On January 29th, I had the vet come to our house.  I chose the time.  The time I chose I hope was a good one for her.  When do we ever know if we do the right thing? I knew the time was coming.  She had been deaf about a year.  Only recently, she appeared to have a stroke during the night and she was becoming blind.  Maybe I could have even gone on for awhile after this.  Her hips had long gone out.  Her days of running on the beach were long gone.  In fact that last time she had a full walk around the block was last summer.  Here I was recovering from cancer and getting better and better, as she seemed to fade more each day.  It seemed like it all fell in to place.  Only I was not ready to let go.

I waited until she was afraid.

Then my sensibilities seemed to come to me.  I spent time with her.  I took a week off.  I hurried home from work each day to have some daylight hug and play time.  But I could see the end was coming.  Then she started to bark, when she couldn’t see me in the house.  I might just go to the other end of the house, and she worried.  I couldn’t go anywhere.  I worried about her.  What if something happened when I was gone?  She would be alone; well with the other dog but still.  I hired a pet sitter.

I bargained with life, but in the end I chose to let her go.  I couldn’t stand her fear.  And there was nothing I could do about it.  I considered my own health, and what this was doing to that.  I haven’t been well very long, and some people would say I am not 100 percent yet, but I am careful.  So I picked a day.  Then I waited until after the holidays.  Then I said, my birthday, but she didn’t make it that long.  Two days before my birthday, it was done.  On my birthday, they cremated her and this weekend I picked up her ashes and brought her home and put her on the fireplace, along side honeybear.  Next weekend, I will scatter them both together at the ocean where they use to play and run, love and run.

Rest in peace my two friends.  Rest in Peace.

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I really love trees.  They convey emotions to me so clearly, maybe even so more than water.    Here are some gorgeous ones that I love:  When I know what type they are I will put it in. I guess I should learn their names but I just like to look at them! Can you see a story they could tell?

Now I love the purples.  Can you imagine lying on your back on a warm 80+ degree day and staring up into these colors? How relaxing and stress relieving would that be?  Priceless.

And what about this one…mystery..intrigue..

and this one is called River Teeth.  The actual roots of the tree strengthen and guide the path of the river.  We need River Teeth when we have cancer because they hold us firm and don’t let us get swept away by the dark beneath the water.

and of course this tree…because it is the tree of Hope…the light shines through and tells us tomorrow is coming….soon

I love trees. They are a symbol of strength, of being deep rooted, of being able to stand up to the winds of time and winters of harsh cold.  They live on until removed or weakened with time and disease.  But oh how beautiful they are until then.

Have a super weekend!  Do something new….find a tree and communicate with it!

Bonnie

The post Trees….Gorgeous Trees and Feelings appeared first on The Tree of Cancer.

1.  I remember the doctor calling and her voice saying I am sorry, it is cancer.  I was in a field walking my dogs.  Isn’t technology handy, it can bring news anywhere.

2.  I remember wondering who could I call now.  My Mom has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t know me.

3.  I remember being so scared at the first appointment with the oncologist.  Where did my regular doctor go?  Who is this guy?

4.  I remember the weeks of recovering from the biopsy.  I remember the tears.  Twenty two hours of non stop bleeding.  Just apply pressure they said.  You don’t  need pain pills.  #$)*$ them.

5.  I remember the awareness of no more feeling in that breast, after the first lumpectomy.  It was a minor relief from the pain but a horror of the reality. No feeling?  Its been four months. What are unclear margins?

6.  I remember how kind the medical people were.  I constantly needed things repeated to me. No they didn’t get it all.

7.  I remember wondering if I would ever swim again.  My left arm didn’t work right.  Was this part of it?

8.  I remember wondering who would love me looking like this, and that was after surgery number one.  I should have waited until after surgery 3 to worry about that.

9.  I remember telling the surgeon he had given me the Wal-Mart version not the Nordstrom version.  It really didn’t matter because later he had to remove it all.  Rest In Peace Lefty.

10.  I remember teeth coming loose from  the removal of throat tubes when they pulled them out.  I am suppose to be ‘positive’ and not frightened with this.

11.  I remember taking the pills to keep the terror of fear at bay.  Now I don’t dare to  not take them.  Pills became my closest friend.

12.  I remember the feeling of estrogen in my body racing, feeding the cancer and the hope that the hormone blocker would work.  The verdict is still out.

13.  I remember surfing the web and reading what my future would be.  It was scary and good.  My sense of security, stability and confidence were imploded like the destruction of a building.

14.  Most of all I remember the stupid things people said to me.  I could write a whole book on this topic.  I release them and let it go. Others, like family, just stayed away.  It all hurt.

15.  I remember when I forgave myself.

I am not writing any more about this today because I can’t quit crying.

The post 50 I Remembers – Fifty feelings about Breast Cancer Diagnosis appeared first on The Tree of Cancer.

My cancer journey is new, just starting this last summer. I am continually reminded how lucky I am. Its only Stage II, hormone positive, invasive without lymph node involvement. It will only be a lumpectomy and you will be on your way to radiation, and home free. I can do this I thought. No problem.

Well just like the cancer came unannounced in the night like a thief, it didn’t work out to be one lumpectomy either. The sneaky little cells just wouldn’t give up the good fight. Okay, ‘it will just be one more lumpectomy’ and then you’ll be done. Nope. Bad margins again. You will come to learn these terms. Its amazing how cancer or disease can increase your vocabulary almost overnight.

After the third try, it was determined I had to have a total mastectomy. Now there is an interesting word, because I was told I had already had the mastectomy earlier…turns out it was only partial. Read up on mastectomies for late night horror reading. Sigh….how many ways to remove a breast!

The strange thing for my case, and I don’t mean to be sarcastic or flip here, because it is a serious topic, but my cancer was here and gone before I even adjusted to the fact I had cancer. They tell me now, it is gone. But, it isn’t over, until it’s over. I have to take hormone therapy treatment for five years. More on that later. So, supposedly, and I guess I believe it, yes I believe it, my cancer was removed. I still have what caused it though, high levels of estrogen. I still have one more breast. It’s supposed to be okay. But there comes this little word…doubt. It hides and lurks in the shadows at night. That’s what cancer does best…cause fear.

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