Tanya Writes About Scanxiety

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #9

If I create from the heart, nearly everything works. If from the head, almost nothing. --Marc Chagall

Today, I decided to do Mark Chagall again, for two reasons. This comment fits me to a T. Second, his airy floating colors and shapes calm me. And today I need it.

My hero is the logical one in my life. He teases me endlessly about my lack of common sense, my ADD, my daydreams. I need him. As I know he needs me for just those same reasons.

My heart tell me today's routine CT scan will be free and clear and just in time to celebrate one year remission on Wednesday. But he says, cancer never leaves my head. The reality is always there. He's deservedly nervous today.

Most times we don't let it bother us, that ugly thing that came to live with us last year. It's been thwarted by gruelling chemo (3 X BEP) but tends to buzz around like a big fat stinky fly whenever a test or scan or blood work or doctor visit looms. I look at him, strong, hale...his hair kept short ala' Justin Timberlake to remind him, to remind us both that each day is a gift.

So I know today is a gift. As was this past weekend, with the grandbaby spending the night and our beloved sister and BIL visiting on their way north. And I know the scans will be clear. It's just...the frickin' seed of doubt the ugly thing left behind. It's called Scanxiety, and it's real, for survivors and their families. Two guys from our TC loop sent us private messages of good cheer. One is my cowboy friend in Texas...himself done with chemo just last week but sicker than the proverbial dog, awaiting his own CT Scan on Friday.

So if you're reading this, some prayers and good thoughts for my hero, for my cowboy, for all taking this tough journey, would be most appreciated.

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 "Lemon Jello" and Fantasy Football

Well, our vacation last week came at a good time. We booked it, as well as four other trips, during my hero's chemo treatments late last winter to remind us that we have a future. But this getaway arrived when we needed it most --helping me relax over losing our sweet Marley...and keeping him sort of calm as he faces (tomorrow) his first post-chemo CT scan.

Now, Dr. Schwartz is almost certain of a cure, but there's that "almost" for the first year or two when TC must be closely monitored. And while our confidence is high and our spirits are good, there's always that little demon of worry worming its way inside our heads.

I can't deny we get fretful and twirly.

So a few days ago, I had the Spa Treatment of ALL Spa Treatments to keep me calm. Oh, wow. It was the next-best-thing to, well, you know. Its name is "Limoncello" but lemon jello makes me smile.



First off came a Polynesian ritual involving a foot bath and foot massage, all tinged with lemon scent. Spa music by earphone. Little tinkling Zen bells. Awesome.

Then a personalized massage with lemon -scented aromatherapy. (I like Swedish with a tad of deep tissue mixed in...just go easy with the elbow.) Then lemon sorbet and herb-tinted water. Yummo.

Finally, something I've never seen or done. In the same therapy room, another massage table of teak, with drains. No, not like an autopsy stand. Comfy and towely...and here went the lemon body scrub followed by a body-length vichy shower with about ten spouts that washed everything off...to be followed by another massage with lemon body butter.

Oh goodness, that was lemon-heaven.

And while this was going on, my hero plotted my team for our family's Fantasy Football League. He loves "coaching" two teams...and every Super Bowl Sunday there is a trophy (and money) for the league winner. So far, it's never been me. But the day includes a Chili Cook-off...and after five years of my intense whining, my chili received top honors last January! (I'll get the award-winning recipe posted one of these days.)



All I really care about is naming my team and talking trash. I've already begun posting insults to my league-mates. This year I selected the name Wild Thang and am busy designing my jersey for the T-shirt contest. Kick-off party is Sunday at my son and DIL's. (Last year the baby was my "assistant coach" but this year his daddy snagged him for his "avatar"...)

(I had considered One Hot Mama after Trace Adkins but think I'll use that for my new ringtone instead.)

So wish me luck in this new season of smack-talk.

Also...wish my hero all your good thoughts and blessings, and bombard heaven with those prayers!

Thanks...and livestrong.

Tanya Writes About Walden Pond

Last night I went to Walden Pond.

I couldn't think of any other place I wanted to be. To get the screams out of my head and have prayers inside instead. For to me, Walden is a cathedral. Like Yosemite Valley.

Like Alder Creek where the Donners spent that awful winter.

But there wasn't any gentle autumn drizzle landing on my cheeks this visit, for my body was in an ER room at my hero's side. We'd gone to hospital for the CT scans and while taking a stroll down the hall to ease that sore hip, he fainted.

And I wasn't even with him! He doesn't like me to hover, so I stayed in the waiting room until I heard a lady call out, somebody fell.

At the doorway, the first thing I saw was his hand, the hand whose wrist wears the yellow Livestrong bracelet. My heart broke one more time.

The doc figured it was because chemo weakens even a hale man. Indeed, after hydration and potassium and iron --and about a gallon of my tears-- he got to go home.

I hated to weep in front of him, but seeing him lying there...I just had no choice.

So while the IV's dripped and he napped, I went to Walden inside my head to quiet things down. Just like last October, my hero was with me, walking down the asphalt path through the trees. The anticipation was like, walking up the aisle or something. And there it was, Walden wearing a necklace of trees just starting to turn.

Oh, it was lovely, so lovely. I've wanted to visit Walden for so, so long. We walked the pathway Henry David once trod, to his homestead where I built a rock sculpture. I can still feel the rocks in my hand.

My hero found a tiny pinecone under a tree and handed it to me. My best souvenir ever.

And he took my picture at the sign bearing my most favorite HDT quote, about not getting to the end of your life and realizing you hadn't lived. Only my hero cut off my head.

Hmmmmmmm.

And while there, I thanked God. If my hero had to faint, at least it was in a hospital with smart, caring professionals. Instead of on the staircase at home or something with only his wuss of a wife around.

But it was still another uneasy night because of this ugly thing that has come to life with us.

Kyrie eleison.