

So ... after a grueling hour of AMRAP (As Many Reps As Possible) workout, we all cooled down by running laps of the gym to Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill You, Makes You Stronger". My fellow "athletes" ran with me initially, and then stopped while I ran by them, giving me high fives and hugs.

It was definitely one of the highlights of my day and I can't believe I forgot about it while writing last night. I know that a one-hour workout is peanuts to lots of people, but it still feels like a major accomplishment to me.

ONE YEAR!!!

One year ago today I received my diagnosis. 

It feels rather odd to say that I celebrated today ... but I did. Does one want to celebrate the day that changed your life? I'm not so sure! My first instinct was to recollect that it was a fabulous year -- one filled with blessings, as I've been saying.  However, not all the days were enjoyable -- chemo, in particular, with its nausea, fatigue, reaction to smells, and sore gums. Now that I'm "out the other side" of treatment, it's easy to forget the yucky bits (somewhat like childbirth!). I guess I'm celebrating that I'm alive one year later -- alive to fight, alive to love, alive to live.

Thank you to all my dear family and friends who wished me well today, and had such inspiring things to say. I couldn't have made it through the year without your support.

Thank you, David, for the large glass of red wine and dinner out. You instinctively know when I need a special evening.

November 4th will forever hold a special place in my memory.

Sorry this is short -- I'm exhausted :)

Massage- A Simple Pleasure or Contraindicated?

For the past few months, I have been going for a bi-weekly massage. Not only is it relaxing, mind-calming, and euphoric, Wendy's magic hands have helped my sciatic nerve issues and given me better nights' sleep.  Floating somewhere in Never Never Land listening to soothing music and soaking up the aromatherapy, my mind wanders and I have the ability to forget about the struggles of the day and whatever work lies ahead.

Trouble is, there seems to be much controversy over whether massage is an anxiety-reducing, justified cancer treatment, or whether it is contraindicated in every cancer case. The "old school" of thought (which still continues in some circles today), was that once a person has cancer, massage should NEVER be administered to that person again. The thinking behind this opinion is that since massage promotes the flow of blood and lymph throughout the body, it will also speed the flow of cancer cells in these systems. My question is, doesn't exercise do the exact same thing? If you are interested in reading more about this archaic interesting school of thought, the website Knowing When Not to Massage - for Dummies has some junk food for thought.

Conversely, there is up-to-date evidence that indicates massage can be a valuable addition to traditional cancer treatment, decreasing stress, anxiety, depression and even relieving pain and fatigue. In addition, massage increases endorphins in the body, literally making one "feel good".

According to the Canadian Cancer Society, "There is a concern that manipulation in the area of a tumour might increase the risk of cancer cells breaking away and travelling to other parts of the body. Although there is no evidence to suggest that massage therapy can spread cancer, it is sensible for people with cancer to avoid massage near and over tumours and lumps that may be cancerous until this question is clearly answered." For more informative reading on this website, go to Canadian Cancer Society: Massage Therapy 

During their training, massage therapists are taught how to treat cancer patients with kid gloves, and there is even a fairly new branch of study dedicated to oncology massage therapy. (Read more at Massage Today article).

I'm believing that the relaxation and enjoyment I experience during that magic hour every two weeks, far outweigh any thoughts brought on by naysayers that try to tell me massage is anything but excellent.

Mystery Solved

Good Sunday morning, readers!

After some google research, I have discovered that I have blue underlined links automatically inserted throughout my blog because I use Google's free "blogger".  Apparently, it's all to help them pay for the service -- it's like watching advertisements on TV.  So far, I do not see any that are "inappropriate", so I'm asking you all to just read over them as if they aren't there.  They want a $30 upgrade (of course!) to eliminate all such automatic links from my blog.

I'm hoping that you are OK with just reading over them, pretending they're not there, since the post won't take you to the advertiser's website unless you click on it.  If y'all are NOT OK with this, I will do the $30 upgrade as I don't want to lose you as readers.

I don't very often go to my actual blog site and read from there.  I only discovered these links in the last few days.  Perhaps they have been there for some time and I didn't know it??

Once again, I apologize!

SORRY!!!

To my readers...

I have NO IDEA why, in the last few posts, my computer is inserting these annoying links for certain words (birth record, meeting, etc. etc.)

I will try to google why this is happening and do away with it!!

The latest one is something about online dating ... yikes!!

It is NOT my intention for these links to be there and I apologize.

Yvonne

Blessed by Meeting my Family

Over the course of the next days and weeks, Charlotte, Kevin, and I kept cyberspace hopping with our non-stop emailing. What delight I received from looking through hundreds of photos of my "new family" from my mother's wedding pictures, to baby photos of Charlotte and Kevin, to recent family outings. Within about a month of conversing with Charlotte and Kevin, I decided it was time to plan our first meeting. Originally, there was another reason I was supposed to be in the Edmonton area at the end of May, so I booked a flight for May 25.  YIKES -- this was really happening!! Would it be the fairy-tale ending I was envisioning, or would it be a train wreck I couldn't reign back in??

The three of us had umpteen conversations about who my biological father might be.  We all tried hard to convince ourselves that "Dad" (Charlotte's and Kevin's Dad) was my father.  Problem was, after a biology lesson from Kate on recessive and dominant eye-colour genes, it wasn't physically possible for blue-eyed "Dad" to be brown-eyed Yvonne's father. Who was he then??

Trying to convince myself, I argued that meeting my new sister and brother was enough -- that if I never got to meet my mother, that was OK.  In my brain, I understood the position Mom had stated to David 2 years previous that she could never meet me.  The last thing I wanted to do was crumble a 52-year marriage with one selfish phone call. In my heart, however, it was a totally different matter -- I wanted AND NEEDED to meet her! I do not remember conveying any of this to my siblings (correct me, guys, if I'm wrong) but, miraculously, Charlotte decided to talk to Mom on Easter weekend and tell her they knew about me.  Another "YIKES"!!! How would this walking-on-eggshells conversation turn out??

The long and short of it is this ... Charlotte's conversation with Mom went remarkably well. Mom confirmed that, yes, she had had a daughter two years before marrying Dad. I was the result of a rape that, understandably, she did not want to talk about. When I learned that fact I immediately burst into tears, fearing that she would never want to meet me -- a physical reminder of a horrific event. I couldn't have been more wrong! Mom was extremely anxious to meet me, but reconfirmed to Charlotte that Dad could never find out. A "Mission Impossible" plan was conceived by Kevin and Charlotte, that would remove Dad from the house, so I could "sneak" in and meet my mom.

Who among you does not believe in miracles?? I have yet another one to share with you :)

After living with a monumental secret for 52 years -- a secret I'm convinced was an albatross around her neck, weighing her down, and perhaps even affecting her health -- my Mom decided to tell Dad about me. THAT'S a miracle!! His reaction was also miraculous -- he couldn't wait to meet me!

Weeks, days, hours, then minutes were meticulously counted down between B.C. and Alberta. May 25 had arrived! After some extremely-frustrating delays (thanks Air Canada!!), I touched down in Edmonton to be greeted by my sister, brother, and niece. True to form of many movie scenes, I literally dropped my cumbersome suitcase in the middle of a busy airport, and ran with outstretched arms to my new family. Words cannot describe my feelings, so I won't try!

Edmonton Airport -- with Charlotte & Kevin at last!

We drove directly from the airport to Mom & Dad's home. Even though I thought my reserve tank of "happy tears" should have been empty after the airport experience, I blubbered my way to my Mom's home, and continued the happy-tear shower while hugging Mom and never wanting to let go. As I had my first hug from Dad, his heart-melting words were, "I just wish this meeting could have been sooner."

 My first moments with Mom.

Yes, that's my wig on my head --

I was still majorly bald at the time and didn't

want to freak her out!

Do you think we look alike?

During the next week, with Charlotte's home in Barrhead as home base, I was treated (princess-style, no less) to a tour of the entire area, including stops at old family homes, cemeteries, favourite 4-x-4-ing spots, picnics, campfires, and several return trips to Mom & Dad's in Edmonton.  It was a life-changing week of connecting with my siblings, meeting other relatives, and hearing story upon story of growing-up adventures.

Around the campfire with Kevin and Hub --

the man who, along with Maureen, 

assisted with this mind-blowing miracle coming together.

Charlotte & Dianne, Hub's wife.

Taffy (voted by Yvonne as Best Dog in the World)

joins us at the campfire.

Dad being goofy with a huge scoop

of delicious homemade ice cream!

  Outside Mom & Dad's house.

MY Mom and Dad -- my adoptive Mom & Dad, my incredible life-long Mom & Dad - were, and continue to be, so incredibly supportive of this entire process.  I wouldn't have, couldn't have undertaken this adventure without the encouragement and blessing of Mom, Dad, and Maureen.

My life-long Mom & Dad.

I'm sure if my heart was x-rayed, the radiologist would say, "You have an enlarged heart, Yvonne." My heart has mushroomed, expanded, and almost exploded with love for both of my families. There needs to be a word created for "more than love", because that's what I feel for all these precious people in my life.

I am, of all women, most blessed!!

"Pieces of Me" - a poem

I wrote the following poem for Charlotte and Kevin, my new-found brother and sister, on February 21, 2013 -- just five short days after our very first email conversation.  I share it with you after having asked their permission. They are so generous, accommodating, and wonderful, I knew they wouldn't say no :) 

"Pieces of Me"

Always,

All my life ...

   discontent.

Happy, yet searching,

Watching faces, anxiously

Waiting, expectantly

Always,

   discontent.

Missing pieces of me.

A sister-shaped void,

A brother-shaped hole.

Missing pieces of me ...

   incomplete.

How can this be?

Strangers days ago

But now ...

   part of me.

We are each other,

Yet unique.

Incomprehensible

How you have captured my heart,

   my thoughts,  my being.

Overjoyed,

My heart is full,

   bursting,

   oozing love.

How will I explain?

Can you understand?

You are my precious treasures.

Found pieces of me.

     Yvonne, Feb. 21, 2013

      With much love, for Charlotte & Kevin, my "found pieces"

Powering Through Tough Times

Over the last few weeks, I have really been struggling with the possibility of reoccurence.  Up until now, I have done my best to maintain a hugely positive attitude, never even considering the possibility that I might experience cancer rearing its ugly head again.  But, this disease is ruthless, selfish, deviant, and spellbinding. I was having a difficult time shaking the pessimism. Trying to put my finger on this newly-negative outlook, I wondered if it's because I had my mammogram, and am soon to have my liver CT and my first oncologist check-up. Bad news has been the outcome of these tests and screenings before! Also, it seems like many times a day, I get a twinge or pain and immediately assume the cancer's back.  Funny thing, though, is that I did not have ONE twinge or pain the first time around, so ... not quite sure where my reasoning (or lack of it) stems from. Over the weekend, my chest area and upper arm were quite painful (perhaps due to many tight hugs on Thanksgiving weekend!), and I'm very sure the area surrounding my tissue expander is swollen to twice it's "normal" size.  Why does my brain equate these things with having cancer again??

In a few short days ... November 4, to be exact ... I will celebrate remember the one-year anniversary of receiving my diagnosis.  Perhaps this plays a role in me thinking about getting yet another diagnosis.

Yesterday, I tried to reason with myself, arguing that I have a strong faith and I'd better smarten up and start trusting.  During morning workout today, I was doing an exercise where you lift a 10# medicine ball above your head and then, while squatting down, slam it into the floor as hard as possible.  Vicky, the coach, said, "Way to power through, Yvonne!"  A light bulb went on for me at that moment! I need to power through this negative attitude! Now, I'm not such a perfectionist (well, maybe) that I think a negative thought will never dance and skitter its way across my brain. However, I'm bound and determined to return to my former optimistic attitude.  My steps ARE NOT by accident, they are ordered -- each and every one of them!

I will power through, physically and emotionally!!

Part Two: THE Best Valentines Gift

Fast forward from yesterday's story to February 13, 2013. Just a reminder that, at the time, I was in Victoria and had just started doing chemo. The phone call came from Maureen ...

"I wanted to get you the best Valentines gift, so I tried to get you a picture of your birth mother."

The miracle part of this -- the "blow-my-mind", "unbelievably-amazing", "I-can't-conceive-of-this" part -- is that Maureen and I DON'T do Valentines.  What sisters do? Her desire to get me a Valentines gift is absolutely, positively the result of our newly-intimate, loving relationship brought about because of cancer.

Maureen went on to tell me the following story (I will recollect the details as accurately as I possibly can.  If, however, I get a few bits wrong ... the end result is the same!) ...

My mother had listed "teacher" as her occupation on my birth record, so Maureen's hope was that there might be archives of old class pictures hiding away in some musty corner of a school library. To help her locate a picture, Maureen contacted an old acquaintance who happened to be a teacher in the right area of Alberta to do some digging. He talked to a friend, who talked to a friend and ... before she knew it, Maureen had an email with the name of my sister and brother, as well as the name and phone number of my cousin. After wrestling with what to do for an entire work day, she decided to use the phone number!

Unknown to Maureen, was the fact that one of the friends that talked to a friend knew my family fairly well.  That person called my cousin, Hub, and gave him a heads up that some woman was poking around asking questions and looking for pictures. Therefore, it didn't come as a complete surprise when Maureen called Hub to relay her story and fill him in as to why she was looking for a picture of my mother.

After agreeing to talk again in a few days' time, the conversation between Maureen and cousin Hub ended with a promise that he would do his level best to get his hands on a picture of  my mother, Evelyn. In reality, that conversation started a life-changing chain of events. The next several days were filled with phone calls, visits, and emails between Maureen, cousin Hub, my sister, Charlotte, and my brother, Kevin.

On February 16, 2013, I had the FIRST EVER communication with a member of my birth family -- an email from my sister, Charlotte. I'm sure a little skeptical about all the new information she had learned about having an older sister, Charlotte asked me to send my birth record from the hospital. The evidence was unmistakable -- the three of us were siblings! I remember appreciating so much that Kevin signed his FIRST email, "Your little brother, Kevin." I cried until my body shook when I read each new email that arrived.  I've never watched the "Inbox" icon on my email so closely, and would ecstatically click the newest message to dissect every phrase and examine each  new picture Kevin and Charlotte sent. When the very first picture of my mother arrived, I carried my laptop out to Kate's living room with tears streaming down my face, repeating over and over, "This is my mother! This is my mother!" At 54 years old, I had finally seen, with my own eyes, what my birth mom looked like.

The first picture I saw of my mother, Evelyn and her husband, Oswald.

Looking back, it is astonishing to me how quickly Charlotte and Kevin accepted the facts of who I was. They tell me the clincher was learning, from the birth record, that I had been named "Gladys Doreen" -- a name with special significance to my mother. (I'm secretly grateful I escaped the name Gladys! Yvonne is so much better, don't you think?!?) I couldn't get enough of Charlotte and Kevin during those first few days and weeks.  The emails were flying back and forth faster than pitches at the World Series. I felt hungry and thirsty for more and more information, and my siblings complied. I was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge about these wonderful new people in my life.

Here are the first pictures I received of Kevin and Charlotte.

Pouring my heart out onto a computer screen, I wrote emails with an ease I can only describe as uncanny.  A quiet person by nature, particularly with those I don't know well, it just felt right to open up my heart and soul, expose the real me, and pray that they'd love me even when they learned my life hadn't been a bed of roses. The only way I can describe the feeling was that I "fit" with these people - almost as if pieces of me had been missing, and now those pieces were found.

I marvel at the fact that I can love this new family so very, very much, yet love Maureen and my Mom & Dad more than ever.  It's as if, as I require more love to go around, God just fills up my heart with more and more to give.

If this was a blog about adoptees being reunited with their birth families, I would go on and on with more and more details, but it's a blog about battling and surviving cancer. I do have more to say (and will in another post in a day or two) about meeting my birth family, and how that came about. For now, however, I will remind you that cancer brings blessings into your life!

Blessings so huge, you think you will burst!

Blessings I would NEVER trade -- not even to have lived out my life cancer-free. 

Abundant Blessings ... #4

On February 13, 2013, Maureen called me with the words, "I wanted to get you the best Valentines gift, so . . . "

Part One:  Let me backtrack just a bit ...

Growing up, my family would not have been considered a communicative family.  There was no talk about the birds and the bees, no bearing my soul about teenage problems, no mother-daughter bedtime chats revealing hopes and dreams. That's why it's so amazing to me that I ALWAYS knew I was adopted. I don't remember any, "Sit down, Yvonne. Your mother and I have something important to tell you." I just always, always, always knew. And ... I was OK with it.  We had our quirky dysfunctions but, all in all, I felt we were as "normal" as any other family, so being adopted wasn't half-bad.

Maureen searched for, and found, her birth family almost 30 years ago.  At the time, I had no desire to find by birth mom.  Perfectly content with the family I had, I said "No thank you!" when Maureen offered to do some digging for me as well.  However, she sent me a card and, among other things, wrote down my birth mother's name and year of birth that she had found in our adoption papers. Tearing off that tiny piece of the card, I stuck it in a random file folder just in case I might ever want it. I moved that tiny piece of paper from home to home over the course of many years, not giving it more than a few seconds' thought each time I noticed it.

While cleaning out the filing cabinet for a move about 3 years ago, it was like that piece of paper jumped up and bit me. Instantly, I wanted to locate this woman who had given me life ... and then given me away.  I have no idea where this desire came from after not wanting or needing her for 52 years.  Even though this yearning was burning a hole in my heart, I did not voice it to anyone.

Several weeks after David and I were settled into our new home, he asked, "Have you ever thought about finding your birth mother? I think it would be a good idea." Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather! "Funny you should ask that!", I answered.

If David wasn't a forester and project manager, he could have been a very successful private investigator. He was excellent at knowing where to start the process and how to dig for information. Working from sketchy details contained on the birth record we secured from Chilliwack Hospital, David pieced together enough information to get a hold of my birth mother's brother. After a few conversations, we had my mother's married name and phone number.  Now ... what to do with that information?? I realized it shouldn't be me who called -- if a call was to be made.  After two days of thinking, processing, crying, and stressing, I asked David if he would call her on my behalf. I didn't want to be within earshot of his voice, not wanting to hear even his side of the conversation.  The long and short of it is that she spoke with David for about 10 minutes, but told him she could never speak with me.  You see, she had gotten married about two years after I was born, and her husband didn't know I existed.

Devastated, I cried and pouted for a few weeks. Wanting to give it one more shot, I wrote my mother a letter, telling her about the little piece of card, giving details about my life growing up, and including several pictures of me, David, and my four girls. I figured, "What have I got to lose?" -- maybe she'll read it, and maybe she won't, but at least I tried.

I honestly thought that would be the last contact I would ever have.  I gave up all hope.

Cancer had other plans!

A One-Breasted Mammogram

I'm still not entirely sure why my first official "check up" was a mammogram of my existing breast. However, at an appointment later yesterday afternoon to check the healing progress of my most recent incision, my surgeon told me to take advantage of every check up opportunity I was offered. She's absolutely correct -- don't look a gift mammogram in the mouth.  Blessed with universal health care in Canada, if a professional wants to give me a mammogram, CT, MRI, or basic feel up -- I'll take it!

My assumption is that I will receive a mammogram on my left breast only the rest of my life. Maureen asked me during a phone call later in the day how I get my right "breast" checked in the future.  I don't have the answer to that question, but I sure will be asking. Even though there is zero breast tissue remaining on my right side, there is still skin and muscle and, therefore, the possibility of cancer cells growing again.

With only one mildly uncomfortable breast-squishing to endure, the procedure went quite quickly. The technologist asked me to sit and wait while she checked with the radiologist to see if the picture was clear. Those seconds ticked by in slow agony.  When the seconds grew into minutes, the irrational part of my brain imagined all sorts of wild and not-so-wonderful scenarios.

     "Yvonne, we see a lump in your left breast and will be taking you immediately
       to the ultrasound room for a biopsy."

     "Yvonne, we regret to inform you that your left breast is now filled with cancer.
       Please contact your surgeon ASAP to book another radical mastectomy."

After about 10 minutes, the technologist did finally return.  Her words were ...

     "Yvonne, the picture is nice and clear for the radiologist to read.
      We'll see you in one year."

I realize that IF anything untoward was brewing in my breast, I would be getting another mammogram way sooner than one year. But, her words were very reassuring after what my imagination had put me through.

My surgeon asked me if I had received my 3-month physical check up yet.  This was the first I heard of needing it.  Yes, I go see my oncologist in December, but no one had told me I needed a physical exam every 3 months for 3 years, and then every 6 months for 3 years.  Now that's thorough.  So, off I go again in November for a physical check up and my liver CT.

Will these medical appointments ever end?? Oh right -- count my blessings for universal health care!

Abundant Blessings ... #3

The light of life sparkles in my eyes.  I'm here -- I'm on the right side of the grass! Even though I have grappled with many things over the last year, the positives so greatly outweigh the negatives. A cancer diagnosis changes every relationship in your life.  It's simply impossible for your connection with another person to not be adjusted when faced with a life-altering event. For a few relationships in my life, my diagnosis marked the beginning of a slow and insidious death. For others, it was the dawn of new levels of sharing and caring.

Blessing #3: My sister, Maureen

For all of my 55 years, Maureen has been my big sister. Older than me by two years, she was the one I played Barbie's with, fought with, snuck out with, loved, and hated.  Maureen and I do not share any genes in common, as we were both adopted by our parents at birth. One only has to look at our physical appearance to find evidence of this fact.  She's a string bean, the skinny Jolly Green Giant, and I'm ... NOT! We are also very different people internally in a myriad of ways.

I suppose it's natural, as the little sister, to have constantly sought my big sister's approval. In the past, inferiority plagued me any time we were together,and I never felt like I measured up.  She was always taller, skinnier, prettier, and more successful (in my mind, anyway).

Cancer changed our relationship!

Poor Maureen has been nicknamed "Dr. Lewis" by our family for several years.  Having been B.C.'s best nurse (in my opinion) for greater than 30 years, Maureen is always the "go to" person when any of us has a medical issue or question.  Obviously, she was one of my first phone calls after I got my diagnosis. Over the next months, whenever my brain felt littered with questions, Dr. Lewis came to the rescue and, if she didn't know the answer, she investigated for me.

It is overwhelming for me to think how deep and complex the layers of caring are that Maureen has shown to me this year. Remember when I was ready to walk away from chemo during cycle 1? It was Maureen that talked me through the nausea, pain, and devastation I felt. Traveling over 7 hours each way, Maureen came to cook Easter dinner, spent an entire week with me at the trailer in Kelowna, and motivated me through the 5 km run on Sunday. If I had a dime for every phone call she has made, checking up on me, making sure I'm not overdoing it, or answering a medical question, I could retire! Every call ends with the words, "I love you so much and I'm so proud of you!"-- every call. She is gracing me with the validation I have sought my entire life.

Maureen in Ashcroft for Easter

Previously, there was never doubt that we loved each other, but now the "obligation love" has transformed into genuine, expressive, from-the-heart love. Maureen has become my soft place to fall -- a place with acceptance, validation, unconditional love, sentimentality, and a new closeness I didn't know we would ever experience.

Celebrating the end of another week of radiation in Kelowna

It was this cancer-induced expression of love that brought the HUGEST

blessing of my cancer journey.  On February 13, 2013, Maureen called me with the words, "I wanted to get you the best Valentines gift, so . . ."

PS: the sentence ends in Abundant Blessings ... #4 :) :)

CIBC Run for the Cure

The day to don my pink garb, strap on the runners, and cross the finish line after 5 km of huffing and puffing finally arrived! Over a  month ago, I registered for the CIBC Run for the Cure, an event totally dedicated to fighting breast cancer through treatment and research.  As of a few minutes ago, their website (Run for the Cure) states that $27 million was raised nationally through donations to the run.

Initially, I really wanted to put together a team (minimum of 10 people), but people's lives are busy and finding 10 people wasn't easy.  Therefore, I registered as an individual, as did Esther and my sister, Maureen to do the run in Kamloops. Even though they had hoped to make it to Ashcroft, Rachel and Stu registered to run simultaneously in Victoria.

After having arrived yesterday from Trail, Maureen had me up at the crack of dawn to get organized and on the road to Kamloops by 8:30 a.m. Alone, because Maureen and I had to travel in separate vehicles, I shed many tears on the way.  I couldn't really explain why I was crying -- angry that breast cancer felt so close and personal; overjoyed that I felt well enough to be even trying the run, melancholy that my whole family wouldn't be there.  I pulled it together by the time we parked and, after meeting Esther and her friend, Kristy, we headed off to Riverside Park.

Esther and I ready to start

There was a tangible energy and excitement in the air. It's remarkable how a common goal creates an instant camaraderie, particularly among those of us wearing the pink "survivor" shirts. After the opening ceremonies and a warm-up by the "Get Cracking" team, we were off!  Initially, the large crowd at the start made it difficult to do more than walk, however, after a 1/2 km or so, we were able to get up to a slow run.  The 5 km was a pleasant mix of running and walking and, as we passed my surgeon's office (the woman who lopped off my right breast!) about 1 km from the finish line, I determined I wanted to run from there to the end.  Maureen  offered constant encouragement as I expended my last ounce of energy to get to the finish line.  Exhilarated by the cheering spectators, we sprinted the last 100 m.

Maureen and I nearing the end.

I DID IT!!!

The most moving part of the day for me was the "Survivors' Parade", part of the Closing Ceremonies. The Kamloops Breast Cancer Dragon Boat team formed an archway with their paddles, and all us survivors walked through together, receiving a pink daisy at the end.  Standing arm-in-arm for photos with all these remarkable women brought more tears to my eyes.

I'm a Survivor!!!

 The 5 km was a whole lot like the last year of my life -- simply put one foot in the front of the other, and it's amazing how far you can get!

Never give up!!

PS:  Even with my discomfort asking people for donations, I managed to raise $400 for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. I already have so many plans to do better next year. However, if you have a desire to make a contribution this year, simply go to the link above and click on "Donate Now".  It can be a general donation, or can be made in my name by searching for me as a participant.

  

Abundant Blessings ... #2

If you had the ability to edit your life, would you? When you look back at your raw footage -- layers of images, stories, conversations, and events -- what would make the "final cut" and which bits would end up on the editing room floor?

My raw footage IS my final cut.  Even though I've experienced many rough patches along with the times of smooth sailing, I'm keeping it all!

Blessing #2:  Daughters

I have been, of all women, MOST blessed! I have four beautiful, precious daughters; Rachel, 30; Esther 24 (yesterday!); Kate, 22; and Joy, 20.

When I first got my diagnosis, I felt like I needed my girls close to me, for them. My thought was that if they were able to see me with their own eyes, they would have the reassurance that I was "OK".  In reality, however, I needed them close to me, for me. Their strength, their encouragement, their reassurance, their push, would all be vital to me over the next many months.

As any mother knows, each child is a unique treasure -- at times, so unlike their siblings one would question whether they had any genes in common. As individual as my girls are, so too was the uniqueness of how each one supported me along my journey.

Rachel, and her husband, Stu, opened their Victoria home and welcomed me into their guest bedroom for three months. Having such a gorgeous home and location to recuperate and walk between each chemo cycle was instrumental in maintaining a positive attitude. Rachel came with me to doctor appointments and chemo. We shopped together, cooked together, and watched too much TV together. 

Once I returned home to Ashcroft, there was not an appointment or chemo cycle that Esther missed.  She faithfully sat by my side during 6 and 7-hour marathon chemo sessions in Kamloops, and made sure I was never alone traveling to my appointments and consultations in Kelowna. For a young woman who needs every hour of work she can get, Esther never let earning a dollar stand in the way of supporting her mom.

Kate -- where do I even begin -- Kate was my "rock"... and my rock star! Her support began when she surprised me for my mastectomy and proved herself to be the world's most dedicated, doting nurse possible. Her care continued in Victoria, attending appointments, chemo, and sitting with me, wiping my face as I threw up after my first chemo cycle. A ruthless expert with the Neupogen needle, Kate did her share of stabbing me! In Ashcroft for the summer, she motivated me to get moving, encouraged me to eat healthy, and provided hours and hours of laughter, enjoyment, and company.

With us for the entire month of December, Joy was my private (and cheap) physiotherapist.  She maintained the perfect balance of loving supporter and hard task-master persuading me to push past what was comfortable each day.  I attribute the excellent range of motion I have today to her ability to motivate me.  Once she was in Alberta, inspirational messages became her expertise and she intuitively knew exactly when I needed one to get through my day.

Precious girls, I could not have done this without you!

The Port is Out!!

The alarm was supposed to ring at 5:15 a.m. to get Esther and I up and on our way to be at the hospital by 6.  However, at 5:35 when I woke up, I couldn't figure out why it hadn't gone off and woken me up.  Turns out, I had set it for Friday at 5:15, not Thursday.  Even though we were 10 minutes late for my check-in time at Admitting, the morning turned into a bit of a waiting game -- but, I'm used to that :)

After making our way to Day Care Surgery, a nurse checked me in, weighed and measured me, and gave me my cute gown and blue bootie slippers to hang out in for a while. About 7:30, I got the fastest ride of my life to the OR holding room -- I guess the fellow was in a rush.  Once my IV was in -- which I'm thrilled to report went smoothly and worked on try #1 -- I said goodbye to Esther and headed into the OR.

I hate anesthetic!! All those friendly faces staring down at me, telling me to relax and think of something "happy" when, all the while, I know they're going to rip off my snuggly warm blankie, remove my cute gown and expose me to the world, and then cut me open.  Relaxing is not exactly what's on my mind! The part that totally freaks me out is the lost time ... waking up in the recovery room wondering where those moments of life went ... they're just gone!

I was out of recovery and back to Day Care quite quickly.  The nurse suggested a popsicle for my sore throat, and brought my favourite -- orange. After a few sips of apple juice, I closed my eyes and drifted off to dreamland.  However, I couldn't seem to wake up so they allowed me to sleep for several hours.  About noon, I thought I could head to the washroom and then get dressed. Trouble was, the second I moved my body and sat up, up came every drop of liquid I had consumed.  Thinking back, I was extremely nauseous after my last two surgeries as well. I stumbled to the washroom with the IV pole holding me up, and managed to make it back to bed. While trying to get dressed, I threw up twice more.  Determined to get out of there, I climbed into a wheelchair, plastic bag in lap just in case, and Esther pushed me to the front door.  The second I stood up to climb into the car, up it came ... again!!

After an uneventful drive home, I climbed into bed and slept for over 3 hours.  When I got up, I tried some sips of water, but that came up too.  Off to the store Esther went, and returned with Gravol, ginger ale, and soda crackers.

I'm happy to report that the bits of cracker and ginger ale I had are still in my stomach. Yay!!

Another surgery down -- only ONE MORE to go!!

September 26 is Mesothelioma Awareness Day

I'm not sure how many of you noticed, but a few posts ago there was a comment from Cameron asking if I would email him. Since one of my goals in writing this blog has always been to help people, I emailed right away to see how I could be of assistance.

Cameron's wife, Heather, has a form of cancer called Mesothelioma, caused by asbestos exposure. On average, 3000 people are diagnosed with this deadly form of cancer every year.  They are given an average of 10 months to live.

If you are like me, perhaps you've never heard the name "Mesothelioma" before right now. Well, it's time that changed!  I believe we should increase awareness about every form of cancer. Please go to the link to learn more about mesothelioma and hear Heather's story.

Mesothelioma Awareness Day

Cameron and Heather, thank you for raising MY awareness about this form of cancer.  And, thank you for being yet another one of the "connections" to people that makes it so amazingly incredible to write this blog.

Abundant Blessings ... #1

I do NOT say this lightly ...

I would NOT trade the last year for ANYTHING!!

As I think I've mentioned once or twice before, having cancer has brought so many blessings into my life. Blessings that I'm thoroughly convinced would not have come my way without my diagnosis, and subsequent year-long journey. Since I'm coming up to the anniversary of when this whirlwind, crazy year started, it's time for me to look back and recount how wonderful it's been.

Blessing #1: The Gift of Writing

Thank you, Laura, for your profound and thought-provoking question ... "What have you always wanted to do, but never have the time?" ... WRITE!  Writing became my love in high school under the care and guidance of patient Mr. Ranallo.  But, in the craziness of daily life, writing never found its way into my busy routine.  Cancer tossed that routine to the wind and rewarded me with the gift of writing time.

This blog has been my counselor, my therapist, my friend, my listening ear, my steadfast companion, my quiet place.  I truly would write every word again even if only for my own eyes and ears.  It is good for my soul to write.

I had not written a poem in upwards of 30 years, but descriptions, sentiments, and emotions erupted within me that occasionally poured forth in poetic form. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did writing them.

When I reread some of my posts, they start with despair and hopelessness but, somehow, during the writing process, my attitude changed and hope returned.

As the author of this blog, I have the pleasure of knowing where my audience is.  It inspires me to continue writing when I see "Canada, United States, Russia, Bulgaria, Philippines, South Korea, Ukraine, Jordan, Sweden, etc. " listed as my audience. I am blown away that out of ALL the breast cancer blogs on the internet, you choose to read mine.  THANK YOU!! I feel like we're old friends -- like we have a connection, even though I don't even know your name. Cancer brought me YOU!

Had I not written over the last year, I would carry within me an untold story, desperate to get out. It has been said that, "Words are a lens to focus one's mind." (A. Rand). Many, many days over the past months I have needed that lens to get through the day and focus on what's really important.

Thank you for the blessing of writing! 

Appointments Galore!

What do they say about roads being paved with good intentions?!?  Boy, the days just fly by and I haven't written and haven't written ... sorry!!

Not only was my weekend filled with company, it was filled with a horrid cold.  Yes, I have my first cold in over a year.  Somehow, I managed to stay healthy all the way through chemo when my immune system was taking a hit every two weeks, but throw me back into a classroom full of kids and -- WHAM!!  My annual September cold is in full swing.

The past week held a momentous occasion for me -- and I'm not referring to my 55th birthday on Friday -- I went for my first hair cut since I had my head buzzed in Victoria.  Well, it's a bit of a stretch to call it an actual hair "cut".  It was more like, "A little off around the ears and clean up my neck with the razor, please." But, it felt monumental to me!  That appointment meant that my hair is actually growing -- not rapidly, but growing!  I still have to do lots of convincing every morning with mounds of product to keep it from sproinging straight up all over my head, but it's progress, nonetheless.

The upcoming week holds the first of a new round of medical appointments for me.  On Thursday, I have surgery to remove my port.  Apparently, lots of cancer patients with ports keep them in for a year or two, "just in case" it is needed.  Thinking optimistically, I will NEVER need this port again and I'll be glad to be done with the monthly-flush regime.  The finicky nature of my port (remember all those contortions in Victoria??) renders it unusable anyway, so out it comes!  It should be extremely simple surgery.  Open up the initial incision, slide out the port with tube attached, and sew me up again.  I'm sure I'll only be in the OR for 10 minutes.

More excitement arrives on October 8th when I go for my first one-breast mammogram.  I don't fully understand the reasoning behind this appointment as several oncologists have stated that it is far more likely for me to get cancer somewhere else in my body than it is to get it in the other breast. However, I won't look a gift horse breast-squishing in the mouth, I will simply endure the breast-pancake look and enjoy the reassurance that my remaining breast is still cancer free (thinking optimistically, again!!).

Later in November, I have my final liver CT to look, once again, at the lesion they found during my post-diagnosis abdominal CT.  If the lesion still has the same appearance it did back in November 2012, overly-cautious Dr. Proctor will be satisfied that it is, in fact, a harmless lesion as first suspected.

On December 6, one day short of the one-year anniversary of my mastectomy, I have my first official post-treatment check-up with Dr. Proctor. I truly do feel great, and hope this continues over the next few months so I can give him a good report on how I'm doing.  It IS true that every time I feel a little twinge or pain, my brain wants to immediately jump to the question, "Could this be ..??.", but I quickly revert to my optimistic, positive attitude and get on with life.

Midnight Portrait - A Poem

Midnight Portrait

Startled awake, I toss and turn.
At first, frustrated, impatient,
   thirsty for sleep to return.

My attentive brain won't rest.
I lay awake,
   soaking in the still silence.
Observant of the wonders
   outside my window.

I marvel at the midnight sky.
Each star precisely placed
  with careful thought.

If stars are placed,
   how much more so, me ...
   my moments, days, 
   my life.


No footstep is by happenchance.
Each stepping stone
   skillfully arranged before me.
The moments of my days 
   faithfully devised.
  
No accidents, no coincidences.
But methodically planned,
   accurate,
   faultless,
   perfect.

The portrait of my life
   lovingly painted,
   with gentle strokes.

Yvonne
September 13, 2013