tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78437016193500653472024-02-19T05:22:52.880-05:00So Many Things I Need to Tell YouAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-91485056975555119622013-11-29T08:30:00.001-05:002013-11-29T08:30:51.195-05:00Gone From My Sight<div align="center" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13pt;">
<span style="color: teal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Gone From My Sight</b></span><br />by Henry Van Dyke</span></div>
<div align="center" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 13pt;">
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,<br />spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts<br />for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.<br />I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck<br />of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.<br /><br />Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone"<br /><br />Gone where?<br /><br />Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,<br />hull and spar as she was when she left my side.<br />And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.<br /><br />Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.<br />And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"<br />there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices<br />ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"<br /><br />And that is dying...</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-24599994129998487592013-10-15T16:49:00.000-04:002013-10-16T11:01:53.043-04:00Treats and Treatments<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything on this blog. I’ve had lots to tell you, but some days, I lacked energy. Other days… motivation. And sometimes, the words just didn’t flow.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-524e3db4-bddf-c280-c994-a8e0a5c96b2a" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The lymphedema (swelling in my right arm and hand) continues. Some days the swelling is very tight, and other days, it lessens. I’m supposed to keep it elevated to make it easier for the lymphatic fluid to drain. I do that most of the time, but I get frustrated when it doesn’t seem to make a difference, so I put the pillows aside and try exercising my arm, hand and fingers for a while, or riding my stationary bike or taking a walk around our backyard. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not everyone is in agreement on how to treat lymphedema. We’ve tried a lot of things, including wrapping cabbage around my arm, which is supposed to help the fluid in my hand and arm drain more easily. It was really difficult to get those crinkly cabbage leaves to lay flat on my arm and hand, and my arm looked pretty funny, when it was wrapped. There might have been a slight lessening of the swelling, but it’s so much work to wrap my arm, and it uses so much cabbage, that I don’t know if we will use that method very often. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most of the other methods we have tried or are using now are more conventional, like the wonderful lymphatic drainage massages my friend, Cathy, provides, wearing a compression sleeve and elevating my arm, but I’m still drinking ginger tea and dandelion tea and eating pineapple, because they taste so good, and they’re supposed to help with fluid drainage.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m very glad that my hospice doctor and nurses are open to alternative treatments. They listen and ask that I tell them of my results. They were more entertained than excited when I told them about the cabbage leaves, but that’s okay. It may work fine, but it will be a while before I continue with my tests of it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hospice team was very excited when I told them that swishing organic coconut oil in my mouth every morning, for about 5-10 minutes, eliminated the thrush in my mouth. They have other patients who are using “statin” medicine with poor results, and they were happy to have a safe, simple, no side effect method of treating thrush, a common problem in cancer patients. I was so excited that it cleared mine up quickly, and I am so grateful to my friend, Cathy, for telling me about it. A nice second benefit of swishing coconut oil is that it made my teeth whiter! If you try swishing coconut oil in your mouth to treat thrush, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">don’t swallow it</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. The coconut oil by itself is safe, but after it removes bacteria and toxins from your mouth, you don’t want to swallow it and get those bacteria and toxins in the rest of your body.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was having difficulty sleeping, due to pain. I didn’t want to get a stronger pain medication, but I knew that I wasn’t getting good rest each night. I need to be rested to fight this cancer, so I agreed to getting a stronger medication. I was worried that it would make me dizzy, or make me want to sleep all the time, but it hasn’t. It takes the pain away, and I notice no other side effects. Hooray! </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My husband, Dave, and I were able to take a wonderful trip to North Carolina, to visit my brother, Gary, and his wife, Elizabeth, and their family! We were only gone for three days, but we had a wonderful time! Gary had a TV all set up so that Dave could watch the Browns, in their Thursday night, nationally televised game. There are not many Browns fans in North Carolina (at least not in my family) but they were all very accommodating, and didn’t make us sit outside or in the basement.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Seeing my family, even for a short time, is such a boost for my immune system. I know that I have more family coming to visit me soon, and I know that will be another tremendous boost! All the cards, notes, letters, phone calls and visits help me get through each day with a positive attitude and a grateful heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All my vital signs are good, and most days, my mood is also good. Thank you to each and every one of you for being part of my life!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-37268344680050430412013-08-20T16:54:00.001-04:002013-08-20T17:17:01.198-04:00Learning to accept change<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I lost my hair in June, it was one of the most difficult times in my life. I felt ugly and angry and scared and extremely sad. I didn’t want anyone to see me without hair. When your hair comes out, it’s a process. It doesn’t all come out at once. Each day, I had less and less hair. Finally, it looked so awful, I knew I had to have it shaved. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7918a529-9d75-7767-1dba-8e6da8615fe8" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Having David see me with just a few hairs here and there on my head was so traumatic. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I cried and cried. What if he didn't love me anymore? What if he was disgusted when he looked at me. I know that David loves me, but at that moment, it seemed impossible that his love would continue once he saw me without hair. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror, but David was so kind and gentle and caring, and just held me, and told me it was fine, and I shouldn’t worry. As he always tells me, "No big deal." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">He said he would shave it for me, which he did. He did it so gently, and he even made me laugh a couple times. He told me that I had a narrow, horizontal strip of hair that was still growing. It was at the lowest area on the back of my head, and it was still growing because it was outside the target zone of the radiation treatments. Dave told me that I had a start on a good rattail. That made me laugh. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At home, I always wore a cap, and when we went out, I always wore my wig. Sometimes David told me not to wear my cap at home. I was embarrassed, but he was kind, and I gradually got past my embarrassment. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The wig I had was the same color as my hair, but I hated the texture of the hair. It was so scratchy and tangled easily, but everyone who saw me wearing it said it looked just like my hair. Even my friends, who didn’t know all my hair had come out, told me how much they loved my “new hairstyle.” They were shocked when I told them it was a wig.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wanted another wig, but didn’t have the courage to go wig shopping. I’m not a shy person, so it was surprising to me that I was so uncomfortable with this situation. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I finally picked a wig on Amazon that I thought looked like my color and was a nice style. When it arrived, I was so excited that the hair was so soft and shiny. The only problem was it was too long, and the style was not as nice as it had appeared online.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I took it to a local salon to see if they could trim it and make a few style adjustments. They said they could, but I would have to be wearing it while they trimmed and styled. Reluctantly I agreed. The waiting area was full of people that day. Hopefully, they wouldn’t pay any attention to me when I got it trimmed.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The appointment started fine, but at one point, the stylist was trying to comb through a part that had tangles in it, and the wig nearly came off. I was terrified for a moment, but quickly readjusted it on my head. The stylist was so embarrassed and apologized several times. I knew she hadn’t meant for that to happen, so I tried to act like it was no big deal, so that she wouldn’t feel bad. I didn’t look around to see if anyone else had noticed, because I really didn’t want to know.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, it was finished. It looked nice. I was just relieved to be done. By the time I tried it on at home, I realized I had been in too much of a hurry to leave the salon. It really needed another inch or two trimmed off of it. I really didn’t want to go back to the salon.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next morning, Kylia took me to </span><a href="http://www.stewartscaringplace.org/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stewart’s Caring Place</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in Akron, a place that offers support services for cancer patients and their caregivers. All of their services are free. The hospice social worker had told me that they had wigs, and I could get one for free there.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The receptionist showed us to the wig room. There were about 100 wigs and several boxes of scarves, hats and caps. I tried on 4 or 5 wigs, most of which made me cringe, and but finally found one that was pretty good. It was close to my hair color, and was a cute style, just a little shorter than the way I usually wore my hair. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was ready to leave, but Kylia said that I should try on a wig in a different color than the brown hair that I usually wore. She pulled out a curly, blonde wig. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh no! I’m not wearing that.” I said.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kylia answered, “Oh, just try it on for fun. You don’t have to take it home.”</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When she said that, I realized that I wasn’t making this a very fun trip for her or for me, and I was stressing about something that shouldn’t be a big deal. I tried it on. And we both laughed so loud. It was definitely not for me, but that changed the mood. It became a fun adventure, instead of a traumatic event. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the dresser, there was a wig stand with a bright pink wig on it. It was to stay on the dresser in the wig room as a symbol for breast cancer. I could try it on, but I wasn’t supposed to take it home. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Try it on,” said Kylia.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hesitated a second, then tried it on. We laughed even louder than we had at the blonde wig. Kylia said she wanted to take a picture of me wearing it. I told her, “No way!” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, come on, Mom! It’s actually cute on you! I love it!”</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I finally agreed to let her take a picture of wearing the pink wig. Then she took a picture of me with the blonde wig on, and another picture of the one that I was taking home with me. She said she was going to send them to Dave’s email address. I rolled my eyes and said, “OK.”</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we got home, Dave said he liked the pink one, and I should make the picture of me, wearing the pink wig, my profile picture on Facebook. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh no,” I said.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then he said he had already emailed the pictures to Kelly and his sister, Barbara, and they had already written back that they liked the pink wig. Finally, I agreed, to post the picture on Facebook, which I did. Within 2 minutes, it had 4 “Likes.” I took a deep breath and made it my profile picture, which means it will be shown with everything I post on Facebook.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kylia and Kari were “over the moon” excited that I posted the picture of me wearing the pink wig. Dave kept asking me throughout the evening, “Now how many ‘likes’ does it have?” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The last time I checked, there were 100 “likes” (65 for the regular post of the picture, and 35 for the profile picture.) The comments ranged from surprised to excited to hilarious. Really, people are so easily entertained… </span><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRhwmVrlU4ql6kg7tNkBSnTn3HafszjHw1dlNdyNrWf227uAJYzwgOND3J0_l623FaEUkTKlCRCl_lAxDlLa1ZyjJpfg53blyTEjS8drQS5pg8BwWmxPd98VAWSii6vaNl-99GkMpu84/s1600/CAM00407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQRhwmVrlU4ql6kg7tNkBSnTn3HafszjHw1dlNdyNrWf227uAJYzwgOND3J0_l623FaEUkTKlCRCl_lAxDlLa1ZyjJpfg53blyTEjS8drQS5pg8BwWmxPd98VAWSii6vaNl-99GkMpu84/s200/CAM00407.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As traumatic as losing my hair was for me, I have finally reached the point where I can face it. It wasn’t a life and death situation when I lost my hair, but it felt like it. I know many women breeze through that challenge easily, but for many, including me, that was a very stressful situation. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful for my family for being patient with me as I struggled to come to terms with it. It’s interesting how cancer can turn someone with a good sense of humor into a frightened, angry person, even if only for a short time. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life is too short to spend it worrying. Life is for living, laughing and loving.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-23254531562505048602013-08-17T13:59:00.000-04:002013-08-17T13:59:11.309-04:00Don't be afraid<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are a few good friends that I really want to see and talk to, but I haven’t received a response from them. I know they care, and they are either too sad or too angry or just have no idea what to say to me, or any of 100 different reasons. I understand that. </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7918a529-8d6d-f94a-90ad-0faaf53dc0e7" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wish I knew what I could say to make it easier for them. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>There is no right or wrong thing to say</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. I love these people, and I want them to see that I’m getting through this. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have so many things I </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>need</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to tell them. It’s important to me to let them know how much their friendship means to me. Every person has played a special role in my life, and I want them to know it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If anyone has said to you that they would like to see me or talk to me, but they don’t know what to say, please tell them just to email me at learn4fun at gmail dot com or to contact me on Facebook (Ruth Yoder Barnes). </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And if you are one of those people, I would love to hear from you!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-58553413786312747602013-08-13T14:10:00.001-04:002013-08-17T12:09:30.304-04:00Time passes quicklyMy hospice nurse was here this morning. I told her that I've been feeling good, for the most part. I still get occasional twinges in my right armpit. Just a sharp pain, or a pinch, that's gone in two or three seconds. My right hand and arm are still swollen. It was a bit more swollen on Sunday and Monday, but by last evening, it was back to the size it's been for the past month. It always makes me nervous, when it swells, but so far, the swelling has gone back down every time.<br />
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The underside of my right arm has been very red for the past two or three days. The nurse says that it is probably the tumor causing the redness. As long as there is no pain or tingling, and as long as my arm does not feel hot, there is no cause for alarm. We go over those symptoms each time the nurse stops by, but it still makes me feel better to hear her tell me "no cause for alarm."<br />
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At our recent family reunion, my cousins, and other people who have come to visit me recently, were all amazed that I look well. And even more amazed when I say I feel well.<br />
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I am surprised at how quickly time passes. I can hardly believe that I have passed the doctor's three month estimate of the time I had left, and that I am still feeling good. I'm looking forward to the Wayne County Fair, but I am even more excited thinking about Dave"s and my one year wedding anniversary, on September 8. Each day brings me closer to that important occasion. <br />
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I want time to pass quickly so that I can get to our anniversary, but I'm trying to be patient, because I want to make the most of every single minute.<br />
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My nurse reminded me when she left today that she would only be coming once a week, instead of twice, because I am doing well, and she really doesn't see a reason to check on me more often. I am to let her know if anything changes, and the schedule can be adjusted. <br />
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So here I am, trying not to count the days, but instead to savor the moments. Each moment is special, and I am looking for the joy in every single one.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-46242648246542686482013-08-03T23:17:00.001-04:002013-08-03T23:17:47.032-04:00Making plans<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes I’m so scared for what the future holds. Then I stop and think about how far I’ve come, and I tell myself to keep going. I’m doing well, and I need to appreciate every moment of good health. I have to keep counting my blessings, and stay positive.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-7918a529-4752-3fbf-dff0-5d83ee217b51" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m only a little over a month from our one year wedding anniversary. I’m determined to make it to that day in good health. I want to celebrate that day with Dave and our family! </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Wayne County Fair starts on September 7. Kylia and Kari love the fair. I took them to the fair 3 years ago. Two days later, I found Dave on Facebook, and a week after that we finally saw each other in person. We were both thrilled to be back together after 25 years apart. We got married two years later on September 8. It was the happiest day of our lives. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have hopes that I will make it to Kelly’s birthday in November, and also, to Thanksgiving, Christmas and Kylia’s birthday. I will give it all I have to get to those dates. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I appreciate everyone’s good thoughts and prayers. You are all helping me to keep going. Thank you!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-66498109591859091262013-07-28T12:23:00.000-04:002013-07-28T12:23:05.879-04:00Life with cancer is seldom predictable<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After taking my husband out for dinner on Father’s Day, I noticed that my right hand and arm were swollen. The left hand and arm appeared to be normal. I called Hospice when we arrived home from the restaurant, and they said a nurse would come to check on me.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-14e08f3f-260d-2f8e-c43b-76534489c997" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the nurse first checked the swelling in my arm, she noticed that my fingernails were completely white, and the palms of my hands were red. My feet were purple, but would change back to their normal color every few minutes, before changing to purple again.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">According to the nurse, the most logical explanation for the swelling seemed to be lymphedema. Lymphedema is caused by a blockage in the lymphatic system, which prevents the lymphatic fluid from flowing as it should. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I would need to keep my right arm elevated as much as possible so that the lymphatic fluid wouldn’t pool in my hands or arms. The fluid can impact circulation, which was probably the cause of my purplish feet and my white nails. My vital signs were all strong and I seemed to be in good health, other than the minor swelling issue.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A friend of mine who is a massage therapist offered to do a lymphatic drainage massage if the nurses and my doctor approved. She said it was a very light massage that would help the lymphatic fluid drain out of my arms and eventually to my kidneys, which would be able to eliminate it. The doctor approved, and I had the massage. It felt wonderful. I didn’t notice much difference in the swelling, but there might have been a slight reduction.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Occasionally, I become very irritable. The nurses explained that the lymphatic system is responsible for transporting hormones throughout the body, and that when the lymphatic system is compromised, it can play havoc with the hormones, which is what causes me to become irritable or have hot flashes (something I had never experienced before). Everything that happens in my body seems to affect one or more other things, causing a chain reaction that is unbelievable.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many foods that I loved, now taste terrible to me. Most breads, pastas, fried foods and many salads are as appealing as having a mouthful of cardboard. Fresh fruit still tastes good, and so does peanut butter on lettuce, celery, carrots or apples. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A month ago, I was ravenously hungry all the time, now I am seldom hungry, and often feel too full, even if I haven’t eaten. That change worried me, and I asked the nurse about it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She said she would have medicine sent over to relieve the feeling of fullness. She didn’t seem concerned about it, but I was concerned. She checked my blood pressure, which was nearly double my usual reading, which worried me even more. The nurse assured me that my fears about the lymphedema, and the feeling of constant fullness were what caused my blood pressure to spike. I relaxed a bit.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She told me she would be back to check on me the following day. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This time, instead of my normal blood pressure reading, it was 48 over 41. Very low. I nearly panicked again. I couldn’t understand how I could even be sitting up with a blood pressure that low. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The nurse asked “have you been drinking water.” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I told her that I usually drink water all the time, but that morning I hadn’t had any water yet. She said, “That’s what I thought. You’re dehydrated.” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got my bottle of water and began to drink. After about 15 minutes, she checked my blood pressure again, and it was exactly where it should be. What a relief! According to the nurse, low blood pressure is frequently caused by dehydration. Who knew? Not me.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve been battling thrush, a yeast infection found in the mouth, and have found that the medicine prescribed to treat thrush can lose its effectiveness if used too frequently. One of my friends brought me a jar of organic coconut oil, and said that she learned that swishing a tablespoon of coconut oil in your mouth, for 20 minutes each morning, can control or eliminate thrush. I was willing to give it a try, and it’s working! I’ve read that additional benefits of swishing coconut oil is that it cleans and whitens your teeth. How about that!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I didn’t realize that once the jar of coconut oil was opened, the oil would turn into a hard white substance, similar to lard... I wasn’t sure I could put a spoonful of that in my mouth, but I did, and I didn’t gag. In only a few seconds, it returned to liquid form. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because it goes to solid form, when it’s stored at room temperature, it’s important to not spit the oil into your sink drain. I usually get rid of it in a paper cup. If I let the cup set out on the counter for an hour or so, the oil is hardened and can be tossed in the trash.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s been a few days since I’ve noticed any changes in my body. I’m hoping there won’t be any. If there are, I will deal with them as they arise. </span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-14e08f3f-2615-fa1c-8716-8fd9eec724c9"><br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Life with cancer is seldom predictable.</span></span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-36649603541503426342013-07-16T12:17:00.001-04:002013-07-16T12:21:14.162-04:00Lessons from early childhood<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Growing up in the country was a tremendous gift to me. I learned to notice the details in life, to sit quietly and think, to come up with ideas and test them, to see the beauty that surrounded me, to play fair and to face my fears and really live life! </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-14e08f3f-e844-ba55-0118-1c94d9e064bb" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was a little girl, my best friend, Bonnie, lived next door. Our property was separated by a wire fence. Our favorite place to sit and talk was between two fence posts about 20 feet in front of our garage. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bonnie and I were pretty hard on the fence. We climbed over it, through it and under it. We would find boards to put through the openings in the fence to make a teeter totter. That was probably the worst thing we could have done to that fence, but it was also the most fun! </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our favorite thing to do didn’t hurt the fence at all. Bonnie and I loved to crack stones. My side of the fence was near our driveway. Our driveway had stones of every color and shape, Along the edge of the driveway, there were some large, heavy rocks that Bonnie and I would use to crack the smaller stones from the driveway, I would gather a handful of stones of varied sizes, shapes and colors, then each of us would choose one, and we would use our big smasher rock to break the smaller one. Then we would compare to see who had the most valuable or most interesting stone. Some sparkled, some smelled like smoke, and some had a lot of layers. Some were pink, others were gray or silver, and still others were boring brown. We imagined how valuable the stones filled with golden sparkles must be. Millions of dollars, at least... We could crack rocks for hours each day. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had a field behind our house. In the summer, when the grass in the field was high, I would roll through the grass, flattening it, and creating “rooms” in the field. I had a kitchen, a living room and a bedroom. The bedroom had lots of loose grass piled up in one corner to make a bed. The kitchen had cattails and green apples for our “lunch.” Bonnie made a “house” in her field, too. She had to share hers with her younger brother, and younger sister. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was young, I never thought it unusual that Bonnie and I didn’t visit each other’s houses very often. Our parents would let us visit if we asked them, but they would always set a time limit like one or two hours. Our parents didn’t want us to be a bother to the other family. We were so excited if we got to visit for more than one hour! What a treat! </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We played lots of outdoor games. I don’t remember spending much time inside as a child. From early in the morning, until late at night, I played outside. In the daytime, we played “Andy Over” a game that involved tossing a ball over a rooftop, and shouting “Andy Over.” If we didn’t have a ball, we used whatever we could find like a frisbee or my brother, Gary’s baseball cap. I was in big trouble the day I got his cap stuck on the roof... We, also, played tag, softball, croquet, hide and seek, and “Red Rover.” </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At night, we played “Kick the can” flashlight tag or “Ghosts in the Graveyard.” “Kick the can” was my favorite! </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we tired of playing games, we might catch fireflies and put them in jars with air holes in the lids. We would watch their little lights flash on and off, until we were ready to move on to other things, then we would release them back into the night. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If it was a clear night, we might bring blankets outside and lay on our backs in the grass looking for constellations in the night sky. In the 1960s, our galaxy, the Milky Way was a thick white band of millions of stars that stretched across the sky. It still is a thick white band of millions of stars, but because of the light pollution in norheast Ohio, it can no longer be seen with the naked eye. That’s a shame! I don’t think that the night sky fills children with wonder and awe the way tt did when I was a little girl. When I look up at night now, I almost feel as though I can count the stars in the sky. When I was young, I could barely tell where one star ended and another began. It was impossible to count them.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the spring, I would gather yellow dandelion flowers for our lunch. My mom told me to pick just the blossom. She said to be sure there was no stem attached, because the stem was bitter. I would take a huge bowl of dandelion flowers to my mom, and she would wash them carefully, then immediately dredge them in flour and fry them in butter! Oh, the deliciousness! These days you have to be careful not to pick dandelions that have been sprayed, but in those days, that was never a problem. Not many country people worried about having dandelions in their yards.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a pond behind our house. We shared it with our neighbor. Bonnie and I would meet at the fence and walk down to the pond, with the fence still between us, then we would each head in opposite directions, walking around the pond, until we met on the far side, where there was no fence to separate us. We would play together there for a few minutes, then we would go our separate ways back to the fence. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was fun to look for all kinds of animals, bugs, plants and reptiles when we played near the pond. There were cattails and water reeds growing all around the pond. The water reeds had a very tender edible piece in the base of the stem, near the root of the reed. I loved to find that piece and eat it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were garter snakes and water snakes, moles, muskrats, groundhogs, Red-winged Blackbirds, dragonflies, damselflies, snapping turtles and fish. The snakes and snapping turtles were not my favorites, but they were okay from a distance.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I loved to help my dad mow the field in the summertime. We had a Farmall Cub tractor, with a mower attachment, and I would ride on the hitch, behind the driver’s seat. It took awhile to mow our field, but it always seemed to go so fast. I loved riding on the back of the tractor. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we had a big mowing job to do, my dad would borrow my Uncle Ed’s big John Deere tractor. I loved riding on the back of the John Deere even more than I loved riding on the Farmall Cub. Number 1, because it was really big, and number 2, because it made such a great sound! </span><a href="http://www.retiredtractors.com/poland/sounds.html" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nothing sounded as grand as a two-cylinder John Deere</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we were done with the mowing, my dad and I would be ready for my mom’s famous lemonade!! My mom made the most delicious lemonade. She would slice 3 or 4 lemons into a big wide mouth thermos. She always used a long butcher knife with a serrated blade. To the mound of lemon slices, she would add sugar. Then came my favorite part. She would take the wooden “stomper” from her aluminum food mill and she would stomp every drop of juice out of those lemon slices. Then she would pour a pitcher of water over the lemon slices, juice and sugar. She stirred it till it was mixed and the sugar was dissolved, then she would pour the finished lemonade in glasses filled with ice. We would all stay cool on the hottest summer day, by sitting in the shadiest spot and sipping that icy cold lemonade! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Growing up in the country was such a rich and joyful experience. I wish everyone could experience the many sights, sounds and smells of country living.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-89396699073135372672013-07-03T16:39:00.001-04:002013-07-03T16:39:37.235-04:00Gifts from My Parents<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'll soon be celebrating another birthday. Another year older, and another year... wiser? I hope so.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-3b1a30ce-a63e-eb93-d7db-358b47b9a29f" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If I inherited even a portion of the wisdom of my parents, I will be thrilled. My mother died in 2002, at the age of 94. My father had passed away almost 8 years earlier, when he was 85.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Over the years, my parents gave me many gifts, although I may not have recognized them at the time.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad was born into a farm family. He loved farming, but he had dreams of becoming a pharmacist. To accomplish this goal, he would have needed to go to Ohio Northern University in Ada, Ohio, to study pharmacology. His parents said that they needed him on the farm, and that he should try to find a career that would enable him to stay at home. He was an obedient son. He decided to attend the local teachers' school. He did his farm chores early in the morning, then went to school, then came home and did his evening farm chores, followed by a few hours of homework. The next day, the routine repeated. And the next. And the next. He had 4 sisters and 1 brother. They all became teachers. All of them left the farm, when they married, but my dad stayed. He respected his parents and had a strong sense of duty.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother knew she wanted to be a teacher from the time she was a very young girl. She taught in a one room schoolhouse near her home. She had 6 brothers and 1 sister; her sister died in early childhood. My mom was the youngest in the family and her older brothers adored her. When the weather was cold, her brother, Mel, would get up at 4:00 am and go to the schoolhouse to start a fire in the woodstove, then he would come back and take my mom to the warm and toasty school. My mom loved riding to the school in the winter, because Mel would put sleighbells on the big Percheron horses, and she thought the jingling bells were the prettiest sound in the world. She loved and appreciated her family.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When my mom and dad got married, the laws required that my mom stop teaching. Married women were not allowed to teach. Men with families were considered to be in greater need of a job. Because my dad's parents still needed help on the farm, the newlyweds moved into the big farm house with my grandparents. By now, my dad was teaching school, and helping on the farm in every spare moment. They accepted responsibility without complaint, and instead were grateful to have a nice place to live, and to have the opportunity to help my grandparents.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the years went by, my dad continued to farm and teach, plus he became the basketball and baseball coach at the high school. About that time, the regulations changed, and the credentials he had earned from the local teachers' school were determined to be insufficient. In order to maintain his teaching certification, my dad had to drive from Holmes County to Kent State University 4 times each week. There were no interstate highways, and the trip took approximately 2 hours each way. In his "spare time" he continued to farm. He had determination.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My parents used to talk of those days often. They agreed that it was hard, but not impossible. They would add, “We did what had to be done, and we made it through.” When I face tough times and challenging schedules today, I look at what my parents faced and I am encouraged. I trust that I can do, what I have to do.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad always said, “There will be no cross words in this house. We are a family and families love each other, support each other and are kind to one another.” My parents gave me the gift of a peaceful home life.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mother always told us, “You have to have fun! We don’t want to sit around and be gloomy all day. Let’s laugh!” Her humor was seldom planned. She didn’t tell funny stories or jokes; she just naturally seemed to say things that got everyone giggling. On the other hand, my dad loved to tell jokes and funny stories. He was very tall, and many of his young students were a bit intimidated by him. He had a joke for every student, and even if he towered over them, they all shyly smiled and waited to see what funny thing he would tell them. Their humor has guided me through countless difficult times. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I seldom heard my parents complain. Well... sometimes my mom complained. My dad had a tendency to volunteer for every non-paying job that came along, every committee that needed a chairperson, every cause that needed a champion. I still remember the many times he came home and announced that he was asked to lead some committee, and my mom would always say, "You surely aren't going to do that, are you?" Dad would get an embarassed smile, and answer that no one else was willing to do it, to which my mom would reply in an exasperated tone, "Well, of course, no one else was willing to do it! They knew you would!" My dad recognized the needs of others, and stepped forward to help. My mom recognized that there are times when it is necessary to say, "no."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have tried to learn both of those lessons: to help when I can, and to say "no" when my schedule is too full. A few years ago, I was overwhelmed with volunteer responsibilities that I had accepted, and when I was discussing the difficulties of doing all the things that needed to be done with a good friend of mine, he simply said, "I could be wrong, but I think you have trouble saying 'no'." Immediately, I thought of my father's tendency to over-extend himself, and my mother's exasperation. I became a little better at saying "no."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad loved people, and he loved making them smile. He paid attention to people, especially those that others may not notice. I remember a young Amish boy named, Simon, who was in my class in school. He was very shy, and kept his eyes lowered most of the time. One day, my dad saw Simon and his family riding in their Amish buggy. They had one of the finest horses in the county pulling that buggy. It was a very high-spirited animal that looked like a champion race horse. My dad noticed that Simon was holding the reins. The next day, at school, dad commented that he had seen Simon driving the buggy and that he was very impressed that Simon could handle such a fine, lively horse. Simon's eyes sparkled and he couldn't stop smiling. That one remark had a huge positive effect on that shy boy. I try to remember to notice those that others may not, and to pass along an honest compliment, or a comment that lets them know, I see the talents they have.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Both of my parents were teachers, and they loved teaching. I always said I would NEVER be a teacher because they spent so much time at the school and when they were home, they were always busy preparing for the next day’s lessons. In the evenings, they would talk about some of their students, and try to figure out ways they could help those students accomplish all that they wanted to do. My dad had a knack for working with the students who had the most challenges. He would find an approach that would engage them, because he wanted them to succeed. They helped countless students succeed! My parents inspired me to find ways to help other succeed.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad was not just a teacher, but also, a principal, a basketball coach, a cross-country coach, a baseball coach, a track coach, a community leader, a Sunday School teacher, a farmer and did many other duties that I can’t even count. He would be at his school by 7 am each morning, finish by 3:30 or 4:00 in the afternoon, then he would be off to whatever sport was in season, for practice. If there were games in the evening, he might not return home until after 9 pm, when he still had to prepare his lessons for the next day. He often wasn’t in bed until midnight, only to wake up by 6 am. He never complained. He only worried that he wasn’t doing enough. His dedication and tirelessness still inspire me. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When my dad was coaching, he always took his basketball team to Columbus to watch the state high school basketball tournament. His teams seldom played in the tournament, but they would go to the games. One year, when my dad had taken his "starting 5" players to the tournament, they had seen some especially exciting games. They were busy chatting about them as they traveled home, when suddenly, my dad failed to notice that the car in front of his car had stopped. BANG! They crashed into it. The driver of the other car got out, and he and my father examined the vehicles. Luckily, there was no damage, and they were on their way. Soon, they were again engrossed in conversation about the games. CRASH! Oh no! Only 10 miles from the last accident, my dad had hit another car. As he stepped out of his vehicle, he cringed. The driver getting out of the other car looked very familiar. You guessed it. It was the same one he had collided with less than 20 minutes earlier. Again, there was no damage, but this time, the other driver gave my dad a serious look (and a wink) and said, "You go first this time." My dad loved to tell that story. The sense of humor displayed by the other driver changed the whole situation, and reminded my dad to keep a sense of humor when things go wrong. I try to remember that, too.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mom loved teaching, but in the winter, when it snowed, she would wake up very early waiting to see if the school superintendent would call to tell my dad that school would be cancelled for the day. You cannot imagine her whoops of glee when that call came and they decided to close the schools for the day! She would jump up and yell “Whoopeeeee!” And we would spend the day sledding, or building snowmen, or making taffy, or baking cookies, or playing games. So many wonderful memories of those days. I am grateful for the ability to take each moment as it comes, and make the most of it.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was young, teachers had the summer off. We usually took 3-4 short trips each summer. We played travel games, ate at roadside parks, read all the Burma Shave signs, hiked through Hocking HIlls (few people even knew that place existed at that time), made an annual visit to the Logan Elm tree, which sadly succumbed to Dutch Elm disease, visited all of the Kentucky state park resorts, and so many other places. We traveled at our own pace. If we saw something interesting we stopped to check it out. How fortunate for me to be able to travel with my parents! And, how grateful I am that I learned that life is not about rushing, but about paying attention to unexpected attractions along the way, and not being afraid to wander off the beaten path.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One summer, my parents decided to go to Florida for 10 days. I have no idea why I decided to stay home, but I did. I think I was 17 at the time. They allowed me to stay home by myself. Being a teen in a very rural area, the top entertainment was going for a drive to see how many other people I could find that I knew. During the time that my parents were in Florida, I spent a lot of time hitting the local hangout spots to see who was there, and who they were with and what they were doing. When my parents returned home, they were happy to see that I was fine, the house was fine and the car was fine... almost. It hadn't been damaged, but when my dad looked at the odometer, he exclaimed, "Ruth! You put more miles on this car staying home, than we did driving to Florida and back!" Uh-oh! I don't remember being punished for this, but I was so embarrassed by it, that I never did anything remotely like it again. My parents were able to teach me valuable lessons without raising their voices or becoming angry. I can't say that I learned this lesson perfectly, but I have tried. They, also, continued to trust me even after that incident. I think that trust helped me resolve not to let them down again. I try to trust my children, so that they will learn to trust themselves.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After my parents retired, they loved to travel to Vermont several times each year to visit my brother, Gary and his family. They loved spending time with their grandchildren and their grandchildren adored them. My nephew, Gary Michael, their grandson, will never forget the time he and his two sisters made a mud pie and brought it to my dad. "We made a pie for you, Grandpa!" </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Grandpa looked very pleased. They handed him a spoon and told him to try a bite, assuming he would pretend to eat it and they would giggle. To their shock and amazement, Grandpa dug the spoon deep into the mudpie and put the yucky stuff in his mouth. "Mmmmm! That's delicious!" he told them as brown goo trickled down his chin. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Grandpa! Don't eat that! It's mud!" I have learned that being a little silly sometimes can create wonderful, wacky memories that are never forgotten, and... a little dirt is not a bad thing.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christmas was a HUGE deal for my dad. He loved having his whole family home. It was always more important for us to be together than it was to celebrate on Christmas or Christmas Eve. Some years we didn’t celebrate Christmas until late January. It was just as merry. My dad loved to decorate our basement for the family get together. It looked like a Christmas store had exploded and covered every inch of space. He always wanted a fire in the fireplace, because it looked so pretty. I’m surprised we’re all still here, because most years, it took him awhile to figure out how to make the smoke go up the chimney instead of into the basement. Of course, there was always a wonderful meal, followed by a delicious birthday cake, for my dad and my niece, Kim. His birthday was December 27, and hers was December 26. So much fun. Life is a celebration! Live it with enthusiasm!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dad played fair. I will never forget sitting behind the basketball team at one of their games. A referee made a call that the crowd didn’t like. “Boooooo!!!!!!” I joined right in. My dad, who was the coach, and was sitting next to his team on the bench in front of me, glanced at me, but didn’t say anything. On the ride home, after the game, he looked at me, and calmly stated, “If you ever want to go to another basketball game, you need to remember: The team is there to play the game. The coach is there to coach the game. The referees are there to officiate the game. The fans are there to support their team. I don’t ever want to hear you booing the referees or the other team or their coaches again.” I have never forgotten, much to the consternation of some of my friends who can’t understand how I can possibly stay calm, when things seem so unfair in a game. I have learned that those same rules can be applied to many situations in every day life. I’m not there to be a complainer, but to be a positive presence. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My ability to write came from both of my parents. They wrote constantly. My dad always carried those yellow legal pads, and they were filled with his notes and jokes he heard, speeches he was going to give, stories he wanted to tell.... </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My mom kept a journal for as long as I can remember. Her journals are all in stenographer’s notebooks and she managed to squeeze more on one page than I can get on three, and none of it was written in shorthand. I have quite a few of her journals, and I love reading and re-reading them. Her sense of humor and love fill the pages. She has recipes, many of which are incomplete, because she was copying from a TV show, and she couldn’t write fast enough. She had quotes, jokes, notes about things she saw in nature, people who visited, gardening tips and endless travel journals. The motels where they stayed are listed, with descriptions of the rooms, the price and a mini-review, most of which are either glowing or hilarious. All their meals on a trip are described in detail, and the amount each meal cost. She even included every place they stopped for gas, complete with the gas price, and what the mpg was for the trip, not to mention the words from every “Burma Shave” sign, and anything else that caught her attention, and made her laugh or think more deeply. How very grateful I am for the gift of writing!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My parents marriage was solid. They were partners, best friends, sweethearts. Each was the loudest cheerleader for the other. They were always happiest when they were together. Even though they continuously showed me how they attained the perfect balance in their relationship, it took me awhile to really understand. I am so fortunate to finally have a marriage like my parents.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I learned so many lessons from my parents. Patience, compassion, understanding, listening, laughing, trusting, courage, honesty and love. I could tell hundreds of stories. The lessons they shared so lovingly are truly the best gifts I have ever received. I want to give those gifts to my children. Some of them are easy to give. Others take a lot of effort. I have to have patience with myself to keep trying and learning, even though my teachers are no longer here. Fortunately, they left a legacy of memories and stories that continue to teach the lessons that I need to learn.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe your parents were as wonderful as mine, and you have had the benefit of learning wonderful lessons from them. Maybe your parents were more challenging. Negative experiences can still provide positive lessons. The important thing is to look for those lessons, and to see them as gift to you. Learning what NOT to do is just as valuable, as learning the right things to do.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My parents patiently guided me and trusted me to find my way. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am my parents’ child. And I am grateful! </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-64322243781711006482013-06-09T06:22:00.000-04:002013-06-09T06:22:09.038-04:00Sadness and JoyDave and I went to the wedding of my dear great-niece, Jena, yesterday. I had been looking forward to it for several weeks, and finally the big day arrived. The weather was beautiful, the bride was stunning, the ring bearers were adorable and being surrounded by family, many of whom I hadn't seen in far too long, was the best.<br />
<br />
The best and, also, the most difficult moment came when the bride and her dad, Robert, began their walk down the aisle. I was so filled with joy that I was there to see her, and at the same instant, tears filled my eyes, as I remembered that moment in my own wedding last September, when I rounded the corner of our family room to see the man I adore, waiting for me with tears in his eyes. As the tears appeared, Dave's grip on my hand tightened. I knew he was thinking of the same moment. I'm not sure how it's possible to feel so much joy, and so much sadness at the same time. <br />
<br />
As Dave held my hand, I felt the heaviness lift, and the happiness return. I am so glad that Jena, and her long-time friend and high school sweetheart, Cole, are now married, and I am thrilled that I was able to attend her wedding. It was such a lovely ceremony! <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-10944132170225793272013-06-05T06:12:00.000-04:002013-06-05T06:25:52.274-04:00Early Morning HoursThe early morning hours are the most difficult. I usually sleep until about 3:30 or 4:00 am, then wake up and think about a million things. My mind is racing, and ideas pop in and out of my head like bouncing bunnies. I've learned that if I don't get up and write notes to myself, I don't remember what those ideas were. I type them in an email to myself, so that they will be in my inbox waiting for me in the morning. <br />
<br />
The ideas are usually good things, but sleeping next to my dear husband is so overwhelmingly bittersweet. I don't want that to ever end, and sometimes there are no words to describe how knowing how blissful and perfect things have been, makes it so exceedingly sad. I want to stay there next to him. It's probably the worst and best part of the day for both of us. Usually we're both awake by 5:00 am, and we just hold each other and enjoy the moment, often with tears in our eyes. <br />
<br />
A few days ago, as we were laying there, <a href="http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377" target="_blank">the words of Dylan Thomas</a> flashed through my mind:<br />
<br />
"Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."<br />
<br />
I've always felt the power of those words, but not like I did in the early morning hours. I can be positive much of the time, but there are dark hours... <br />
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When those dark hours come, I know that I have to write and raise those thoughts to a more positive place. <br />
<br />
I've always loved poetry, and there are some poems that have always touched me. After I thought of Dylan Thomas' words, my next thought was of Robert Herrick's poem, <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/101/248.html" target="_blank">"To the Virgins, to make much of Time"</a> It begins with the line, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may...." Although what follows is not as upbeat, that line helped me rise from the dark shadows enough to dry my tears, and focus more on the positive.<br />
<br />
In the years that David and I were apart, there was a poem that was constantly on my mind. I could only remember one line, and I had to ask a reference librarian to help find the poem. She leaped from her chair, and said, "This is what reference librarians dream about doing. Most questions we get are so boring, and could be handled by anyone, but searching for a poem is so much fun." The only line I could remember was "the best is yet to be." <br />
<br />
It didn't take her long to discover that it was written by Robert Browning, and that the name of the poem was <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173031" target="_blank">"Rabbi Ben Ezra."</a> I loved the first verse, the words, the rhythm, the deeper meaning. I knew I was looking for that special someone, and that first verse made me feel that eventually I would find him.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Grow old along with me!<br />
The best is yet to be,<br />
The last of life, for which the first was made:<br />
Our times are in His hand<br />
Who saith "A whole I planned,<br />
Youth shows but half;<br />
trust God: see all, nor be afraid!"<br />
<br />
<br />
When David and I found each other, I gave him an engraved key ring with the date we reconnected and the words, "In an instant, our lives were changed forever." And on the reverse, "The best is yet to be..." Although I thought I had bought a high quality piece, within a short time, the engraved oval, separated from the key ring. Dave has carried the keys and the engraved part in his pocket every day, from the moment I gave it to him. He never mentioned to me that it had separated, and it touches my heart that he carries always.<br />
<br />
That poem seemed so positive and so prophetic when we reunited, and now when I read it, I can see how it can apply to the current situation. There is comfort and sadness.<br />
<br />
Sorrow mixed with gratitude for the moments that are filled with joy. One moment at a time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thank you for travelling this road with me!<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-43220148106788117322013-06-02T22:20:00.000-04:002013-06-02T22:20:20.079-04:00Our Story<b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I met my husband, Dave, in 1972. We both worked at a bank in Wooster, and hit it off the minute we met. There was no romance, just a great friendship. We had the same sense of humor, the same interests, and we could talk for hours. We talked about movies, auto racing, politics, history, food, the strange way banks operated, and hundreds of other things. We worked together for a few years, then we lost track of each other.</span></b></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In 1986, we were both single, when we met at an auto race. We walked all around the race course and talked and laughed and decided we would try dating. We dated sporadically for about 8 months, but eventually I decided to move to Pittsburgh, which caused Dave to say, “PIttsburgh? Why Pittsburgh? I just left Pittsburgh. I really don’t want to go back there.” So off I went on my own. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was seldom a week that I didn’t think of Dave and wonder where he was and what he was doing. I married someone else and we had two daughters. It was not a good marriage, but I stayed there for 12 years. In 2002, my daughters and I moved to an apartment in Akron. It wasn’t easy, but we made it through one challenge after another, and still managed to have a wonderful time together every day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many times, I felt very sad that I had had two wonderful parents, who constantly showed me what a solid, loving marriage could be, but somehow I had made 2 bad choices. I often told the girls about my friend, Dave, and all the fun we had had together. Kylia, my oldest, always said, “Why didn’t you marry him? You talk about him all the time.” I explained that we were just good friends. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In September, 2010, I took the girls to the county fair in Wooster. I saw several people I had worked with at the bank, and asked each of them if they knew what Dave was doing now, or if he was still in the area. No one knew. When we went home, I looked on Facebook. I had looked there so often in the past 24 years, but never found him. That night, when I searched, I found him. Should I send a friend request? Yes! Nooo. Yes! Uhhhhh, no! Finally, I sent it and went to bed. The next morning I checked my Facebook and there was a message from Dave, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for so long.” </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On that day, he was on his way to a Motorcycle Dealers rallly in Lake George, New York. He emailed me and said he would call me that night. When the phone rang, we both recognized each other’s voices immediately. We talked as though we had never been apart. I think we both knew at that moment, that this had just turned into more than friendship. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While he was in New York, we texted, emailed and talked on the phone. He told me that when he opened his email on the day he was heading to Lake George, he came very close to cancelling and coming to see me instead.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When he returned from the convention, we agreed we would meet at an Applebee’s Restaurant halfway between our homes. I saw him pull his truck into the parking lot of Applebee’s. I recognized him immediately, even though we hadn’t seen each other in over 25 years. I walked to his truck and when he got out, we couldn’t stop hugging each other. We finally made it into the restaurant, but we couldn’t eat. He ordered a soft drink and I ordered coffee. When we finally left Applebee’s, the soft drink and the coffee were still on the table, untouched. </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the next time we saw each other, we both knew that we wanted to get married. My daughters, Kylia and Kari, were shocked! “How can you marry him? It’s just your second date!” I explained how long we had known each other, but they were still a little leary of this whole deal. After a few more dates, they met him, and they saw that he really was a very nice guy.</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had given a lot of thought to why I had not made good choices in the past, and had decided when the girls and I had moved to Akron, that I needed to make a list of the qualities that were really important in a man I would want to marry. I had 63 things on my list. Here are a few:</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">loves me unconditionally, just as I am.</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">loves my daughters as if they were his own</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">honest</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">patient</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kind</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">trusts me and I trust him</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">enjoys travelling as a family</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shares my love of sports</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fair</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">intelligent</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">and 53 more qualities</span></div>
</b></li>
</ul>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had also written a list of qualities that I had seen in my parents’ marriage: </span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They adored each other.</span></div>
</b></li>
<li><b id="docs-internal-guid-247e61eb-07cf-cb9f-813b-8476903585a8" style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They respected each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They were romantic</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They agreed that there would be no cross words between them, or in their home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They constantly told their children how much they loved each other, and how grateful they were to be together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They were devoted to each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dave not only had all 63 qualities on my list, but on the night he asked me to marry him, he looked me in the eyes and said, “There will be no cross words between us, or in our home. We will have a home that is peaceful and loving.” He said it exactly the way my dad had always said it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt we were meant to be together, and so did he. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were a few monkey wrenches in our plans to get married, but finally we set the date. We wanted to get married in our home, and Dave reminded me frequently to “keep it simple.” I told him I wanted our daughters to be there, and he agreed with that. Then he decided that my sister and her husband, who had met Dave back in 1986 should be there. I agreed. His sister was flying in from Hawaii to visit their father who was hospitalized, so she would be there, also. I had one dear friend, who threatened to storm the wedding if she wasn’t invited, so Dave reluctantly agreed she could there, too. I talked him into one more, and then he suggested yet another friend. A total of 9 friends and family members would be there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We found a wedding officiant online, who had wonderful reviews, and he agreed to perform the ceremony. We met with Rev Chris at Panera, and chose the ceremony that seemed right for us. He asked if we wanted anything more, and we told him we would love to have our story told. He said that he would be glad to do it. The more we told him, the more excited and amazed he was. Especially when we said that we had both been looking for each other for almost 25 years, and that during those 25 years, Dave had dreamed about me or the bank where we had worked over and over. He said he had seen my picture on the wall of my school, and then continued to see that picture in his dreams, over and over. The interesting thing was that it was a large picture of me, not the class picture with all the little photos. And the name on the photo was Ruth Miller, not Ruth Yoder. I’m not convinced that there ever was a picture of me on the wall in my high school, other than the one with pictures of all of my classmates He was so confused as to why he would be dreaming about me. He still thought of me as his “buddy.” And that’s the way I thought of him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rev. Chris was scribbling furiously, and staring at us with wide eyes. Dave went on to tell him that the night before he received my friend request, he was at one of the lowest points in his life. The economy had crashed, and his motorcycle business was caught in the crossfire. The next morning, when he opened the Facebook email notification, he saw my smiling face, and instantly, he knew that I was the one. His horoscope for that day read: “Many years ago, you had a choice to make. The Universe does not often give do-overs, but you’re getting a second chance. The stars are screaming: “Gift from above. Gift from above.” I’m not sure why I even looked at his horoscope that day, but it definitely got my attention. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were married in our family room, a beautiful, airy and light-filled room, with a beautiful view of our backyard. It was a day filled with tears of joy. Rev. Chris was very emotional and had to struggle to keep his composure as he told our story, and guided us through our vows. We were equally emotional, and so were our daughters and guests. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We turned the family room into our bedroom, because it’s such a beautiful room. We kept the huge ribbon on the wall that marked the spot where we had stood for our wedding ceremony. We are so happy to sleep on the spot where we pledged our love and committment to each other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each day, since the day we were reunited, as been filled with love and joy, that has increased each moment. Every morning, we tell each other, how much we love our life together. There have been no “cross words” in that entire time. Each day has been absolutely blissful. We are so sure of each other’s love. I’ve never known love, peace, joy and contenttment like this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At times, I’m so angry. Other times, so deeply saddened. And many times, I think, that i am so fortunate that we are together, and I know that Kylia and Kari will have Dave and his daughter, Kelly, to be with them through this time of great loss. It would have been so much worse, if it had just been my daughters and I. And I know that all three of our daughters will be there for Dave. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful for that, but the overwhelming sense of loss is sometimes more than i can bear. Dave has a way of cheering me up and making me laugh when I am most sad, but as the days pass, we spend a lot of time just holding each other. Sometimes there are tears. Sometimes it hurts so much, there are no tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I could not get through this without Dave’s unconditional love for me, and his constant support and tenderness, and his wacky sense of humor. I am so happy we are married. I am grateful for tthe depth and richness of our love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rev. Chris tells me that he is sharing our love story with everyone he knows and that many people are being inspired by it. I’m very happy about that. We are both filled with regrets and sadness that we didn’t find each other much sooner, although we are grateful for every single moment we have been together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were many lonely days and nights during the years we were apart. Even in crowds of laughing friends, there was still a loneliness. When we found each other, the loneliness disappeared. We go everywhere together. We share each moment of the day, and love every second. And now, we are faced with a future that is something we never imagined. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s wonderful to inspire people, but I am devastated by the price we are paying. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have to focus on every good thing I find in the midst of this anguish. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am grateful that all of you now know our story. </span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-11082425035707859932013-06-02T14:25:00.002-04:002013-06-02T14:37:57.959-04:00A Lifetime of Teaching - Lessons from my oldest brother, Gene<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjYSrzM4FEjUtUmW-diY62QD8au-Xi0enBs2au-pq8Z4YxpTxZgQdYHRJChF8yyXh-AziGWAprhTlg66HXakt1UYcgmeU7gof9Mdy2KJp0Hx7jrIS_5dF4X3ykVB318fa_Zkc91BSg5s/s1600-h/gene+yoder.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108275611638995874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjYSrzM4FEjUtUmW-diY62QD8au-Xi0enBs2au-pq8Z4YxpTxZgQdYHRJChF8yyXh-AziGWAprhTlg66HXakt1UYcgmeU7gof9Mdy2KJp0Hx7jrIS_5dF4X3ykVB318fa_Zkc91BSg5s/s320/gene+yoder.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; margin: 0 0 10px 10px;" /></a><br />
If I say the word, teacher, many of you would think of someone who instructs classes at a school or university. Many people in my family are or were teachers. One of the most memorable and effective teachers in my life, was my brother, Gene, who earned his living in the trucking industry, rather than the classroom.<br />
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A few years ago, in February, my sister and her husband, my brother, Gene and my 2 daughters and I went to North Carolina to surprise my brother, Gary, on his 60th birthday. Gene asked my daughters how they would continue their school lessons while we were on this trip. They told him that they were learning all the time, and Gene said, "I see." Soon, he started to tell them about his days as a long distance truck driver, and how he had driven through this same area, where we were traveling, many, many times. Suddenly, he held up one finger, and shouted, "History lesson #1" and then proceeded to tell the girls about a Civil War battlefield that was "just on the other side of that hill." Gene was an excellent storyteller and his 5 minute history lesson was fascinating.<br />
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As we drove through West Virginia, Virginia and North Carolina, Gene shared many history lessons, telling us about famous landmarks, historic figures and the names of several mountains, as well as taking us to the most scenic places to view the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. The girls and I loved it!<br />
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After celebrating Gary's birthday, and spending a few fun days in North Carolina, we were ready to head for Ohio. As soon as we got in the car, both girls began begging, "Uncle Gene, will we have more history lessons on the way home?" So, all the way back to Ohio, Gene not only shared some new lessons, but also, asked them to tell him what they remembered about several of the locations that had been part of the earlier trip's lessons, and he did it in a way that was fun and interesting.<br />
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As we sat and talked with Gene during his final days, those history lessons were mentioned many times, and each time, others who were visiting would ask, "What history lessons are you talking about?" And the girls and their favorite uncle would tell the story of that memorable trip to North Carolina.<br />
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Hearing them talk, I was reminded that our lives are filled with teachers. Nearly everyone we meet has a lesson to teach us. Some teach us math or history. Others may teach us to play music or to appreciate art. Some teach us patience or courage. There are infinite lessons for us to learn.<br />
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As in school, teachers we meet do not all use the same methods to teach their lessons. We may learn patience from someone who is infinitely patient, or our teacher may be someone who annoys us to such a degree that we must learn patience, or explode from frustration.<br />
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As I thought about these things, I realized that Gene had been teaching people all of his life, and in those last weeks, as he rested in his recliner at his home, his students came to thank him for all that he had shared. Many times, the family room was filled to capacity with friends and family, all eager to let Gene know how much they appreciated all that he had done to help them during their lives. Again and again, I heard people say, "I hope that I can be like you." Gene taught with love and kindness and led by example.<br />
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After high school, Gene had enlisted in the U. S. Army, and was sent to Korea. I was born during his tour of duty there. We were 20 years apart in age. When he came home, he began driving truck for Sugarcreek Cartage, a trucking company whose main cargo at that time was bricks. He delivered bricks in Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, New York, Indiana and Illinois.<br />
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Our cousin, Wayne, was Gene's best friend. They grew up on neighboring farms and remained best friends throughout their lives. Wayne delivered the eulogy at Gene's funeral. He told of the time, he and his wife and 3 small children had gone to Chicago, in a car that should never have been taken more than 20 miles from home. As they were traveling on one of Chicago's huge multi-lane highways, the axle broke, and miraculously, Wayne was able to steer the car to an exit ramp and then to a gas station at the end of the ramp. Wayne said he was "poor as a churchmouse" and didn't know what to do, so he called Gene. Gene told Wayne that he was just leaving for Pennsylvania with a load of bricks, but if Wayne could get his brother, Dean, to drive to Chicago to bring them home, Gene would figure out what to do about the car. When Gene finished delivering the load of bricks to Wilkes-Barre in eastern Pennsylvania, he drove his empty truck to Chicago to pick up Wayne's car. Someone loaded it on Gene's semi-trailer, and he brought it back to Wayne's hometown, so that a local mechanic could make the repairs. When the car was finally unloaded in Holmes County, Gene looked at Wayne, and said, "Well, wasn't that fun!"<br />
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There was seldom a situation so dire that Gene could not find something humorous in it. He loved to tell jokes and stories, and to make "smart remarks." He would never say anything to hurt anyone. He knew which people, he could "wisecrack" with and who would be offended or hurt. He and my oldest daughter, Kylia, loved to trade wisecracks with each other. On that wonderful trip to North Carolina, we happened to watch the movie, "Ice Age." Gene, not much of a fan of animated movies, wrinkled his brow, and said, "You would think they could have made those animals look more realistic." Kylia shrugged her shoulders, and replied with a smirk, "I wasn't around then, so I wouldn't know what they actually looked like." Gene just shook his head and smiled. He loved being on the receiving end of a wisecrack as much as he enjoyed coming up with them himself.<br />
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Gene was never afraid to try new things, and he learned from everything he tried, and everyone he met. At one time, he thought he wanted to get out of the trucking business, so he partnered with a former high school classmate and they bought a gas station. Unfortunately, the friend disappeared with the money after a few months in business and Gene was left with the bills. It took him several years to pay them, but he did it, and he never complained. He always talked about the lessons he learned during that experience, and never held a grudge against the man who took his money. My mom had a much more difficult time forgiving, and Gene would just laugh and say, "Well, he must have needed that money more than I did. It's OK. It was a good experience."<br />
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Gene returned to the business he knew best and loved most... trucking. He soon became acquainted with a man who would become his greatest teacher, Howard LeFevre. Howard was one of the owners of B&L Trucking in Newark, Ohio. B&L was one of the largest trucking companies in the eastern United States. Howard and Gene liked each other from the very beginning. Howard shared all that he knew about the trucking industry, and Gene was an eager student. With Howard's encouragement, guidance and support, Gene and his wife, Sue, started their own truck leasing company.<br />
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They were a great team. It's often difficult for a husband and wife to get along during their time together at home, but Gene and Sue worked together all day, then went home together. This type of business did not have regular hours. They put in 50-60 hours each week at the office, and when they were at home, they were on call for all of their drivers, and all of their business clients, coordinating delivery times, solving problems with tariffs, truck repairs, traffic tickets and more. They were a great team. Often they disagreed, and after a brief discussion, one of them would say something funny, and put everything in perspective. They loved and respected each other.<br />
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Six years ago, Sue learned that she had cancer. Gene taught us lessons of kindness, compassion and support, as he cared for her. He would go to work very early in the morning, and then to the hospital, cellphone/radio in hand, to spend the day with Sue, and handle business when there was time. Sue was always the top priority. Business took a back seat, but the drivers who drove for his leasing company knew that they could reach him if they needed him.<br />
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During the time of Sue's illness, our mother, age 94, was also experiencing failing health. Whenever Sue felt well enough to travel, Gene would bring her to visit our mother. My mom and Sue were great friends, and Gene made sure they had time to chat and to do things together that they enjoyed.<br />
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Gene taught all of us how important it is to learn as much as possible about our health care, and not rely totally on others to handle things. He always told us that Sue had wonderful nurses and doctors, but with the volume of work they must handle, there is always the possibility of error. Sue had a number of allergies. She had extreme reactions to latex, and also, to a number of drugs. Although her room was clearly labeled "NO LATEX" on more than one occasion, a busy health care worker came in with latex gloves or latex tubing or a blanket that had a binding that contained latex. Gene was vigilant, and nearly always noticed before it reached Sue. On one occasion, a prescription was written for a drug that Sue could not tolerate. The doctor had used the brand name of the drug on the prescription. In the past, Sue had reacted to the generic version. Luckily, Gene had done the research and recognized that it was the drug that had caused the allergic reaction. At first, the doctor was sure that Gene was mistaken about the drug, but upon checking his records, he discovered that Gene was correct, and changed the prescription.<br />
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Before Sue and our mother had been ill, Gene and Sue would make the 1½ hour drive to the retirement home each weekend. They always took my mother to a restaurant that she enjoyed, and then Gene would take them on a scenic drive. Sometimes they went to the farm where my mother was born. Other times, they might go to Gene and Sue's home in Newark, or to visit cousins, or if it was near Christmas time, they would drive to Oglebay Resort, in Wheeling, West Virginia to see the huge Festival of Lights.<br />
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When his daughter-in-law, Donna, developed breast cancer, Gene drove to Florida, every month to visit her, and called her nearly every day. When Donna's cancer went into remission, Gene's cancer was diagnosed, and Donna and Kevin, (Gene's son) were the first ones at Gene's side. When Gene was doing well, Donna's cancer returned, and Gene once again headed for Florida. This time, things were more serious, and he visited her each week. If anyone suggested that he take a week off to rest, he would say, "I'm fine." Donna was the top priority.<br />
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After Donna's death, Gene went to Florida each month to visit Kevin, who was struggling to come to terms with Donna's passing. Gene listened, encouraged and lovingly advised Kevin on ways to cope. He would spend a week with Kevin and then come home for a few weeks, before heading back to Florida. He taught us that it is possible to survive the most difficult challenges, if we have the loving support of family and friends.<br />
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Gene knew how to listen. When my car was totaled in a winter accident a few years ago, Gene gave me his van. He brought it to Akron. It was freshly vacuumed, washed and waxed. Gene's, vehicles from his eighteen wheelers to his pontoon boat to his lawn mower, were always bright and shiny. As we sat in the van, reviewing all of the van's features, Gene said, "You know, many family members think that you should put the girls in school, and get a regular job instead of homeschooling them and running your own business. It might make things easier for you." With tears in my eyes, I explained that there had been so many changes in our lives that year (my mother and Sue had passed away, Gary and his family had moved to North Carolina and we had left the only home the girls had ever known and moved to Akron) and putting them in school seemed as though it would be the "straw that broke the camel's back." I told Gene that I knew that I had made many mistakes in my life, but that homeschooling the girls was the one thing that I felt sure was a good decision. Gene listened carefully, and then said, "OK. I'll never mention this again, and I will do whatever I can to help you do this." I will be forever grateful to Gene for listening and for his support. He kept his word.<br />
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Gene never seemed to worry, even in dire circumstances. Instead, he looked at the situation, and took whatever steps he could. He made plans, but he was always willing to change them, if another approach seemed better. Throughout the many challenges he faced during his lifetime, he remained positive. He said that as far as he could tell, worrying never helped anyone solve anything.<br />
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He stood by his family and friends in good times and in bad. His five sons shook their heads as they thought of times in their teen years, when they had been in trouble. He was a strict but loving father, and they remembered how he had made sure they faced the consequences of their unthinking actions. They, also, remembered how they often thought they had fooled him, but they learned later, they never had. And no matter how angry he was at the things they had done, they knew that he loved them.<br />
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At Gene's funeral, my brother, Gary said that if he had to use one word to describe Gene, he would say it was "giving." Gene gave of his time, his love, his money, and so much more. He gave without expecting anything in return.<br />
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When Sue died five years ago, he told anyone who would listen not to put off doing the things you want to do. He and Sue had planned to do many things when they retired, but she passed away before they had done very many of them. He decided to do as many things as he could with his 5 sons. One of the things they wanted to do was go white water rafting. At 72, Gene was a little nervous, but he was never one to shy away from trying something new. They had a great time on the trip, although Gene was tossed out of the raft in a very rough section, and nearly drowned. Everyone was very scared, and wished they hadn't suggested going, but when Gene was rescued, he first admitted that it was very scary and then he proceeded to tell them exactly what it was like in that rough river. He turned it into a hilarious tale, easing the tension and making them glad that they had gone. Every outing with their dad was an adventure to remember.<br />
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When he learned that his cancer had returned, he told us that he planned to take one day at a time. He said he still had a lot of things on his list that he wanted to do, and he would do as many as he could. After his first chemo treatment, he called his doctor to find out if it was OK for him to travel. His doctor said that they had used a form of chemo that was not as harsh, and that it would probably be fine. Gene answered, "Good, because I'm at the airport getting ready to fly to Florida to see my sons."<br />
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When he returned from that trip, he was noticeably weaker, but he still managed to do a little golfing with his good friend, Dwayne. Within days, he was too weak to leave his house. He maintained a positive attitude throughout his illness. His trademark sense of humor was intact. Friends came and went constantly. He refused to sleep if anyone was there, because he didn't want to miss anything or anyone. He continued to teach from his recliner in the family room. During his lifetime of teaching, his lessons included: honesty, determination, forgiveness, true friendship, trustworthiness, acceptance, knowing what was important in life, thoughtfulness, learning every day, counting his blessings, great courage and love. And that is why so many said, "I want to be like Gene."<br />
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I hope that each of you have a Gene in your life!<br />
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Gene's sister,<br />
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RuthAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7843701619350065347.post-18957067192879498062013-06-02T07:40:00.001-04:002013-06-02T08:34:05.643-04:00Why I have so many things to tell youAt this moment, I am facing a future that is sometimes cloudy, sometimes dark and scary. I have cancer, and the prospects are less than favorable. I'm at home and feeling well. No pain. I'm able to be up and about and enjoy my family and friends. As my time to depart draws near, it's likely I will lose my cognitive ability. I have to write now, for myself and for my family.<br />
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I'm fortunate that the doctors discovered the tumor in my brain when they did. I could have died before anyone knew there was a problem. But I didn't. They found the tumor, prescribed steroids to reduce the swelling, and from what they first told me, this was treatable, and though serious, not impossible. But it didn't take long for me to discover that things were presented in a simplified format, and what I was facing was huge. <br />
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I considered doing the chemo treatments, but the more I learned, the more I realized that the chances that I would survive long enough to complete treatments were slight. If I survived the treatments, any time I gained would have been filled with pain, and never-ending treatment. I didn't want that for myself, and I couldn't do that to my family. It's so terrible to see someone you love suffer and struggle. I want to live my life on my terms for as long as possible. I chose Hospice because I know they will help me and my family through this difficult time.<br />
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I just got married to the most wonderful man in the world in September of last year. We've never had a cross word between us. Every morning, we tell each other how much we love our life together. I have two daughters, ages 18 and 23. They have been the light of my life from the moment they were born. We've spent every possible minute together. When I married my husband, his daughter became part of my family, and I love her as if she were my own.<br />
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I have so many people who have played such important roles in my life, and I want to see them, and hug them, and thank them and tell them I love them! I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to do that! I always lived my life with enthusiasm and joy and love for everyone I met. With limited time, I don't want to waste a minute.<br />
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My life has always been about <b>the people</b> I love. In however much time I have, I want to keep my focus on the people who mean so much to me. They will help me through this.<br />
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Hospice patients sometimes outlive the doctor's prognosis because they are often able to maintain a better quality of life. I will make the most of every minute I have.
The nurse told me to tell people that "sooner is better than later" if they want to visit. I over-scheduled myself at first, and discovered that I had to try to take things a bit slower. I told the nurse that I didn't know what to say when people asked if I had a day in July available, or a time in August. How do I know? She said, "Make plans as though you will be there. Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. But making the plans will spur you to make every effort to reach those goals. Anything is possible." That made a lot of sense to me.
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I'm hoping to use this blog share my journey with you. I post gratitude lists on the <a href="http://welovegratitude.com/author/Ruth/" target="_blank">We Love Gratitude</a> site as often as I can. Those gratitude lists keep my mind focused on the many good things that are found in the midst of this darkness.
Often, when I'm writing a list, I have so much I want to say, and I don't want to make the list too long for anyone to read. I decided this blog will be a great place for me to post longer essays and stories.<br />
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I want my daughters and my husband to know as much as I can share with them about my thoughts and feelings and love for them and for all that my life has offered me. I, also, want anyone else who is interested to be able to read, and maybe find some joy or inspiration or whatever will help them in my writings.<br />
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Hold good thoughts for me that my words will continue to flow easily for as long as possible. Much love to you!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14026101793228551501noreply@blogger.com13