Scans

I missed it.

Yesterday was supposed to be my big day... my day to launch project Breast Cancer Awareness. And I missed it. However, sometimes missed opportunities are nothing more than life offering you a better opportunity.

You see, the post I had planned for yesterday was a generic, "Welcome To My Mission", mission statement. Nothing exciting. Nothing engaging. Basically...nothing to write home about (pun intended).

Today...well, today I realized I have the perfect story to set the stage for what's to come. Today I am scheduled to have a scan at 2:30. Given most everyone's journey through this hell called cancer begins with a scan of some sort, what better subject to consider than scans.

Via
Just over 2 years ago, I found something that set off deafening alarm bells. I found a mass. If I'm being honest and overly graphic, I should share that I found a HUGE mass. One that seemed to literally pop up overnight. It was so abnormally massive, I went to the doctor the next morning, panicked but also believing there was a reasonable explanation.  The first order of business was to conduct an ultrasound, which is basically a scan of sorts, then move on to a biopsy followed by the painful, agonizing, yet-still-hopeful-it's-nothing stage of waiting. Obviously, hope failed me and I was told I had cancer.

That is when it all began. Scan after scan was ordered in an attempt to determine how many advances the enemy had made throughout my body that was now considered a battleground. Without an assessment of what ground had been overtaken by the "c" creature, there would be no way to map a plan of attack, especially one that left me standing at the end of the war.

So began a process of this, that and the other. I was injected with "this", had to drink "that" and popped pills I shall refer to as the "other". Injections of tracers were "this". Gunky, chalky liquid that caused my gag reflex to go into overdrive was "that". Fortunately, I only had to choke down 3 bottles of "nasty" one time. But the injections of "stuff" were numerous. I often joked how my veins housed enough radioactive tracers to allow me to serve as stand-in holiday lights for the upcoming Christmas season. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I "glowed" enough to put the Griswolds to shame.

(If you are too young to know who the Griswolds are, I suggest you Google it. Then rent the movie. While it "ain't" no JackAss The Movie, I promise you will laugh. And those of you, like me, who are more mature in age? I suggest you just ignore the reference to JackAss the Movie. It really is as bad as the name implies.)

By the way, the "other" I mentioned? The "other" is also known as Ativan. We became friendly fast. My new found friend became the crutch I leaned on as it was the only thing that got me through the claustrophobic nightmare that is an MRI. It also became the muzzle that shushed the "F" bombs that kept working their way to the surface and popping out of my mouth. I even dropped a few in front of my mother, for gosh's sake! Try as I might to twist my thoughts into a nicer, more-appropriate-for-my-mama word, F*CK was the only word my lips would let pass. So I relied on the "other". Within seconds of swallowing that most coveted white pill, I found my happy place and the world went back to revolving on its axis.

And the "F" bombs were diffused.

Time went on and my year long treatment came along for the ride. With it came more scans than I can remember. They were so numerous they became second nature. A new normal took over my world and I went about the business of fighting the fight. Scans were so commonplace, I eventually forgot the apprehension and gut wrenching fear felt as I waited for results. I even broke up with the "other". I no longer needed him. As much as I loved our relationship, I wasn't in it for the long haul. Basically, I was using the "other" to get what I wanted then I planned to dump him. Judge me if you wish.

I am now one year post treatment and life has gone back to the way it was...as much as it can. I still have check ups. I still require tests to ensure that wicked monster hasn't found a way to resurrect itself. And I'm back to feeling all the angst that accompanies the what if's...the worries...the waiting during and after each scan. Even the what-seems-like-long-yet-are-relatively-short stretches of time between these tests holds a flicker of fear. I'm always wondering if a storm is brewing in the distance. If a battle is being waged. It wouldn't even be a stretch to say I am on high alert for another surprise attack.

Cancer does that to you.

It robs you of your sense of security.

Life does return to normal. But it will never be the same...

Proudly Pink

I hate pink.

There.

I said it.

While "hate" is a harsh word, I must confess, I do not like the color pink. At least not soft, begging-to-be-cuddled, baby pink. I prefer bold, bright hot pink....and even that is a stretch.

Maybe it has something to do with my personality. How can a "live it loud and proud" person get cozy with the likes of such a soft-spoken, girly color?

Then again, it could have something to do with my aversion to Pepto Bismol. Having up-chucked the one and only dose to ever pass my lips, I all but hurl at the mere mention of the didn't-help-me-a-bit chalky pink liquid.

I now face a dilemma. Pink is the signature color for Breast Cancer Awareness. Being a cancer fighter/survivor/warrior princess/loud-mouth-tell-you-all-about-it chick, I am surrounded by and expected to flaunt the color pink. What's a girl to do? Especially a girl that most often chooses the route of non-conformity?

She simply got over it.

I am here to proclaim I am now a proud proponent of the color pink!

October is just around the corner.

(Yeah...like how in the hell did we get from January to October in only a few weeks? Cause I seriously missed a few months in there somewhere. Must have something to do with the fact I packed up a too-big-for-me house and moved to my single-girl-townhouse, purged more sh!t than any one person should be allowed to ever admit to owning, took two short but sweet vacations and helped plan my son's upcoming wedding.

Okay. So I now know how I missed April - September.

And why I am in need of a long winter's nap.)

October is officially Breast Cancer Awareness Month. A month where pink is everywhere! As a means of promoting my Proudly Pink status, I am dedicating the entire month of my blog blather to Breast Cancer Awareness. And just like me and my not-so-normal ways, I am approaching the subject a little differently.

To be perfectly honest, I naively thought everyone knew about breast cancer...at least the basic facts. Yet I've come to realize, in spite of all the attention given to this gnarly beast, far too many are still unaware of the severity of this health epidemic that robs women, and even men, of so much. Often times, it wins the war regardless of how tough a fight its victim fights. It can take, at the very least, one's sense of security to, at the very worst, one's life.

Yes.

Breast cancer kills.

Throughout my treatment and beyond, I have had many well intended comments come my way regarding the outcome of my journey. Many made mention of the tough road I would have but the assumption was that I would most certainly win the fight. The reason being, many now believe everyone beats breast cancer these days.

Sure, survival rates are higher than in the past. Sure, with early detection it IS beatable. And most certainly, great strides have been made through research and drug development allowing positive prognoses in instances that were previously dire. But I fear these statements elude to the assumption that breast cancer is more a nuisance than a killer. When that occurs, I also fear we will begin to slack up on our preventative care. We will let down our guard and the enemy will have free reign to inflict a holy massacre.

Breast cancer awareness has been prolific. Many celebrities and otherwise lesser known fighters have worked hard to spread the word. I don't want to see us take a step backward or their hard work be for naught. For that reason alone, I want to devote an entire month to telling the story of breast cancer. I want to make it real. I want to share the words of those affected by and living with this monster.

I reached out to several friends, family members and cancer survivors asking for their help in this endeavor. And they graciously agreed. Each will share their story...their insight. Some have come face to face with breast cancer. Others live in fear of an attack. Others have watched as loved ones fought. All have something to share. I will also be offering stories from my journey through and beyond the fight. There could even be a humorous tale or two thrown in for good measure.

Please join me throughout October in spreading the word. Please support me as I try to offer you a view into the world of breast cancer. Please follow along, comment and share links with all of your friends. If we can make a difference, even if only for one person, it will be more than worth the effort!

Thank you in advance!

Love and many hugs,

-me (the girl who now wears pink) 

Myrtle Beach In Pictures...ummm...NOT!

Okay...so I'm a total lame a$$.

Tell me now... who goes on vacation and comes home with only three measly photos? Especially in this day and age of smart phones with well above average picture taking abilities?

And ... I just so happen to be the proud owner of one such smart phone.

Although, if you ask me, the "smart" part only applies if the user is equally "smart".

Me?

Not so smart.

I can make calls (although occasionally to the wrong person), send/receive texts (also randomly sent to the wrong recipient), check my email (can actually do that without issue) and take a random picture or two (none of stellar quality). Other than that, the mega bucks I shelled out to own one of these awesome androids was a total waste.

Seems I'm not only a lame a$$, I'm a dumb a$$ too.

Last week I spent several days soaking up the sun on the sandy shores of Myrtle Beach, SC. It has been years since my last visit but nothing much has changed. It is a family vacation hot spot. During the summer months, the masses flock to this place considered to be one of the south's most visited beaches. That is the exact reason for my lengthy vacay from this vacay location. Call me old and crotchety, but crowds no longer do it for me. Last week's lighter post-Labor Day crowd was much more tolerable and the weather was uh-MAZ-ing!

A nighttime scene at Broadway at the Beach
Many hours were spent with my rear firmly planted in the sand, all the while reading and snoozing to the sound of the crashing waves. Evening hours were all about nothing....simply goofing off, eating and shopping... a girl's favorite pastime! (Don't tell, but I was guilty of rushing back to the hotel on Tuesday to catch an episode of Dance Moms. What in the heck has gotten into me???)

Great atmosphere and waterfront dining!
While shopping, I was even lucky enough to find THE perfect dress for my son's wedding. Can you believe it? My boy is tying the knot 2 weeks from this coming Saturday. All the mommy-moment emotions tied to that upcoming event to be shared in a future post.

All in all, my beach trip was fab-U-lous! But...I must admit, it is equally nice to be back to the routine that is my life. Home, work, workouts...I missed it. I know. I know. I'm not only lame and dumb...I'm also completely crazy!

Before I go, I want to share the final picture I managed to capture...my favorite! Hope it leaves you feeling all "ahhhh" inside...

Wishing you a most wonderful week!

Pushy...Pushy

Persistence is merely another word for determination. Yes? When goal setting, one is far more likely to get where they wanna go when possessing tenacity and strength. This is when persistence pays. It is a positve. A good thing.

Then there are those times when persistence can be a pesky creature. According to that all true proverbial statement Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. Being overly zealous might not always be the way to go. Too much of a "good thing" (totally relative term) can be a total pain in the butt.

Take for instance, the over-eager-never-let-you-go-so-you-are-forced-to-hang-up-on-them telemarketer. The "P" word (aka "persistence") is part of their job requirement. Meek, timid, people-pleasers need not apply. Telemarketing boss men seek the most annoying, abrasive, pushy people to employ. I've never met a soul who welcomes a telemarketer's call. Their aggressiveness is a big turn off.

Actually, the ugly side of persistence shows itself with most any sales person. At least those who are good at what they do. Door-to-door (do they still exist?) and car salesmen seem to lead the pack. They usually won't take no for an answer. They are equipped with a never ending list of reasons why you should want what they are peddling. If they really have their skills honed, a good salesman could sell hairspray to a bald man. You know the type. The ones who only listen to what you say in order to offer the perfect rebuttal. All that matters to them is making the sale.

I've recently discovered there is another breed of doggedly determined people. These guys may take the prize as the most tenacious of the bunch. Salesmen should take note as they could learn a thing or two from them. These are the men who seek companionship via the net. More specifically, I'm referring to the dudes incessantly filling my inbox in their attempts to make a "sale". And trust me, terse replies and completely ignoring their sales pitch does nothing to deter them.

Via

For instance, I just this second received my 8th message from one fella. It is the eighth email to come in since 8:00 this morning. It is currently 12:00 noon. That averages one per half hour. (Not that I think you are incapable of doing the math. Just seems more unbelievable when I put it in writing.). Never have I seen a more persistent attempt to get noticed. I know the easy answer is to tell the guy "No. Thank you." (which I just did) but I had a challenging morning at work and didn't have the time to respond. One would think the lack of response would be answer enough. But no. All I could do was simply watch as my inbox filled while I went about trying to earn my keep. 

As I mentioned, some of these headstrong gents won't take no for an answer. Much like that hairspray salesman mentioned a paragraph or two ago, the buyer's wants or wishes is of no consequence. A "no" equals a "yes" in their mind. Any...and I do mean any...form of communication is perceived as interest. These men know their product. They believe in what they have to sell to the point they feel the buyer cannot live without it.

And trust me.

Some of these "products" I can live without. Especially the I'm-in-love-with-myself-so-you-must-love-me-too dudes.

And the ones without teeth.

So here is my question and where I ask for help. How do you handle hard core salesmen? How do you shut them down?  Without being rude? I would love to find a witty way of getting them to see the err of their ways but I've yet to come up with a good comeback. I know I can simply walk away but like I said, completely ignoring these guys doesn't work. Give me your best suggestion. The funnier...more creative... the better.

P.S. Not all guys of the net are this way. Many are perfect gentlemen. Just thought I would share a laughable side of online dating.

P.P.S. I fear this sounds somewhat conceited...like I'm implying all guys want me. Trust me, that is NOT the case. Anyone who ventures into the crazy world of online dating can attest to the fact that what I described happens to everyone at some point or another. In other words, I'm nothing special. :-)

Go Google Yourself

Via

Google. The end all/be all source of information.

At least in my world.

I Google anything and everything.

With the proper search words, this online reference mega meister can solve just about any problem and answer nearly every question known to man.

You can find your long lost friends, get the scoop on the celebrity of your choosing, learn how to disassemble/reassemble any multi-part object, locate THE perfect shoes for THE perfect outfit, create the house of your dreams, gather information for your kid's research project and even diagnose what ails you.

All this and more can be found when utilizing Google.

It has even saved my butt at work several times. Certain rarely used formulas and calculations can easily be forgotten. Never fear. Google to the rescue. Within seconds, I have the answers I need, my boss is happy and I appear to be the best employee EVER.

Being the Google lover that I am,  it stands to reason I would Google myself. Anyone else ever done that? If not, you should consider it. What an eye opening experience! I never knew there were so many Lisa Howards in this world. Yeah, I know Lisa is a ridiculously common name. But Lisa Howard? Who woulda thunk it!

Of course, it should be no surprise to me. Years ago, after my divorce, I needed to create an individual email account. One that didn't include any reference to my ex-husband.

I started with "Lhoward".

Taken.

I then tried Lhoward1.

Also taken.

As was Lhoward2, Lhoward3...all the way up to Lhoward12!

So I went with something totally off the wall. Lhowards4n. Stands for Lisa Howard single 4 now. I figured it was catchy enough to help friends and family remember it. When I was engaged to "K", he wondered why I didn't change my email address. I certainly was no longer single. But I assured him all was well. I just altered one of the words making it perfectly legit. It then stood for Lisa Howard spoken 4 now. Don't you just love how it fits my ever changing love life? If only I could keep up as well. Ha!

Back to how I "found" myself.

I've mentioned how many share my name. Some of these L.H. initialed people are B-list celebrities. Far more important than I...meaning they ranked much higher in the search engine and showed on pages 1 through...ummm....25??? I was having a hard time finding Me.

I decided to narrow my search to Lisa Howard Asheville, NC. I mean...like... how many  Lisa Howards can there be in Asheville? My efforts paid off. All things related to me filled the screen.

With THIS one exception.

Looks like there is at least one other chick sporting my name in this here town.

All I can say is...

That ain't me!

One can only speculate this is exactly how rumors get started. Without clicking the link, it appears I have recently done some time for something I would never do. Crazy, huh?

So tell me, do you find anything of particular interest when you Google yourself? If so, I would love to hear about it.

A Day To Remember

Calendars are marked with days of importance. Some are annual celebrations. Some mark goals we are striving for. Some are big. Some are small. Some we remember. Some we do not.

Via
Two years ago, I added another Day To Remember to my list. August 12, 2010. It was a Thursday. At approximately 6:00 pm that day-never-to-be-forgotten, I was told my life would drastically change.

That was the day cancer became part of my reality.

That day was the beginning of a journey that taught me how fragile life really is.

That was the day I learned how tough I really am.

That was the day I realized I'm actually not tough at all.

That was the day I learned how to truly let go and let God.

That was the day I was forced to say goodbye to the me I had always known only to become a better me.

I wrote specifics of that night HERE. So much has changed since that post. I wish with everything in me cancer had never come calling. But had it not, I would have missed the chance to grow. To learn. To be more.

Rather than dread the 2 year anniversary that is rapidly approaching, I want to celebrate. Life is good. It isn't the same and never will be again. But it is really, really good!

Won't you join me as I raise my glass to this journey called Life. With all its ups and downs, it is still a heck of a fun ride!!!

Cheers, my friends!

Feeling Stupid...Revisited

Does anyone remember THIS post from several months back? The one where I shared how I often do things that make me feel really, really stupid? If you need a reminder, click HERE. Otherwise, please continue reading.

What I'm about to share takes feeling stupid to a whole new level.

While I can't promise you will laugh, I can guarantee you will walk away feeling you TOTALLY have your shiz together. Something about realizing the weaknesses of others gives us a much needed boost. If nothing else, it draws attention to the fact we all have our issues.

Too bad for me though.

This morning I think I hit the bottom of the I-can't-believe-I-did-that barrel. That place where no one else dares to go.

I present to you Stupid Moment #2:

I consider myself reasonably smart. Actually, if I'm completely honest, I consider myself on the strong side of intelligent. Mostly because I'm willing to work my butt off to learn most anything. I'm not afraid to give it my all and it usually pays off.

However...

I'm beginning to really wonder about myself.

Via
This morning I was doing my usual. Rushing around, trying to get out the door on time. Something that never seems to happen. Could be attributed to the fact I have a love affair going on with the snooze button. But that is all beside the point.

To give myself a little credit, I must share I am very organized. By necessity. My purse was by the door. Beside it sat my gym bag. A note was perched on top of my bag reminding me to grab my lunch from the fridge. All of this is done the night before any normal work day to ensure I get out the door with all the necessary stuff.

What was missing from last night's ritual was the selecting of my work clothes. I was simply too tired last night to care. I assumed I could throw any old thing on and go.

What a mistake.

I made it through the getting dressed part with relative ease. I did a mental recounting of what I had worn the previous days this week to make sure I didn't do a repeat. I threw my hair in a ponytail and double checked to make sure I had on matching ear rings. (Yeah buddy, I've been known to wear a mismatched set. Shoes too. But that's another story for another day.)

I downed a protein shake, guzzled a gallon (total exaggeration) of water and took my daily vitamins & cancer-ain't-coming-back pill. But something felt "off". I kept mentally retracing my steps but couldn't put my finger on the problem. All seemed to be as it should be.

It wasn't until I climbed in the car that I had that aha moment.

All it took was to feel the grit on my car mat to realize I had forgotten my shoes!!!

Feel better about yourself now?

If not, you should.

 -me

P.S. This is a two-for-one post. Last week I was doing much the same as described above. As I was racing down the highway toward my office a horrific thought came to mind. In my panicked state, I slapped my chest as a means of knocking some oxygen back into my lungs. And that was all it took to ease my mind. You see, my fear was that I had forgotten my rubber boob! Not sure how I would have gotten around that one. Thank goodness I didn't have to find out.