A Small Request....please, God?

Cancer is a strange cell.
You can go along for years in remission
and then one day it pops its head up again.
If you ever have it you will never be free of it.
Pray for the day there will be a permanent cure.

A SMALL REQUEST...

Dear God,
I pray that You will guide someone to find a cure for cancer. Amen

In memory of my twin brother Mike and our dear friend Karen who have been
struck down by cancer and to my hubby and family still living with the specter of testicular cancer...

A Candle Loses Nothing by Lighting Another Candle.
If you're reading this, please Keep This Candle Going

Ah, Central Park

New York, New York...

I always wondered what all the hoopla is about. Why so many books and movies and TV shows are set there. Until I went. OMG. What a fantastic place to visit. I can barely imagine how it is to actually live there.

Thing is, I don't think New Yorkers take any of it for granted!

We celebrated my hubby's life in NYC...after the battle with T.C. Planning the trip gave us hope, something to aspire to, when he got his life back. We plan on going back in 2011. I'll already be there for the RWA National Convention. He'll join me at the end.

Right now...I'll relive those memories and play the slide show in my head as we wait on the next round of follow-up blood work and CT scan. Routine but scary as hell. Oh, my personal hero's fine. Grabbing life close, hitting the links often as he can and hanging out with his little grandson. Life can't get any better than it is.

It's just that...after that ugly thing came to live with us, there's always something there to remind us...

Keep him in your prayers. Thanks.

Tanya Writes About the Livestrong Wedding, part 1

Current read: Lady X's Cowboy, Zoe Archer

I'm not over the wedding yet. My hero, my T.C. survivor, the love of my life and my husband of 35 years, was on board every second of our daugher's wedding. He attended every bridal gown try-on, every fitting.

Yet...on that glorious day...(he confided all this later.) He stood there, waiting for her to take his arm. Then he saw her as he'd never seen her before. His breath caught and his heart stopped.

She had picked the date, the 8th, in honor of him. For 16 months before, on an 8th, his remission had been announced. And he got his dream. During those killer days of chemo, he'd confided something else. Let me live to give my babygirl away at her wedding.

He got his wish, his prayer. His dream come true.

Tanya Writes Again About Her Real-Life Hero

Currently reading: The Physick of Deliverance Dane/Katherine Howe
Recently finished: Pillars of the Earth/Ken Follet, Grade A+
Recently finished (second time) Angels and Demons/Dan Brown, Grade B

Well, I started this blog 18 months ago to promo my book, Midnight Bride. But the day the book was released, my husband (my hero) got a diagnosis that changed our lives and the very way we think about living: Life is a gift!

You have testicular cancer.

Needless to say, I lost it. A book was the least of my concerns. He was everything, and still is. In an effort to keep sane, this blog became "the hero's journey" as I unloaded, cried, prayed in the deep dark hours of endless nights. During the three months of chemo (a treatment called BEP) I found I couldn't read or write a single thing ...except during the early hours of sleeplessness, I unloaded in the blog. We actually found out the cancer is a result of 34 years of firefighting! Go figure. Save lives to almost lose your own!

Fortunately, after surgery and the terrifically brutal chemotherapy treatment (during which several times I was sure I had lost him), we heard the fantastic words, "you're in remission," and he's been cancer-free now for over 15 months. We expect a full long healthy life for him. And ever since he got his stamina back, we've been on the move. There is always some place we haven't been yet (like New York City where we celebrated his life last summer) to places we like to go back to (like Palm Springs, three week ago). So after the nightmare comes the wonder of life and health and love.

And my hero reading my latest book, Marrying Minda, in public, poolside, at the hotel.

Now, how's that for a true hero?

Tanya Writes About The Nine-Month Anniversary

Oh, it's well into the new year already and I am way behind on everything already. Blogging, website updating, working on my WIP and doing the homework for my online plotting class. I did get the Christmas decorations down and a doctor's appointment taken care of...when I realized the great news.

My hero just hit the nine month anniversary of his remission!

Yay and praise God. All of you out there praying for him, well, it's working. He golfs several times a week, hangs out with the grandbaby, and totally doesn't understand blogging. Oh, the tragedy that Fantasy Football is over for another year. He loves it so much.

I gotta admit: he's having his routine checkup at this moment. That always makes us both a bit twirly. But I know things are great. And he loves greeting those angelic nurses who helped save him and showing him his strength and health.

When I started this blog just about a year ago, it was to promote Midnight Bride. I'm thrilled at the excellent reviews the book got, and I just entered it in the Award of Excellence Contest at The Colorado Romance Writers. But when that dreadful testicular cancer diagnosis smacked our family in the jugular, the focus of the blog changed...to MY hero's journey, not some fictional one.

Oh, what a journey it's been. Whew. I'm reminded every day of the awfulness of it...because I've got a friend going through the very same chemo right now, a pal I met on a TC loop. So bombarding heaven isn't ever gonna stop. There's always somebody, somewhere out there who needs us.

Since New Year's Day, I've been racking my brain for another theme to re-direct this blog. One of my writer friends blogs on a different smokin' hot romance cover model each Wednesday. Another writes about historical events that happened on the date years ago. Still another tosses out the occasional vocab lesson about an interesting word.

So far, I've had no luck coming up with something magnificent and original for myself. I'm open to suggestions. But for now, I just couldn't resist reporting on this part of my personal hero's journey, nine months of health and happiness. We just got back from a wonderful mini-reunion with the old high school herd so maybe I'll just bore you to death with the ins and outs of my now-normal, placid perfect life from time to time including how and where my writing career leads me. As well as our daughter's upcoming-wedding. I mean, how romantic is that.

So stay tuned and see what happens. Oh, and have a happy new year.

Albeit my greeting does come a bit late. I sorely need a personal assistant and will never be able to afford one.

Up next. The Big Warm

Tanya Writes About Friends...and Ralph Waldo Emerson

Oh, I haven't blogged for a while. Sometimes it seems pointless, but we did take a little trip last week. And came home to some disquieting things.

Our elderly boy black Lab, Seau, seemed to be in a major decline. Maybe due to losing Marley a while back. Likelier, the hip displasia. Oh, he's so pretty, a perfect storybook dog...and it's the damnable generations of inbreeding that weakened his hip joints. I told my hero I just can't bear to say good-bye to him, not now. Not this year. He weakly joked that the year had sucked enough already so why not a slam dunk.

Then we just learned someone dearly special to us just got laid off. Along with millions of others in this hellhole of an economy, but it really hurts when it's someone you love.

Cancer reared is ever-ugly head. Richard awaits apprehensively for the results of tests. Stacey is holding Thanksgiving dinner next week--her FIL's cancer came back and he needs hasty surgery.

Baby Aiden (18 months) and Jackie (29) both face brain tumors.

Oh well. I could go on and on and on and on and on about awful things. And I likely would have stayed in this funk if my hero hadn't said this morning: things tend to work out.

And if the comic pages of the newspaper hadn't featured one of my all-time favorites: Waldo.

No. Not the Where's Waldo guy. Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was called that by his clique of Transcendentalists.

It appeared in my favorite (and probably the only comic strip I read)--Mutts. The pup's running through a sunny field with this quote:

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. --Ralph Waldo Emerson

So I thought about those who have so enriched me, who gladden my spirits. Who got us through this dreadful year.

There's Andy whom I've never actually met in the flesh. He lives across the Pond in Ireland. But a TC loop brought us together earlier this year. He never fails to send me a funny joke or cheer me on as my hero's "heroine."

Terri and I met several years ago at "Maxine's Literary Cafe," a group of writers who gathered every few weeks for critique. Right now she's got a romantic suspense stalker-story in the works that is based on her own experiences! I do help her edit and wow, it's a stunner. But that's not the reason I include her today. We only met those few times, with weeks off in between, but she is a cancer survivor, too, and she kept track of my hero's BEP protocol. E-mailing me just when I needed an encouraging word the most. God bless you, Terri.

Maxine herself is one of Earth's most special people. My hero adores her...and not just for the cookies she always sends him or the picnic basket full of wine, food and flowers she left on the porch one day while he suffered at chemo. She's spunky, spirited, a true optimist. And she's a gifted poet.

Our next door neighbors, whom we've known for over two decades, make life so much better. Not just helping us with the chemo and cancer and dark times. Just every day things. Like coming over and watching TV with Seau while we were gone, making sure he was okay.

Karen, friend of almost four decades, has metastatic breast cancer and that nasty gunk just won't leave her liver alone. Yet she is ever cheerful, crowing about her newest grandbaby, another one who kept track of all the chemo, sending prayers and love.

And last but not least, my Roberta and Timmy. Sister and BIL of anybody's dreams. Every week during my hero's ordeal, they were here. Presents, food, love and hugs. Prayers that never stopped.

As for Seau, the vet had some new treatments to try, and our pup is hanging in. (The vet and we are in agreement: no heroics. Always compassion and dignity and quality of life. So far, so good!)

And Richard reminds me of something so important: One day at a time. Even if it's sometimes just one moment a time.

Thanks to everybody who enriches my life. Waldo isn't the only lucky one.

Tanya Writes About The CT Scan

It was hard, the other night, at CT Scan...the very place my hero collapsed last April. Seeing him lying there those months ago, well, I can't publicly put down what I thought had happened.

Just five days later, remission was announced. But that was when he was the sickest from the chemo, in TC terms: 3 X BEP. He couldn't even rejoice.

During our trip to Lake Tahoe in May, he and I managed to finally discuss those dark days, in front of the fireplace with late spring snow falling outside. In those days, I still woke up in the night, shaking, cold, even though we knew remission was afoot.

So when another CT Scan had to be done this week, the tremors started, the demons surged. The bad dreams came again. That ugly thing still manages to terrorize us.

All I can say is, when Dr. Schwartz called just now, assuring us the cancer is gone and my hero is in remission: Praise God. The last couple days have been lyrics from Tim McGraw's Live Like You Were Dying...waiting for the x-rays.

My hero confessed he can't help a little man-crush on this wonderful oncologist. That's okay. I've loved him ever since the dreadful day of diagnosis last February when he held me in a great big bear-hug and promised to watch my hero like a hawk. "We'll get this fixed," he promised.

He even gave me his cell phone number. (Have I ever used it? I confess yes. Once.)

Tomorrow we're participating in a Livestrong Fundraiser in the gorgeous Santa Ynez Valley of central California. My hero and our beautiful daughter are going to ride a half-metric, about 31 miles. I, well, I'm no athlete. He got me a lovely new bike recently (the Comfort Model, read: Old Lady) but tomorrow, I'll hobble by foot as long as I can.

Our son, DIL and the baby can't make it. But as always, they're with us in our hearts. We'll all be together on Sunday to launch our fantasy football league. I'm Wild Thang...and right now, I gotta go finish decorating my tee-shirt for the team jersey competition and get the guestroom ready for our babygirl to spend the night.

Thank you, Jesus, for the blessings that never stop. And please forgive those moments of unbelief that still manage to snarl my mind.

Livestrong.

Tanya Writes About the Ugly Thing Again

Cancer. That's the ugly thing. Since I initially started this blog to promote a romance novel, I've been trying to get it back to its roots. But sometimes, real life intrudes.

Not for me, not for us, thankfully. Normal is the buzzword these days. But there are so many others out there who have started to live the nightmare, to take that journey down a difficult road.

The T.C. loop just featured a response from Eric Shandeau, the Olympic swimmer just diagnosed with testicular cancer, who's putting off his surgery and treatment against doctors advice so he can perform in Beijing. Some of the loop guys feel he's made a foolish decision to gamble with his life; others figure cancer takes away such personal control that Eric at least can reach for a dream in his own way. They ask, but can he be a good spokesperson, later on, if he's let something else take precedence over his health, his downright survival?

The loop has also had a discussion lately, about lyrics in a Brad Paisley song. It's a cute one. His girl sees a deer and thinkgs Bambi; he sees antlers on his wall. He complains about guys getting facials and manicures because, at least he's "still got a pair."

Some took offense at that, as if the I/O (inguial orchiectomy or, testical removal) leaving them one short makes any kind of difference to masculinity. I chimed in. I said my hero and I are a we and us, and it doesn't matter, one or two. Everything's still good. He's still him. But the discussion continues.

Then another guy on the loop struggls with an idiotic insurance company. He's got to come up with $10,000 just to start treatment.

Here at home, we had a neighborhood hoe-down for the fourth of July. Oh I was in heaven, wearing the cowboy hat I just got in Lake Tahoe, judging the chili cook-off. My hero had a righteous time. Until Ben ~ who didn't yet know about my hero's journey~ confided that his 21-year-old son had an I/O July 3 and was awaiting the results of his CT scan and biopsy.

So I wear my yellow bracelet and volunteered to collect from my cul-de-sac for the American Cancer Society. I added Lance Armstrong to MySpace. And I pray.

Today I gave my hero his first haircut! He's keeping it short, so we got a new-style shaver called a Short Cut. It's impossible for me to make a mistake. And now it's bedtime.

Time to hit my knees.

Tanya Writes About Normal Again

Wow, how can it be June? So much of 2008 is a blur, a bad, sad movie. But we're on that road to normal.

My hero had a doctor's appointment today. No, not about the T.C. About the two ruined knees and rebuilt shoulder he sustained as a firefighter. Seems like a slam dunk, huh? But we live in the state of Caliconfusion with an idiot at the helm. He changed the rules on job-related injuries, meaning unless it killed you, you didn't really get hurt.

God help us when the T.C. goes to evaluation. Many universities' studies show that it is a job related condition for firefighters due to all the hazardous materials, fumes, chemicals they are bombarded with over the years. Firefighters get T.C. 102% more often than other occupations. But his first letter from workman's comp mentioned the "alleged" testicular cancer.

Yeah, alleged! He lost a nut and endured chemo so harrowing it almost ended his life. But according to "Ahnold" and his henchmen, it's just an allegation.

But hey. I'm happy! I got working today on a new Western while he was answering this new doctor's questions for the bazillionth time. The last few months totally drained my creativity from me...So tomorrow I'm meeting a writer friend for coffee and laptopping, and a bunch of us authors are getting together for a formal tea on Saturday.

I'm happy! My hero's stronger and hotter every single day with his new stylish goatee --just about the only hair that's started sprouting again. A waiter remarked the other day how cool he looks. Privately to me, he joked about his GQ chemo look.

I'm happy! Our grandbaby spent all last weekend with us! Oh that angel. Now, I love my own kids passionately but there's something about loving a grandchild that I could never imagine before it happened.

Thank God we had that little guy in our lives during those horrible weeks. My hero kept his faith and kept his hope because he knew just who he was fighting for.

Oh, normal. Oh, happy.

Oh, baby.

Tanya Writes About Today, Sunny but Definitely Not Summer

We slept in. He curled against me and said it felt good. Then he said, I wish I could sleep through one night. And eat one real meal. And have just a normal day.

The wonderful new friends on the T.C e-loop tell us to hang in, that it'll be over soon. And that he'll be well. That the mental part is hard too, just as hard as the physical.

Our daughter is here now, so that makes things easier. For a while we sat outside by the fountain for a picnic, but the day grew cool. Sunny but definitely not summer.

Tomorrow is the last bleo. Let the reports be good ones. Let the nurses have remedies just to give him basic comfort.

Kyrie eleison.

Tanya Writes About the Strange Day

A few years ago my hero and I rocked out at a concert of an oldies group from our college days, The Moody Blues. Our daughter had gotten him tix for his birthday. One of their songs has always struck me. Isn't life strange?

It is, isn't it?

Last night I couldn't sleep. Too much caffeine. These days, I'm mostly decaffinated, but yesterday I indulged in that international coffee Cafe Francais, my guilty little pleasure, while we watched John Adams. Hence the energetic sheep and demons that danced in my head when I tried to sleep. So I got up to, what else, blog and computerize.

In searching Google for tags that might come up for my blog, I came across a strange and awful new fact: Research is proving that firefighters have a 102% chance over other workers of getting--testicular cancer!

After the ruined knees and rebuilt shoulder, the hearing deficits from sirens raging in his ears in the moronic days before the department provided guys with headphones...now we get a "perk" like T.C.

But my hero had a bit of a good night. And after watching the Food Channel much of yesterday afternoon, he got a bit of appetite back, even wrote down recipes to try. (He's the Top Chef of this family.) And although we await more dagnabbed bleo tomorrow, we have every expectation of a positive outlook...

So after making him some oatmeal, I went to check my e-mail, a morning ritual. (well, make that morning, noon, night, midnight et al ad infinitum.) In my inbox was a post from a cyber-friend I hadn't heard from for a little while. Now, I've never met her, but we connected while blogging at a now-defunct romance blog.

When my hero's tribulation began in late January, Darlene immediately placed his welfare in God's hands through prayer chains, particularly American Christian Fiction Writers--she writes inspirationals. All these weeks, knowing people all over the country are praying for him has brought us such comfort.

But Darlene's e-mail blew me away and not in a good way. She hadn't written in a while...because her 23-year old daughter recently committed suicide.

I am speechless with grief. There can't be anything more terrible than losing your child.

My hero and I spoke with our beautiful daughter just last night. Held our handsome son tight just Saturday. Hugged that little grandson while he squirmed and squirmed. (his mommy, our precious daughter in law, had to work.)

Across the world-wide-web, I open my arms to Darlene, beseeching our Lord to help mend her broken heart.

To turn her tears into miracles.

Because my hero and I, well, we've got a family to die for.