Got it Yet?

would of thought you would have got it by now, Missy

That's Cracklin' talking to me there.

when you gonna get that you all you got?

when you gonna stop thinking' you suppose to be some kind of

FUCKING ROLE MODEL

you wanna stay in bed most of the day and read your book?

go right ahead, darlin'

you wanna live with dishes piled high in sink?

your list of "To Do's stuck to the floor by the kitty's hair ball?

go right ahead, darlin'

Donna often said, "Paula, you are too hard on yourself".

Now Donna- she herself is losing her own eyesight.

Donna saw when you did not.

It is time to see, Paula

Ok. Cancer sucks and all that, and I only had to go to the doc once this week. Next week I go two times.
The weeks in which I don't have to go to the place and be reminded of this situation I really dig.

After treatment is over I will be on my merry way to strings of days in which spontaneity trumps all.
I am having a random day today. I am doing whatever I feel like. It is truly amazing it seems I get more done on my random days than on my structured day. Go figure.

I like to glide from one project to the next as the mood moves me. Today I am putting together two lamps I bought at IKEA. I love the shape. One will hang above each of our recliners that set in front of the big screen tv which I must admit I have grown to love a bit too much. TV and movies offer escape, and escape is a very welcome thing right night.

I watched the total season of "Once Upon a Time". Really cute, creative, fun and fantastical. Old familiar classic storybook characters have a parallel self in the modern world. I truly though I would hate this because I have never been much into fantasy, but I gave it a try, and I am glad that I did.

I am going to post some photos of interior objects that I really love. All of these are in my home.

Smooooth Day

Yep, tis a smooth day that nourishes me. A smooth day is one in which there are no unplanned interruptions.

A smooth day means I can work to music in the yard AND in the house. I am a tad obsessive- NO, MORE THAN A TAD, but it is my cross to bear. I like my obsessiveness more than I dislike it, for it allows me to pay attention to the details of my day however mundane that day may be.

Today I got to enjoy putting my kitty Patti on her newly washed blanket which was still warm from the dryer. She was in such ecstasy that she simply cooed like a dove. And I got  to work in my yard early enough to hear a real dove coo. That coo- a faraway but so familiar a sound  - paradoxical like so much in life is; it is both haunting and comforting.

I have really got a lot of stuff accomplished around the house today. I like that feeling- accomplishment. That is something that I want in a day. I have no complaints. Today is the most normal I have felt in a long time. Normal is good.

The Lesson from the Ear Pod Tree

Walking alone for several miles never fails to get me to a better place. The days after learning about the breast deal, I was simply teeming with  rage. Rage at what? Rage at whom? There really was no target.

Wasting time thinking about feeling sorry for myself or delving into a deep depression or trying to figure out why I have had so much trouble this year was only going to be a dead end.

So the day after I learned the delightful news, I crammed my hands into my pockets and walked. For the first two miles I could feel the rage pulsing within me, and then the anger evaporated into tears. The tears set loose the tightness in my body. The rage would return, and then the tears would dilute it. This cycle continued for about two miles. I was just about at the point of not being able to stand another moment of this when a bit of grace crossed my path.

As  I was walking by one of the lakes in my neighborhood,  my eye caught hold of a pod on the ground.
I picked it up. It felt warm and smooth in my hand. Its presence lightened my heart just a tad but enough that I knew that no matter what happens in my life, I will always be able to access my joy.

When bad things happen to us, the tendency is to try to get away from them, but in my own experience I have found that I do best when I allow my feelings to flow. This does not mean that I must burden others with my fears, tears and anger. In most cases a good long walk does the trick.

And you know one of the first thoughts I had after I got the bc news was, "Well, at least I can walk now."
At least this waited until I was up and driving and walking again. It could have been worse.

My surgical pathology report turned to be a good one. I am having a second report done by John Hopkins because I don't want to leave any stone unturned. As long as both path reports match, then I have a splendid chance of living my full life span before this gets me or something else does.

I am still awaiting the  results of the genetic test that will show whether I have the genetic mutation that will result in my needing  to have a bilateral mastectomy. My chances of having that mutation are only five per cent, but due to the fact that my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer before she was fifty, my surgeon recommended that I be tested, for if I have the mutation and do not have my breasts removed then I face a ninety per cent chance of recurrence.

My treatment plans are awaiting the results of the Oncotype-D test which tests twenty-one genes, and will provide me with information  that will let me know my chance of recurrence. If I am not happy with the numbers, then I will need some chemotherapy.

I most definitely will be starting a regimen of radiation soon. Right now everything is on hold while I wait for the genetic test results.

So right now I try to put my troubles in a drawer because I feel great, and there are three hundred Carolyn Wharton caladium bulbs waiting to be planted. Last year I put in four hundred and fifty bulbs. I want my yard to be a vision in pink.

My pod fell from a tree  called an Ear Pod Tree. It is from the same family of the Mimosa.  I guess nature was trying to lend me its ear.  I derive much comfort from observing the cycles of nature.
Nature knows and nature obeys. It does not rail against the changing of the seasons. It adapts.
And so shall I.

I'm Behind the Wheel

Baby Paula

 Today is the first day in weeks that I have not awoken with a feeling of terror coursing through my body.
I do best when I can lay something out, so that I can analyze its components.

Several days ago I attempted to put my experience of fear into words.

My fear manifests as physical sensation. I experience  a fluttering in the area from the top of my sternum to below my breasts.

I can actually see this fluttering; it looks like petals shaking in a strong wind. From underneath my breasts into my stomach I experience a wide open stirred-up sensation. It appears to be boundless and lonely.

On Sunday I started breaking out in hives. By yesterday morning I had bright red welts under my arms, on my neck,on my ears lobes and between my thighs. NERVES-plain old nerves. I could not take anything for them due to the upcoming surgery. Since my diagnosis I have tried hard to keep myself busy and calm, but obviously my innards knew how tense I was ergo the hives.

I went through the surgery just fine. I awoke five minutes after being wheeled into the recovery room, and I asked for two things: my husband and a cup of black tea. Surprisingly, I was very lucid. I knew where I was, and I wanted the report from the surgeon.

No cancer was found in the lymph nodes. The tumor is somewhere around one centimeter. The extra breast tissue that was removed that surrounded the tumor was clear of cancer.

I am going to work hard on my head to believe that the final pathology report which I will get in one week does not show anything different. I am also going to have the tissue slides sent to John Hopkins for a second reading. 

The hives are subsiding thanks to the prednisone that the surgeon prescribed. Today I rejoice in that fact that for the next six days I do not have to go into a medical facility.

Today I plan to work more on the painting I started two weeks ago. Splashing color on a piece of paper lightens my spirit. I never have a plan in my head when I start out to paint. I just let the brush go where it wants . Usually I paint to music; sometimes not.

Color and music are just about the best things I know.  

I have not done a good job in the past two days keeping my breast cancer diagnosis out of my mind. Maybe most of us are this way the closer it gets to an event that seems monumental.

After surgery I will learn if the cancer is in my lymph nodes. It it is, that means I will be staged differently and have a greater chance of recurrence.

I am also anxious about the final pathology report which I will receive a week later. I am praying that it does not show evidence of the following: vascular invasion. lymphatic invasion, nodal involvement,

Hulga, Red Lentil Curry and "Fur Elise"

This is my artist doll. I named her Hulga.

I went through a good bit of pondering as to whether I would write about my breast cancer diagnosis on my blog.

My blog has been defunct for several months because I often felt that I was being self-indulgent to write so personally about my issues.

I have decided to go ahead and let it all out anyway. Maybe I am self-absorbed, but I do know that writing helps me put things into perspective. It provides a recorded history for me, so that often I am able to look back on my words and understand myself better.

I am my own best friend. I trust myself most. I have lived more years than I now have left to live. Ever since I was a young girl, it has been important for me to express my feelings. Some people have said that I am brutally honest, and sometimes I have felt as though I must defend that.
But now I realize that this is my life- my only life as Paula- and I will write because I owe it to myself.

As the surgery grows nearer, my anxiety has increased. For the past two day my body has been broken out in a hot rash that is under my arms, on my upper legs and on my right ears. I know the rash comes from being nervous. I have experienced nervous rashes since I was a kid.

I have always been hypersensitive and hypervigilant . I work at tempering these qualities by spending much quiet time alone, exercising, making art and writing. But during times of high anxiety these activities help only some.  My skin breaks out. Crying helps to release some of the anxiety.

I put a call into the doctor to see if taking a steroid pack for my rash would be dangerous before my surgery on Wednesday. I am awaiting a call back.

People have often told me how strong I am. To be honest, I am not sure what they mean when they say that. At this point in my life I am trying to drop my need to have all things lined up and in control, because  I know that there is very little I can control except how I think about things, and that, itself, is a major challenge. Right now I don't feel strong. I am just a woman doing what she must under the circumstances.


We all have these weird little qualities. One of mine is that I was born anxious- highly so. The tendency to be anxious does have a genetic basis. All of my life I have admired those people who do so well at taking things in stride. I have learned much from them. But I have more to learn.

But basically we must learn to accept ourselves with all of our flaws. I have grown weary of fighting myself. I am who I am, and I make no apologies anymore.

Today I am going to make red lentil curry a very easy and delicious recipe I found online, and squash and
northern bean soup. Cooking is a meditation.


Here is one of the loveliest pieces of music ever:



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