Tuscaloosa Home
Friday, April 29, 2011
Grandparents Home in Tuscaloosa Alabama
Yesterday the tornado in Alabama came very close to my grandparent’s home. My grandparents had a hardware store in downtown Tuscaloosa for many years and lived there for as long as I can remember. In Tuscaloosa my father grew up as well as his sister my Aunt Nancy. Nancy tells me I have many family members in the area but I only remember Aunt Grace and Uncle Carl. I have many wonderful memories of Tuscaloosa and my grandparent’s home; it had great charm and gave comfort to me. I was watching the news today and I saw a video of the huge tornado and recognized the building from where the shot was being taken. I guessed it to be about two blocks (at the most) from my grandparent’s home. Not long after that my sister Leigh called to let me know she also saw the eerie footage of the twister too and knew it proximity to our grandparent’s home, confirming my remembrances. I searched the internet and attempted to locate the storm’s rage. I could not tell if it struck the old homestead but do know it took out countless homes and businesses only a few streets down. The supporting community of their home was destroyed or damaged in the tornado. I hope their home is still there, even 20 years after the death of my grandparents I do not wish it to be gone. Just a short while ago Jackie, Leigh and I made a three way call and together Google mapped ourselves down the Alabama street of Burl and Emily Quinn’s home (our grandparent’s, 148 The Highlands, Tuscaloosa Alabama). I can’t imagine the loss so many feel at this time in those areas. My heart goes out to them all, my prayers too.
Monday, April 18, 2011
"Ladies Club"
My Meamaw, being a southern woman was a faithful member of many ladies clubs. Not like the clubs of today but a social group of yesterday that would help a person become more well rounded (roll the "R" on rounded please). In fact it may have been her duty to belong to such established women's groups. To name a few she participated in,“The Garden Club,” “Daughters of the American Revolutionary War” and the Munsey Memorial Methodist Church Womens Committee (try and say that five times as fast as you can). I am quite certain there are many other groups and committees she belonged to that I know nothing about. If she were alive today I think she would express the importance of these “social service groups.” Her's is a time that seems to no longer exsist, or so I once believed.
For the past 8 years I have been involved with a woman’s non-profit service group called "Harmony". The group consist of about 15-20 woman who give freely of their time to bring a quality musical performance to those unable to attend such cultural events. “Harmony” has been spreading happiness through music, singing in three (or more) part harmony for over 25 years. We perform in hospitals, senior homes, developmentally disabled schools and public schools throughout our area. We usually give 12-15, half hour performances a season and spend hours in practice as well… to make a long story short – Last week we went to the local children’s hospital and opened our season there. Although we have a good sound the quality of our music is often outweighed by the elation we all experience with our extraordinary audience members. Most often I enjoy seeing the staff at the hospital so pleased to see the small children smile when we include them in our performances. We involve them with dancing, blowing bubbles and using small percussion instruments all while singing an upbeat song. You can tell how much the people who serve the children, love them. It makes for a nice circle of joy from us, to the children, to the nurses (and parents too). We always include lovely lullaby songs that help the children who especially need calmness. Once a nurse whose tiny patient laid quietly still in her hospital crib, started to cry as we sang to the baby. The nurse later told us she watched the child’s vital signs become normal as we sang, something which had not happened for days. In hushed tones she thanked us through her tears, she knew the power of music had made the difference to the weak little infant. There are many more stories like this one that we often experience. Some of our members have even had their own children spend time in the hospital, it can get very emotional. No one wants to see a little child who suffers, yet as we perform they can smile, forget their pain for a moment and just be a child. I think we give them a little bit of happines when we sing to them but they in turn give us so much more.
Music and service is a great combination for everyone involved… so turn on the radio and dance, sing in the shower and smile extra often, give a little more to others and see if it doesn’t improve your day like it does to me and all the sweet members of my “Ladies Club.”
For the past 8 years I have been involved with a woman’s non-profit service group called "Harmony". The group consist of about 15-20 woman who give freely of their time to bring a quality musical performance to those unable to attend such cultural events. “Harmony” has been spreading happiness through music, singing in three (or more) part harmony for over 25 years. We perform in hospitals, senior homes, developmentally disabled schools and public schools throughout our area. We usually give 12-15, half hour performances a season and spend hours in practice as well… to make a long story short – Last week we went to the local children’s hospital and opened our season there. Although we have a good sound the quality of our music is often outweighed by the elation we all experience with our extraordinary audience members. Most often I enjoy seeing the staff at the hospital so pleased to see the small children smile when we include them in our performances. We involve them with dancing, blowing bubbles and using small percussion instruments all while singing an upbeat song. You can tell how much the people who serve the children, love them. It makes for a nice circle of joy from us, to the children, to the nurses (and parents too). We always include lovely lullaby songs that help the children who especially need calmness. Once a nurse whose tiny patient laid quietly still in her hospital crib, started to cry as we sang to the baby. The nurse later told us she watched the child’s vital signs become normal as we sang, something which had not happened for days. In hushed tones she thanked us through her tears, she knew the power of music had made the difference to the weak little infant. There are many more stories like this one that we often experience. Some of our members have even had their own children spend time in the hospital, it can get very emotional. No one wants to see a little child who suffers, yet as we perform they can smile, forget their pain for a moment and just be a child. I think we give them a little bit of happines when we sing to them but they in turn give us so much more.
Music and service is a great combination for everyone involved… so turn on the radio and dance, sing in the shower and smile extra often, give a little more to others and see if it doesn’t improve your day like it does to me and all the sweet members of my “Ladies Club.”
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Goat Whisper
This week my friend Toni sent me a letter via email. She moved from California to Arizona about six months ago and her email included details of her new desert experiences. I have some familiarity with the very area she now lives. My family migrated in that direction 20 years ago. I spent a great deal of time there as well as lived and worked there for about a year. My mother and father both died and were buried in the very city she now lives. I guess you could say I was not captivated by my friend’s discovery of the richness of the desert. Her email titled “I’m Not Kidding” spoke with great surprise of all she has learned about the desert and shock over the perilous Gila Monster her ending sentence proclaiming “Don’t mess with Gila Monsters. I’m not kidding.” I say captivated because I was aware of the dreaded Gila Monster and not surprised at her new found desert neighborhood. My response to Toni’s excitement was passive and lacked her childlike enthusiasm. My dull reaction reminded of a time when I first moved out to the country.
It was springtime and my neighbor’s goats were grazing in her back field. As I drove up to my house I saw a goat that appeared to be in stress. I stepped out of the car and walked over to the iron fence and observed the sickly goat. Within a few minutes this bleating goat while pressing forward gave birth and dropped a newborn Kidd. I was so surprised and thrilled to have witnessed such an event of nature. I quickly ran to inform my neighbor Carol she now owned another goat. I urgently tapped on her door, as it opened I tried to remain calm but eagerly reported “You’ll never guess what I just saw, quick come see the new born goat just minutes old.” Carol paused looked me in the eye and said “why that’s been happening all week and no need to run out every time a baby is born.” Obviously she did not share my wide eyed excitement of the birth. I am certain over the years my neighbor had probably seen goats born more times that she could remember (they have at least 30 goats). My enthusiasm deflated and I walked home.
I was like Carol and did not share my friend’s excitement of the desert because it was a topic familiar to me… but as I read Toni’s email her attitude reminded me of all we can learn on our journey. Thank you Toni for thinking of me and reminding me the world is full of new experiences to discover, your enthusiasm and perspective (as always) was appreciated…
So this tale does talk about goats but you might ask yourself why the title is “The Goat Whisperer”? Well, sometime after the new born goat experience our family got a pet goat of our own. “Oreo” was a little black and white pigmy goat who came to be a family favorite because of her spunky personality. She was hand raised and loved companionship with people. Oreo and I learned to communicate and I could speak to her from across the yard in a kind of goat language. I would bleat out my impression of a goats sound and soon she recognized my goat call. I would respond to her calls to me during the day and we would talk back and forth. We spoke to each other most days until her passing some years ago. Today one of Carol’s goats escaped and was eating the grass in my back yard. I wanted the goat out of there and knew from experience that getting a goat to move can be impossible; just ask my dog Schultz who in his old age and wisdom chose to ignore the goat intruder. Still I was tired of the goat in my yard so from my kitchen (with windows open) I bleated out in my best goat voice a sound of a distress and anger - goat style. The goat froze, quickly looked up then surmising all was well continued to eat more grass. I bleated again and again, the goat sounds came forth faster and louder this time. For a moment the young goat stood motionless then looking to his herd, called to them in a fearful goat tone (I suddenly realized I was fluent in the goat language). He swiftly ran away as fast as he could, diving under the fence and back to his own field… There you have it - job done and not a sweaty brow or tired muscle to show for it. I guess you could just call me “The Goat Whisper”.
It was springtime and my neighbor’s goats were grazing in her back field. As I drove up to my house I saw a goat that appeared to be in stress. I stepped out of the car and walked over to the iron fence and observed the sickly goat. Within a few minutes this bleating goat while pressing forward gave birth and dropped a newborn Kidd. I was so surprised and thrilled to have witnessed such an event of nature. I quickly ran to inform my neighbor Carol she now owned another goat. I urgently tapped on her door, as it opened I tried to remain calm but eagerly reported “You’ll never guess what I just saw, quick come see the new born goat just minutes old.” Carol paused looked me in the eye and said “why that’s been happening all week and no need to run out every time a baby is born.” Obviously she did not share my wide eyed excitement of the birth. I am certain over the years my neighbor had probably seen goats born more times that she could remember (they have at least 30 goats). My enthusiasm deflated and I walked home.
I was like Carol and did not share my friend’s excitement of the desert because it was a topic familiar to me… but as I read Toni’s email her attitude reminded me of all we can learn on our journey. Thank you Toni for thinking of me and reminding me the world is full of new experiences to discover, your enthusiasm and perspective (as always) was appreciated…
So this tale does talk about goats but you might ask yourself why the title is “The Goat Whisperer”? Well, sometime after the new born goat experience our family got a pet goat of our own. “Oreo” was a little black and white pigmy goat who came to be a family favorite because of her spunky personality. She was hand raised and loved companionship with people. Oreo and I learned to communicate and I could speak to her from across the yard in a kind of goat language. I would bleat out my impression of a goats sound and soon she recognized my goat call. I would respond to her calls to me during the day and we would talk back and forth. We spoke to each other most days until her passing some years ago. Today one of Carol’s goats escaped and was eating the grass in my back yard. I wanted the goat out of there and knew from experience that getting a goat to move can be impossible; just ask my dog Schultz who in his old age and wisdom chose to ignore the goat intruder. Still I was tired of the goat in my yard so from my kitchen (with windows open) I bleated out in my best goat voice a sound of a distress and anger - goat style. The goat froze, quickly looked up then surmising all was well continued to eat more grass. I bleated again and again, the goat sounds came forth faster and louder this time. For a moment the young goat stood motionless then looking to his herd, called to them in a fearful goat tone (I suddenly realized I was fluent in the goat language). He swiftly ran away as fast as he could, diving under the fence and back to his own field… There you have it - job done and not a sweaty brow or tired muscle to show for it. I guess you could just call me “The Goat Whisper”.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Forcast Sunshine!!
What a beautiful day!! After three days of rain - now the gorgeous sunshine. Left behind from the equally marvelous rain fall are billowing clouds and brilliant blue skies. I can hear the birds sing in the trees; their song seems to echo my words. On a day like today I am motivated to live better and by chance I started a new work out with a friend. We need the contrast of bad to appreciate the good. After days of wanting to snuggle down with a warm blanket and hot cocoa I now fell like throwing off the covers and moving.
Life can feel like that a series of rain storms; they hold some charm but the overall effects on your life are mostly soggy. I missed the warm sun on my shoulders at the beach this weekend, the long walks and feel of the sand between my toes. This is California after all and last month we had a magical weekend on the beach with perfect days and colorful sunsets… but not this trip. I read a news head line recently, it said “Spring arrives and so does the Allergy Season” which gives me a little bit of positive with a little bit of negative. On a day like this one I choose to feel only gratitude. I say be gone to the negatives and bring on the positive. Oh wow, look out my window I think I see a rainbow!
Life can feel like that a series of rain storms; they hold some charm but the overall effects on your life are mostly soggy. I missed the warm sun on my shoulders at the beach this weekend, the long walks and feel of the sand between my toes. This is California after all and last month we had a magical weekend on the beach with perfect days and colorful sunsets… but not this trip. I read a news head line recently, it said “Spring arrives and so does the Allergy Season” which gives me a little bit of positive with a little bit of negative. On a day like this one I choose to feel only gratitude. I say be gone to the negatives and bring on the positive. Oh wow, look out my window I think I see a rainbow!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Love Prevails
AP News Sunday Mar 13, 2011-
Etsuko Koyama escaped the water rushing through the third floor of her home but lost her grip on her daughter's hand and has not found her."I haven't given up hope yet," Koyama told public broadcaster NHK, wiping tears from her eyes. "I saved myself, but I couldn't save my daughter."
It is stories like this that seem to stop my heart; I ache for the people of Japan. As I think of what it must feel like to survive such devastation I remember something I experienced in Arizona some years ago. In the fall of 1992 I realized it was time to separate from my (then) husband. I moved from our home in California to Tucson Arizona. There I lived with my sister Leigh and her family until I could determine my next move in the marriage. It was a difficult adjustment and time in my life. A gloomy shadow over the situation was the change this had for my two young children Michael (7) and Savanna (3). I just never wanted for them the mess that was created by their parents; they were so innocent and only gave happiness. Such delight I never knew until they came into my life. My devotion to their well being was strengthened by the fact that I was their lone parent in Az. and I deepened my commitment for them. A month after our arrival in Tucson a severe storm was advised for our area with possible flash flooding Saturday and Sunday. When I returned from work that Friday my sister Leigh suggested we go get groceries for the imminent rainy weekend. I agreed to the idea but we went separately for reasons I don’t remember now. I kissed my son goodbye and left him with his good buddy and Cousin Scott (7) and Cousin Steven (13) who was to babysit the two until our return. I put Savanna in her car seat and drove off in a light rain. I shopped, filled the car, (with groceries) car seat (with Savvy) and headed back just before the sun set. The rain was heavier now and splattered off the windshield as I drove home. Traffic slowed and I came to a stop in the road; must be an accident ahead due to the rain, I thought. Cars in front of me were turning back as I slowly approached the four way intersection. In the long wait the sky grew black and the rain thick. Searching the dark I couldn’t see any accident, just a few police and patrol cars parked alongside the road. A policeman was directing traffic waving us back or sideways but not through to the street or direction I needed to go, the only street to Leigh’s house, to my Michael. I rolled down my window in order to suggest that the police let me through to the street… to my son, alone with no adult home. He said the road was closed due to flash flooding. I envisioned the stream at the back of Leigh’s yard swelling and flooding. I pleaded my case to the officer, but he refused my desperate proposal. I could not accept my situation and began to plan my escape through the flooded street. I decided when my turn came at the front of the line of cars I would not turn left or right, but I would rush forward and drive home. The road did not seem so flooded to me and I was certain I could get away before I would be stopped; I had to save my son. I pressed the gas pedal a few times and revved the engine and my heart. I waited my turn as the police directed traffic left and right of me. He waved me to the right, I swallowed hard, white knuckled the steering wheel and followed his directions turning right. Just as I was ready to race forward and speed past the officer, I took a brief glance in my rear view mirror and saw my sleeping daughter in her car seat. I realized then my plan had a flaw. If the situation became dangerous I would not only have to rescue myself from possible harm but my daughter as well. I could take that risk for me but not for her. I followed the traffic cop’s instructions and in a daze drove away from the only road to my son. After only a few blocks I caught sight of my sister’s car and we waved each other down. We spoke in the street and I followed her to a local hotel, the street would not reopen that night not until the next day would we know more. There were many Tucsonians displaced that rainy night and we were lucky to find a room. A phone call to the house from the hotel (before everyone had cell phones) suggested a safer situation that I had perceived. My brother in law had made it home to be with the boys, he left work early to avoid any traffic congestion. The stream behind their home was full but it was the “wash” that had filled and exploded into the streets. I was learning quickly the fierce power of a desert flash flood. I sat up most of the night listening to the sound of the pounding rain. My heart did not reach a clam point until Sunday. We then drove to a meeting place where we could be carried over a broken road in giant green Army trucks, not the road I hoped to cross before but a safer spot that was not rushing with water. I was reunited with my son and he showed no sign of fear in fact I think he had a fun weekend with the boys watching TV and playing video games.
After the roads were drying up I drove around and checked out the damage. I came across a road that looked very similar to the road shown in the picture above, only the gap was much wider. I knew that I would have risked it all that night and would have met the danger I now saw in the road. I was glad I had someone to support me that night a little sleeping daughter who probably saved me from more misery and true danger. Her presence has often inspired me, encouraged me and helped me do the right thing and on this occasion she made the difference I needed to be safe and there for my children.
Although this is nothing like what Japan and the people there are experiencing I can hope they will have someone as I did that will do for them what was done for me. Thank you Savvy Girl and Happy Birthday too. Love you forever and to the moon.
Etsuko Koyama escaped the water rushing through the third floor of her home but lost her grip on her daughter's hand and has not found her."I haven't given up hope yet," Koyama told public broadcaster NHK, wiping tears from her eyes. "I saved myself, but I couldn't save my daughter."
It is stories like this that seem to stop my heart; I ache for the people of Japan. As I think of what it must feel like to survive such devastation I remember something I experienced in Arizona some years ago. In the fall of 1992 I realized it was time to separate from my (then) husband. I moved from our home in California to Tucson Arizona. There I lived with my sister Leigh and her family until I could determine my next move in the marriage. It was a difficult adjustment and time in my life. A gloomy shadow over the situation was the change this had for my two young children Michael (7) and Savanna (3). I just never wanted for them the mess that was created by their parents; they were so innocent and only gave happiness. Such delight I never knew until they came into my life. My devotion to their well being was strengthened by the fact that I was their lone parent in Az. and I deepened my commitment for them. A month after our arrival in Tucson a severe storm was advised for our area with possible flash flooding Saturday and Sunday. When I returned from work that Friday my sister Leigh suggested we go get groceries for the imminent rainy weekend. I agreed to the idea but we went separately for reasons I don’t remember now. I kissed my son goodbye and left him with his good buddy and Cousin Scott (7) and Cousin Steven (13) who was to babysit the two until our return. I put Savanna in her car seat and drove off in a light rain. I shopped, filled the car, (with groceries) car seat (with Savvy) and headed back just before the sun set. The rain was heavier now and splattered off the windshield as I drove home. Traffic slowed and I came to a stop in the road; must be an accident ahead due to the rain, I thought. Cars in front of me were turning back as I slowly approached the four way intersection. In the long wait the sky grew black and the rain thick. Searching the dark I couldn’t see any accident, just a few police and patrol cars parked alongside the road. A policeman was directing traffic waving us back or sideways but not through to the street or direction I needed to go, the only street to Leigh’s house, to my Michael. I rolled down my window in order to suggest that the police let me through to the street… to my son, alone with no adult home. He said the road was closed due to flash flooding. I envisioned the stream at the back of Leigh’s yard swelling and flooding. I pleaded my case to the officer, but he refused my desperate proposal. I could not accept my situation and began to plan my escape through the flooded street. I decided when my turn came at the front of the line of cars I would not turn left or right, but I would rush forward and drive home. The road did not seem so flooded to me and I was certain I could get away before I would be stopped; I had to save my son. I pressed the gas pedal a few times and revved the engine and my heart. I waited my turn as the police directed traffic left and right of me. He waved me to the right, I swallowed hard, white knuckled the steering wheel and followed his directions turning right. Just as I was ready to race forward and speed past the officer, I took a brief glance in my rear view mirror and saw my sleeping daughter in her car seat. I realized then my plan had a flaw. If the situation became dangerous I would not only have to rescue myself from possible harm but my daughter as well. I could take that risk for me but not for her. I followed the traffic cop’s instructions and in a daze drove away from the only road to my son. After only a few blocks I caught sight of my sister’s car and we waved each other down. We spoke in the street and I followed her to a local hotel, the street would not reopen that night not until the next day would we know more. There were many Tucsonians displaced that rainy night and we were lucky to find a room. A phone call to the house from the hotel (before everyone had cell phones) suggested a safer situation that I had perceived. My brother in law had made it home to be with the boys, he left work early to avoid any traffic congestion. The stream behind their home was full but it was the “wash” that had filled and exploded into the streets. I was learning quickly the fierce power of a desert flash flood. I sat up most of the night listening to the sound of the pounding rain. My heart did not reach a clam point until Sunday. We then drove to a meeting place where we could be carried over a broken road in giant green Army trucks, not the road I hoped to cross before but a safer spot that was not rushing with water. I was reunited with my son and he showed no sign of fear in fact I think he had a fun weekend with the boys watching TV and playing video games.
After the roads were drying up I drove around and checked out the damage. I came across a road that looked very similar to the road shown in the picture above, only the gap was much wider. I knew that I would have risked it all that night and would have met the danger I now saw in the road. I was glad I had someone to support me that night a little sleeping daughter who probably saved me from more misery and true danger. Her presence has often inspired me, encouraged me and helped me do the right thing and on this occasion she made the difference I needed to be safe and there for my children.
Although this is nothing like what Japan and the people there are experiencing I can hope they will have someone as I did that will do for them what was done for me. Thank you Savvy Girl and Happy Birthday too. Love you forever and to the moon.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Blog Monday, not to be confused with Blah Monday!
Today was my first day back from the visit to Utah, so I am feeling a bit blah. It takes some time for me to get back into the rhythm of my life. I took my little dog Tiny (all 3 ½ pounds of her) with me on the trip. Tiny keeps walking over to her water and food dishes, back and forth as though she is checking out that all is there and back to normal. Travel can be hard for a spoiled little dog.
While I was in Utah I also went to a premiere of BYU‘s most recent animated film project. My son Michael was the Supervising Technical Director of the film called “DreamGiver.” The 1,400 seat theatre was filled to the brim, along with my family, husband Craig, Savanna, Jon, Brandon, Aunt Jackie, Brit, myself and others who love Michael… what an amazing day for Michael & Brit (her support is fantastic). Bill Perkins an Art Director from Disney (Aladdin, etc.) introduced the film saying, it “looks like a professional category film… it’s stunning.” The film already won a “Student Emmy” (shh it is a secret) and hopes to take other awards in the future… Michael’s talent is showcased so perfectly in the film, so so proud of him --- enough of my excitement you can read an article about it at
https://cs.byu.edu/article/2011-03-07-dreamgiver_using_computer_science_create_art
While I was in Utah I also went to a premiere of BYU‘s most recent animated film project. My son Michael was the Supervising Technical Director of the film called “DreamGiver.” The 1,400 seat theatre was filled to the brim, along with my family, husband Craig, Savanna, Jon, Brandon, Aunt Jackie, Brit, myself and others who love Michael… what an amazing day for Michael & Brit (her support is fantastic). Bill Perkins an Art Director from Disney (Aladdin, etc.) introduced the film saying, it “looks like a professional category film… it’s stunning.” The film already won a “Student Emmy” (shh it is a secret) and hopes to take other awards in the future… Michael’s talent is showcased so perfectly in the film, so so proud of him --- enough of my excitement you can read an article about it at
https://cs.byu.edu/article/2011-03-07-dreamgiver_using_computer_science_create_art
Monday, February 28, 2011
Chemo #5
Chemo # 5 sounds a lot like a perfume, but it certainly is not if anything it stinks. In October we found out my sister Jackie had Stage 3C Ovarian Cancer. Jackie has always been diligent on her annual checkups but as we learned this ovarian cancer grows fast. Jackie has been more like a twin to me than a little sister; she and I have been very close. Although I was only three when she was born I remember holding her and promising to help care for my baby sister forever. Jackie lives in Utah and I live in California. This week I am here to help out and maybe give her hero husband a break. Jackie after her surgery has six rounds of chemo. I am here for her fifth round - so “Chemo # 5” it is…
I am trying to figure out how to enlarge the photos, still learning but Jackie’s cute hat is a pink piggy that her friend Amy made for her. The other chemo patients who filled the room enjoyed the sight of the two of us each with laptops working away,her chemo takes over 3 hours.
Jackie's positve attitude is an inspiration to all, she has been amazing. Although I have been the big sister and the gold standard (in Jackie’s eyes) to live up too, the winds have changes and Jackie takes the lead as older more mature sister. I admire the patience and strength she has perfected during this time. Most of the time we keep to the sunnyside of converstion when it comes to the "C" subject but this time I will say it(raised voice calling) Cancer is no fun!
So next time you are shopping if you chance to see a perfume named “Chemo#5 “ don’t buy it, remember it sticks!!
I am trying to figure out how to enlarge the photos, still learning but Jackie’s cute hat is a pink piggy that her friend Amy made for her. The other chemo patients who filled the room enjoyed the sight of the two of us each with laptops working away,her chemo takes over 3 hours.
Jackie's positve attitude is an inspiration to all, she has been amazing. Although I have been the big sister and the gold standard (in Jackie’s eyes) to live up too, the winds have changes and Jackie takes the lead as older more mature sister. I admire the patience and strength she has perfected during this time. Most of the time we keep to the sunnyside of converstion when it comes to the "C" subject but this time I will say it(raised voice calling) Cancer is no fun!
So next time you are shopping if you chance to see a perfume named “Chemo#5 “ don’t buy it, remember it sticks!!
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