And the waiting continues for the next step in gathering all the information needed to battle c. My healing shawl looks beautiful thus far if I do say so myself. I’m really pleased with the dusty purple, pink, cream and gray combination. I feel good as I crochet each row and I think that’s an important part of the process, feeling happy. The pink is especially comforting to me because it was Johnny’s favorite color.

I miss you so much, Johnny. Yesterday, the chimes shuddered and clanged a lot in the wind.  I recalled the time you made every one of my chimes ring so you could hear each individual sound. You were surprised how many chimes I had and the stories behind some of them. You were surprised when I told you about the ones I had outside at the old house in Maine. One on each side of the house so when they chimed I knew what direction the wind was coming because they had distinct sounds. You know thought that was a great idea. I loved the chime that announced the north wind the best because of its tone but not because I loved the cold. The cold never fazed you. Me I’ve become more of a hot house flower as I age. Just so you know, when I was your age I didn’t mind the temperatures either.

Your Dad is busier than ever with your construction company. He can’t find enough men to man all the jobs he has lined up. He really misses your energy and enthusiasm so much. Jacob doesn’t seem to have the same interest in carpentry as you did at his age. Dad said, you were always getting involved in whatever project was happening.

The thunderstorms were interesting yesterday. The wind knocked over trees and the water rippled like ocean waves down the driveway for about an hour. Then the sun returned like nothing has happened. There were lots of power outages around us but we were fortunately blessed to not have any disruptions.

It took me a while this morning to clean up the driveway and front steps. My beautiful rose bushes lost many of their petals in the storm. I swept up the spent petals and added them to my compost bin before the lawn maintenance guys came around with those big gas powered leaf blowers and blew them into the garage. I’m still at a loss why they walk up the driveway blowing the debris toward the houses but they do. Anyway, the garage didn’t get covered in rose petals today.

Macavity ate the bloom I picked and brought inside. That silly boy has a rose fetish. If only he would eat his wet food with as much enthusiasm. Cats!

I finished the End of Everything by Megan Abbott yesterday. I’m going to post my review on Goodreads this afternoon. I’ve made a good dent in my pledged reading goal thus far. I said I would read twenty five books in 2020, thus far I have read fourteen and I have six months to go.

I chose Guns and Roses’ Patience to remind me that I need to be. Like the lyric in the song, sometimes I get so tense because I can’t speed up time.  We’ve talked about this before I’m not patient. Everyone assures me it will be alright. There are times that I want to scream at them … “It’s not your body with this damn disease inside trying to steal your life! Don’t tell me it will be alright. Patience! Fuck Patience! ”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84IR0TP_dEE

This day has been filled with multiple surprises thus far. All of them have been pleasant thus far especially since I’m a lot like  Marilyn Monroe at times. “I’m impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” Vic and my children will tell you I can be a handful at times but I also have a heart of gold.

We rose early to do the grocery store run during the senior citizen allotted time.  There are pros and cons to this hour time frame. Yes,  we are the first ones in the store and have access to the product first but that also means we’re in the way of the clerks trying to actually get the product on the shelf. Many slots are empty from the day before so the selection isn’t always what one may think. Sometimes, it’s just easier to go a bit later in the morning. I’m not looking forward to doing it once the summer’s heat takes hold. Anyway for this morning, it was more convenient to go before my lab appointment to keep my mind off the tests and not having breakfast yet. I didn’t stray from the list too far and were able to be in and out in forty-five minutes. Woohoo.

The technician that drew my blood did an excellent job drawing the four vials. No bruising at all. I typically have deep purple bruises. Thank you Genevieve for your getnle touch.. So the first step of this process is now completed. The MRI is on the 14th, yup a Sunday.

My son, John called this morning before I left for the lab appointment to tell me he was thinking of me and that he loved me. I reminded him that I wouldn’t have the results back for a couple more days. He said, “I’ll call you back then and tell you I love you again.” He has no idea how much that phone call mattered today. He’s the reason for my song choice today as well. I chose “The Dance.” We’ve experienced a lot of good and bad times together.

When my babies were young, John, Chris and Amanda, I used to waltz with them in the living room after I fed them their bottles. That snuggle time was priceless to me.  As you know, children grow and dancing with their Mom isn’t high on their priority. The next time John and I danced together was at his wedding. I chose the Dance for our song because I knew with all my heart that he was making the biggest mistake of his life but there was nothing I could say that would deter him from rushing into this marriage. It’s the only time since he became an adult that we’ve danced together. I’ll never forget how handsome he looked in his tux. My oldest son all grown up. We had lots of rocky times but through it all.  I just wanted him to be happy and he wasn’t. Thankfully, in spite of all the crap in between and the heartbreaking loss of his son July 1st, 2019 there have been times when I see genuine happiness on his face. Thank you Debbie, for loving my son. I’m very aware how much he is like his Mom out of control at times but also with a heart of gold.

This warms my heart and reminds me often of the song we shared together.

“Looking back on the memory of
The dance we shared beneath the stars above
For a moment all the world was right
How could I have known you’d ever say goodbye
And now I’m glad I didn’t know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain
But I’d have to miss the dance
Holding you I held everything
For a moment wasn’t I the king
But if I’d only known how the king would fall
Hey who’s to say you know I might have changed it all
And now I’m glad I didn’t know
The way it all…” ~ Garth

I wish we could have missed all the pain. I would give anything for my grandson, his baby boy to be with us again but I’m eternally grateful that we were together through the difficult times. I hope my son, John knows how very much I love him.

I’m truly blessed to have two sons and two daughters, they’re my world. I love them so much. The song has special meaning for each child in different ways though I’ve only waltzed with John. I hope all my children, the three that lived with me and the one that didn’t know how very much they’re loved. “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” ― Lao Tzu

Mother Nature added some action to my day. We had a thunderstorm with strong winds which took out the power in our town but luckily we were on a different grid. It also took a tree down in our development. Thankfully, no injuries just a mess. Unfortunately, the rain and wind did a number on my rose blooms. There are petals scattered everywhere in the driveway and in the backyard.

I virtually babysat my granddaughter for a couple hours this afternoon while my daughter did some cleaning which is why I’m so late blogging. Olyvia and I talked about her Pokemon cards, her Barbie house that has dogs inside while Barbie lives in the closet and her mom’s upcoming 40th birthday.  We played Banana-grams and did some of the apps in Facebook chat together. She’s at the fun age of 7, where you never know what is going to come out of her.

I’ve finished the main panel of my healing shawl while talking with Olyvia. I am now introducing the other colors in the what is referred to as a panel shawl in the pattern book. The next sections use a granny square stitch, clusters of three double crochet and chain ones. I keep leaning to a silver color with pink to compliment the dusty purple. I definitely want the pink, it’s the same shade as my first healing shawl and I had excellent results.

I have mixed feelings about a group I’m in on Facebook. I understand completely why the owner feels she needs to archive the group until her own health recovers but I dread losing some of the connections that I’ve made there. If you’re the praying type please add Linda to your prayers. Yup, another Linda. In my world, I know four Linda’s with an i, three Lynda’s with a y like me cept I prefer Lyn versus Lynda or even worse my full first name I was given two names Lynda Lee. Yuck!  There’s even a Lyn Crain on Facebook too!  At one time, it was a popular name.

“When biotechnologist David Taylor analyzed names using the Social Security database, he found that Linda enjoyed the longest peak of popularity of any “trendy” name in the country since 1880, followed by Brittany, Debra and Shirley.names using the Social Security database, he found that Linda enjoyed the longest peak of popularity of any “trendy” name in the country since 1880, followed by Brittany, Debra and Shirley. Taylor found the peak of Linda as a trendy name lasted from 1938-1969, including an explosion of Linda’s in 1947 when 5.48 percent of all girls born in the U.S. were given that name. Unfortunately, in recent years it has lost it’s steam.”

Tonight, is my writing group meeting on Zoom. I did write a short story about my Gramma and Missus Albright as I mentioned yesterday. I’m not sure it’s ready for critique but at least I wrote. I also did a blog entry on Writing.com in response to a prompt by Joy.  The prompt was about staying in the moment. Something I know all too well because it has been challenging staying in the moment. My conflicted mind bounces all over the place since the doctor said the c-word. I’m really glad last night I mastered concentration for awhile in this considerably stressful time without drinking more coffee to write 1473 words that flow coherently. Woohoo.. Progress. “You don’t start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it’s good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it. That’s why I say one of the most valuable traits is persistence.” ― Octavia E. Butler

Here’s to another productive evening of writing critiques with some awesome people.

I have candles burning around me as my husband suggested. They smell nice but don’t give the same comfort holding a cigarette in my hand does. The candles are sitting in a bed of salt, surrounded with sage and rose blossoms to help clear all the negativity surrounding us. If only there was enough sage to smudge the world so all the negativity vanishes.  It’s easier to take Charles Bukowski’s advice …“Drink, fuck and smoke plenty of cigarettes.”

Our town issued a curfew last night and again tonight because of the violence they say is escalating in our area. I’m not convinced it was necessary, because people are always blaming Trenton for everything. Old prejudices linger from the sixties and seventies after the riots. Crime and violence have haunted Trenton even though they have worked really hard to clean their city back up.  Princeton and Lawrenceville have no right to point fingers, because the crime rate has increased in their communities too! Shame on those finger pointers… judge not for you may be judged as well.

I had this overwhelming urge to go for a walk more than anything. In truth, I felt imprisoned by the fact a curfew existed. No different than when I was a rebellious teenager, I was always pushing buttons and resisting. Patience isn’t one of my virtues, as everyone who is close to me knows.

I read until I was exhausted again. I woke several times during the night but fortunately did fall back asleep. In fact, the telephone woke me confirming my blood work and to ask me the corona virus questions. Have you had a fever? Have you had a runny nose? Have you been exposed to someone with either symptoms? Has anyone you’ve been in contact with tested positive for the Covid-19?  I dislike that this spiel is our new norm.

My persistent shoulder pain is still an issue after eating or drinking. It calms down after I have my morning coffee but returns as soon as I have something to eat at lunchtime and subsides just before dinner then returns when I eat and drink. It only lasts for a couple hours thankfully at a time, but unfortunately during that time it is very painful. Nothing seems to ease it… Tylenol, Aleve, Diclofenac, even applying heat directly doesn’t ease the pain until the food has processed in the pancreas. I have discomfort in the pancreas as well but it is tolerable unlike the shoulder which brings tears to my eyes.  GRRRR….

Tonight is our writing accountability. I’m still toying with writing about my gram and Mrs. Albright in my head. I’ll be the narrator in the story, seeing both of them. Although, at night my story with Thanatos spins in my head daring me to ask for that one wish.  Us writers know.. “Writing is the dragon that lives underneath my floorboards. The one I incessantly feed for fear it may turn and devour my ass. Writing is the friend who doesn’t return my phone calls; the itch I’m unable to scratch; a dinner invitation from a cannibal; elevator music for a narcoleptic. Writing is the hope of lifting all boats by pissing in the ocean. Writing isn’t something that makes me happy like a good cup of coffee. It’s just something I do because not writing, as I’ve found, is so much worse.”
― Quentin R. Bufogle

I considered Imagine by John Lennon again for today but instead went with Phil Collins’  Another Day in Paradise because my sarcasm is on the rise as well as my patience. I know one more day and we begin the tests to get the ball rolling. I know some of you are hanging on to the thread that the doctor is wrong and the tests will confirm something else. I hope you’re right but for me I need the damn proof, yesterday.

I’m not pretending I can’t hear you. Truly I’m not. I’ve walked this road before. Every time I’ve gotten my hopes up that the tests would prove the initial report wrong they haven’t! After a while, it’s easier not to hope.  I realized this morning, it’s been six months since the first onslaught of pain began. June 8th it will be six months since they removed my gallbladder and promised I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Problem solved. If only it had been that easy. Paradise and me do seem to have a hard time hooking up.

“The loneliness within me
Takes a heavy toll
‘Cause it burns as slow as whiskey through an empty aching soul and
The night is like a dagger
Long and cold and sharp
As I sit here on the front steps
Blowing smoke rings in the dark” Gary Allan

It’s not loneliness that fills me as much as the dreaded emptiness that I keep trying to hide with as many activities as I can so I’m not thinking about the next fourteen days. My blood work is on Wednesday, the beginning of the discovery to the right path of treatment. Right now. I long more than anything for a pack of Salem’s and I haven’t smoked in many years. There was a much enjoyed peace in seeing the orange ember burning in the darkness and the sweet smell of menthol wafting in the air.

For those of us who’ve been on a cancer journey, we dread the knowing almost as much as the not knowing. It’s a vicious cycle that torments you in the darkest hours when loved ones are sleeping and you’re not. Knowing makes it all real, not knowing gives us the peaceful bliss of what I don’t know can’t hurt me. It’s still part of the denial process that we grab onto for dear life because if we believe it hard enough, it won’t be happening to us. For me, again. I’ve been down this damn road three times already. I vowed adamantly I would never do chemo again. I would rather my life end then be sick like I was.

But that was before Vic was in my life. The last time I faced cancer, we were dating and doing the long distance relationship. At the time, I struggled with trust issues after my divorce so there was a lot of things I simply didn’t share with him. I handled myself. I put my iron woman facade in place and ran with it. Now, my vulnerability will be harder to hide.

Last night in our group, we discussed Thurber’s Daguerreotype of a Lady. I enjoyed the story immensely and the discussion among us.  Mrs. Albright whom everyone called Aunt Margery, (our protagonist) was introduced to us by a young male narrator who discussed the different challenges she faced in her long life that he’s witnessed. She lived to the age of eighty-eight years and helped many people along the way in spite of the physical challenges she had with her own disabilities from an injury in her teens.

I was reminded of my grandmother who was so like Mrs. Albright in many ways especially the use of herbal concoctions to cure whatever. She had her own physical challenges getting around but that never stopped her from doing what was needed. My mother did everything in her power to not be like her father or like my father’s mother so my only experiences with natural remedies came from my grandmother and grandfather in my youth but the seed was planted.

As an adult with my own children, I became interested in non-traditional medicine more and learned how the different herbs could be used. My gardens today still reflect that interest. I’m not one to immediately run to a doctor nor to pop pills like they so readily want to prescribe which makes this diagnosis all the more challenging and frustrating. I’ve done radiation and chemo because that’s what options I had at the time.

It will be interesting to see if anyone is inspired to write a short story after reading this Thurber piece.  Kate Chopin’s Respectable Woman inspired two different authors to write stories of their own.  Maybe, I need to write about how my Grandmother and Mrs. Albright are birds of a feather. I would love to sit and converse with them both about the pros and cons of herbs as well as life in general.

Unfortunately, last night, the conversation flew by way too quickly for me. The night was still very young for me so I escaped back into my book until my eyes protested. Yet sleeping through the night wasn’t in the cards. I sat with Gaia for quite a spell as Vic slept longing for that dang cigarette I didn’t really need to smoke as much as to hold in my fingers and watch the ember burn.

Today, is also June 1st, a very emotionally difficult day for me. Forty seven years I gave birth to my oldest daughter. I was a teen with a baby on my own. I was an emancipated teenager, trying to survive in an adult world. I placed her up for adoption but kept my records open. She did eventually contact me but that hasn’t been a smooth road either. Her mother died of cancer and she wished it had been me instead. I know she didn’t really mean it. She began a family of her own and I made her baby a quilt. Her reaction was hurtful when she said her baby would never use it. I’m grateful I can still see my granddaughter in pictures on facebook but I have never been allowed to be anything more than the voyeur. So this day comes with joy and sorrow. Joy because she is healthy and happy, and sorrow because I’m not wanted. I’m happy that she at least communicates with my youngest daughter.  Interestingly, they have daughters the same age but are so different.

So don’t judge me for wanting a smoke… so I can watch the smoke rings rise…