Your Ultimate RSVP

In my last blog, I mentioned that my dream "date" would be between Jesus Christ or Sting, former lead singer for The Police. Don't get me wrong, like many people, I would want to meet Jesus, but I think His dance card would be millions of miles long! Why would I want to meet Jesus face to face? Well, think of the answers to many questions that most of us have. What was he thinking when he created flowers? On my best days, I'm only marginally creative. I don't have it in me to have thought of even a fraction of the colors displayed in orchids alone. And the color combinations...breathtaking! My husband is a graphic designer and he's got a PMS color fan on him at all times (you know, the color thing you get from Sherwin Williams or at Home Depot's paing department). I never knew how many different shades of pink there could be. And I don't even LIKE pink!

So, Jesus would be my #1 date of all time. But, I hope to see Him one day in the future. Good medical science, reformed nutrition and my strength of will will, hopefull, delay that date. In the meantime, Sting is my #2. Why Sting, you may ask? Even if you didn't ask, I'll happily tell you. Sting (born Gordon Matthew Sumner) is one of the all-time greatest story tellers in history. Not just an opionion, his consistent presence on the top of music charts and his profitability confirm this. I once saw him on a show called, oddly enough, "Storytellers," and he commented on his unique style of lyricism. Nearly 90% of rock songs have to do with love--either falling in love, being in love, or losing love. Not very varying in depth, I would say. Sting has addressed world politics, economics, antiquities and a whole realm of issues, some hard hitting and some quite silly. Sometimes, the songs can even masquerade as silly, take "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da" for example. At first hearing, one might consider this a bizarre little tune. Why would a trio of grown men make baby noises? In fact, this song blasts the hypocrisy found in political figures when they speak down to the electorate. That's a timeless sentiment in my book!

Anyway, please shoot me your choice for best date. I'd love to hear it!

It's Just the Way It Goes

I am a creative, crazy, funny, passionate woman who is mad about her children, ferociously-loyal to her friends, sentimental about my husband and forever grateful for the unconditional love from my family and my Lord and Savior.

Yet, I am also a cancer patient. Cancer has been my uninvited friend since 2001. Since he first showed his face in my place, I have had to contend with him in many situations. At first, he seemend almost tame, easy to handle. Then, he became very oppressive--jealous with his time, erratic and unrelenting in demands. Now, he is very deceiving; at some points, playful, seeming benevolent. Yet, I am not fooled because he is a fickle being, not to be underestimated or taken lightly.

Throughout my battle with cancer, I have been most helped by people--men and women--who have allowed me to share my ups and downs without judgment or pity. This blog wishes to invite anyone contending with cancer regardless of age, stage or situation to share. Let's just share...life, pain, love, tears, joy, frustration, strength and victory! Cancer is with me but it will not defeat me!

Question of the day: Amazing men and women have graced the planet and provided us with beauty, knowledge and truth in many different forms. If you could meet with your hero (regardless of time or space) and spend 2 hours discussion those areas that most intrigue you, with whom would you want to meet?

(For me, I would struggle big time to choose between Jesus Christ and Sting (former lead for The Police.)

In All Things, Humor!

Early on in my cancer treatment, I started having some problems. What problems? You already have cancer, you say. Well, believe it or not, it's not bad enough that one has cancer. In fact, the very treatment that is supposed to cure you of cancer can cause innumerable problems, say, horrific zits, rashes, boils, and/or blisters. I know, it sounds like the plagues from biblical times. Well, by the time I had the "leprous"-like skin lesions, I was feeling quite biblical in sentiment...most like Job!


So, I went to my ex-oncologist. He's something like others may say, "My first husband." Not the dashing one, or the drooling one, but the first one. Get the picture?! Cancer patients often move from one oncologist to another because, hey, we're not married to them. So, if one turns out to be a complete jerk, then why the heck should I pay him?! Last time I checked I didn't suffer from sado-masochism, just breast cancer! Anyway, I went to my "ex-oncologist" to show him my most recent plague. Just to rewind a minute, the night before I called him on his cell phone. He sounded miffed because I probably woke him during some "doctorly" activity, like an intense chess tournament, ballet, opera or a moment in the sack with his wife. I don't know, but he sounded miffed! So, I say, "I'm having an allergice reaction to the medication you gave me today."


"You couldn't be having an allergic reaction," my ex-O says in a smug voice.


"I assure you I am and I have large, puss-filled blisters to prove it!" I declared emphatically.


So, we went back and forth like two five year olds for a moment until my husband raised his eyebrows at me and reminded me just how old I was. I made the doc promise to meet me at his office, see me right away and tell me what the heck was wrong with me. I think to get me off of the phone and get back to whatever it was he was doing, he reluctantly promised me.


Once at his office, I gingerly got out of the passenger seat of the car and my husband helps me out and walks me into the doctor's office. Upon entering, the sweet receptionist takes one look at me and says, "Geez, Jan. You look terrible!" I nod in ascent to her and tip-toe over to the chair outside of the doc's office.


The doc, in his rico suave manner, strolls over to me and says, "Well, now. You sure have a lot of bumps on your face and arms." "What caused that?" he questions.


"Funny you should ask. I was going to put that question to you?" I grumpily replied.


"It can't have been MY medicine!" he exclaimed.


It takes the power of God and a gentle nudge from my husband to keep me from wacking this guy across the face with my new Coach handbag. I like my Coach bag to much, really, to get it bloodied. So, I take a deep breath and remind the doctor (and I use the term very loosely) that I'm allergic to all antibiotics except one. And the one he gave me was not that one!


Well, he was my first oncologist. I now have a new, female one! Fellow cancer divas--and divos--should not feel tied to a doctor any more than we feel tied to a hair stylist. If the first one does not work for you, you have the freedom to move on. As Americans, taxpayers and very high insurance premium payers, we have so much freedom to choose. I say, express your rights and find the doctors who are partners!