Believe

Since my monsters tattled on me to my mother, I suppose the world can know. 

I got my second tattoo!

BELIEVE

 

 



 

This is me trying not to use my favorite curse word.  I'm done with tats.  They hurt!  This picture is my reminder that they hurt! 

 

A few of my forever friends played "white trash tats" and another is playing with us the next time we see her.  Aaron refers to my ink as "white trash tats"...as you would guess, it made me want the ink more than I already did;)

 

We all had different reasons that "Believe" worked for us. I love our tattoo for many reasons. 

 

Mostly because I believe.



Three Years

Honestly, I'm too tired to write.  I have been running around all weekend because I have a serious case of "the busy".  Once radiation starts, I'm going to listen to my body and heaven forbid, say no a little more often.  (I was one of the first to leave all of the parties we attended over the weekend-hey, it's a start!)

Even though I'm tired, I don't want today to go by without noting the importance.  Today is the anniversary of my dad's death.  Three years ago we prayed for him to leave us; to stop fighting and to rest.  We promised him that we would be ok and we would love him always.

Since that day, so many things have happened to remind me that he's still here with me. 

My monsters are the ones that remind me most often.  Almost every day one of them does or says something that triggers a thought of my dad.  They all still ask about him regularly.  I think they all still associate cancer with dying.  Keegan hasn't quite grasped things that are inappropriate to say out loud and each night when I tuck him in he tells me:  Mommy, I love you forever...even if you die.

Last night at dinner I made them all take three bites of Shepard's pie.  Keegan had tears STREAMING down his face.  He would not swallow it.  I laughed the entire time.  I was thinking about the MANY meals around the same kitchen table at my Granny's house.  I used to gag and cry and everyone would get so mad at my Dad that he was forcing me to eat CREAM CORN-BLEH!!  In my defense, I only make my monsters take two/three bites and would NEVER make them eat cream corn!! ;)

You know, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I knew that I had cancer.  Someone woke me up to tell me.  I know that he's watching over me.  Always.

A couple months ago I went to a spiritual retreat and a sister (that I have never met) asked me if my father was still alive, I could feel it.  She wanted to know because she felt called to tell me that he was still here and that he loves me.  She continued praying for me and asked me to relay the message to my mom who was really struggling with my diagnosis and overwhelmed with life at this point.  Yes, mom, I asked the Princess Posse to pray for you.  They're really fierce in their prayers so I didn't think you'd mind;)  Dad's still protecting us, Mom.

Or when it's not my story to share happens.  Times like today that I know that you woke me up for a reason: to help protect others that we both love.  Let them know you're looking out for them today, too. 


Today is full of emotion and our family could use a few extra prayers if you could spare them.

October is a difficult month for me.  I want to wear black, not pink.  I want to shut down, not party.

Three years later and I still want to call you when mom's making me mad. Or when our car decides to take a crap (yes, we're down to one car right now:/). Or when I speak at the Toledo Club to raise awareness about the stupid gene our family carries because it's important to give back! Or when I'm bursting with pride when one of the kids does something amazing (which happens all the time;)).

I miss you so much, but I know in my heart that you're watching over us; doing the best to protect us and help us whenever you can.

I do wish you could be the bad guy instead of me to make the monsters EAT THEIR PEAS!!



I love you, Dad!  As always, Daddy's Girl,

This little princess still sleeps with Mr. Ugly Bear every. single.night. We all miss you, Pipi.

 

Guest Post: It's Just a Game

Daren Cable is a community member that I've only just recently met in person.  I've known his wife for many years (she makes cool jewerly, ornamanents, pottery, and lots of other goodies), but I have only heard rumors about this Daren guy until a couple months ago.  Unlike MOST some rumors that spread around our small community, the ones about this guy were all AMAZING!! "He's building a program that people are excited about.  The kids want to play hard and the parents are cheering loudly."  The biggest compliment I can give him is that I wish they had a monster Keegan's age so that he would be Keegan's coach! 

You can follow the little cats here: https://www.facebook.com/WoodmoreLittleCatsFootball

It’s Just a Game

I am a coach.  I have been a coach for several years.  I started out coaching soccer, then baseball, and now for the last several years, youth football.  I absolutely love youth sports.  Kids can learn things through sports that they simply cannot learn in a classroom.  I try to do all the right things and I try to teach my assistant coaches to do the same.  All the kids play in every game, we keep it positive, we are polite to the refs and the other team, etc, etc, etc…..I’m sure myself and my coaches could do a better job, but we really do try to do the right things and set a good example.

I also try to remind our coaches, parents and players that it is only a game.  Yes, it’s true, we won’t be playing for a World Championship in youth football at the end of the year.  Our lives do not depend on it and we won’t lose our jobs or houses if we don’t have a winning season.  It is only a game.

Sometimes I wonder if people forget this simple fact; football, soccer, baseball, basketball…..they are all games, period.

I realize this may be a hard concept to grasp, so let me give some examples.

The first couple weeks of our practices in the summer, we have practice on Wednesday evenings.  Once school starts, we take Wednesday evenings off.  I learned long ago that some 6^th graders have catechism on Wednesday evening once school starts so we don’t practice on that night.  This year, during the first week of the season, I had a couple of parents tell me their kids would miss practice on Wednesday, because they had to go to church.  No problem I said, God is more important than football.  "Will they be punished?" they asked.  I was surprised by this question.  No, they will not be punished.  They won’t have to run, they won’t miss out on playing time, they simply won’t be punished.  God is more important than football.  It sounds like an easy answer, but just the fact that they asked, tells me that other coaches do punish kids for missing practice to go to church. Seems sort of silly to me.

A couple of weeks later,  a dad sent me an email.  It read something like this:  Every year for as long as I can remember, I have went on a fishing trip in Michigan. It is an annual tradition and something I really look forward to.  For the last few years, I have told my son that when he turns 10, he can go along.  So this is something he and I have looked forward to for quite some time.  I intentionally scheduled the trip this year around the football schedule, but when the non-league game against Sandusky was added, it fell on the weekend we had planned to go fishing.  I completely understand if you want him at the game and if so we will cancel the trip.  It is your decision coach, and we will support it either way, I'm just asking if it would be ok for him to miss the game.  No problem I said, family is more important than football.  "Will he be punished?" the dad asked.  No, he will not be punished.  He won’t have to run and he won’t miss out on playing time in next weeks game.  Family time is more important than football. 

Toward the end of the season, I had a mom call me.  She said, “My son is really struggling with math.  It is his hardest subject and he is trying really hard, but he needs to miss some practices to keep up with the work.”  No problem I said, school is more important than football.  "Will he be punished or miss game time".  No, he will not be punished.  It seems crazy to punish a kid for doing math doesn't it.
 

When I read my examples above, it seems like common sense.  But here’s an example from the other side. 

A friend of mine has a daughter who plays a high school sport. She also does well in school.  Over several months she progressed through an academic competition, sponsored by her school. She advanced through districts, regionals and state.  She made it to the national competition in this academic area.  This is a BIG deal.  She traveled across the country to compete and she ended up placing third in the NATION.  Awesome.  But when she returned she had to sit out two games in her sport because she missed two practices?  For academics!?!?! 

God, family and school are more important than football.  Sounds crazy doesn't it?  But you know what; I will not punish a kid for missing football for those reasons.  If it is abused, yes, there will be consequences.  Going down to play in the river with your brother instead of going to football practice?  That is unacceptable.  You get my point. 

Most of us at some point lose sight of the fact that we are just playing a game.  Yes, there are life lessons to be taught and learned while playing football, and other sports, and I believe there are things that you learn from sports that you cannot learn in a classroom.  BUT, it is just a game. 

Think about this, think about how much time you and your son or daughter have spent over the last year playing and preparing to play sports.  Not just football, but baseball, basketball, wrestling, soccer, cheerleading, volleyball, etc….  the list goes on and on.  Practices, games, camps, more camps, spring, summer, fall, winter.....

Is it really just a game? Or has it become more? Has it become too much??? 

Maybe I am wrong, maybe it’s not just a game, maybe I should check the facts…..

I work for a large corporation that hires hundreds of people every year.  I asked our HR Manager how many people we hired last year because they were a good football player.  ZERO!

I did some research on academic scholarships verses athletic scholarships.  On average, 1 billion dollars are handed out each year for athletic scholarships verses 9.5 billion dollars for academic scholarships.  Over 9 times more money given out for good grades!! 

I looked up the statistics on how the United States of America stands up against other countries, not in football, but in academics.  We ranked 25^th out of the 34 countries measured in math, and 17^th in science.  Ouch! Not good. 
 

Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe we do need to spend more time playing football. (Sarcasm, sorry.)  

I'm not proposing we quit playing football and other youth sports, because as I said in the beginning, I believe there are things that you learn from sports that you cannot learn in a classroom.  It is a good experience.  BUT, it is just a game. 

Just imagine, if we cut back just a little bit. Don't stop it, just cut back. And spend that time doing some extra homework, or sitting in the living room just talking with your kids, or going to church, or helping a family in need.  Imagine the difference we could make. 

I am merely asking you to think about it, and do me a favor.  Sometime this year, one time, just say no.  If you are a coach, cancel a practice, or if you are a parent, decide not to send your kid to that extra camp.  Just say no, and spend that time with your kids, doing something as a family, or working on math, or going to church.  It will make a difference.  And if anyone asks you why, tell them, "it is just a game".

 

  

 



Ephphatha

I can only imagine being a deaf and mute person in biblical times.  I assume people would stare at you blankly when you didn't respond to them during conversation.  I doubt you would have many friends.  How could you hold down a job?  They didn't have hearing aids or computers that were able to talk for them back then. Communication is such a huge part of life and relationships; the life of a deaf and mute person would be difficult today, let alone in those days.

Imagine how that man must have felt when Jesus healed him!  Ephphatha!  Be opened!! Suddenly, you could speak freely and hear clearly!  You would automatically believe the healer was the Savior and be opened to His word...even if He did spit on his hand and touch your tongue;)

Recently, I've landed myself in the middle.  I try to avoid the middle, but it's not the first time I've been here and I'm sure it's not the last.   Sometimes I'm stuck directly in the middle right inside my very own head!  But when I'm here, I feel tongue tied and twisted. A little like the deaf and mute man might have felt until he was healed.

I know that if I'm going to live in the middle I have to keep my opinions to myself.  Struggle with the thoughts that are dancing around in my mind until I can clear the cobwebs.  I've learned this lesson the hard way...again.  When my emotions are not in check, the words often seem to rhyme even when they are wrong.

I changed my name, but I'll always be a Runion.  You know, act first, apologize later. This is why, as I grow older, I generally steer clear of emotional topics, political debates, or taking a stance publicly. 

I stay away from the emotional topics because I believe that generally people are good.  I believe that most people want what is right; what is just.  Maybe we don't understand what others are fighting for, what battle is tucked safely, deep down in their heart that is causing actions and reactions? Perhaps the emotional string that a friend or foe clings to so very tightly is protected with armor because they will unravel if you start pulling at the string.


Wouldn't it be AMAZING if right when we were in the middle of an argument heated discussion (you know, right before you slam the door and stomp off-Yes, I totally still do this), we could scream: EPHPHATHA!  The person we are fighting discussing with could then look into our heart and understand. You know, what certain emotions are tied to, why a certain belief is so strong and close to their heart, why you feel so strongly one way or the other.

Or when you make a decision, right or wrong, and it hurts a person you love.  Wouldn't it be great to scream EPHPHATHA and let them see that the decision was not made to hurt them or cause them harm.  Certainly, they might still be hurt, but they could see that you made the decision with love.

Maybe even when Keegan has 10 dry days and then a day where he has three accidents in one day.  I could  lovingly see into his heart and know what he was thinking and why he didn't walk his cute little white behind into the restroom.  He could see into my heart and understand my frustration.  We could work together at the problem instead of fighting against each other. He would no longer feel guilt/shame/outcast when he had an accident and I would no longer feel anger/frustration when I noticed because we could see into each others hearts.

And  what if we forgot to scream it from the rooftops when were in the middle of the discussion? Perhaps we could grab our microphone and amplify our apology: EPHPHATHA! I am sorry.  Be opened. 

Wouldn't that be amazing?

His word offers this!

Ephphatha! BE OPENED.

Be opened! 

Open your eyes and your ears.  Open your heart.  Over and over again, be opened.

I can only dream of how many people I could bring to their knees if I could scream EPHIPHATHA when they ask if I chose to cut my hair like this or look at me with pity.

Be Opened to His promises, to His forgiveness, to His Grace.

Mark 7:31-37

New International Version (NIV)

Jesus Heals a Deaf and Mute Man

³¹ Then Jesus left the vicinity of Tyre and went through Sidon, down to the Sea of Galilee and into the region of the Decapolis.^{[a] 32} There some people brought to him a man who was deaf and could hardly talk, and they begged Jesus to place his hand on him.
³³ After he took him aside, away from the crowd, Jesus put his fingers into the man’s ears. Then he spit and touched the man’s tongue. ³⁴ He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, “Ephphatha!” (which means “Be opened!”). ³⁵ At this, the man’s ears were opened, his tongue was loosened and he began to speak plainly.
³⁶ Jesus commanded them not to tell anyone. But the more he did so, the more they kept talking about it. ³⁷ People were overwhelmed with amazement. “He has done everything well,” they said. “He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”

Guest Blog: Portrayal

Excited to post the first guest blog in quite some time.  I have a couple other people that have committed to a post over the next couple weeks as well!

 Cheryl is a fellow cancer survivor and one of my very dear friends. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did...I will certainly be more conscious when the monsters ask me why I am exercising!?

Portrayal

According to Webster's Dictionary portrayal is: The act or process of depicting or portraying.  For me this means the manner in which I wish to portray myself to my children. 

In today's society we are bombarded with different portrayals of women.  I know that I cannot prevent my children from all these sources, but I can control how I present myself to them.  I'm not going to start a rant about the media and how it should change.  But I can hope to maybe shed a little light as to why I think this is important.

 When I found out that I was going to have a girl I was terrified.  I knew exactly the kind of role model I did not want to be but was clueless as to how I was going to be otherwise. Growing up I had a close family member who constantly reminded me that my outward appearance was more important than anything else while constantly reminding me that my appearance was not good enough.  The comments were always hurtful and degrading.  This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid.

For those of you who know me, you are probably thinking "When have I ever heard a negative comment or something degrading". Well, I save those for myself,  in my head.  Because of all the comments and ridicule from childhood I have a horrible self image.  It has taken me years to forgive the person who imbedded this portrayal of myself and realize how untrue it is. 

Due to those feelings I am always very careful of what I say around my girls.  I never voice out loud if I am having a bad day and whatever negative thoughts I may have about myself.  You will never hear me say in front of my children "I need to exercise more since those chocolate chip cookies found their way into my belly", or "Better lay off the pizza my thighs are expanding". I will never ask if I look fat in an outfit or anything that resembles this question or even state that I feel fat today.  These are the types of comments that made me become extremely conscious of how I looked, whether they were directed at me or not.

My oldest daughter asked me once why I run and exercise.  I thought carefully about my answer and decided that the truth would be best.  I told her it was because I wanted to be a healthy Mommy so that I could run around and play with my kids and I like to run, it gives me time to think.  She looked at me, cocked her head to one side and said "that's a good idea Mom".  I don't want my children to think that exercise is performed just to lose weight or look good.  I want to emphasize that living a healthy lifestyle will make you feel better and have more energy.

In truth the reason why I started running cross country all those years ago was to hopefully please the person who ridiculed me the most.  After high school I stopped running since I wasn't around that person anymore.  When I did start running again it was for my health and the pure enjoyment of it.   

I guess the point I am trying to get across is to be conscious of what you say around your children about yourself.  Trust me they pick up on it.  For me the goal is to make sure my children are caring individuals who have a positive image of who they are.  Not an image that is tainted by someone else's negative feelings.  If I can portray myself as a caring person that gives to others and has a positive outlook on life and hope that it rubs off on my children, what more could I ask for.

 

              The girls and I before my first quarter marathon.  I know Paige looks thrilled! It was pretty early in the morning. They are still my biggest fans though!!

Although sometimes I think they go just to hang out at the pool or hot tub!!

Later,

Cheryl

 

Conversations with Crackheads...I mean Clients!

60+year old client: You might want to try having them tie you down.  I found that it was hard to stay still and liked that I could relax a little against the restraints.

Professional Paralegal: Mr. 60+year old client, I can't believe you're telling me that you like restraints!!! I have an entirely different view of you.  (Sweet, innocent Laura voice.  You know the one if you've listened to my voicemail or called into my office and you don't recognize me-that voice!)  I guess I could try it though if you think it will help! I'll try anything once.

60+year old client: Stop talking dirty to me!  I'm getting flustered! And don't tell my wife that I had another woman tie me down!

All professionalism has vanished at this point: Bahahaha.  Ok, deal.

 

 

60+year old client: We have been praying nonstop, Laura.

 

 

We were talking about radiation, SHEESH!!  Get your head out of the gutter!  He found it very difficult to sit still in the mold while they zapped him, so they restrained him in the position that he needed to sit still in.  Asking about restraints at my next appointment!

Medical update: They added another 80 cc's to each side this week...back to a B cup:)  I will have a couple more pump-ups and they will have me ready to radiate ahead of schedule:) Slogged/Walked a couple miles Monday and my muscles hate me!  It's been a long time since I've attempted jogging and they are reminding me.

Still looking for a guest blogger/two since I have about one minute of my 15 minute presentation completed and it's only a week away!!

Laughter is the best medicine,

 

Getting used to FOOBS!

I'm a big fan of made up words.  I like to play around on Urban Dictionary and have even submitted a few of my own definitions.  Well, I heard this one and immediately loved it.  FOOBS=Fake Boobs.

As promised, this week I will touch on what it's like when you're forced to get used to foobs.  I use "forced" because I didn't choose to be diagnosed with breast cancer and I do not want to live the rest of my life as the CEO of the itty bitty titty committee.  But actually, I'm not forced to have reconstruction.  Many women find it liberating to go without foobs and I have viewed many pictures of women that have a tattoo in place of reconstruction. During my two weeks as CEO I'm happy that I opted for immediate reconstruction.

I have posted about getting "pumped up" on facebook, but I haven't really explained what they do.  After the boob chop, my surgeon (Dr. Joseph Crowe: amazing and I highly recommend him) handed me over to my plastic surgeon (Dr. Risal Djohan: equally amazing, highly recommend him and also kind of demanding;)).  Dr. Djohan placed tissue expanders where my real boobies once were (except under the muscle) and sewed me up.  (He used three layers of stitching and the outside was closed with durabond (medical glue)). When I look at pictures online of other women two weeks post op, my incision sites are at the very top as far as appearance is concerned. 

Now I go see Dr. Djohan once every week/two to get pumped up.  The tissue expanders are a hard, but movable plastic.  Since they are placed under muscle, when they pump me up, they are also expanding muscle.  This causes muscle spasms and pain.   Sharp pain that takes your breath away.

The day before my second expansion, I met the newest addition to my team of doctors.  I prepared for my appointment. Paperwork:check. Mam X-rays: check. Lab results, path results, prescription list, treating docs, etc: check check check. I am a well informed patient.  I took the picture below to encourage others to do the same.  If you aren't responsible for your care, on your toes and inquisitive, who is keeping the doctors informed, up to date and ready?  You have to fight hard for your life if you want them to join you in the very important fight.
 

I pulled in the drive to the radiologist appointment and remembered all of my dad's appointments there.... You simply can't prepare for that.  I'm terrible with directions. I can't decipher North/South when I'm driving. I don't look for landmarks. I type in the address and listen to the lady talk to me. I knew the office was at St. Luke's, but it didn't register that it was Northwest Ohio Oncology building, Dr. Ritter's office until I was in the parking lot. My paperwork read Toledo Radiation Oncology and I was focused on Dr. Shaneli Fernando. Well, no matter how prepared you are for an appointment, this kind of take your breath away feeling isn't something you can prepare for! Luckily I left in enough time to sit in the parking lot and compose myself.  I prayed.  I cried. I took deep breaths. I told my dad how much I miss him.  I thanked God for all that I have.

And I walked in the doctor's office with my head held high and ready to discuss radiation.  I loved Dr. Fernando.  I instantly clicked with her like I did with my oncologist, Dr. Dushkin.  She commented that it is refreshing to have a patient so well informed and level headed when it comes to risk vs. reward.  Bluntly I explained that my life is the reward that I want the most and the appearance of my foobs is secondary to that. 

My plastic surgeon is a perfectionist.  He is fighting for the reward of wonderful looking and feeling foobs.  I want wonderful looking and feeling foobs, but my most important goal is life.  The radiologist needs to do what she needs to do regardless of the foobs.  So,  when we discussed some of the side effects of radiation, I made my objective clear.  Blast away and we'll deal with skin breakdown if it comes to that.  Skin breakdown and scarring sometimes occurs due to the radiation.  Sometimes this requires the tissue expanders to be removed and then you're back at square one with the foobs.  Subsequent surgeries would have to take place to start another foob and this situation would be super *not fun.  Still, the radiation is necessary for my end goal of living a long life.  It is more important to me, even it compromises my foobs. I want to make sure there is not a cancer recurrence if at all possible.

With this in mind, my radiologist informed me that she would like to start radiation sooner rather than later.  She laughed and said to tell my plastics that he should work his magic since he expects the top results from her.  I told my plastics that my radiologist wants to fit me by mid-November and he has agreed to pump me up by then.

For this to happen though, they are going to have to pump me up at a quicker pace.  Marci played taxi for me this week.  She was able to join me for one of the most amusing appointments because I had some fun questions. So, I laid on the table as she read off my list of questions and Dr. Djohan answered.   How fragile are my foobs?  When can I run?  When can I yoga?  When can I be intimate?  While he was answering the questions, he stuck a needle into each foob and added more fluid. Today they put 80ccs of fluid into each foob. My new rack is expanded to the point that it hurts to breathe, but no pain, no gain, right!? I'm going in next week for more! 

My incisions are healing well!  I need to continue to massage the tissue to minimize scar tissue.  I'm allowed to jog and start to raise my arms! 

I'm still getting used to foobs.

I am starting back to work tomorrow though, so I must attempt to sleep now!

Sweet dreams of perky, pretty, minimally radiation effected foobs,





Marci asked if she was supposed to document a pump up appointment.  I'm not THAT confident in my foobs yet.  Not sure if I will ever be, but I will model for the inquisitive minds.  Don't scroll down if you're not nosey;)










STOP SCROLLING, SHEESH;)








Yes, I blocked this post on my little cousins facebook newsfeed and any other high school monster that I'm friends with.





 You will not be able to see scars in a bra/swim suit other than a little tiny bit in my left arm pit.  I'm almost a B already and I'm modeling a hand me down bra from one of my besties.