Day One

 

Remember that time you went to go buy that new car or house, or invest in a beautiful new backyard pool. It's all in the negotiating, what the terms are, and promises are made to you about what all you will  receive in this process. You're hopeful, of course, and it all sounds good. Sign here. You do. Then things start developing, I'll just say that loopholes arise, extra money is all of a sudden required, and the deal isn't quite as sweet as it sounded. This is no surprise whatsoever. You knew something was going to pop up, but you just didn't know when or what it might actually be. I've discovered on Day One that cancer treatment is universally similar. Nobody wants to tell you 'everything' beforehand. Don't get me wrong, you are told much of the information beforehand, wait, a lot of information beforehand, but it's the blanks that get filled in later that really bring it all together. Unfortunately, cancer treatment isn't something you really want to pass up, negotiate, or pick a cheap option. Do it right the first time, and your odds are greatly improved, which is why we are at MD Anderson. Dr Pahlavan was exceptional in guiding us towards a "first time" chance is your best chance philosophy. There's not been a doctor here at MDA that doesn't agree with that. Get it right the first time so you don't have to do this again. Or at least try to, as there's never a guarantee. 

Wait, where was I

Back out of the rabbit hole I climb, and what Day One showed both David and I is that you can't really get all the intimate details of radiation and chemo until you actually sign up for the show - anywhere, MDA included. They don't have time to talk details if your not seeking treatment here 'for sure". But once your signed up and show up, you are officially on the ride. Welcome to cancer island. It's where the people who are in the thick of it are. The boat ride here was okay, but now the people around you are your people. Your face is their face, and everyone is there together. Then, and only then, does the bonanza of information arrive. The high level information initially given is great, but now, it's the real deal. Time to get down and dirty, and talk about what it's all about. And MDA does this masterfully. They don't miss a beat. 

Ready, Set, Go

Although I can't speak directly for David, I can spin what I interrupt from him, from watching his day(s), being here while he experiences it, and listen to all his words and attempt to bring them to pen and paper. So here goes. Day One was jam packed with appointments, as well as his first radiation treatment. 

But first, this may help review all of his sinus cavities that will feel the effects of radiation: 

Last first please 

I’ll begin with his last appointment of his first day. That’s where his treatment plan was reviewed in detail, with all other appointments Day One leading up to that big moment (yet all appointments of the day had a large contribution!). At his final appointment on Day One, his radiation oncologist explained to David that all his sinuses would have radiation. All of them. Above his eyes, to the sides of his eyes, under his eyes and checks all the way down to the top palate of his mouth. I was fortunate enough to be listening in on this particular conversation because David had me on a conf call during this crucial visit with important information being dispersed - particularly what the expectations are for David.               * no family is allowed in MDA at this time for appointments. 

 I was intrigued at how the health care team decides what all they decide. I mean, after all, at these appointments you will typically see 2 nurses, one PA, a fellow and then drum roll, the amazing doctor. Actually, they are all amazing. I digress. Dr Rosenthal (radiation oncologist) told David that they will also be radiating his lymph nodes in his neck as well. I know that David and I both took in a ginormous breathe of air (in our separate locations) when those words were spoken. What? Somehow in all the appointments prior we had missed this information. It makes perfect sense, as that's where the cancer would likely travel and spread. It’s common knowledge. Yet, still surprised over here because the side effects for radiation to that area adds many layers to what’s already about to happen. So, without missing a beat, Dr R stamps the plan in permanent marker and so it is written. Now we all know what’s about to go down in complete detail. At this point (since I’m starting with last appointment first) the radiation treatment #1 is already completed earlier in the day, so we begin putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. We are new at this, with so much to learn. Trying over here. 

The better to see you with

The 9 am ophthalmology appt was a unintended 2 hour appt that ran so long, it pushed all the other appts for the day behind. Eyes are important so no one is complaining, just noting it. The ophthalmologist and 22 people who assist with your visit there do all the things required to check all-things-eye related by running tests and gathering the baseline and information needed. Since the radiation David has is so close to his eyes that special care is needed to protect them. He has very detailed instructions for his eyes: eye drops 3 times during the day every day no mater what, and eye gel in both eyes every night no matter what. Okay, can do. There is never an exception to this. This must be completed to keep your eyes moist and operational. The word ‘moist’ turns out to be the keyword for this day and I imagine all days to come. Just keep everything from neck up......moist. 

Teeth are always in style

Now, David's off to the next appt with the oral oncologist (dentist) who proceeds to check his mouth, teeth and gums. It's during this appointment that David is presented with his final mouthpiece for radiation. Taa Dah!

What's unique about this mouthpiece is that is keeps his mouth open, pushes his tongue down to cover his salivary glands while he lies still for the radiation - and learns to swallow with his mouth open. They gave him exercises to practice what it's like to swallow with your mouth open. This “mouth department" (just like the “eye department “ doing their part) will try to protect David's teeth, mucous membranes in his mouth and his salivary glands. If the salivary glands get zapped too much, no spit for you. What we also learned is fluoride is the answer to every question. From today on and for the rest of your life, fluoride is your bestie. Fluoride trays, fluoride toothpaste (for at least 3 minutes each brushing) and flossing are of the upmost importance to keep your teeth intact. David's like a hot potato in his seat at this point because while all this is being reviewed and a bag the size of your grandma's purse is being handed to him with lots of product he'll need, of all things the Radiation Dept is calling him on the phone asking him where he is. The appointments thus far have been running so far behind, and he's trying to get there. Granted all these appointments are in one building, which is amazing in itself. That's one of the many things that's wonderful at MDA - is that all appointments are coordinated by them, and all appointments (usually) are in one very large, huge, gigantic building with an elevator system that surpasses any 7th grade math you've tried to figure out lately. 

Radiate on this

The time has arrived, and with his mouthpiece in hand and racing to the Radiation Dept after hunting for elevator G, he's arrived. 

Okay, change your clothes, put your mouthpiece in, here's your mask, put it on.......

He's now realized that when the technician put the mask on him, he was in mid blink with his left eye. Now with his mask on, his right eye is open, but the left eye is wonky, half open and half shut with his eye lashes caught in the mask. David has about 1 second to think about it as the instructions come his way. "Okay, now pick a spot on the ceiling and keep your eyes on it. Stay still. Don't swallow. Okay, swallow now. Push your tongue up. Push your tongue down. Be still". He is trying to be obedient so not to blind himself or die from the saliva collecting in his mouth. As he's busy trying not to drown in his saliva, figuring out how to stare straight ahead with one eye half shut, he realizes what seems like forever is about 15 minutes. After it's all said and done, the technician reminds him that "next time, maybe he can try not to stare so hard". They encourage David to gaze more gently at the selected point on the ceiling. I have a feeling he will continue to get constructive correction as time goes on and they try day-in and-day-out to radiate the same place each time. Day One radiation completed. Whew.

Where’s the finish line for this leg of the race

As the race continues to make other appointments, he's now missed his audiologist appointment completely. That one will have to be rescheduled another day. Okay then, onto the Yoga Study Program Dept for his 6 minute walk. Now, you do not have to go outside for this required walk as they have taped the floor nicely so that each participant follows the lines and arrows. The facilitator will determine how far you've walked, and because they need you to hurry up after the 6 minute walk and collect your vital signs real quick, you don't really know how far you walked in that 6 minutes. Part of this whole study has only patients performing the walk and vital signs afterward, as the caregivers do not. So far, we both each have completed 2 surveys online though - all a part of finding out what is happening inside people's heads as they move through the cancer maze. Ex: How stressed are you, how are you sleeping, yada yada yada and I know it's important to the study, so we do marinate on the answers to help give an accurate account. Alrighty, David has completed the required walk and we will be assigned to a group soon, I'm thinking. I wonder when the yoga starts.

I see the Finish Line

The finale of Day One was the appointment I mentioned at the beginning of this post. It was his final appt of the day and a discussion with the radiation oncologist was enlightening. This is where all the details were delivered. Every detail you want to hear and many you would rather not hear but need to hear. You've signed on the dotted line and now here's what you'll get. The “2-3 week timeframe” during treatment that you'll feel good morphed into “hurry up and eat all the things you want to taste - by next week". Oh, okay. Because the new news is by about the end of Week One (which happens to be David's birthday on 1/19) he'll not be tasting that birthday cake, he's told. He’s told he might need to stay home as nose bleeds are in the cards with a myriad of other unpleasant tortures coming his way. Good news? Recommendations for readily given for keeping his nose moist, sinus rinsing, using aquaphor in his nose, along with nose gel and any other way you can keep your nasal passages moist is optimal. Your sinus will be zapped to the end of the earth and back. Moisture is key. Your upper mouth palate will be sore, your salivary glands will cease to create that saliva you were once drowning in. And then the final ball of the day drops : eat what you want to taste by this weekend. No guarantees after that. Chemo starts tomorrow as well, and the nausea will be knocking at your door just as you're trying to keep everything moist. Oh dear Gaud. Welcome to cancer island. 

What the what

When David walked through the door after this most exciting Day One, he needed to sit down and process what just happened. Just like you do after you get off that rollercoaster, it's the pan in the face feeling and about the same time you say "just give me a minute". Very similar to when someone asks you "Are you okay" and the answer is "I don't know.". 

We visited about each other's day, but really it was more like a pouring of alien information into our lives. We knew at that moment (because of the thousand things and instructions they told him to do ALL starting today) that we needed to get organized about it - and start today, as instructed. 

We decided to categorize the process by body systems and keep track of what he's to do for each of the affected areas. If changes or additions need to be made, we can adapt and change the instructions as they happen. We decided having reminders on the mirror was the best option for us. It's time to get serious and get a jump start on moisture and self care. The Home Edit book is coming in handy - even here in Houston.

Apartment Sweet Apartment 

Our apartment is only about a mile or so from MDA. It's a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom that is a corporate apartment that can be rented for your determined amount of time. We expect to be here until the end of Feb. Now, that could always change as the only thing constant around here is change. And that's okay.

We have everything we need here and are blessed beyond belief. As we call Day One done and thank the good Lord for all these blessings, we will await Day Two and see what that will look like. It's truly a day-by-day endeavor. David and I have set our intentions to use this time to learn and grow. Since we do not necessarily know what is really going to happen and how good or bad it will be, we smile and take each day as it's given. We have also set our intention to use this time to strengthen our own relationship. If the goal is to rid David of cancer and add time to his life, we both feel like nurturing each other in our own relationship is logical. For now, it's time to lay our heads down, say a quiet prayer and just be. We fight the urge to get lost in our minds and stay rooted in our being. We try, and that's the best we can do. Our best each day will be varying and different and acceptance of what "best" is each day is what it's all about. I've got that memo written already. Note to self: Just do the very best you can. Every day.

Peace and Progress,

Cyndi

A Crack in the Wall

Do you ever look up and notice that crack in the wall? Wait, is it moving? Yes, it's slow, but it's moving. It doesn't bother you much at first. You even think about putting something over it to cover it up instead of calling someone about it. Then, a door shuts wonky. Then, another door will shut but the lock is off a hair. Then, you look up and that crack is making a geometric design. And after awhile, you think the wall may even break off in a design not intended as art. Finally, you call the foundation repair person. You have put it off because you know it's going to cost an arm and leg, and wonder if it will even fix it, and if so, for how long. This is hauntingly very similar to health issues. I think I can wait on the teeth cleaning. I don't really like to go for my annual exam to the gyn. I could probably skip just one skin cancer check, right? I end up going most of the time as I'm supposed to but I sure do think about not going - a lot. I happen to be an expert swimmer in the river of DeNile. Although I do end up going for the follow ups as I'm supposed to the majority of the time, I spend a fair amount of time thinking of why I don't want to go. But I go anyway, knowing I'm just kidding myself about not going. It's all a game I've played for awhile, esp as the doctor appointments have exponentially increased these last few years. 

Don't believe everything you think

Yet, I've called the foundation repair company now. They came and went this week, placing 4 piers on the east side of the house, along with an engineer visit before and after to inspect it all, and then a plumber to come and check for leaks. Eventually, I will likely get the wall(s) fixed, the doors corrected and now know that my house is "that house with the foundation issues". Labeled. My house is now labeled, Foundation Problems dum dum dum. This hit home (no pun intended) as I think about all the labels my ego gives me. Runner, nurse, cyclist, triathlete, daughter, mother, sister, wife, friend, cancer warrior, among others. In Eckhart Tolle's book, A New Earth, he speaks about how our ego convinces us of these labels and how we wear them as badges. Eckhart explains that those are our roles/functions in life, but not who we are. Really!? Interesting. He goes on to explain that we are beings. Beings. And when we start to say I am fill-in-the-blank, we really need to stop at I am. I am. Period. It actually feels good to do that. I've started practicing that more and more. I fulfill my roles in life, but they do not define me. I am simply, I am.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, it became easy to wear that label and play that role of cancer patient. After the initial processing of a cancer diagnosis, it's heavy, but with time, it becomes lighter. Almost like acclimating to the bright sun outside when you first walk out the door, and then your eyes adjust. I wondered where that label of 'cancer patient' fell in line with all my other labels. It's then I decided to allow it to be another role in my life, along with the other 101 roles I play. And then transitioned to I am......and try to stay in the place of 'I am'.

What is for you won't go past you

Fast forward to now. I've added another new role/function, and one that is new to me: caregiver. Okay Eckhart, it's not who I am, but a role/function in my life. And David's new role as a cancer patient is evolving. Let's review. Sunday, Jan 10th we make our (not maiden) voyage to MDA for covid testing. Then on Monday, Jan 11th the adventure on cancer island begins. Radiation and chemo for 7 weeks, both simultaneously. David has been diagnosed with SNUC, and he's had surgery by Dr Pahlavan who we credit for saving his life by finding out David had this....early on. Thank you a million, Dr P! And now, it's go-time.

We have spent a fair amount of time visiting with others who have been through cancer treatments of their own, listening to their stories. We have watched Samatha Lynn on YouTube vlog her journey as a 22 year old breast cancer warrior with multitudes of treatments of which she has allowed others to follow her journey - the good, the bad and the cancer. And now, we will get a birds eye view, a front row seat to this same show. 

Louder for the people in the back

What I know for sure is that friends, family, co-workers, and acquaintances all have one thing in common. People are generally unsure what the "right" thing to say to folks in this cancer situation. My answer: There is no right or wrong thing to say, or at least to us that is. Saying what is on your heart and comes out of your mouth is perfect. Whatever you say is appreciated and accepted with love. This is a hard situation, one in which others want to comfort you. We in turn, want others to know how much their actions and words mean to us - it means everything to us. Not everyone feels comfortable saying something. And that's okay, too. Then others say something and wonder if what they said is okay. I'd like to tell you now, that whatever you say is 'just right'. There is no wrong. Our journey is your journey. Our pain is your pain. We will see this through together, and are most grateful for that. Never had we felt the need to accept our community as we do now. The support and compassion fills our soul with love, peace and comfort. Thank goodness you are there.

Party Train

When I first boarded the cancer train to cancer island, it was pretty tame. Monthly appts, treatments when needed, labs all the time, multiple blood thinner meds to keep my blood from becoming jelly. Then, oddly, David joined this same train I've been riding. His cancerversary is Thanksgiving. What I realized is that the train ride is easier alone with cancer, as you can make up all kinds of stories in your head and review it all like powerpoint slides in your mind. And no one knows. Now, David is along for this same ride, contemplating all the appointments, treatments, and costs associated with cancer. I liked it better when it was just me thinking about all these things, as I never would wish them for him to have as well. Can’t it just be one of us? Nope, sorry, he now has his own cancer and we are on a parallel journey together. That's a lot of words to just simply say, I'm on the flip side of the cancer coin now. The support side. It's scary over here. Let's see.....you worry about them, you wonder what they're thinking, you wonder if they're worried, you wonder if they are okay. You wonder if they are going to have pain, will their cancer spread, and what the future will bring. I've now changed from wearing the cancer warrior pants to wearing the cancer supporter pants. There's a lot of pants around here to be worn. Can I be a warrior fighting my own battle and be a good supporter too? Am I saying what David needs to hear, because from my vantage point, I don't want to be unreasonably optimistic and pretend everything is okay. But maybe everything is okay. In many ways, I'm preparing for the worst in my head, so that when the worst never comes, anything better than the worst is awesome. Wow, this support side isn't as easy as it looks. I’m concerned I’m even saying the “right” things to him. 

And weirdly enough, through this maze of thoughts, rationalizations and "processing", I'm filled with overwhelming hope. In the depths of my soul, I feel that no matter what happens, it's what's supposed to happen. And with that, I feel joy. I feel the old games I used to play with myself dissipating. No more excuses in my head about whether or not to go to an appt. I just go. I've leaned into this process, and my focus has changed significantly. My focus is now about each day and what today holds. How beautiful everything looks. How much I love my family and friends, and especially my farm animals and dogs. No one knows their own destiny, nor do I. My major shift has been the idea that it's likely sooner than I originally thought. That's all I really need to know. And if I'm going to be even rawer about it, I think I used to think I wouldn't need to worry about dying until I'm old. But what is old. 

All of this gibberish is simply me, letting out feelings. It feels great, and what I've come to realize is that most warriors just want to live their life not being labeled by being "that person" with cancer. But how can that not happen if that's where we are at in our lives? I'm still toying with that idea. It's easy for me to say I'm a runner, a biker, a nurse, a mom, a daughter, a cancer patient, a farmer, and so many other things. I mean, how many houses wanted to be labeled with air quote foundation problems. No one means for that to happen. Eckhart Tolle reminds me that role-playing is the many faces of the ego. "Don't mistake your role for your identity". He goes on to say :

"Giving up role-playing

Every role that we play is a fictitious sense of our self. Tolle points out that most of the people there are in positions of power are completely identified with their role. The way to overcome this problem is to end to give up defining yourself both to yourself and others."

Wow, Cyndi, so stop defining yourself both to yourself and others. That's huge. Thank you, Eckhart. Note to self: Work on that. I am. #trying

Always be yourself, unless you can be a chicken....then always be a chicken (not Eckhart approved)

On the farm, rubber boots go with anything, esp pajamas. We will be leaving our rubber boots by the door, in the morning as we head for Houston. Truth bomb? We don't know what's coming. We are headed at limitless speed towards cancer island whereby health care workers will take you to your own personal edge. Your limits will be pushed, your patience will be tested and your relationship will be strained. It's just gonna happen. I've decided to blog very similarly to when I ran across the U.S. in 2015 -  I'm going to blog most every day and speak of what unfolds each day. When I was about a week into a 3,000 mile run from Venice Beach, CA heading to Virginia Beach, VA, I had a best (running) friend, Gates speak some very wise words to me. He said (over the phone while I'm out running on the side of the road), "Cyndi, do not just blog about all the good stuff along your way day in and day out. I know you. You HAVE to blog about the hard things, the bad things, and the things that scare you. People want to hear that, too." Okay Gates. I can hear you even now telling me this again, except the journey is very different this time. We did not pick it. It picked us. God has written this story for us, and I'll translate it in my own words.....to you, as we move down the road. All of it. Being vulnerable is not my forte. But for you, Gates, I'll make sure all the hards, all the struggles, and all the crying will be well reported right here. You're welcome. 

Truthpaste is not easy to put back in once you have squeezed it out

Speaking of crying, the truth is I've been crying off and on the day before we are to leave. I'm grieving leaving behind what we love, I'm gutted at the thought of watching David go through what may be the hardest thing he's ever tackled. I wish I could go through it instead, and that we could trade places. Can we please. I'm crying because the farm animals will wonder where we've gone. I'm crying because I don't want David to hurt. I'm crying because I can, and I need to. The good news is that when I awake in the morning, I will be stronger for allowing myself to grieve. I wrote that permission slip first thing this morning. Cry yes. All you want. It helps me to not hold onto it, and let it pass through me. Dear Me: You've been through a lot. I know it's been hard. Stay strong. I'm proud of who you are. Try not to stray from your path. Everything I'm praying for is on it's way. Everything will be okay. It really will. Signed, Me

I meant to do that

Now with the crying behind me, I'm back on track. The detour to CryTown helps realign me. As I have the car packed, the farm arrangements made, and while we make our way to Houston - just know - we are taking you all with us. Hope, faith, support and love will see us to the end of this journey, but first, we will begin it with our cups full. Our souls are inspired by those who have gone before us to complete this same journey to cancer island. I look forward to sharing the ups and downs (Gates) with you. The foundation is repaired. There's no water leaks. I've counted my chickens. The mini horses are boarded, the sheep are safe, the chickens will ask for treats from another caregiver for awhile, and we are on our way. We are not starting from scratch, we are starting from limited experience and can't wait to learn and grow more every day. I've stopped being afraid of what could go wrong and excited about what can go right. Our faith is strong. 

Namaste

I know you already know that MDA has a million study programs. I’m actually in a study for polycythemia vera. And now, David has joined one for the Head and Neck cancer department. It’s called Yoga Therapy. Yep, who knew! It’s a real thing there and we are now enrolled. It’s unexpectedly complicated because there’s 3 different groups, one of which he/we will be in, that’s undetermined at this point. The basis for each group seems to depend on several factors based on the results of a very long (baseline) survey of extremely emotional and physical personal information given by all participants (including caregivers). Oh, and don’t forget the time results of a 6 minute walk. All this information is fed into a algorithm that’s held in the secret Yoga Therapy Study vault and the groups are chosen. A bonus of this study is that it’s for the patient AND their caregiver to see the effects yoga has on cancer patients currently in treatment. They are measuring the (hopefully positive) effects that yoga has in regards to pain, recovery and emotional well being. I have a yoga mat, but imagine we’ll be getting David one very soon. The fact that his first cancer-based study he joins is a yoga one is both ironic and fascinating to me. I’m a fan. Let’s get started please. David on the other hand, well, we’ll wait and see. There’s no bbq or fishing cancer-based studies, and that’s unfortunate for him. 

Turtle Wins The Race

What I’ve failed to mention is the logistics of moving your personal belongings, needed items, and work equipment all 5 hours away and what that looks like. Firstly, it looks like that truck next to you on the road thats moving their family to a different house or apartment. Yep, we’re that truck. All janky with misc household items like the vital coffee maker, the unappreciated humidifier, the unusual dog-running cart/stroller, and a random wedge pillow amongst all the other taken-for-granted things we use day to day. David did mention if he could only bring 2 things it would be 1) our good attitudes and 2) our debit cards.  Maybe we should have just done that. 

Our truck is a reptilian lovers dream. It’s our very own turtle, as the bed of the truck is covered (luckily!) with all our vital life-lines and components just underneath. The heart of our life is in the bed of the truck. Packed tight and snug are all the personal and work things along with so many things we thought we could not live without for 7 weeks. All this, despite the fact I’ll (we’ll) be going home on weekends here and there. We know we brought too much. For sure. The apartment we are renting has lots of things already there. What I can say in my defense is that my pantry, my fridge, my closet and other spaces were all edited in this process. The Home Edit would be proud. I ended up cleaning out so many different spaces in my home, reorganizing and donating items that no longer serve me. It’s been a cathartic time, and although half the things in my truck I may not need in Houston, I’ve “cleaned up” a lot of my life just preparing for this temporary (TDY as we used to call it) move. Another added bonus during our stay on cancer island. 

Wait, before you go, can we get an update please

Of course, let's see..... I got the covid vaccine. I didn't grow an extra limb or anything.

We told Brooks ‘See You Later’ this past weekend.  

Gonna miss the cutie patootie

Brooks is in the yellow outfit, making friends and doing new things at daycare now. Let’s just say that mom and dad have reported that he’s sleeping better at night now.

The ponies are doing wonderful! They have grown their winter coat long and beautiful, and are currently boarded at our farriers place. 🤩 

My sister, Sheryl and her sweet granddaughter, Savannah, along with their entire family are supporting us over there 🙏

The Littles, Maybe and Sugar are coming with us to Houston. 

As we travel through rain and snow on our way, I am reminded of how comfortable we are in doing so. With God shining His light through the cold and wet conditions, He will see us there. He will see us through it all. 

May the light in me honor the bright and loving light in you,

Cyndi

5 gifts from cancer

 

#1 Learning and Growing

This is my biggie. How many times in life have I heard of others having cancer, going through treatment of some sort, others losing their life to cancer, while others in the midst of it as we speak. What I didn't know is what was really happening behind closed doors of others experiencing cancer. What's it like day-to-day, what is the financial burden, how was recovery from treatment/surgery, and how did the family members handle and support the affected loved one? So many questions that always ran through my mind, yet I was unsure how to ask personal questions because it seems so invasive and aren't they going through enough already? It reminds me a lot of FakeBook. Yeah, we're good! Getting through it. Now look, I'm done with treatment. 

So I'm learning all the secrets now. Granted, every case is a little different and each person's journey is their own. Overall, I've learned there's many stages. I've learned about the knowing of it, the processing of it, the initial doctor visits, the treatment options, the financial side of it and most importantly, the emotional side of it. I'm learning what it does to you, your spirit, your psyche, you. 

I've learned it's different for all of us. The ebb and flow of the emotions, and the decision that you make in your mind of setting an intention for the journey. So, I'm going to pack my bags full of hope, resilience, faith, love, grace and joy. Sometimes unexpected things show up in my suitcase like sadness, grief and pain. I welcome them along for the journey. What I know for sure is that what I choose to focus on is what's most important. I choose happiness. 

So while I learn and grow, and ebb and flow, I can say that each day has its own theme. I learn more some days and grow more others. 

#2 New Experiences

One example of a new experience cancer has brought us is that David (and I, by association/conversation) are experiencing what it takes to have radiation and chemotherapy. Now, David has a cancer classified as a Head and Neck cancer. Side note: there's a special ribbon color for that (maroon and creme - Gig'em Aggies) and Floor #10 at MD Anderson is the go-to place for all things Head and Neck. So, let's pretend we are David. He's going to have radiation daily Monday - Friday for 7 weeks starting Jan 11, 2021 (with chemo mixed in there, too). Each day, he'll go in and put his mask on. 

Fancy

This will keep his head still and in exactly the right position so the radiation can be administered consistently each time. Oh, and there's a mouth piece, too (I don't have a pic of it yet) which keeps his mouth, jaw and tongue in a particular (same) position to help protect his salivary glands from the radiation and also for positioning and keeping things still inside his mouth. This is all in hopes of reducing side effects of radiation. If your salivary glands get zapped too much, they stop working. Whomp whomp, as that means you can't make the saliva (spit) in your mouth to start breaking down food and get it down your esophagus. That's no bueno. We do not want that. 

Then, there's the radiation machine.

I'm just going to call it The Machine

Once you are dressed and ready, this is where the magic happens that works on killing cancer. Oh, and I almost forgot, there's a special creme for his skin he's supposed to put on under his mask. Not too much now, he says. You don't want to get the mask all gunky. They say put on a light coat. 

This is only one of the many new experiences we are about to embark on. We've already had the maiden voyage trip to MD Anderson, with a follow up for David to finalize all his football, I mean, radiation equipment. And now, the real trip will begin soon with many more experiences to come. We will travel back to Houston on Jan 10, 2021 for his covid test and then it all begins on Jan 11. I'm not an expert at this whatsoever, matter of fact I'm well before-the-term Rookie. I can't even call myself a Rookie at this point, I'm so inexperienced. I know so little, that I'll read this later and think to myself "Girl, you had no idea what was about to happen, or for that matter, what was even happening at all". Please take into consideration that my ignorance regarding this comes from lack of experience and 2nd hand information. Eventually, I'll reblog and likely make many corrections/additions about what happens inside the mask and machine. But I think my point is that we are embarking on new experiences, and I'm here to tell you all about it. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

#3 Picking my hard

Life is not easy, it will always be hard. Yet, I get to pick my personal "hard". For example, being in debt is hard. Being financially disciplined is hard. I get to choose my hard. Communicating is hard. Not communicating is hard. I get to pick that hard too. As I choose my hard, and you choose your hard, I know that letting my spouse pick his hards are going to be different than my hards. At a time like this, cancer brings new "hards" into a life that is already filled with hard things. We can do hard things, no doubt. Just which hard choices will I pick. I'll try to pick wisely. Cancer has shown me new and hard choices, not just the regular and normal ones I already had. I look forward to seeing what I pick. 

#4 Self-compassion

I've always been a huge fan of writing myself self permission slips. When I'm not writing myself a permission slip, I'm writing myself a memo. I do these mental things to allow myself some self-compassion. It helps me be a better partner, it allows me to be gentler with myself, and therefore generally gentler with those around me. And I've found when I live from the inner world inside me, the outer world transforms. I become a more truer version of myself. Cancer has given me the ability to understand that I crave a more truer version of myself. I have found it's given me a new vision to letting go of what no longer serves me and to grab ahold of what does. I found I had been living with a set of old memos I had issued myself. Unfortunately, sometimes we abandon ourselves to honor old memos, which really were society's arbitrary expectations for us, and in turn, I thought were real. Once cancer showed up, I reexamined these old memos and found that these memos were never my truth at all. I was always hustling to comply to those memos, and when cancer knocked at the door, I decided to throw them away and write myself a new set of memos that were no longer based on society's expectations or those around me's expectations. I now write permission slips to allow myself to be full of myself and trust myself. I write new memos to be strong in my own way, and not the way others would prefer. Cancer has amplified my voice, pushed me to live a life I desire to live, and give myself bus loads of self compassion along the way. I love writing new memos now that allow me to un-become and become all at the same time. I'll be revising them to keep working on the truer more beautiful version of myself. It's about surrendering constantly who I just was in order to become who this next moment calls me to be. I cannot hold on to the shore anymore, as I need to let go and go farther. Some of us are taught this with our individual situations whether it's a loss of a loved one, divorce, trauma, or you-name-it. But my personal teacher of this has been cancer. 

#5 Sunshine is all around

Did I mention how everything is clearer, brighter, more beautiful and sparkly? Taking a hard look at my own mortality is not something that has really ever been on my agenda. Ever. Once I was diagnosed, it zoomed to the top of my list of things to mull over. I found that once I came to terms with it, I could see the side of the deceased easier than the side of the living. Because once you're gone, you're gone. It's everyone who is left behind that has the hardest part. Then, you know what you need to do. Clean your own $hit up so that someone else doesn't have to - or at least try to. Make an effort, Cyndi. We don't get to pick our departure date. But you sure the heck can have some of your ducks in a row. That's better than not knowing where your ducks are at all. Isn't it ironic that several years ago I was blogging about Death Cleaning. I was certian, even then, that is was a thing. It's actually a practice we do here at the Graves Farm. No, we are certainly not the experts, but we do put in effort. We've rehomed many things recently (think couches, chairs, anything) and our favorite way of doing it is this:  Take it (whatever it is) down the gravel road and place it in/near the very front of the driveway and strategically place a Free sign on it. Seriously, it always gets picked up and we do not live on a busy road what-so-ever. We are sending things back into the world. Merry Christmas, my friends. Less clutter around the home is less chaos inside you. My material things own me, literally. The more I let go of them, the lighter I feel. Did I mention everything looks shinier, glittery and light.

Doing Things

Onward, as the list will grow and evolve, no doubt. For now though, let's talk about what happens at the farm when we are gone. To recap, the sheep: Grace, Brooklyn, Willow, LuLu and Belle are doing amazing! Our friends that have them, recently took Grace and Brooklyn to be involved in a Christmas Story Time event. The 5 ewes are so sweet and their family is enjoying them. That in itself makes my little sheep heart inside me, so very happy. 

Grace and Brooklyn out in the world
doing things

Then our 3 mini's are heading to be boarded with the farrier we use, Shannon. She will allow them to stay at her barn/stable for the duration of our trip to Houston. She also has a couple of mini horses, and is a true Horse Lady herself so we are beyond thrilled that she will care for our three little horses while we are away. And to boot, they will get their pedicures completed while we are away. Dora, Hope and Faith get picked up for their mini vacation (I think I'm funny sometimes) on Jan 3rd. 

The donkeys, you ask? We will have them in the pasture up by the pond. There's a barn there for them and before we go, we'll get them a special treat of a round bale of hay - all their own. They will do great there! They love passer buyers on the road, and although very few are on foot, the few that do roam by usually pet the donkeys. Mama and Papa are just extra special. Just to think 4 1/2 years ago we were blessed with these sweet (full size) donkeys and Levi and Whisper (livestock guard dogs). They are truly amazing animals that were not wanted by others and yet have been some of our greatest gifts in life. 

My emotionally fragile Whisper

Levi was not sure about Maybe though. 
That's such an old pic, I see baby donkey
in the background.  

Levi in relaxation mode and semi-retired. 
He's in fierce mode when the sun goes down.

This brother sister duo was weary of Maybe at first, as she looks a lot like skunk. And skunks do not survive if they cross the perimeter. Finally now though, Maybe can go out and about without fearing for her life. Sugar on the other hand has no trouble running straight up to Whisper and Levi as I think she really thinks she's one of them. 

Now, since Maybe and Sugar are going with us, that will leave Whisper and Levi to guard the chickens (as usual) and of course Winston. 

Old man with his little grey hairs

Winston is another gift from above, which
we are most grateful.
He's looking better nowadays.

Winston has access to the inner front yard and an insulated dog house to keep him warm and safe. He's slow moving and goes no where fast. Due to his arthritis (back leg injuries?), he gets a pain pill each day, and will continue to do so as a wonderful person will be coming to feed the dogs and chickens each morning and night while we are gone to Houston. Winston has shown us what resilience looks like. His loyalty was instantaneous and his love strong. I'm drawn to broken dogs (Sugar, Winston, Whisper) and find my bond with them is like no other. I told David recently of an idea I had about taking in 'senior' dogs without homes. I could call it The Sunshine Senior Resort. The bonus in our new friend/resident is that Winston isn't fast enough to catch a chicken, and fed enough to not want one. I want more Winston's around. Maybe one day. 

Now, that leaves one last thing.....the cleaning of the barn. We're pretty sure we have it figured out though, as we are still ironing out those deets. The eggs will still be collected and placed in the refridge for pickup, for those that buy from us - yet they will not be stamped with our logo while we are away. 

If there's one standard response I (we) give in regards to what we've been doing lately, it's Doing Things. Apparently, we say it often enough that our daughter, Lauren got us matching hats that say so.

Filters are great. We don't 
even look like us. 

Doing things is very applicable when living out here. There's never a shortage of things to do, and it just so happens that we like doing things. As we move through this holiday season, we've been blessed with some extra time to do extra things. We have been filtering through the garage, the barn, as well as the house. I even had a burn pile for 3 days straight. I've taken stuff up to the front by the road, and left it there for people, and the great thing is.....people always take the stuff. Others things we are doing include redesigning the chicken's area for easier cleaning, trying new barn floor shavings, cleaning out (and above) the tack room, placing all not-needed water buckets up, and minimizing The To Do List here at the farm, on a daily basis. Now, if we weren't leaving for 2 months, I may not have delved into a deep dive of all these things. The best part is that it will feel SO good when we arrive back home late February to have it all neat and trim and ready for us again. This is very similar to (remember when) we could have people over IN our house, and then we'd need to clean the house and get it ready for guests. It's cleaning in that kind of way, a way that surpasses our normal day-to-day cleaning. It's amazing how much we will clean and pick up when others are coming to our house. The slight difference for us is that it's not just the house, it's the barn too. And since I LOVE being in the barn, doing things there is fun. 

Among the usual doing things that we are doing also include the unusual things. We had a foundation company come and help us to determine what to do about the crack in the wall and door(s) not shutting. David had a colonoscopy. I had a mammogram. The not-so-fun things in life. One of the hardest things we've had to do is cancel all the holiday plans at our house, due in part as an attempt to keep David covid-free for the next 2 weeks before his treatment. With the weather so beautiful this Christmas season, it makes it even harder to not have family and friends over. We will see this through and will get to the other side just in time for the wonderful Spring weather and have everyone over.

To put a kink in things, because there always has to be a kink, is that David has an inguinal hernia. Or so we think anyway. He'll see a doctor about it tomorrow, and of course we are wondering what this all means in the grand scheme of things. With that unfortunate news, there's some good news on a different front. David had bought an antenna for the TV so we can try and get some local stations out in these parts. Ever since we told Direct TV to f-off, he's been using Sling (and other things) but is struggling to find local stations that show football fames, news and weather. He found it - right at Lowes. An antenna for less than $50.00 AND free.99 every month to grab free airwaves and bring them into our casa. And if Direct TV calls me again soliciting my business, you may find my rating as a customer (I hate it that businesses can rate US now) plummet. Luckily, not all businesses can rate us, but it's only a mater of time, right?

Brooks, Brooks, Baby

The Christmas holidays brought us an increase in Brooks holding time. He's 2 1/2 months now and although his mom and dad get no sleep, are slaves to his needs, and never eat their own food hot anymore - everyone is well. We've all been there, and somehow others keep doing it anyway. He's absolutely adorable and one can never get enough of the cuteness. Our hearts are full. 

Even he loves looking at himself, as 
much as we love looking at him. 

Keep being you, Brooks! There's no one in the world like you. If you're not you, who will be. 

  

As we all continue to make our way in this magnificent world, here's to a million deaths and rebirths of ourselves,

Cyndi

For My Sweet Lauren, and all moms out there:

Mama,

I can’t see past you right now, I’m so small and everything’s a little blurry.

All I see is you.

When you feel alone, like the walls are closing in, remember I’m here too. I know your world has changed and the days feel a little lonely. But they aren’t lonely for me.

You are my everything.

When you feel like you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re making it look easy to me. Even though we’re still getting to know each other, you know me better than anyone.

I trust you.

When you think some nights you’ll never sleep again, you will. We both will. But I’m scared right now. I promise I’m not manipulating you. I just need your smell and comfort. Do you feel that tug in your heart when we’re apart? I do too.

I miss you.

When you feel as if you’ve achieved nothing, please know, my cup has never been so full.

The days that get away on you will be some of my best memories of us playing together on the ground.

I love you.

When you feel like you don’t know who you are anymore, when you turn away from the mirror. That face will be the one I look to when I achieve something, the one I search for in a crowd. The reason for my first smile.

You’re perfect to me.

When you feel like the weight of it all is heavy in your heart, please know I’ve never felt lighter. Can I lay here with you a little longer?

I won’t always need you like this.

But I need you right now.

When you feel as if you have nothing left to give, when I see your hands outstretched at me, pleading. When we’re both crying. I wish I could talk, but I can’t.

If I could I would tell you,

There’s a reason I chose you.

I can’t see past you right now mama, because you are my world.

It will get bigger, soon enough.

But for now,

All I see is you.

** Credit Jessica Urlich and her amazing poems, about mothers and their children. Thank you, Jessica.

More to that story

If I may, I'd like to add a little more color and contrast to the MD Anderson experience (from the last blog post). Since this new addition to the story was not my story to tell (yet), David has since said, "Yes, let's blog about my MD Anderson story now". And so, I shall. 

Let's rewind

It was back in August 2020 that I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called polycythemia vera. I had never heard of it, knew nothing about it and was quite surprised to know I had it. While at MD Anderson this past week, I saw an amazing hematologist oncologist that specializes in PV, by the name of Dr Verstovsek. He's the King of PV as many doctors and health care workers seek his knowledge regarding polycythemia vera. 

My intention was to talk to him about joining a clinical trial - and that I did. Dr V reviewed my medical history, asked many questions, and decided joining a study is best, as he said he's not ready for me to join a clinical trial (at this time) as he feels like the medications given during the trials (that are happening now) are not intended for me at this stage of my cancer. He said with time, they will be. But not right now. He said he feels like I still have other treatment options still available to me that might better serve me. 

What does the study mean? Well, essentially, I had 1001 vials of blood draw, a million lab values tested, my medical information loaded into their database, and a follow up to be completed every 3 months (for a while) and then maybe every 6 months eventually. If MD Anderson can find a cure, I really want to be a small part of it, if at all possible. And if anybody can do it - it's MD Anderson. I've seen their magic now. They are the DisneyWorld of cancer centers. The best. The bomb.com. They are the epitome of what it means to "make things happen". Their well-oiled machine allows them to operate at a high level to help cancer patients see doctors who are the best of the best. Heck, I wanted to just stay and work there. Instead, I'll visit here and there. Who doesn't want to go to DisneyWorld every 3-6 months!

But what about David?

Yes, well David had sinus surgery back in mid-November. He actually saw a ENT doctor at the ENT practice I work for. He had had a sinus infection which did not respond to antibiotics and steroids. He eventually had a sinus CT scan showing a blockage in his left upper sinuses, likely a polyp. While not everyone who has sinus surgery has polyps, some people do. Most people have sinus surgery for various reasons.....turbinate reduction, septum repair, sinus ballooning, among many other things going on in people's noses. Good news? Surgery went great! David's recovery went well, and he was able to breathe through both nostrils again and he bounced along loving his new open sinuses. 

So what's the dealio then

Protocol states that tissue (polyps, any resection inside the nose, etc) that's been taken out of the nose is sent as a specimen to pathology, if indicated by the surgeon. Often times, it's simply benign tissue and many people do not even know their sinus tissue was looked at by pathology. That's the person you want to be.

Fast forward to David living his best life, breathing well from both nostrils, sinus rinsing to encourage healing and doing all the things to give his nose a wonderful recovery. Not so bad after all, he thought. Lauren had a sinus surgery about 2 years ago now (minus the polyp and include a deviated septum repair for her) by the very same doctor - and still to this day, raves about the results. David joined that fan club. All was well.

Here's where the record scratch happens - it's loud and screeching. Remember listening to your 45's on the record player, singing along, dancing like no one is watching OR dancing like your on Soul Train and it's your turn to dance down the middle of the lines. I feel like dancing, yeah and then the big scratch happens, oh and add in a repeating skip in the record. Dang it, and I was so happy listening to that song. It's my favorite song.....the one called Beautiful Sunday by Daniel Boone. Hey, Hey, Hey, It's a beautiful day! 

You might as well change the record completely and don't start that same record over, because the news David received was quite the surprise. He would find out he has SNUC. That polyp turned out to be a tumor that was cancerous. It's called Sinonasal Undifferentiated Carcinoma. Wait, what? I've never heard of that, and I work in the ENT field. It's rare, we are told. And if you google it, you might feel like you need to sell all your belongings, check your Will, and go do those things you said you were always going to do. 

Panic sets in, no doubt. Confusion and sadness along with lots of googling that's never good for anyone. After he's given the doctor's recommendations of going to either Baylor or UTSW or MD Anderson, David picks MD Anderson. And in no time, we are there.

Now, there's lots going on in-between finding this news out and pulling up to MD Anderson. Let's see, there's talking about it, more talking about it, crying, being happy we found out now, deciding who to tell, deciding to tell no one, downsizing the farm, thinking of all the things we need to wrap up in life, making the calls for appointments at MDA, travel logistics, who will care for the farm as he'd need to be at MDA all week for PET scan, MRI, seeing this doctor and seeing that doctor, and I could go on and on. We had no idea what this diagnosis meant for sure, as only time would tell. But you can't help but think the worst. Yet, what do you realize the most? This isn't happening to someone else, it's happening to you. To David. To your own family. You see, it's always someone else getting the cancer. Someone else having chemo and radiation. Someone else trying to figure it all out. Now, it's your turn. Your turn to feel what this really feels like and go through the 1,001 steps to be seen by doctors who can help, to prepare yourself for treatment, and figure it all out. It's the holidays, how does that play into it? We were supposed to help Lauren with Brooks while she went back to work. It was like tossing your life in the air, and seeing where it would all land. We landed at the door step of MDA with us BOTH having appts that week. I was on the 8th floor while David was on floor 10. It was an adventure that we will never forget. We were both seeing amazing doctors, we were both being covid tested to get through the door, and although no family (only patients) can get inside the buildings at MDA, we walked through the doors together. What a blessing it was. What a gift to be there. There's no better Christmas gift for a cancer patient. MDA is the present you want to unwrap. 

Why MDA?

So when you're diagnosed with cancer, it's time to get an oncologist (unless you have one already). It's time to have labs, a PET scan, maybe other imaging, a medical oncologist, other types of oncologist, a oral surgeon/dentist to check your teeth if you are having radiation, and other providers depending on your circumstances. Like a radiation oncologist and a chemo oncologist, plus a few other appts that have probably slipped my mind. So if you go to UTSW or Baylor, you'll likely see 3 different oncologist on three different days, head to Lab Corp for labs, go to an imaging center for scans, and find a DDS in your insurance plan that can help with pre-clearance for radiation. In other words, you are your own Care Coordinator, and that's fine - don't get me wrong. There are MANY wonderful places to be treated for cancer that do a amazing job. Or, another option is you can go to MDA and it's all under one roof, whereby all the providers talk to each other as a collaborative health care team making decisions about your care - together. MDA has what they call a tumor conference on Thursday nights where the pathologist, radiologist, all the oncologists involved, the pathologist, etc all sit in one room and watch as the slides of your medical records are presented on a large screen for all to see and review (by the Fellows at MDA). The Fellows do ALOT there. They know ALOT. After your case is presented to the board, they make their recommendations. Pretty sweet, huh. Easy peasy. You check your portal, MyChart for updates, your appts, your results, etc. Yes, it's in Houston. No, you won't be at home for treatment. But what we have learned is that the FIRST time you have treatment is the most important and imperative time to be at a facility that knows what they are doing. Now, UTSW, Baylor, Texas Oncology ALL know what they are doing and are here in town. They are great! Yet, we picked MD Anderson as David feels like his best chance is with them. And that's what it's all about. It's about the patient picking what works best for them and serves them well. After all, it's their body, their decisions and ultimately, their consequences. 

How did it go?

Smooth as butter. They make the appts. You show up. They schedule all the imaging, labs and things. You show up. They all talk about it together. You find out. They do this every day and know what they are doing. And not only that, it's a health care team who day in and day out know cancer. They work as a team, and communication is their staple. It's all under one roof. There's parking. There's also apartments to rent all around the area. And most importantly, when it comes to your life, you want to see the people who see it every day. They know what to do, how your feeling, and never once do you get an idea they don't know what their doing. It's peace, pure peace at a time when your soul is in complete chaos.  

What's next, my friend?

Oh goodie! David went back to MDA this week and was fitted for his mouthpiece, mask and had his practice radiation. The fun never stops. I never knew you had to practice the radiation. I'm learning so much! And then, it'll really fire up on Jan 11, 2021 when (we) go back for his treatment to actually begin. It's going to look like this: Every week day, radiation. Side effects, yes. Once a week, chemo is given. Side effects, yes. This will happen for 7 weeks. We'll rent an apartment again, and live there until they tell us we can go back home. DisneyWorld will unfortunately turn into a Haunted House for awhile. This is the unknown. And as humans, we are generally scared of the unknown. We, like millions of people around the world, will move through this. We are not the first in the line for this ride, nor will be the last. We are merely experiencing what so many people have already. We are just like the others, trying to figure out how to do this. How to make it all work. How to live life and try to rid yourself of cancer. David gets that chance, and has the privilege of going to MDA for that chance. No one gets the guarantee, nor do we expect it. Okay, we do expect it. And we will give it our best shot. Or better yet, the best radiation/chemo shot. 

What are the chances?

I can't even begin to answer the question of how David and I were both diagnosed with cancer within a 3-4 month period of each other. Different cancers, different diagnosis. and different treatments. Both considered rare cancers, to boot. Even though it doesn't make sense, that's just it. These things that happen to us in life don't have explanations. It's the story written for us. God will see us through as our trust and faith is strong. We each have an uninvited guest visiting us, and how we handle our new visitor(s) is key. Please, come on in. Make yourself at home. How may we assist you? We will continue to pray, ask for grace, try and give grace as much as we are able, and lean on our family and friends. It's not a good time to disappear into life, it's a good time to rejoice, celebrate life and share our experiences. Thanks for coming to DisneyWorld with us. I hope you like Haunted Houses, too.

With love,

Cyndi

I'm accepting questions at this time. First up, what about the farm? 

We have decided to downsize the farm a little bit while we figure things out. Coinciding with all this action, is that the guard dog pup's batteries on their underground fence collars went out, and the pups kept getting out of the pasture. The sheep decided to push through a part of the fence and mayhem ensued. This is exactly what happens on a farm. Weird and unusual things at unexpected times. David and I made the decision to place the guard dogs, Marley and Lucy on CraigsList to find a new place to guard sheep/goats. Within 24 hours, I had people requesting already-trained guard dogs for their sheep/goats, and so they left us pretty quick. I may need to start a business doing that, as people love guard dogs who are already trained for sheep and goats. Anyway, that leaves the sheep who decide to become escape artist. It's not the first time, mind you. Sheep are puzzle solvers and a fence is their puzzle. We can't have this while we are out of town for a couple of months, so we reached out to some friends with a farm and they kindly agreed to take our sweet sheep. They let us know we can have them back, if we so desire, after we are back home and settled. But for now, the 5 ewes are now taking residence in Anna. We drove them out there and saw their barn. Wow, the sheep are in sheep haven there. That's one nice barn they have. So the downsizing has begun so that we can handle our business at hand. At this time, no one else is on the blocks to leave the property. All the farm animals are on high alert to make sure they do not leave their assigned areas.......or else. Aint' got time for that when I'm not here to chase you down. 

But what about Sugar and Maybe, your house dogs?

They are coming with. We took them both with us to the apartment that we rented the first week we went to MDA. They did very well and make a great team. Maybe and Sugar both adapt well to wherever we are.

Where are we

Okay, we're all good in this warm sun

And will y'all work?

I'll be working, and take my computer with me. David will work for a week or two, and then from what we understand, he'll down for the count until after his treatment is done. It's really hard to say, as it'll depend on how he's feeling. Since we are first-timers at radiation/chemo, I'll think we'll both see how it goes as far as work is concerned. TBD. But we are going to try to work, as much as each of us can, and plan on staying at an apartment close to MD Anderson. 

Who will care for the farm?

I've secured a young lady who has cared for our farm animals on previous vacations and such. She does an amazing job. We've had multiple friends say they will do this, but in the grand scheme of life, it's hard to make time to come over morning and night, plus keep the barn clean. Therefore, we would rather pay to have this task completed, and not burden friends with chicken poop and egg collection. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. 

In summary, we are in the initial stages of this excitement. What to do, where to go, who will care for the farm, will David blog? So many questions. I have a feeling there's more Q&A sections to come in the upcoming blog posts. Buckle up, the rollercoaster is ticking up the first ramp. 

So many nuggets

 

Baby on Board

This sign (you know the one, yellow with black letters, on the back window of the car in front of you) first arrived at my house recently, as Lauren/Brooks have been staying with us in Gunter for the last couple of weeks. While this is a blessing for us, it's not because it was Lauren's plan. Unfortunately, she had a complication from the birth of Brooks which made it more difficult for her to move around and care for Brooks. Lauren would need to rest and recover, all while Team Us helped take care of Brooks, along with Lauren, of course. Lauren was able to take care of Brooks as much as she possibly could, but additional help was required for a period of time. Good news for us though! We have had lots of Brooks-time these last few weeks. And we loved it!

Post-bath

We were able to give many bathes, have quality time (even during the night) rocking and feeding him, we would go for walks in his carrier (esp to the barn), and assisted giving bottles. Lots of bottles! He's growing up so fast, and will be 8 weeks on Wednesday. 

He loves sheep, like we all do around here.

I'm happy to share that Lauren has healed, and is up and on the move again. It took her whole 8 weeks maternity time off to get there, but she did it! Lauren is now back to work (today) and luckily Ryan will be able to watch Brooks this week while Lauren (works from home) and is back to work. I'm happy to say that Lauren, Ryan and Brooks are all doing well, and creating a new life for themselves. Although, now we have asked them to stay in Gunter a little longer.......

What did you say?

Yes, I mentioned that Lauren is back to work, and Ryan is watching Brooks - yet it's all in Gunter - for now. Why is that you ask? Because even though David and I were supposed to be watching Brooks this week, we had a change in plans. I've been fortunate to be able to go to MD Anderson this week to visit with a doctor for a clinical trial regarding polycythemia vera. MDA will evaluate me and see if I qualify for a clinical trial here. We will see what this brings, and if it is something that is meant for me. I'll continue to update the progress of this as it evolves. For now, we will spend the week in Houston and learn what MD Anderson is all about! I'm hoping to learn more about this blood cancer and what it means for me - and all the other mutant warriors out there (PV patients have a JAK2 mutation). If I can be involved in a clinical trial that helps with research and a cure, I'm all in.  

In the meantime, Lauren and Ryan are staying in Gunter to take care of our farm, while we are in Houston. I should be back (maybe) Wednesday.....but we'll see how it goes. We may be here all week, as it depends on what testing they may require. We are staying in the Med Residence apartments next door to MDA, and it's really nice here. There are lots of opportunities regarding cancer research, treatments and AMAZING doctors here. It's a well oiled machine at MDA, and touches so many peoples lives every day. I'm thrilled to be seen by a doctor here, even if I don't qualify for the clinical trial. It will be a learning experience for sure. 

My yeses and no's are aligned

Yes to more chickens, no to more work. Yes to taking in a stray dog, no to unneeded things around the farm. Yes to downsizing and no to keeping junk I don't need. Yes to selling eggs and no to things that don't serve me. I always have more things I could discard. It's like an ongoing game to Keep or Throw Away. Keep what's needed or loved - and throw away the rest. Sounds easy but takes forever, it seems. 

Yes, it would seem that more chickens = more work. But with the chicken food feeders David has made, it's a game changer. Less work. I've rearranged the barn to make it easier to clean. That helps. Yes to Winston, who is not just surviving, but thriving. He's such a treat to have around! He's an old guy, whose grateful and loyal as well as an example of how to live your best life after living in such harsh conditions. 

Winston is now allowed to roam more and more. He doesn't run fast or far, as he can't. We watch him closely for chicken chasing, but he's just not physically able to do too much. He prefers to be around us when possible, and showed interest in a dog toy for the first time recently. He's down to 2 meals a day, plus a pain pill each day. The Vet said he will need daily pain meds as he's got terrible arthritis in his back hind legs/hips that cause him to fall to the ground easily due to his unsteadiness. We were able to have him neutered, and the place the Vet thought was a gun shell was actually a calcified cyst that the Vet was able to take out (while he was under anesthesia). I'm happy to report he's doing well!

Horse Play

More good news! Faith recovered from her colic and is doing wonderful. All three mini's have grown their winter coats and look so cozy. They are friendly, happy and readily allow my touch. Esp Dora, who has become my snuggle bug, wanting pets and attention. After her baby Diego (aka Biter) left the farm, Dora has turned into the sweetest thing ever. And then to make all things even better, Hope and Faith have grown their trust towards people, and are being receptive to outsiders. It's so wonderful to see these 3 mares change and evolve. I'm happy that they are so happy. 

Sweet Dora

Faith (Hope nearby though!)

Hope and Faith are attached. They are attached not only because they are mama/daughter, but also because they went through such hard times together, that bonded them even more. They look out for each other at all times. Dora may be the "outsider" with these 2 mini's, but the 3 of these girls do well overall. They keep things exciting around here, and are growing more trusting all the time.

Chicken bonanza 

For real, I found a lady in Van Alstyne selling her entire flock of laying hens for $3 each. Upon further investigation, this lady's chickens were in immaculate shape and stunningly beautiful. And the fact they were hens and laying eggs made the deal sweeter. I bought 4 naked neck/turkins and 4 americanas from her and loved them so much, I went back and bought 3 wyandottes and 2 cinnamon queens ("comets"). They are all in such wonderful shape, it really prompted me to reevaluate my own living conditions for my chickens. I can always do better, and decided I'd step up my chicken game.

Giving the swing a try

I cleaned the mirror they love to look at themselves in, I cleaned their dust bathe area completely and added new dirt and sand. I moved their roosting area to a place I could clean underneath easier and added several wood ladders with round rungs just the right size for their little chicken feet to roost on. The new chicken feeders (David made) create less waste and less mess. And I added more roosting room for them, so night time is never a fight to get the 'best spot' now. I upped my chicken game. Here's some of my new girls that inspired me to be better:

The ameraucana's have the cutest faces and lay
easter eggs - as all their eggs are green-blue
and just simply beautiful (the chickens and their eggs). 

The 3 wyandottes are so beautiful, they know it.

The turkens will not win the Chicken Beauty 
Pageant, but they are the sweetest things. 

Thank you, David for these chicken feeders 💕

So how many chickens do I have now? Let me do a little chicken math. Let's see, I have my 10 little silkie and frizzles........

5 silkes and 5 frizzles over here

Plus the 1 new brahma chick a friend gave me the other day ("Here, take one!") as it sat in my lap unexpectedly on the car ride home (no pic yet of it, it's brand new). Okay, that's 11, right? Plus my original 34 big girls I already had, plus the 4 turken's + 3 wyandotte's + 4 ameraucana's + 2 "comets' MINUS the fact I gifted a family friend 4 of my amazing $3-chicken-finds (she got 1 of the wyandotte, 1 of the ameraucana and also gave her the 2 "comets" because she loves those too). ** Side note: I love to share my chickens with my fellow chicken-lady friends. It's almost like a 10 year old boy with baseball trading cards. 

Oh, and I forgot to mention 2 of my teenager blue Orpingtons were roosters (they were given away promptly) and my lavender Orpington just up and disappeared one day. I need to put all that in the equation. 

So back to the chicken math: 10 + 1 + 34 + 13 - 4 - 2 -1 = 51 

But what's weird about this is when I count my chickens at night when they are staying still and roosting.....I count 50. Ugh. No wait, maybe I didn't count the new baby brahma given to me. Or did I? Ooof. Anyways. I have around 50 chickens - and love them dearly. One of my Ideal 236's I've named Moon Pie who loves to be loved. I named one of the turkens Long Neck and she follows me around everywhere. So they mostly all get named eventually. More pics next time, as I'm in Houston I'm unable to go out and snap the ones I want to put in my blog. Next time though, I'll include Moon Pie and Long Neck. 

 

Maya Angelo once said: "Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better." 

I did just that with my chickens recently, and continue to try and live my life like that as well, Maya. Sometimes I don't know better. But when I do, I should act on that. #trying

Alright, My Friends 

I'm trying to call myself out on my own $hit in order to grow over here. Whether it's caring for my chickens or being a better triage nurse at work. I've had a turning point (another corner, geez) for me, all while turning 57 years old this past November.  57 enlightened me that the 3 people I am most grateful for are who I used to be, who I am now, and who I'm becoming. I need them all. I don't always like them all, but that's what spurs me to grow. While I really just want to be a woodland creature living life with my neighbor goose next door and my only worry is whether or not my owl friend is going to pop by today and say hello. That's not my life. If asked what I want to do today? I'd reply with go hike the Appalachian Trail or go pick up at where I left off just outside NY and finish my trek on down to Florida. Maybe it's just that I want to be outside moving my body in some form or fashion. I think with the covid vaccines on the horizon, I'm going to make my way out in the world again. And so will most everybody else, thank you God. But first, let's see what MDA has to say.

Lastly.....

Oh, and since winter is here, the heated water buckets are going out. All animals shelters are double checked. Barn doors are shutting. Mowers are prepped for the winter and placed in the back of the garage. Bird feeders are filled. Hummingbird feeders are down. Water spouts covered. Winter feels good, and Maya, I'll continue to do better.

Stay close to people who feel like sunshine,

Cyndi

Brooks doesn't know it yet, but big sis Tula
has her eye on him. Tula is patiently
awaiting her first pet from her brother.