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Venus Vexed
Monday October 16, 2006
 "The Guardian" by Marina Petro
A month ago, I found out my Mom has
cancer. Dad was so devastated he could hardly get the words out to
tell his four children scattered all down the east coast.
"Cancer. Non-Hodgekin's lymphoma." I felt like I was just punched in the stomach. I couldn't breathe...
It was this past June while my parents were down for my daughter's graduation that
Mom felt a small nodule on the back of her neck as she was washing
her hair. She didn't mention it to anyone at the time. But, a month later when one
of her contemporaries died of leukemia, it scared Mom enough to have
the doc take a look because the bump hadn't gone away. The family
physician wasn't sure why she was so determined to have it out. It
didn't seem like anything to worry about, but she was persistent and he
gave in and made the referral to a surgeon. Even the surgeon really
didn't feel it was anything of consequence, either, and asked her
repeatedly if she really
wanted to assume the risks of anesthesia over something which certainly
appeared to be harmless. Mom insisted. Even on the day of the surgery
he again wanted to be sure she indeed wanted him to excise this little
bump. She said yes.
It was only a matter of minutes in the operating room, then the surgeon
came out and told my Dad that the lump looked like nothing to be
concerned about, but that it would be sent to pathology as a matter of
routine. Mom would come back to the office in a couple weeks for a
check-up to make sure the incision was healing properly.
Mom returned to the surgeon for the routine postop visit, and Dad
stayed at home to tend to the yard. When she got there, she was
totally blindsided by the news the doc had for her. "You have cancer.
Non-Hodgekin's lymphoma." Everything else he said after those words were a
complete blur to her. In her shock, she only could remember quips like
"something about an oncologist" and an "appointment immediately" and
"discuss chemotherapy or radiation" and "there would be more tests".
It still makes me cry when I think of my 69-year-old mother driving the
30 minutes back home, all alone, totally numb with shock after being
told she has cancer. I was angry that the surgeon had not the
compassion to make sure she brought a family member along when he knew
what devastating news he had to deliver that afternoon. I personally work in a
surgery practice, and our docs would NEVER blindside someone with something like that. My heart ached for my Mom some 800 miles away from me...
and she had to hear the bad news TOTALLY ALONE.
I can only imagine the grief shared when Mom got home and told Dad. Daddy could barely even speak the words to us on the phone.
Over the last three weeks, Mom has undergone a CT scan to see how
widespread the cancer is in her body, bone marrow biopsies from each
hip to evaluate the extent it's gotten into her bones, and copious
blood tests to measure her cell counts. Last Friday, she was to see
her oncologist to discuss the results and the plan for treating this
cancer.
Friday The 13th.... what a day to have a doctor deliver the verdict on
your cancer! But me, being ever the optimist, I held out hope that
maybe this could somehow be a good Friday the 13th.
The first thing the oncologist told Mom and Dad was that she would NOT
die from this lymphoma. The cancer was in her bones only negligibly,
but the CT scan showed cancer in her neck, abdomen, and a few spots on
her lungs. And the good news was.... chemotherapy would totally kick
its ass. Okay, those are my words, but he was very positive that while
she might have a couple rough months ahead of her with the
chemotherapy, this was something he was confident could be controlled
for the next 15 or 20 years or so.
Mom starts chemo next week. She thinks she'll look pretty cool wearing a do-rag once she loses her
hair... and, she used to wear a lot of hip fashion wigs in the 60's, and
thought that might be fun to try again...
As far as I am concerned, this truly WAS the BEST Friday the 13th ever, because I will not lose my beloved Mom to cancer. :) -Six
I believe our bodies do try to tell us what's wrong. If you have
something that doesn't feel quite right... LISTEN to your body and see
a doctor. Follow your gut instincts!!
Thanks from the bottom of my heart to Girl Preacher for her concern, and
for keeping my Mother, Kay, on the prayer list at Blogstream Community
Church.
 Mom, Dad, and Me in June 06
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Friday October 6, 2006
Don't forget... life is good!
(I dare you not to smile during this song!) | | | |
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Tuesday September 26, 2006
Uh-huh! Well.... didn't we always know it, ladies? Men really don't
listen to us when we speak. And damn if science hasn't totally
vindicated them now with this "selective hearing" thingy they do,
proclaiming it really isn't their fault after all. It seems a study from the University of Sheffield in the UK (published in the journal NeuroImage) has determined precisely why men don't listen to women. Get this: men's brains hear a woman's voice first as music...
so his brain goes into "Mach II" trying to analyze what's being said.
So, it's not the pitch of the woman's voice, but the vibration and
number of soundwaves which cause the problem. Men's brains aren't
designed to listen to women's voices, so their brains have to work
harder to decipher what a woman says because they use the auditory part
of the brain that processes music, not human voices. I am strangely
amused, yet offended at the same time to know this... Says lead
researcher Michael Hunter: "The female voice is actually more complex
than the male voice, due to differences in the size and shape of the
vocal cords and larynx between men and women, and due to women having
greater natural "melody" in their voices. This causes a more complex
range of sound frequencies than in a male voice. However, when men
hear a male voice, they process it in the "mind's eye". This is the
part of the brain where people compare their experiences to themselves,
so the man is comparing his own voice to the new voice." Ahem! So guys have absolutely NO trouble at all hearing each other because they
use a much simpler brain mechanism at the back of the brain to decipher
and recognize another man's voice as speech. Ahh.... such
simple creatures, our beloved XY chromosome types are! So is the moral of
the story to speak like a dude if you've got something important to
say? Hmmm... Interestingly, the scientists say this also helps to answer why people who suffer hallucinations will usually hear a male
voice. Apparently, it's just too hard for the brain to create a false
feminine voice as accurately as it can create a false masculine voice. Well, this explains a lot... :) -Six  Can you hear me NOW, can you hear me NOW???? :)
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Saturday September 16, 2006
So what's been going on this week, you asked...
Well, it was all quiet here on the Eastern Front… until long about the time Prank rolled into Mayberry-By-The-Sea in that gorgeous sleek silver Mustang convertible seven days ago. Coincidently. ;) Mercy, it was nonstop mirth, mischief and merriment after that!
Oh, Prank sure knows what a girl likes! We dropped the top on the Pony during the warm, sunny days and had fun, fun, fun! One afternoon, we sat in gridlocked traffic on the way to see The Blue Angels, but luckily, we could watch all of the air show we were “missing” in the skies roaring overhead since we were, uh, topless. Once there, we were both trying out and learning the video feature on our respective cameras as those elite blue and gold F18 jets thrilled the crowd with their precision and power. We won’t mention the unknown feet, elbows, and knees that mysteriously commandeered a lot of the video footage. Gotta learn how to turn that darn thing off properly, right Pranky? Luckily, there was no camera on either of us during any of our chronic, slapstick blonde moments.
One evening we cooked out on the grill. Or, rather, I did… thinking I could impress the Rocky Mountain boy with my amazing culinary prowess, live from Redneck Court. Somehow, I managed to horribly char the best and fattest piece of chicken out of the six that were on the grill. Thankfully, the others were fine, but mortified at my operator error, I told Prank there was a “hot spot” on my grill… yeah, that’s it… a hot spot which I had forgotten about… and sorry that I torched the good piece. I’m not sure whether he bought my story or not. But, don’t you know, he picked the burnt one for himself at dinner time and actually ate it all. Awww... he’s so sweet. :)
We went down to the Tap House and kicked it all night with our friends’ punk rock band, and heard a couple other bands as well. I’m discovering that Prank knows his microbrews to a most impressive degree. He is also someone who knows no strangers when he is out. We laughed about meeting the local “mayor” of myspace, and I think he and Prank will end up being good friends.
Closing down the bar and getting up early the next morning for an all day road-trip was harder than I remembered it being… but we came thru! It was a beautiful drive down to the Outer Banks of NC. We stopped at a roadside farm market in Carolina and picked up some fresh fruit to snack on. I just love those places, with all the aromas and home grown flavors. We tarried for awhile, and I thought of Biggie T when I saw all the bottles of local muscadine wine for sale.
Soon we were over the bridge and onto the barrier islands. We drove the beach road and admired all the wooden beach homes on stilts along the shore, and other places of interest. Stopping in a little restaurant for lunch, Prank commented on how he hasn’t been able to find any food spicy enough to suit him whenever he’s been back to the East Coast. Apparently “we” don’t know HOT like the West does. Well, let’s just say the spicy fish tacos he devoured left his sinuses draining for hours and a smile on his face afterward.
Hurricane Florence might have been bearing down on Bermuda, but she was certainly kicking up some rough surf in the Outer Banks. The hurricane flags were flying, and there was no swimming allowed due to the dangerous rip currents. We pulled off the highway along the deserted beaches and walked in the sand, in awe of the sheer power of the waves and fury of Mother Nature in a storm. We also stopped by two lighthouses along the way, and we laughed about the “report from the road” that somehow we just knew Mr. Happy would be filing on his blog after visiting the Cape Hatteras Light. I’m still laughing as I remember Prank taking the pictures... and the strange looks from passersby when he was positioning himself “just so” in the grass.
So it was another wonderful week in Mayberry-By-The-Sea. We dined in quaint restaurants on the water nearly every night (hmmm… could it be Prank dares not have me cook again? lol) and we enjoyed some of the best seafood around. Prank had several job interviews as well. We shared so much laughter, and even a few tears along the way...
And this bond we share grows deeper.
See you again in October, Prank.

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Wednesday September 13, 2006
This re-post from January is dedicated to Ms Coloconnect. Thank you for your friendship and for requesting that I run this again. I am honored to do so. :) -Six
The Six Truths of Six
One: Becoming a mom was the best thing I have ever done. I have loved every minute of this journey thru parenthood, good times and bad, laughter and tears. I would not trade this experience for the world. Becoming a single mom seven years ago forced me to get my priorities straight. When you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders by yourself, you quickly learn what is important in life, and what isn't so important. I went from a borderline "Type-A Personality" to the opposite laid-back extreme, which I refer to as the "Type-D" I am now.
Two: Mother-Father God answers prayers, and will speak the truth to you in the way that YOU best understand, if you are open to receiving your answer. Those epiphany moments could be an Angel in the form of a stranger on the street who tells you something and then seems to "vanish"; or a song on the radio which suddenly speaks to you out of nowhere and tells you what you need to know; or spiritually being "hit over the head" and shown the answer so that you will finally "get it" in a tough-love fashion to spare you further hurt later on... Be still, and you will know.
Three: I am ever the optimist, and I will never say NEVER! My motto is "anything can happen!" If I keep focusing on doors behind me which have closed, I will certainly miss the doors ahead of me which could be opening. Yes, anything can happen... and usually does!
Four: The greatests lessons I've learned have always been the hardest, and graced with tears of sadness and pain. There are no crib notes or shortcuts in life's syllabus, unfortunately.
Five: Nothing on earth is sweeter than love, and will bring the highest highs, and the lowest lows. The Buddhists say that our hearts are meant to be broken at least once, because that is how they truly open. (I believe I've more than met my quota on that one.)
Six: I try to be ever mindful of the karma I create, and periodically check my ticket. When that karma train pulls into the station, it's better to be a thru-passenger to a rewarding destination than to have the conductor look you dead in the eye and announce: "This is YOUR exit!" The darkness can be as seductive as the light, so I try to keep my spiritual flashlight with me!
:) -Six
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