A Thank You Card

Mom and my sister Althea conclude their visit to Prescott and Talking Rock Ranch today.  We’re driving to Phoenix so they can catch their flight back home to Manchester, New Hampshire.  I’m sending a grateful “Thank You” out to our friends here who have opened their homes, their arms, and their hearts to my family to make their visit so successful.

A parent needs to know that their children are happy, and that their future seems secure and bright.  It’s important to Mom to have experienced where and how we live, so that she can visualize things when she is far away at her own home.  For Althea, it’s nice to have a place to come visit where she can be comfortable and have a change of pace.

It delights me that our Talking Rock friends were so welcoming.  We enjoyed the impromptu gathering at Connie’s house, along with Sharon’s chili and cornbread.  Mom is tickled that people picked up on her childhood nickname, and now call her “Diz” instead of Dolores.  (I’ll remember Detta spotting Mom at the club and yelping, “There’s Diz!”) The Hiking Club included Althea on their weekly trek; and Althea also had a chance to be introduced to Pickle Ball.  Holly was so kind to invite us over for a preview of her paintings, which she is preparing for a gallery exhibit later this month.  It was fun to join the happy chatter of ladies at Coop’s after golf earlier this week.  The staff catered to our special requests at the club, designed to make Mom comfortable.  Althea was greeted like an old friend by those she had met on previous visits.  All of us enjoyed sharing Happy Hour and the sunset on our back patio with Connie, Wayne, Gus, and Rochelle.  Mom got lots of warm Arizona sunshine and friendly hugs that she says she has stored up to last her through the winter.

My mother and sister will take memories of warmth and laughter back to New Hampshire, and will have a place in their own hearts for Talking Rock.  I’m not the least bit surprised that our wonderful friends reached out to gather them in…but I am pleased and grateful.

Thank you, sincerely.

Our Fragility

As we age, I am finding that I have a heightened awareness of our fragility.  We didn’t think about this when we were younger.  Life was navigated casually, and we took our health for granted.  It was impossible to imagine that something really bad could happen to alter our existence.  So, we burned the candle at both ends, got behind the wheel under the influence, and worked so hard that we sometimes made ourselves sick with the effort.  We just knew that we could cheat Fate.

Now that we have passed the mark of 50 years on earth, I look at things a lot differently.  There are more years behind us than in front, and I appreciate life as a gift. We’ve experienced more, and we’ve felt the rancid breath of the grim reaper get a little too close for comfort on one or more occasions.  There’s a different perspective that comes with age.

You see, any of us is a moment away from debilitating misfortune.  I don’t live life dreading it, but I know it’s true.  It could be the illness that confines you to bed, the terrible car accident that severs a family, the numbness in an arm that signals a stroke, or a diagnosis of cancer.  These mini tragedies occur around us every day, and mark us all in one way or another.  At best, they bring us together to share our strength, fear, and hope.

We try to take care of ourselves by eating correctly, working out, getting enough sleep, and enhancing our nutrition with vitamins and supplements.  Wellness visits to the doctor and dentist are part of our routines.  Now we know that a reduction of stress in our lives and active social connections with friends are part of a healthy lifestyle.  There is so much we can do.

Embrace every day with gratitude, and take care of yourself and your loved ones.  

The Weird Science of "Stuff"

Newton developed Three Laws of Motion.  George Carlin had a comedic routine about “Stuff”.  Somehow the two of them missed what seems to be a corollary about the science of stuff.  Here it is:  “The stuff you accumulate grows in direct proportion to the amount of space you have in which to house it.” 

Here’s the problem with that fact.  We have two homes, and are preparing to downsize to one.  We will soon be faced with figuring out how to deal with 4,000 square feet of stuff in 2,000 square feet. Obviously, the only way to do this is to get rid of a bunch of stuff.  We did this in 2008 when we moved from our large home in Memphis to the smaller condo in Chicago.  It was brutal.  We gave things away, we sold stuff, and we threw away mountains of crapola.  One would think we would have learned some sort of lesson.  Yet here we are, about to embark on the same journey of angst over stuff.

Accumulation happens innocently enough as a result of living in two homes.  You want to make a meatloaf, and have no meatloaf pan.  You start playing golf but have no clothes appropriate for the course dress code.  Furniture from Chicago can’t be moved to Prescott while we are spending months at a time in both places.  So now we have “enough” to be comfortable in each home – which means we have too much.

We know how to do this.  Furniture not destined for Prescott will be sold or given away.  Old paperwork will be shredded.  Clothes that don’t fit or haven’t been worn lately will be bagged and taken to the Salvation Army.  But which dishes and glasses will we keep?  What chains of bondage to sentimental items will we have the strength to break?  How completely can we embrace the next chapter of our lives without being hampered by moving too much stuff?

It’s painful to dismantle a comfortable home built over the years.  But I believe the more we look ahead rather than behind, the happier we can be with our lives.  I want people and love around me.  The “stuff” I can leave behind.

Anybody need a meatloaf pan?

Meeting my Surgeon - Chapter 2 of My Cancer Story

This post is the 2^nd in a series describing my journey with Colon Cancer.  If you haven’t read the first installment, click HERE.

My colon cancer has just been diagnosed by a Gastroenterologist, via a colonoscopy.  It’s December 26, 2001.  Ron and I are on the way to St Francis Hospital in Memphis to meet my surgeon, Dr. W. Scott King, Jr.  He has been highly recommended by my Gynecologist, Dr. Thayer.

Word on my condition is out, apparently, because we have no wait at the doctor’s office before being escorted into a private room to meet Dr. King.  I am quivering with fear and sick to my stomach.  I’m hanging onto Ron like a floatation device.  Then Dr. King sweeps into the room.

W. Scott King, MD

He's a bundle of focused energy, and exudes confidence. Tall and lanky, his longish, grey hair is tied back in a small ponytail.  He makes us think of a retired fighter pilot – cocky and self-assured, but in a personable way that immediately inspires confidence.  Dr. King tells us what he knows from the colonoscopy.  Surgery will be required before we can know more – including my prognosis.

Out comes “The Colon Book”, a color pamphlet with information patients can understand.  Using the booklet, Dr. King draws in the location of my cancerous tumor.  It’s in the sigmoid (lower) colon, where waste is stored and pushed down to the rectum.  There is some good news.  The tumor is not in the rectum, which would make surgery and recovery much more complicated.  I will not have to live life after surgery with a colostomy bag.  Further, it will be possible to have my planned hysterectomy and colon resection during the same surgery, while they have my abdomen open.  Two surgeries; one recovery.  Dr. Thayer will do the full hysterectomy, and Dr. King will do the colectomy (colon resection) – removing about a foot of colon, along with the tumor.  I am assured that we all have way more colon than we really need, so I’ll never miss what he takes out.

Dr. King has provided a plan, comfort that we are in the right hands and, most importantly, HOPE.  We won’t know whether the cancer has spread outside the colon until pathology is done on the removed colon and surrounding tissue, but we know we need to cut the bad stuff out.  Now I’m anxious to move ahead.

Surgery is scheduled for January 7, 2002.  I’ll be in the hospital for about a week, and will have to take two months off work for recovery.

"We Are So Spoiled!"



The "Golden Time" of day at Talking Rock.

There are moments when we feel so grateful for where and how we live that all we can say is, “We are so spoiled”.  I hear this same statement fairly often, blurted from my own mouth and uttered spontaneously by friends.  What is it about life here at Talking Rock Ranch in Prescott, Arizona that makes us feel this way?

As I’m having my coffee this morning, I’m watching the sunrise turn the mountains pink.  Late this afternoon, we’ll see the late afternoon light bathe everything in a golden glow.  The deep green of junipers pops against the backdrop of rosy granite rocks and grassy vegetation.  Distant peaks look blue and purple.  Sunsets paint the canvas of the sky with fiery shades of orange and crimson.  We can’t help being entranced by the constantly-changing display of color and form.

Step outside at night and you will see the Milky Way in the midst of a black cloak sparking with billions of stars.  Meteor showers provide special delights.  Daytime skies are often an uninterrupted, intense blue.  The air is clear and fresh, and scented with juniper and sage.  Desert rain coaxes a sweet, flowery scent from the chaparral. 

We happily share this environment with animal friends.  Coyotes yip and howl when they hunt at night.  Cottontails and jackrabbits flash through the brush and hop across the patios behind our homes.   Javelina appear primeval and comical at the same time.  Bobcats are abundant (watch out, bunnies!).  Deer take shortcuts across the golf course.  Dainty hummingbirds buzz happily among the desert flora.

There’s no question that we are spoiled by the beautiful facilities and wonderful staff of Talking Rock Ranch.  I worked in the hotel industry for 30 years, and this club rivals top resorts across the country - and we live here!  Our golf course is pristine, and the club house has one of the best chefs in Prescott.  The Barn fitness center is large and well-equipped, and the locker rooms clean and luxurious.  You can get your coffee fix at Coops, not to mention a stronger beverage, a sandwich, soup, a newspaper, or other everyday items. 

I maintain that it’s the people here that make us feel truly fortunate and spoiled.  The club staff knows us all by name.  Linda knows how you like your coffee.  Ryan keeps tabs on your wine preferences.  Jayce recalls that your favorite cocktail changes with the seasons.  You may get a hug from your server when you arrive for dinner at Morgan’s.  Chef Richard prepares custom meals for special events.  Matt readies your golf cart for a round, and provides valet parking services for the restaurant.  Brian gives great golf tips and lessons.  Members here are spoiled in the best possible ways.   

Lastly, we have wonderful neighbors who are becoming lifetime friends.  We share many interests, much laughter, and even our sorrows.  Doors are opened wide to fun and fellowship.  Together, we share the joy of having found not only a home, but a community.  There is so much to celebrate!

Maybe we’ll change Talking Rock’s tag line.  Instead of “There’s a Certain Spirit Here”, it should be “We Are So Spoiled”.  Both statements express the truth.

"You Have Cancer" - Chapter 1 of My Cancer Story

Ten years ago, on December 26, 2001, my gastroenterologist called me at work to deliver this bombshell. “You have colon cancer,” he said, and my world came to a grinding halt at the age of 46.

Blood was rushing in my ears, so I almost didn’t hear the doctor when we asked me, “Do you have a surgeon?”
“No.” Who the hell has a surgeon?
“I’ll have your gynecologist call you”, he said before he hung up.

This was the beginning of my journey with cancer. Many of my friends have heard bits and pieces of this story. Others may be curious. On the 10th Anniversary of my diagnosis, it’s a good time to tell all. I’m thankful for what I went through and learned, for the love and support I received during the difficult times, and for the gracious God that allowed me to survive. Maybe hearing about my experience will push you to face any nagging health issues you have, sooner rather than later. I hope you will be inspired to extend kindness to someone fighting their own life-threatening battle. When people are ill and afraid, little gestures are really meaningful gifts, and are remembered fondly.

People ask me whether I had symptoms of my cancer before I was diagnosed. In retrospect, I did; but I did not recognize their significance. I was often tired, which I attributed to being overweight and getting older. On occasion, I had blood in my feces, which I blamed on hemorrhoids. Constipation was a sign, but who doesn’t get constipated now and again? I explained away every symptom, because I couldn’t admit to myself that there might be something seriously wrong. There was some history of colon cancer in my family – but only at advanced ages.

Pelvic exams related to another medical issue (in preparation for a hysterectomy scheduled for January 7th) shed light on my other symptoms. My gynecologist tested a stool sample then recommended a colonoscopy to “rule out” any other issues before my surgery. Dr Gilbert Thayer’s diligence saved my life.

In shock and teary after the abrupt call with my diagnosis, I was in my office with the door closed with my husband Ron. All I could think is, "I have cancer, and I am going to die". Minutes later we got the follow-up call from Dr Thayer. He was calm, sympathetic, and reassuring, and asked me if I could see the surgeon he recommended, ASAP. We left the office for the hospital immediately to meet with Dr W Scott King.

COMING SOON – Chapter 2: Meeting Dr King, learning more about the seriousness of my cancer, and undergoing a double surgery (hysterectomy and colectomy).

Apricot Jumbles

We’re gliding into the heart of Christmas festivities, with Christmas Eve on Saturday and Christmas itself on Sunday. My shopping and shipping is done, and I have just a few presents left to wrap. Now there's time for a little baking of holiday treats!

The first thing I made, yesterday, was “Apricot Jumbles”. These are tasty little bites introduced to me by my friend Dave’s late mother, Nancy. I asked for the recipe as soon as I consumed one. They are easier to make than I expected, and I think the dried fruit and nuts in them is a little reminiscent of fruitcake – but so much yummier!

I don’t think Dave will mind if I shared the recipe. And I know Nancy would have been pleased.

APRICOT JUMBLES

Ingredients:
2 Tablespoons Butter
1 Cup Dried Apricots – chopped
2 Large Eggs
1 Cup Sugar
1 Teaspoon Vanilla
½ Cup Nuts – chopped
1 Cup Graham Crackers – crushed small
1 Cup Shredded Coconut (optional, but recommended)

Melt butter and add apricots. Beat eggs and add sugar; then add to apricots. Cook over low heat for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Stir in everything else (except the coconut). Chill. Once chilled enough to handle, roll into bite-sized balls. Cover with coconut if desired. Best stored chilled. (Makes 3 dozen.)

My Notes: I love coconut, so IMHO it's a key ingredient. It also makes the process of creating balls easier, because the dough is very sticky; plus they look more festive. I didn’t have enough dried apricots, so I also used dried pears, and that combination tastes great. For nuts, I chose Walnuts, but either Pecans or Almonds would be good too.  Lastly, to reduce the sugar levels somewhat, I used half sugar and half Splenda, and unsweetened coconut (already naturally sweet).

Our thanks go to Nancy and Dave for this recipe. Next, on to Ron’s Rum Balls.  Merry Christmas to All!