The Whirlwind of Retirement

 

Little Did I Know

It's hard to know what you don't know. I certainly did not know what David would be doing in retirement for real. In the lead-up to it, there was much discussion about all the things he might want to do. He'd dream out loud about it and try to feel what it would feel like. Many folks told him he'd be bored. Many folks told him it'd be great. Many folks said many things about their own experiences and gave their own perception of what retirement is to them, and we listened closely to each and everyone. We learned it's a process:  There's the getting ready to retire, then the actual retirement, and then the doing of the retirement things. For David, he apparently had - and still has - an ongoing list of things he desires to do swirling in his head at all times. It all started with mowing every inch of the 6 1/2 acres of our land. Then weed-eating most every stitch around the fencing and promptly spraying weed killer at the base line of the fencing like real ranches apparently do. There's still some more of this weed-eating business left to do, but let's give that a little more time.

Then, Phase 1 of the garage clean out has officially been completed. There's likely several more phases to this process. Having Phase 1 of the garage cleanout completed is like completing your first 5K race as you train for your first marathon. It's a big deal.

In between various clean-outs, mowing and other misc projects - because he's got like 4-6 other side gigs around the farm going on simultaneously - he's also fishing in our pond.

Catfish RoundUp

This particular pastime is two fold: Pleasure and Purpose. He enjoys fishing no doubt. Yet, the pond has catfish growing at a faster rate than expected. 

I imagine there's more of these in our pond,
which we stocked just a year ago now.
They've really grown.

Once David started catching some of the larger catfish, he begin doing the things to them that gets them ready for a fish fry. I don't like to ask about that, watch or be heavily involved in that process, but it's happening and I'm good with not knowing the details. I understand that we can't have an overabundance of catfish in the pond. It's kind of like my chickens. I eat chicken, just not my own (and never have an overabundance of chickens on the farm). I eat catfish, but do I eat my own? I'm still contemplating this situation. I'm a catch and release kind of girl.

Let's see, oh yeah, retirement. I got off track there a minute. So there's yard and pasture work, garage cleaning, wood working things happening and fence mending, there's Tuesday Floor Day in the house (I hate cleaning the floors), and just the general upkeep of all the things anyway. There's never a lack of things to do, that's for sure. But are they things he wants to do? The answer is that he'll do the things he wants to do. That's the answer. And something he wants to do (that I didn't know he wanted to do) is power spray wash the inside of the barn - and the garage. Barn first, he says. 

So in order to do this, we must take down all the signs in the barn (which David had hand-made a few years back 💛) which then gives him another thing he wants to do which is refurb each of the signs. Fluff them, I'll call it. Fresh paint, a little changeup on some of the signs. But this is his thing. He made these signs for the barn awhile back and is now giving them a fresh look and will rehang them after he sprays out the inside of the barn. After all, there's also electrical outlets to cover, chickens to displace while they are trying to lay their daily eggs, and straw and pine pellets to rake up before this spray business actually starts. 

Cleaned and ready to go back up in the barn

The mardi gras rooster, freshly painted

My girls! Hope and Dora on display 💟

First things first. We cleaned one area/wall of the barn of all it's things nearby it (coop, sign, etc) and it's ready for his inaugural power wash. I'd long ago put the thought of this job off as long as possible because I can only imagine the amount of water INSIDE the barn once we start this process. Luckily, it's still super hot outside and it'll dry. David and I had originally agreed on doing this the upcoming weekend, but since he's retired, he is happy to start without me and whenever he wants because he can. He uses the reason "it's a test run" and then what he does is actually start the project. I'm at work when some of this mayham happens, and will quickly get included as soon as I get home, but nonetheless this barn clean-out is happening. It's long needed it. I know that when the power washing is complete inside the barn I will wonder 1) how I ever allowed an animal to live in such a dirty barn, 2) how I ever thought the barn was acceptable in the first place, 3) how will I ever keep it that clean. The inside walls will be a totally different color than they are now because currently the inside walls have a light coat of 'dusty brown' distributed perfectly thanks to the wind and fans inside the barn. This is a In Progress situation, so I'll keep you posted on what kind of ding-dongery mess this turns into. 

I think this is about enough of 'retirement talk' as I think you get the idea of what's happening in David's newfangled retirement. It's organized chaos. The starting of 247 projects and finishing 2. There's more, my friends, but this is Level 1 of his idea of retirement. And who knows how many levels there will be, but hang on for this ride. I'm strapped into this roller-coaster and can't get off. Thank goodness I get to go to work. All this mishmash makes running across Tennessee look easy, folks. 

BESREMi gone wrong

Little did I know is right. Little did I know what was about to happen as I made my way to Texas Oncology for my 3rd injection. It was just last Tuesday (because I go there every other Tuesday for my injection). I arrived to Texas Oncology and had my labs drawn as usual, and directed to the Infusion Room to have a seat and wait for the results. On this day, I sat with 2 other patients/ladies who were waiting for injections - although different injections for different reasons. The nurses in the Infusion Room were all busy, and we were told their computer system was "having issues" so that was slowing them down. We wait. We continue to wait. While we wait, we chat and learn about one another. This is when I am reminded how magical my life is. The challenges that other patient's face, the life issues they have, and the details people are willing to give so freely can be daunting. Yet, we are all in this cancer facility for a reason: to be treated for our cancer. And we wait together. 

My lab results are eventually given to me and my oncologist is advised of them. He then sends the dosage recommended for my BESREMi in the computer system as he usually does (which will be 200 mcg this time) in order for the nurse to see it in the computer, as well as the to the pharmacist who will get the medication ready. The train seems to be slowly moving now. Yet, I wait as their computer issues continue. Then, finally I see the nurse is given the box of BESREMi by the pharmacist and she walks over to where I have been waiting in my seat with the others. She asked me to lift my shirt and will be giving me the injection in my abdomen and asks which side. We decide on the opposite side than the last time. This is the same nurse that gave me my last injection although in a private room. I'm fine with having the injection in the open room, that's not an issue for me at all. She seemed in a hurry, but they kind of always do.

As the nurse literally rips opens the brand new box (breaking the tape seal on the box) with the medication inside, she finds a prefilled syringe and quickly proceeds to inject my tummy. It happens so fast that I'm thinking many things: 1) the medication inside this box is a prefilled syringe of 500 mcg of BESREMi, 2) I'm to only get 200 mcg not 500 mcg, 3) the nurse never looks at the syringe.

As she begins to inject, I say to her that I'm only to get a portion of that syringe and what she's giving seems too much. The nurse replies (as she continues to inject the medication) that it just seems like more because she's injecting it slowly. Then, she finishes injecting, and reaches over to show me the Rx label the Pharmacist has placed on the box of BESREMi that says 200 mcg/0.4 ml, saying to me, "See, the label says it's 200 mcg". 

I generally never question the people who give
me injections in my life (flu, covid, etc).
But I knew something was wrong this time.

I know immediately that she's given me 500 mcg as that's what was inside the (unopened) actual box despite what the new Rx label that the Pharmacist has typed up and stuck to the box says that she's attempting to show me.

It was all spelled out, but things went wrong despite that.
This is how medical errors happen. People are not paying
attention to the details. 

THEN she saw it: 200 mcg per 0.4 ml. She was supposed to give me 0.4 ml and not a full 1 ml. She was not to give me the whole syringe of medication. Instead of giving me my dose of 200 mcg (0.4 ml) she just injected me with the whole syringe of 500 mcg (1 ml). I have been overdosed. 

Once she realizes what she's done, she's frozen. She says aloud, "I just gave you too much" and says she must go tell my oncologist. And she's gone.

I wait. And all I can think of is 'she just killed me'. This is way too much medication. And if she didn't just kill me, I'm going to be really sick tomorrow. After all, two weeks ago I had 150 mcg and I was sick with flu-like symptoms as the packaging says can happen. Now, I've been injected with 500 mcg. This is not going to be good.

The nurse appears again and says that my oncologist thinks "because the syringe has 500 mcg 'preloaded' that likely there are patients that get this dose and I may be sick for a few days" but there's no getting the medication out of me at this point. I'm then informed that I can go home, but if I start having any unusual symptoms that I should seek help.

Okay, I'm thinking to myself: I received 100 mcg the first injection. I received 150 mcg the second injection. I was supposed to receive 200 mcg this time and instead was given 500 mcg. Now I'm being sent home. 

I walk to the car in shock and try to feel if I'm feeling okay. I think I'm okay. I start to drive home and get a text from David asking me if I'm okay because I've been at the Texas Oncology awhile. I text back and tell him I'm not okay and then call him. I replay the whole scenario back to him. I can see all the issues and mistakes as I tell him the situation. The order for 200 mcg from the doctor. The Pharmacist taking the box of BESREMi 500 mcg out of the fridge and putting a label on the unopened box for "200 mcg/0.4 ml" knowing that there's 500 mcg/1 ml in the unopened box. Giving this to the nurse who then thinks I am to get the amount inside the box and does not look at the label closely, and when she looks at the label she misses the need to only give me a portion of the syringe. It was all a recipe for disaster. The irony in this is that this is the SAME nurse who gave me my last injection and did indeed realize at that time (last time) that I am not to get the whole amount that's in the syringe, yet this time, had forgotten all of that, even at my prompting. And the nurse would later tell me that it was the Pharmacist job to 'shoot out' the amount I was not supposed to get and only leave in the syringe what I was to get. 

My head spinning from uncertainty, I pull over on my drive home and contact MD Anderson. I send an urgent message in the portal with my lab results and with the overdose amount I was given, explaining what had happened and attempting to ask them what I should do. I then proceed to finish my drive back home and anxiously await a reply back from them. 

I get home and sit at the kitchen table. I vow not to move from this kitchen chair and will stay here all night (awake) waiting for whatever is about to happen. David sits across the kitchen table from me, staring. He's trying to put all the pieces of this puzzle together. We both are. 

Fast forward to the following day and that I did eventually go to bed. I did go to sleep. I did get sick and had a fever, headache, body aches and felt bad - for almost a week. I did not verbalize how bad I was feeling, as I think I was just trying to get through it. Also because it wasn't til I started to feel better that I realized how bad I did feel after all. Luckily, the day after the injection, my nurse manager gave me the day off work which was a blessing, so I did have one day to rest.

So what happened next

Turns out, the nurse who had given me the injection at Texas Oncology did call and check on me the following day. She said she had worried about me all evening and not slept that night. She, too, might have been sitting at her kitchen table staring at the wall wondering what was going to happen. She scheduled me to come in for labs on Friday "so that we can take a look before the weekend" at what the extra medication might be doing to my body - and if any action would need to be taken. I also sent my oncologist at Texas Oncology a message through my patient portal saying from here on out, I'd like to give myself the injection, explaining that on the BESREMi website that most patients do this themselves and it's considered the most reliable and convenient option for patients. Yes, let's do that please, I'm thinking. (Just for the record, I had asked not only my oncologist, but also the nurse, to be able to self-inject - twice - at my previous visits and was turned down. I doubt I'll be turned down from here on out). 

MD Anderson also sent me a message through my patient portal advising me to seek assistance at the hospital if I had anything unusual begins happening with my body. I'm not really sure what that means, but okay. I was also informed that I would likely feel sick, meaning flu-like symptoms, that occur after an injection. They did recommend that I skip my next injection, which I completely agree with. They said there's nothing to do but wait and see, which actually made me feel better knowing that they, of all people, would be able to tell me if there was anything to tell me. But they had nothing to truly tell me, so that meant I would live. After all, I couldn't die because my last blog post was about death and dying and the irony of me dying after I wrote about dying would seem like I might have know I was going to die when in fact I had no idea that I would be dying at the hands of those trying to help me. 

I was able to see my lab results in my patient portal from Texas Oncology and yes, my numbers did change, in fact, they fell which is what this treatment is supposed to do - but at a slower rate of course. The numbers I'm speaking specifically about are those that the injection dosage are based on: 1) red blood cells, 2) white blood cells and 3) platelets. While the good news is that this overdose now quickly placed me into a category of having my every-2-week-dosage placed to a "set" dosage, it also threw my white blood cells "low" which places me at risk for infection(s). Most all blood cancer patients are considered immunocompromised (did you notice that on your covid booster form previously, back when we had to sign a form) but having my white blood cells so low is not optimal. Nonetheless, from here on out, if my numbers can sit within a certain range, my dosage will be the same every 2 weeks and will be used as maintenance doses, which after a year of stability, the injection will be every 4 weeks. Leave it to me to go from treatment of 100 mcg, to 150 mcg and then straight to 500 mcg. Let's just dump those numbers low real quick, shall we. 

Ultimately, a slow increase of this medication is the intention to strategically get my red and white blood cells along with my platelets to an optional position. Instead, we just blew that whole system out of the water and sunk those numbers real quick. So the remaining question now is what will my next dose be? Once stabilization is met, the goal is to keep the dose at the last dose given. So who knows what and when the next dose will be indicated. I will say this, I'll be real curious to see what my oncologist at Texas Oncology says when I see him on Tuesday. Real curious. 

The reality of it all

What I've realized is that the reality is real for me. The reality of the mistakes that are made in a cancer center's Infusion Room where people are already sick enough. What other mistakes are being made? We are human, mistakes will happen. Yet, what kind of quality control initiatives are being taken? And even though I may not know the answers to these questions, is someone able to tell me that this is being watched and action is being taken somehow? I'm left with decisions to make such as do I remain there as a patient? Do I have the Rx sent to me and self inject based on lab results? Is this a sign to only receive my cancer care from MD Anderson? The issue is that my cancer treatment is already set up and approved through Texas Oncology along with my insurance already, and then factor in that my health insurance is changing in Oct and then changing again in Jan - and Texas Oncology has already made arrangements for such. It would be difficult to find a new PV provider because it's a rare blood cancer and I've found thus far, the only folks that are really in-the-know about it seems to be MDA. 

I can pretend to know what will happen next, matter of fact, I almost typed in what I thought would happen. But I'm not in control here. I'm just not. The insurance companies are, the oncologists who make the decisions are, and here I am trying to fight for my own desires and life. It's a pickle, my friends. I want it all to be straight forward and easy - but it's just not. No matter how I try to shape it, twist it and turn it where I might think it needs to go, that's not the way this works. I am on a rollercoaster, a different rollercoaster this time, strapped in, with a blood cancer that gets to decide for me. And then I juggle "the system" of doctors, facilities, medications and lab draws to determine the destiny of my life. I'm not in control of anything, I just pretend to be so I feel better. Luckily, David and I will travel to Houston to MD Anderson in Oct to see our respective oncologist and there, Dr V is my guiding star for all things polycythemia vera. He's the best control I have in all of this. 

Hope is always there

I'm happy to report that my sweet Hope is responding to the supplements/medication provided to me by Dr DePaolo. You probably remember I had hair analysis testing completed, results given, and medication/supplement given for Hope to have every morning and evening. Hope's skin condition has improved greatly, and her hair is growing back. I will say she has pop-up places still, and may likely have that always. But thus far, her large skin lesions are decreasing and wow, she looks great! 

Sweet thing

I'm still working on lunging her which she is receptive to, and have begun to place a saddle (I've just bought) on her because there might be a time in her life that I could place a small child upon her back and walk her around. I'll start with one of the small dogs on top of the saddle because David has always said something about this place being a dog and pony show. Turns out, it is.

So how is Brooks these days

I had the great fortune of having Lauren and Brooks out this past weekend to the farm for a couple of days.

These two.

There is never enough time to do all the things we want to do. There's just too much to do - and not enough time. We tried though. We tried hard as we fed the animals, petted the animals, filled up water buckets, played in his little swimming pool, using the slide to slide into it. We ran and ran around the yard as it turns out running is one of his favorite activities too. 

We even fed the cows next door

It was a water kind of weekend.

The animals all love the attention of Brooks, but besides Buddy, it's Paul who loves him second. 

Not to worry, Paul was with us the whole weekend.

It’s a bit entertaining to watch as Paul The Turkey (caught on our Ring) follows us each and every time we pass by the front of the house. It goes like this: Brooks is running (usually after Buddy), Nana is following closely, and Paul is not far behind just trying to keep up. 

https://ring.com/share/8604f2c4-1fdf-42ff-93bd-ce4bc9b9e45b

and again.....

https://ring.com/share/22752b4d-5234-4d65-a533-5d7205204c83

We had so much fun and as Brooks turns 2 years old next month, he loves the simple things like a janky little swimming pool in the front yard, drinking from the water hose and listening for the trains to go by and then running down the gravel road real quick to get a peek through the trees at the traveling train passing by. We notice every airplane high in the sky and all the birds that are in the trees singing their song. He hears and sees all the things we let pass by. I was, like he is, a child for the weekend. 

Yes, as usual, I cried when he left because I always do. When you have children, it's hard to believe they will ever have children of their own. And if/when they do, I'm here to tell you ahead of time, it's magical. 

How's the business going

Great! It's been since March of 2020 that I've been placing fresh eggs out for sale. The egg business is booming and I'm still selling a dozen eggs for $2.50 like it's 1999. Having an "unattended" road side stand (fridge, that is) is like offering people to come up and do stupid things.

Like take all the green eggs out of every egg carton and put all the brown eggs together and take just the brown eggs, leaving a carton of all green eggs just sitting there in the fridge. 

Someone does not care for the green eggs and left
them all together for another customer 

Like placing the Sold Out sign upside down for funzies

Okay then

Like moving the shelves in the fridge around, or paying in all nickels. Or like taking all the money in the 'change box' or unplugging the fridge. People are people and this is all part of the deal. On the flip side, people also leave me egg cartons to reuse. They leave me nice notes. They pay what they can for the eggs and know they can take them if they need them. Life is not easy for everyone and sometimes a dozen eggs can make a difference in a life. I love doing this for many reasons, but my favorite reason is for the community to have access to fresh eggs - either free or at a great price - whatever serves them. My chickens are happy to serve the community and so am I. 

Love you to the barn and back

Recently, we had Dr Bing out on a farm call to the farm for all 4 livestock guard dogs vaccinations, heartworm test and yearly heartworm shot (so I don't have to remember to give them a monthly heartworm chew). 

I just love this Vet - even though he rarely speaks.

Dora watched as Dr Bing made a farm visit to the 
4 livestock guard dogs, Penny, Dutch, Levi and Whisper

Dr Bing is like a man out of the wild wild west. A man of few words. He started in the laundry room with Levi and Whisper who now spend much of their time in retirement mode which is a very different retirement mode than David’s. 

Whisper enjoys the peace and quiet of the back
closet in the laundry room

Levi is more for taking up space
in front of the dryer.

Then it was off to the barn for Penny and Dutch's turn. All 4 dogs are heart worm negative, and received their yearly heart worm prevention shot, which makes my life easy. Winston, as you know, is heart worm positive and is not treatable in the vet's opinion. He's too old they say. Dr Bing just shakes his head when he sees Winston and says, "That dog is old." Little does Dr Bing know he's right at home here at the Senior Sunshine Resort.  

It's always fun having the vet come for a farm visit. Usually things go sideways, but that day, it all went perfectly and only cost us a small fortune but worth every dime. Because who says penny anymore. 

In closing

I'm thrilled to be feeling better, thrilled to have had Brooks over this weekend, excited about the inside walls of the barn being power washed, happy that David is doing the things he'd like to do, and grateful for my job and the ability to work. I'm thankful that all the animals are doing so well, and that fall is on its way. We have another party at the farm coming up in October with several birthdays to celebrate. There will be chicks as gifts, a chicken cake, and lots of fun to be had with family and friends. And maybe even a cleaner barn. No matter though, David and I are fascinated with each day we are given. Another day to enjoy this beautiful life. I think I'll go saddle up Hope and pet some chickens. 

Nobody can beat you at being you, stay true to you,

Cyndi

 

The View From Above

It's been a humdinger of a couple of weeks. Oddly, not necessarily for me, but for those humans living their lives around me. As I go to work each day, I find myself increasingly listening to the stories of the lives around me. As an OR nurse, I am usually in an operating room staffed with a surgeon, anesthesiologist, circulating nurse and surgical tech. Sometimes there are other staff in the OR such as a PA or audiologist, but mostly it's a small group of people with each other for hours. Then, in between cases, I visit with the patient's family, the PreOp nurses, as well as the nurses in the Recovery Room. It's during this time that I hear it. The struggles. There's happy news mixed in there at times, but mostly people speak of their trials, their tribulations and their suffering.

I've practiced (by practiced, I mean practice and not perfected, over the years) the art of listening without interjecting too much. I'm still working on this though and probably always will. It all started years back when I was introduced to the concept of the 5 Yamas during yoga. The third Yama is Asteya: Non-stealing. This is so much more than not physically taking something from someone else. It's many things besides that, and one of the concepts of Asteya reminds us not to rob another person of their story and/or experience they may be talking about. Have you even witnessed someone telling a story, then another person jumping in or interrupting to give their own version of a similar/better/worse experience. I can't deny that humans do this as a way of connecting with each other. Yet, there's many times people just want to be heard, and they do not want another human to 'one up' them or interrupt them while sharing their story - or take their story on another tangent of their own. But it happens....more often than not. 

As I practice asteya, I find I'm able to really understand what a person is trying to say. I'm able to watch their non-verbal cues equally as hearing their words if I simply remain silent and listen (which both of those words have the same letters but just jumbled around). And what a humdinger of a couple of weeks it's been for people. School starting for their children, health issues for them or family, never enough time, death and dying, but seemingly the most talked about is the struggles of their own children. Their children's anxiety, their children's addiction (I'm going to call it that because I can) to technology/phone, and their children's ceaseless concerns. I listen to their stories and realize that 1) no one is left off the struggle bus, and 2) no matter how great the struggle, there's no hierarchy in suffering and we actually cannot compare one's trauma to another person's trauma. 

Apparently, there's no order of whose suffering is greater than another, and I heard this reiterated recently while reading The Choice, by Dr Edith Eger. 

In my Top 3 List of best books I've read

Dr Eger is one of the few living Holocaust survivors and eventually became a psychologist who uses her own experience to help treat patients and allow them to "escape the prison of their own minds". I found her book profoundly moving. I came across this most fascinating women in a podcast on the Oprah Super Soul Special (originally dated it on June 24, 2019). It's a podcast on Oprah's Super Soul series with a release date of August 31, 2022 and I listened to it as it was the next in line of Oprah's guest and topics on her podcast. 

Fun fact: Dr Eger was 91 years old at the time of this conversation. 91! Oprah starts by reading an excerpt on page 9 from The Choice : 

'I would love to help you discover how to escape the concentration camp of your own mind and become the person you were meant to be. I would love to help you experience freedom from the past, freedom from failures and fears, freedom from anger and mistakes, freedom from regret and unresolved grief—and the freedom to enjoy the full, rich feast of life. We cannot choose to have a life free of hurt. But we can choose to be free, to escape the past, no matter what befalls us, and to embrace the possible. I invite you to make the choice to be free.'

As I listened to Dr Eger talk with Oprah, I was mesmerized. It was only in March of 1944 that she was taken as a 16 year old to Auschwitz and had to watch as her parents were taken to the gas chamber. Everyday this young women faced death, either around her, standing in lines for what might be her own death, and watching those around her die - every day. Her life in the concentration camp, and then as a survivor, has led her to a life of helping others. It was a long, grueling road as you can imagine. As she puts it, 'I had my secret, and my secret had me' as when she became a free women, she did not readily reveal her past to others as she pushed the trauma down deep inside her. Turns out, healing for her, included freeing herself of her past and choosing to move forward in life, hence her book, The Choice. 

From 1941-1945 this unimaginable tragedy took place, all while the world stood by. Edith, along with thousands of other Jews were tormented, tortured, starved, enslaved and threatened with death on a daily if not hourly basis. Her book transports me there. I'm there with her and her sister, living it along side her, as she's written it so exquisitely. The repetition of not knowing if you will live or die at all times was merely mixed in with the unspeakable conditions and treatment of the Jews captured (and those not captured have their own horrible treatment to endure in society). I think about death as the words in her book penetrate my soul. This is a book that has forever changed me. Living on the edge of life and death, as was the case for many, changes you. I'm grateful to have been introduced to this book. The mantras she used, dealing with death each day, and the will to live are beyond what any 16 year old (or anyone) should have to be experience. Yet, she survived.

It was not all that long ago that I had read a similar yet different version of this tragedy, Night, by Elie Wiesel.

A must read

When I first read Night, by Elie Wiesel, I was struck by how little I knew about this horrific reign of terror that happened not that many years ago. And how little my exposure in school was regarding this nightmare. And then reading The Choice, I was able to absorb more of the history told by those who survived. There's many unspeakable tragedies in this big, wide world - in the past, happening now and will likely never stop happening. I have a great appreciation for those who tell their story, and not only tell their story, but assist others in their lives after such tragedy of their own. 

These books take me back to a place that no words can really describe. And then fast forward to today, whereby I listen to other people's lives, issues, situations and problems at my workplace and I have an awareness that sometimes what seems to be the littlest problem usually has an underlying bigger problem at hand that they may be unintentionally hiding. We all have our secrets and according to Dr Eger, our secrets have us. I pause to think of those secrets deep down inside me which cause self-inflicted suffering. And how Dr Eger prompts us to free ourselves of our past, our mistakes and our anger so that we free ourselves of the suffering associated with it.

I may not be a history buff, but these stories of heartache and tragedy remind me just how those with such great strife in their lives have carried on to show others how to carry on. And when I continue to listen to those around me in the operating room (and elsewhere in my life) who speak of their suffering in their personal lives, I understand we are all suffering together even though we think we are doing so alone. And I take with me Dr Eger's words of "choosing to be free of our past". And I take with me Anne Frank's words of "choosing not to complain". And I take with me Elie 's words of "think higher, feel deeper".  And I try to listen, I really do. It's a lifelong process of learning to listen and not speak. I will often try to resist the urge to steal another's persons story. I have to remind myself of this many times. And when I do, I'm always glad I did. 

Thanks for listening.

Let's talk death, shall we

As I move through my 2nd cancerversary and also celebrate Blood Cancer Awareness Month, I find that these last few years have allowed me to embrace the idea of death and speak freely about it. I suppose I was speaking about death before my blood cancer diagnosis. After all, I was diagnosed with skin cancer long ago as well as have been a Death Cleaning Influencer long before the knowledge that my expiration date has likely been moved up. And while I don't consider myself death-obsessed, I do consider myself open to talking about death and dying. Not everyone around me is agreeable to this topic. Death is usually only discussed once someone losses a loved one, a friend, or knows of a public loss or has an association with a loss. Then, the grief flood gate opens. Are we able as humans to talk about death prior to an upcoming loss-to-be. I would like for this answer to be yes, but can tell you it's usually a no. There are a few folks who do bring up the death topic and I always find it fun and amusing. For example, I bike with a friend named Gary, and while cycling many miles we discuss death and dying. He even has an app on his phone called WeCroak which 'helps you find happiness while contemplating you're mortality'. It's tag line, "Remember, you're going to die" is a doozy. I laugh every time I think about it because it's so nonchalant. The app is like, Yeah, you're gonna die so here's some words to consider, like : death is only the end if you assume the story is about you. 

*Side note - not everyone enjoys this kind of thing. Gary's wife, Kristine is a prime example. It's just not a topic that's top on her list to review and discuss and I'm good with that. We each have our comfort levels when it comes to death and dying.

I find nowadays that I need to be careful talking about death. You see, one of the major warnings/precautions of my cancer treatment is suicidal thoughts. I've been informed by several health care workers who have educated me on the BESREMi treatment that it's not indicated well for those who suffer from depression. Even though I've not suffered from depression, there are close family members that have and/or do. 

So as I move through this cancer treatment of injections every 2 weeks, I am cognizant of this possible reaction therefore may have to tame my death-talk a bit so not to scare the masses. I had my second BESREMi injection 2 weeks ago now (I get them every 2 weeks) as well as labs drawn and in this case, I also saw my local oncologist that same day. What I've learned is that although he seemed on this cancer treatment bandwagon with me initially, I saw some hesitation this last visit. I tried hard to watch him, listen to what he was trying to say, and figure out why he might be saying what he said. Seems he's not sure this is the best treatment option for me and wanted me to know this. Yes, MD Anderson is recommending it for me, and yes, he will prescribe it for me and draw the labs every 2 weeks as recommended. But I could see my local oncologist is unsure. 

After I left his office, after having my injection and labs drawn, my initial reaction was to proceed with MDA and not try to force this option with Texas Oncology. I understand they have not given this to a patient yet, so it's new and different. The nurses in the Infusion Room are excited about a new cancer treatment option for patient's with PV even though they say they have very few patients with this rare blood cancer. These same nurses also verbalize and understand "which oncologist are open to new treatments".....and which are not. 

I've decided to stay strong and continue to seek this cancer treatment option here in the local community. That's really what MD Anderson and the doctors there want as well. They want to get the word out about ground-breaking cancer treatments are available and have the smaller community oncologists gain access to this information via those patients who seek cancer treatment locally instead of traveling to Houston. Sometimes it's an option - and other times it's not. In my case, it's an option to have this cancer treatment locally. So I'm sticking with my decision to do so. I also understand this cancer treatment might not work for me or be 'right' for me, yet I'm going to try it because I trust Dr Verstovsek in the Leukemia Center at MDA who knows blood cancers like he knows how to brush his teeth. Dr V has informed me I can stop the BESREMi at any time if it's not a fit for me. There's no pressure here. I only have one wild and precious life (thank you, Glennon Doyle) so I'm all in. If there's no cure for what I have, why would I not try a cancer treatment if recommended by MD Anderson. What I've learned is that even my local oncologist, with as many cancer patients as he treats, will "not get it until he gets it". It's easy to say what other people should do esp if you're a doctor - that's your expertise. Key is though, it's hard to put yourself in someones shoes to really understand their situation and I mean really try and understand it. His busy schedule seems to forbid this ability. Which is why patients have to be their own advocate. I also know I need to be as objective as possible. So between my local oncologist's preferences of how he practices medicine and my own desire to pursue a treatment that could assist my blood cancer - we may not see eye to eye and I've had to learn that that's okay. 

So there I was, a little sad that my local oncologist was somewhat concerned about pursuing this. I did  receive my second injection that day, which according to my lab results, resulted in a higher dose given this time. And boy was I in for a surprise. 

I drove home after my injection and dr visit at Texas Oncology then I went about my evening, even going out with David to eat at our favorite mexican food restaurant in Sherman. Then back home jiggity jig. When all of a sudden, I felt awful. Seriously, it started at my neck and body aches flooded my body from neck to toes all within about 15 minutes. I took some ibuprofen and went to bed. There was no way I could stay upright. Curled up in the fetal position, feeling feverish, I finally fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, I was unsure if I was actually okay or not. Turns out I was. Whew, what a ride. 

Yep, the flu-like symptoms struck hard and fast

I had been informed that "flu-like symptoms" were a possibility after an injection and wow, they got that right. As Wednesday went on and Thursday came around, I did start feeling more like myself again. But man, that Tuesday night after the injection was a rough one. It surprised me because I had no symptoms after my first injection. 

So injection number 3 is coming up on Tuesday afternoon (after labs are drawn and reviewed). This is where I fall in line with everyone else and speak of my own struggles. We all have our own. It's just that cancer treatment makes most everything else in my life seem less struggle-ish. It's my own personal hierarchy of suffering. Dr Eger is quick to say we shall not compare our suffering to one another’s, but seemingly I can compare my own to my own. Some things that used to seem like a struggle to me no longer are. And did I mention that a cancer diagnosis makes all things more shinier and sparklier. As we say in our house, 'I woke up and brushed my teeth today'. That's code for:  Lookie here, we have another day in the life! I'll happily take it. And as I'm reminded by Dr Eger, I have a choice - a choice to be free from the prison of what the mind can do and the influences it delivers. There's a gift in everything. I'm given the gift of life. And please know this, that when I step off the curb and no longer brush my teeth, I'm okay. Life is easy to speak of. Death is not as readily accepted to speak of. Don't get me wrong, I'm here for the long haul or whatever haul I'm given. Yet knowing I have no control over life and death means I get to speak of both equally. I pick life until death picks me. 

I qualified because I've not had depression prior

These kinds of package inserts are unnerving

As I approach my next cancer treatment, I'm curious to see where this is all going. What will my lab numbers look like?

 

These are my three goals with my lab draws

What exactly is my bone marrow doing now? Will there be side/adverse effects this time as well? Will they be worse, different or not at all? I'll keep you posted, and we'll keep letting go of the past and focus on today. Today is all I have. I am not who I once was. What I love is that who I once has made me who I am today but I cannot pretend things are the same. I continue to grow and show up attempting to be vulnerable and maybe even a little afraid. I am forever changed and saying it out loud helps me realize how much I've grown and how much further I have to grow. Dr Eger helps me realize the need to not let your yesterdays dictate your today. Funny thing is, I have that saying on a magnet on my refrigerator.

Let's change gears and overload on all things pumpkin

Is there really such a thing? I was reading a magazine recently and every picture was loaded with things and more things. Lots of things. Things everywhere. 

This is actually in someone's real house

Page after page shows rooms with stuff. The people who are interviewed openly admit to being 'intentional maximalist'. I had not been introduced to this term before, as I've only read books about becoming a Minimalist. And this magazine was the farthest thing from that. 

I guess this is what estate sales are for

And I will say I absolutely adore these rooms (esp the pumpkins) and understand much of this is seasonal decoration. They probably have a storage unit for these things maybe multiple storage units. I'm genuinely happy for them and know this makes them very happy. But whose going to clean all this up if/when they die. That's a big concern for me. I feel the need to be picking up after myself and often wonder why I expect others to clean up my mess of things, esp if one knows their time is ticking or if they are elderly and do not need the millions of things they've collected over the years. I don’t buy the excuse that relatives or children will ‘want their stuff’. No, they won't. My daughter does not want my stuff now much less after I step off the curb. I contemplate time and time again how we as humans make the sad and stressful voyage to clean out our loved ones house - and things - after they pass away. Why do we not do it ahead of time? I've heard a thousand excuses because I've asked this to others. My curiosity cannot be contained: I ask, Why do you keep it, why do you have it? The answers? I want to enjoy it until the last minute, if you know what I mean. I'm too tired now to do anything about it. My relative(s) will want this so-in-so collection. It's the responsibility of the family to do it. I don't have that much stuff. I can't help it, I'm a natural hoarder. 

My thoughts are if when we are born, we are destined to die, so why not talk about it. But that's just me. Yeah, I used to be in denial and think I wasn't going to die because that's what most people think. Or they think they will not die until they are very old and do not need to worry about it now. I'm always up for a convo on death and dying. I love hearing other people's thoughts on it and giving mine on it as well, if asked. What are my thoughts you ask? That when it's time, I'll no longer have my physical body yet my soul may live on. And unfortunately, the people left behind are the ones who suffer. Who knows if this is true but it's what I believe. Like many people, I'm not scared of death, I think we are scared of the pain that comes with it. Maybe I'm a little scared of death, because I'm concerned with some of the things I've done in my past (and bad decisions I've made in the past) that could literally come back to haunt me in my death. So I'm very busy right now trying to save lots of animals and somehow think this will make me 'even-stephen’ when I get to those so-called pearly gates. Wishful thinking, I know. But a girl can try. And....there's nothing else I'd rather do. 

Death and Dying in Cluckingham

Unfortunately, there's been some chickens that have not seen another day. No, not real recently, but in the super heat of the summer, I did lose a few girlz. So after an official count, I'm sitting at approx 66 chickens. And one turkey if we are to consider Paul in the fowl count.

As you know, not everyone is laying eggs as a chicken quits laying eggs sometimes as soon as around 3 years old. So many of my girlz have new occupations as bug exterminators which I greatly appreciate. I will confess that I'm a little out of control of the all the names like I once was and mostly know the names of my most social girlz. Oddly, I recognize every face of each hen. They are each so unique. I love watching them interact and live within their own community of feathered friends. Seems I always have 1 or maybe 2 who are wonky. I always watch them closely to watch for signs of improvement or signs that death is coming for them. It's hard to watch, esp when there's not much that can be done. I wish I could freeze time and keep them all forever and ever, just as they are. But the life cycle comes for us all. Chickens are fragile. We all are fragile. They are my reminder to live with as much grace as possible, as I watch their fellow chicken friends gather around them during the dying process. 

Must be a meeting going on in here

Sunshine Senior Resort

I have a pretend name for my pretend senior resort here on The Graves Farm. The Sunshine Senior Resort. It all started when Winston choose me as his person.

He came into my life at death's door.
Even the vet said he'd likely not make it.

An old man with a will to live like no other

He’s an oldie but goodie. A gift from above. He shows everyone how to keep going. He gets around amazingly well considering his body is slowly but surely telling him otherwise. I shaved him recently during the heat of the summer, he’s lost a little weight - and looks awesome. He's my Old Man and The Sea.

Another famous senior resident on the farm is Blackie. 

His litter box, bed, and food/water are all within
feet of him. 

A barn cat with a litter box.
I just want him to have access to what he needs.
Both Blackie and Winston have debilitating arthritis.

He too, like Winston, is on Hospice Care. These sweeties have been to the Vet and I’ve been told “they are old” with a solid period after those words. Period The End. They are old and dying is what the vet is really telling me. Too old to treat for ‘this and that’ with arthritic joints and missing teeth. Let them be, is what I’m told. So they get to have the best life I am able to provide. Tasty food, safe surroundings and plenty of fresh water to drink. And love….lots of pets and love. They have fallen into the Graves Farm universe and picked our place to live out their life. I feel so privileged that God would trust me to soothe their dying souls. Sometimes it's hard to watch because I know any day could be their day. Any day could be my day so maybe that's why I connect with them. Nothing is promised. Nothing is guaranteed. I also know we could be here for many days longer. Either way, our time together is like the warm sunshine on a cool breezy day. It's their time now to relax and enjoy the room service. They certainly deserve that - and more. 

Ahhh, and then there’s Paul. One of my most treasured creatures at the farm. There is no one else quite like him. He's my first tom (male) turkey and I can't imagine that there would ever be another Paul. 

Molting and has 1 tail feather left

This sweet sweet boy follows me around constantly. I do have to pen him when he's in heat, but otherwise, he free ranges wherever he chooses. Right now, he's all about being in the inter-santum (front yard area) and has decided that he'd like to see what's inside the house.

Waits patiently at the front door

He loves looking in the house, as well as at times, seeing his reflection in the glass. Either way, he's a joy to have at the front door. The best guest ever except his gobbles can be a bit loud. When he can't seem to make forward movement at the front door, he checks on the back door.

Always lurking

Then, he finally made his way in the laundry room when the door was left open. 

Apparently this is where you actually go in

It was a little much (and slippery on the tile floor) so he choose to be outside after all, and since then, he still continues to go from door to door evaluating the activities inside the house. 

Paul is also a resort member, as he's about as senior as they come, I'm told.

A turkey's spurs helps tell their age.
I'm told he's old yet do not know how old.

After several guests to the farm have informed me "he's old", I did some research to determine he is in fact old. He, like Winston and Blackie, have come to the farm on their own. Paul was a drop-off from friends who did not want him. We have drop-offs here at the farm. Chickens, cats, and ducks and such. But a turkey was new to us. Paul is simply the best and I adore him. He's harmless, sweet, kind and always fun. He's a wonderful ambassador for the Sunshine Senior Resort. 

Wait, there's more.....

When I decided to have a pretend senior resort, I had not realized the amount of seniors we actually have around here. Let's see, Maybe is 11 years old.

Look at those greys, yet like us all,
young at heart.

Levi and Whisper are "around" 9-11 years old as they came with the property and their age is estimated by the prior homeowner and the vet. 

Whisper, dirty from the outside world,
rotates from inside the laundry room to 
outside on the deck to warm up in the sun.

Funny thing is, Levi and Whisper spend much of their day IN the laundry room (i.e. cat room). They use the doggie door to help themselves to the A/C and cool tile floor. They no longer enjoy fireworks, shot gun noise, or thunder anymore. They are placing themselves in retirement one day at a time. Luckily, we now have Penny and Dutch (just in time) to guard the livestock. Because Levi and Whisper are becoming full fledge members of the Sunshine Senior Resort and not looking back. 

Then there's Belle. Sweet Belle. My once 1-day-old lamb whose grown into an (almost) 6 year old grandmother. She's the namesake for the Belle Tower where Penny and Dutch now regularly stand guard. She's the most docile of them all. Her rectangular eyes penetrate mine. She knows me, knows my smell and I can feel her love. There will never be another Belle.

Hard to see, but love her rectangle eyes

I can't forget Dora. My real-life Little Pony. The one I've waited my entire life for. 

Cutest Little Pony of them all 💗

My old mare, blind in one eye, knows-what-she-wants-kind-of-girl, and is the most dog-like mini-horse I've ever met. She's shown Hope, our young rescue pony, how to love and trust. She's shown me how to be young while being old. So petite, cute and oh-so-special in her old age. How did I get this fortunate? Someone in Oklahoma no longer wanted her, and she feel into my lap. I remember they dropped her off quickly and almost sped down the gravel road after they left her. She's exactly what I wanted. 

As are Winston, Levi, Whisper, Belle, Paul, Maybe and Blackie, along with Dora, who are all the original occupants of the Sunshine Senior Resort here at the Graves Farm. I like to look at it more like a sanctuary. A place where seniors come to find peace and calm. Wait, let's count me in there, too. That's exactly what I'm looking for. 

If only I could freeze time here on the farm, and keep everyone exactly as they are. But no. Death will come for us all. There's a folk saying that says: in order to be happy, one must contemplate death five times daily. In doing so, this allows us to let go of things that don't matter and honor the things that do. 

There's even an advice column, you may know it, called Ask Death. Maybe I should ask it why we don't speak to our families more about where they want to die or how they wish to die. We plan the arrivals of humans in detail, but allow death to sneak up on us and surprise us most every time. 

As the view from above looms over us all, I look forward to more death and dying talk while living the most fabulous life. Recently, I was gifted a book:

Now this is a gift

This was probably one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve been given. Thank you, Jeanne.

Whether I'm listening to those around me suffer and struggle with life and death or if it's a book that places me inside the suffering and death of others, I'm reminded that we are born crying and often pass away among tears. All the living in the middle of these moments is like the sweet jelly between the savory peanut butter. The living in between is messy and sticky - yet absolutely delicious. 

I've always loved a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich,

Cyndi