Letter-c Day 13

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 a daughter, 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.




What you’re not seeing

History feels like it is repeating itself… rioting, looting, protests.. just like when I was in my teens. Martin Luther King would be appalled we haven’t learned to be peaceful yet.


Regarding the current protests, looting and violence:

  1. There are police departments where officers have marched in solidarity with protestors.
  2. There are police departments that have issued press releases condemning the Minneapolis police actions. As they should be. Professionals don’t behave that way.
  3. These communities, and there are two near me, haven’t required curfews and haven’t had any violence. These aren’t small towns, either.

Is there a lesson here, someplace?

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Letter-c Day 12

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.

“She calls out to the man on the street
“Sir, can you help me?
It’s cold and I’ve nowhere to sleep
Is there somewhere you can tell me?”
He walks on, doesn’t look back
He pretends he can’t hear her
Starts to whistle as he crosses the street
Seems embarrassed to be there
Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you and me in paradise
Oh, think twice, ’cause it’s another day for you
You and me in paradise”


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.

Letter-c Day 11

“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…


Letter-c Day 10

In a country filled with outrage over the actions of the police departments in Minneapolis and Louisville with the murder of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, my concerns about cancer are minuscule. I agree with Martin Luther King that ” A riot is the language of the unheard” but I can’t condone looting and vandalism as necessary to make a point. The people participating in the looting and deliberate vandalism are no different than the officer that killed Floyd. Crime doesn’t justify crime. Human beings are supposed to be in control of our emotions. Peaceful protests, gathering together in solidarity not destroying businesses that had nothing to do with the actual crime committed by the Minneapolis and Louisville police officers. I’m saddened and sickened with seeing the wanton destruction as would be King. He strongly urged protesters to not be violent but to let love, peace and unity guide their quest for justice. #socialjusticewithoutviolence

Initially, I was going with John Lennon’s Imagine after reading the news showing how much the violence escalated across our country but instead I decided to go with I Don’t Know What Love Is by Foreigner. “There’s been heartache and pain, I don’t think I can go through it again.” I was alive during the riots in the 60’s and 70’s. I participated in the protests then and again in the 2000’s when we went to Afghanistan. Violence begets violence.

“Feels like the world upon my shoulders, through the clouds I see love shine”. I see it in the eyes of my husband, my children, my friends but in  my heart I know that we all need to remember how important love is. Love for each other regardless of our differences is the only way to restore peace.

Today the letter-c is on the back burner where it needs to be, not controlling my thoughts as it has.









letter-c Day 9

Yesterday, when I shared my progress on my shawl on Facebook, I was reminded of an Irish custom to leave a mistake so my soul could escape if needed. I hadn’t heard that applied in crochet but I had in quilting. Nothing to worry about when it comes to my crocheting, I have never crocheted anything without at least one dropped stitch somewhere. Perfection, isn’t my normal. Subconsciously, I believe I’m a born objector in an ordinary world.

Dinner, last night came out exceptional. I tried a recipe shared by Crafty Morning. Three ingredients to make Orange Chicken. I’m not fond of dark meat so I don’t typically order this at Chinese restaurants but I have sampled the sauce when friends have ordered it. I realize restaurants use dark meat because of the lower cost overhead but I prefer the drier texture of white meat. In preparing the recipe, I used boneless breasts that I cut up smaller to minimize the frying time and the amount of oil needed. My husband raved about how delicious dinner was. I’ve included the link to the recipe if your’re interested.

3-Ingredient Orange Chicken Sauce Recipe

I chose Ordinary Day for today’s letter c song. because so many of the lines in the song summarize my conflicted feelings at this time. “Thought I heard you talking softly, I turned on the lights, the TV and the radio. Still I can’t escape the ghost of you”  The damn c, interrupts me at the strangest time. It even dared to cross my mind while talking with my good friend, Marcus, last night discussing his writing piece. The story with the few tweaks he made conversing with me is awesome. Will cancer steal these priceless moments too? I had to push the dang letter c out of my head so I could be in the moment.

I shouldn’t cry  for in my ordinary world I’m blessed with incredible people in my life like Marcus, my awesome husband Vic, my daughter, Amanda and my granddaugher, Olyvia. They made yesterday easier for me.

The humidity was intense yesterday and along with that feeling of being strangled trying to do what needed to be done, I really struggled with blocking my fear of the unknown or the waiting game. Both take me out of my comfort zone.

I lost myself reading Writing, the Life Poetic by Sage Cohen yesterday afternoon for awhile. I tried several of her writing prompts and was pleased with the results. I didn’t go to the darkness in my writing.

I also spent about an hour reading Iron Dawn by Richard Snow. I love reading and usually have two or three books going at once. I don’t read the same genre at the same time which makes reading much less confusing.

Iron Dawn is about the Monitor and Merrimack during the Civil War. We fought a war to free the slaves but have we really achieved that dream of equality. It’s not apparent with all that is happening in the media now. No one should die as George Floyd did or as Breonna Taylor did. Or the many others who have died because of police brutality under the guise of law. That damn uniform does not give anyone the privilege to commit murder.  Our ordinary world sucks in so many ways, I hope the ghosts of all the injustices haunt us forever until we take responsibility and change.



Letter-c Day 8

I chose Song of Silence as my song choice of the day. In the song, Sounds of Silence one particular line hits home ” in the silence cancer grows”. Yeah, I know. Silence is complicated even in the best of times.

Initially, I felt numb but it’s been ten days now and the numbness has worn off. I’m angry, frustrated and tired of the silence. I try to occupy myself with productive activities until I’m so tired I collapse. Hello darkness, my old friend, let the visions in my overactive brain rest please.



Every evening before bed I’ve been working on this healing shawl. Every stitch is filled with positive energy as I work. In 2005, I was given a lovely pink shawl by a dear friend in Maine that I took with me for all of my chemo treatments. It was really warm and comforting. I remembered the feeling it always provided so I decided to make another one in a lighter yarn using light purple. I’m adding cream and pink with to compliment the light purple. I’m not as skilled as Yolanda, another blogger on WordPress that shows her beautiful work.  I do find crocheting relaxing but my wrist objects if I do it very long.

Today’s goals are to plant Moon flowers to attract bees to my garden. I love the large blossoms and the way the ivy coils around the post as it grows. They look so beautiful in the moonlight, hence their name. I also need to figure out a way to keep the chipmunk out of my planters. I’m not going to murder them like my neighbor… just make my planters more challenging to access. I was hoping the humidity would vanish but that’s not the case.

On Monday, a new month and closer to the tests. Yay!






Letter-c Day 7

All the appointments are scheduled, now it’s just waiting again which is challenging for this proactive woman. I remember the first time I was introduced to cancer was in 1980. I had stage 4 cervical cancer but I was also pregnant with my daughter. My doctor at the time immediately wanted to do an abortion and then a radical hysterectomy. No abortion for me. I’ll support any woman’s right to make a choice but personally that wasn’t my choice. I changed doctors because I wanted a doctor that was willing to put what mattered most first which was carrying my baby to term than addressing cancer. It wasn’t a priority in my life then nor can it be now. That doesn’t mean I’m dismissing the risks, it just means that I have things that matter that need first priority. I could have easily gone in reactive mode instead I chose proactive. I became my strongest advocate.

It’s  so easy to be focused on living in the daytime. I’m writing, gardening, reading, crocheting, and cooking. All things that I love to do. I’ve begun a healing shawl, crocheting each stitch with intent that this battle will be won easily at this point in the game. I’m living every day like it maybe my last even though I know it’s not.

The challenge lies when I lie down at night, and all the nagging doubts surface. I need this cancer scare to go away which is why I chose this song today. I’m not feeling insecure in my relationship with Vic or my family. It’s more about seeing them without me that disrupts my sleep. All the what if’s?

I had the genetic testing done in 2005, the determination at the time was based on the path my cancers had already taken that brain cancer would be next. So that dark piece has always loomed beneath the surface. I’ve done a reasonably good job of not letting it diminish my everyday. This circumstance caught me by surprise rocking my comfort zone. Those c words again, circumstance, caught, comfort, challenges and cancer are making demands when in truth I would rather make the world go away.

Background on this song.  I heard a lot as a child. My father worked nights so in the evening after my siblings and I were sent to bed my mother would play Eddy Arnold and Jim Reeves on the stereo. She would sing along. Even as a child, I could hear the unhappiness in her voice. Their marriage wasn’t a happy one for either one of them, both buried themselves in booze and songs of unhappiness.  Neither of them were proactive about their needs, they wallowed in drunken woe is me.


“Make the world go away
And get it off my shoulders
Say the things you used to say
And make the world go away
Do you remember when you loved me
Before the world took me astray
If you do, then forgive me
And make the world go away”
The world hasn’t taken me astray nor is our marriage struggling but what is happening is a scary interruption that requires more commitment than ever because fear is a voracious enemy that can cause hurt in any relationship. We all say things in frustration or anger that never go away. The words hang like a fungus between us. I highly recommend compassion, caution and concern, they go hand in hand when speaking.
I’m blessed that I love writing poetry, it offers me an outlet that many others on this letter-c journey don’t have.  Poetry makes me feel braver. It offers me a place to go when I can’t talk to people or I’m in need of an answer. Once I write the poem, my feelings are locked into the poem.

Deny the Demon © Lyn Crain

A terrified woman

  desperately seeks witty prose or

 maybe a profound verse to

silence the fearful words cast out

Words daring to tread

 the dark vortex of her mind

Every uncomfortable syllable spoke

 Rips into her like a river raging across rocks

 hoping they meander to a calm sea but

 instead, the brief sardonic pauses spring

like crickets on grass blades before

 every word penetrating

 like a cat’s claw into tender flesh.

 Every agonizing sigh expires

 with a fiendish cascade of silky tears.

The unspoken fears break down

 every beat of  the mind and heart

In to a desiccated submission

 as the sun rises.

A new day where

Inspiration  refuses to wither.

Letter-c Day 6

Ever consider how many times spirals or circles exist in our lives  Like for instance, in our DNA, the galaxies, in a coiled tendril of a vine, or even the tracery of a fingerprint. Circles, so many different incidences around us all the time but like most minute details simply taken for granted. until a chain of events occurs and we question why.

Think about a spiral for a second, it begins at one point and moves onward in a smooth and steady spinning around and around creating circles. Life at times feels like we run in circles and we can’t get out of the spiral. If only every circle was as beautiful as a coiled tendril of a vine or the sparkling stars above us in the galaxy we call the Milky Way.

I did have my DNA done, my family history took place in Wales, Scotland, Ireland, England, and Norway. I was raised to believe I was French and Irish. French was missing in my DNA. No real surprise. Its one more lie among many.

I often study the tips of my fingers and wonder what stories my tiny circle cells would share and what they would hide from prying eyes after I pass. I know its harder to hide the creases in my fingers embedded with dirt. I’m not ashamed to say it’s typical for this time of year. So Thanatos if you’re looming forget it, I’m not done yet.

I’ve never lost my passion for working in the soil, helping mother nature nurture her circle , Earth. My carbon footprint matters immensely to me. If only everyone would feel the same especially after seeing the pictures of the beach in Scarborough In the UK. That was disgusting. I feel ashamed that this is an example of the human condition on Earth. We’re taught that we’re superior beings because we evolved but in reality the animals don’t damage the environment as humans do.


As beautiful as a rose bloom is, we’re reminded that beauty often comes with pain. In this incidence quite prickly and painful.  Mother Nature believes it’s a necessary lesson so we appreciate how blessed we truly are. Which brings me to the other sharp and prickly attack of my day. A simple envelope…

The envelope from Cooper with the scripts for my tests decided to slice my finger. Maybe, another reminder that warriors are frequently wounded but keep going. Once I squelched the blood I looked at the forms my doctor sent with the necessary pre-certifications from the insurance company.   Finally, I have the phone numbers to call to set the appointments in place. This hurry up and wait game is mentally challenging. My merry-go-round of uncertainty has a destination now in this spiral of life instead of feeling like the water spiraling down a dark drain into a watery grave.

I couldn’t resist studying the night sky, hoping for a shooting star….

And my spiral has a central axis…