A week ago, the chemo curls were long enough to where I pulled out my hair product and accessories. I felt like a girl again. Less than a week ago, knowing the nightmare of watching my hair fall out and me too vain to have it shaved, I went in for the hip-grandma look of what is essential a female’s butch cut. This halted some of my joy. It halted some of my fantasy that I was a normal person again—like one who doesn’t live her life around cancer every day.
Category: Mayo Clinic
Blessings are Mine
Spotted towhees, bright bluebirds, and red robins entertain me from where I sit. It’s a good place to be, to reflect, and contemplate. On my December 16,… Read more “Blessings are Mine”
War! My Battle with Uterine Carcinosarcoma
This was a call to war. And the war ignited into full regalia when my guardian angels pulled the plug on my body on Halloween 2018 while I was in a second-opinion consult with a Mayo Clinic gynecologic oncologist. As pale as white paper, and barely able to breath, and worse — unable to control myself, I hurled and splattered volumes of gastrointestinal debris all over her office. Rushed to the ER, the final report read: severe anemia, hemorrhage gostrointestinal upper, malignant neoplasm of endocervix (HCC), and dyspnea — NOS (labored breathing).
Miracles in the Casita
“Sometimes I give up hope until I come back to this casita and see five miracles living right here.”
The Muse Pallet 