Grandma

When I was little, my mom used to send us to Grandma's for part of the summer. I think back now and it was probably for only a couple weeks, but back then, it seemed a lot longer. It is the only part of those summers that I still remember. The rest of those hot childhood days have slipped from my mind. So, obviously, those were the most important days.

She lived in a large two story house, with a nice sized yard and raspberry bushes in the back. Grandma was a stickler for manners, but she certainly knew how to spoil us children properly. Grandma bought us cereal with marshmallows in it. Grandma had a small candy dish hidden away, but she made sure I knew where it was, and that I was allowed to get some whenever I wanted...amazingly, that wasn't very often.
Just knowing I could was enough for me. Grandma sent us to summer camp - a day camp through the YMCA. We learned to swim, to make sand candles, to tie dye shirts and all those wonderful 1970's kind of childhood summer things which were so important back then.

I remember watching her pack our lunches. She always asked us what we wanted, and as long as it made a healthy lunch, in the bag it went. She bought the snack sized chip bags instead of buying the big ones and dishing the chips out into small baggies, like Mom did during the school year. I remember Grandma driving us to the spot where the camp bus would pick us up, and waiting there with us until the bus came, then being there waiting when the bus dropped us off.

Grandma taught us the most important things in life when we were children. Go to church/Sunday School every Sunday. Pray to God at each meal. Don't let your hair hang in your eyes. Get dressed before coming down for breakfast. Make your bed. Bathe every day. Give thirsty people water, even if
you don't know them. Splurge on breakfast cereal. (It is the most important meal of the day, so it should be the most enjoyable, too.) Don't put your shoes on the furniture. Don't put your elbows on the table. Use silverware. Speak properly, with good English. Don't smack your lips at the table. Don't jump down the stairs, going up farther and farther with each jump until you hurt yourself. Ain't is not a word. Don't be afraid of the basement. Ma is not a nice thing to call my mother. Thank God for a great day each night when you go to bed. Don't put your fingers on a hot stove. (But if you do, Grandma's make the pain go away faster.) Jiffy Pop Popcorn is the best kind, because you can watch the foil grow. Playing outside is better than playing inside. There is ALWAYS something to do, and it's best to find it on your own or it might not be something you want to do. Fresh off the vine raspberries taste the best. It always takes at least 2 quarts of raspberries picked to guarantee 1 quart of raspberries in the kitchen. Homemade apple sauce is worth the effort.

Looking back, Grandma also taught me important things for now that I'm an adult. Vacuum cleaners can pick up sand tracked in by children, but nothing can take the place of a sand candle made for you with love by a child. Children have feelings, too, and sometimes just letting them pick is the biggest lift in their self-esteem you can give them. Bored children don't stay bored for long when you mention how the house needs to be cleaned. Table manners are more important than you think. Respect goes a long way. A clean house is a sign of love. Flower gardens are just as important as grass. Fresh flowers in the house are a sign of warmth and gratitude. Cereal with marshmallows is an easy way to make children happy. Teaching a child something is the best present you can give them. Everything you do has an influence on the child in your presence. Take pride in yourself and your belongings. Dress nicely. Be kind.
I'm lucky that God blessed me with such a wonderful Grandma. If I could only do one more thing for my grandma, I would want her to feel all the love and joy and happiness she has made me feel by being the best grandma she could be.

Visit to Hell

I was screaming before I even came into awareness. As soon as I woke, I immediately rolled into a fetal, protective position and  cried out over and over again. I felt like someone was gutting me with a dull knife. I saw the railing on the bed and felt the presence of many people around me. I heard "Push the button! Push the button!" and I realized there was something in my right hand. I started pushing the tip of it over and over and over again, wanting nothing but relief, crying out with everything that was in my heart.

Someone was trying to roll me over onto my back. I refused. Hands were grasping at me...then I heard "STOP PUSHING THE BUTTON! Your BP is dropping." and someone ripped the button out of my hand. I thought "but the pain isn't going away."

I passed out.

The next thing I became aware of was moving quickly. Immediately we passed over the threshold of some fire doors and I cried out again. Thinking back, I believe they were rushing so fast to get me up to my room before I woke back up again...before the pain started back. There was no button in my hand. I remember the feeling of the walls rushing past me. My hands instinctively went to protect my stomach again and I rolled slightly to the right.

And I passed out again.

I came to once more in mid-air. There was no support underneath me. They were moving me from the gurney to the bed. I knew Eric was there...at the foot of the bed. It was all in slow motion. I didn't see anything...I couldn't hear anything, but I felt fear around me - not my fear. The button was put back in my hand, but I passed out before I could push it. Eric later told me he thought I screamed when they moved me to the bed.

My pain scale of 1-10 just grew by leaps and bounds. This was how my first day of major surgery ended. I woke later, but not for long.

The TV was on and Eric was suddenly standing over me. I think I managed a smile. I felt his hand in mine or mine in his, really. I remember nurses coming and going...blood pressure cuffs.

January 12, 2009. What a sucky day that was.

Easier than Chemo

His nerves twittered up and down his entire body. This was the beginning of the ride of a lifetime. His right foot rested on the curb and his left was twitching on the pedal of his bike, donated for the cause. It was time. He looked around at all his friends, gathered to send him off in style. A couple were Newsies, so he hoped it would be on the 5:00, 6:00, 10:00, 11:00...whatever he could get. It was all for The Cause, so the attention was not only warranted, but a big part of the ride.

He took a deep breath. Here we go. Pushing off from the curb, he started to pedal. His left foot circled around and down and his right foot went from the curb to...to...nothing! To thin air! He fell forward, remaining upright but feeling that hot flush shoot straight up his neck under his pink cowboy hat to the tip of his bald head. Dozens of cameras caught that graceful start.

"It's OK, Dusty. Better to get it out of the way early."

He vaguely registered that shout of encouragement as his thoughts started spinning. What was he doing?? Did he seriously believe he could ride cross county on a bicycle all alone? He had his support van meeting him in pre-set locations, but he would be on his own otherwise; praying that his fans would come thru with sleeping accommodations and food.

He picked his foot back up and watched himself put it on the pedal this time. He was now officially off on his 3,000 mile ride from Clearwater Beach, FL to San Francisco, CA. It wasn't all for awareness. The man in a pink cowboy hat, pink bra and loud bike shorts would draw lots of attention, that's for sure. He'd been doing that for years. This ride was to raise money. He had goals for each state and he planned on posting them regularly to Twitter and Facebook. Before he left Florida, he had to raise enough money to get Emily her PET Scan.

That's what it was all about. Getting the cancer patients, his friends, the money to pay the electric bill, the hospital bill, the scan she needs, the medication she needs, the hotel room for her husband as she gets treatment in a town away from home. Whatever these women (or men) needed, he wanted to be able to help them get. Cancer was hard enough without having to worry about the bills or how you were going to pay for that treatment.

They were what made the ride, not him. He could hardly wait to get to his first night's accommodation to do his first "fireside chat". He had tons of time for thinking and lots of things to think about. No rain, sleet, snow...well, if it sleeted or snowed in Florida or the other Southern states, it might slow him down, he couldn't use the USPS motto after all. But the feeling behind it stuck. His first thoughts were how he could update that motto to fit his ride. No gators, opossums, rattle snakes, thunder, lightening or rain would keep him from his ride. He would make it to good ole California in five weeks time.

The bets were on. The pool had started. Now it was his time to beat the odds. Dusty waved at all his buds as he rode out of town. He had a long road ahead of him, but it was easier than chemo...it was easier than chemo...it was easier than chemo...