Back again and catching up

Hello, dear ones!

Here I am again, back to Cranberry Tree after an absence of a year and a half. However does one catch up after that long?

Well, first I’m glad to be back to this format. I had been posting on the Substack platform for awhile, but find my trusty old blog right here feels more like home. My Substack posts are still there if you’re interested in taking a look. Or perhaps you followed me there and now you're here. 

At any rate, I just reread my last post here, written right after my beloved husband passed, and of course now there are tears running down my cheeks as I relive those last days. I’ve been learning a lot about grief since then and what I’ve learned is that it can’t be learned (insert chuckle). It has to be felt, over and over and over. The tears have to flow again and again and again. And you need to realize one sure thing: no one can feel the pain you feel. No. one.

But I have done a few things that have helped me along the way. I joined a grief support group at my church where there are others who let you know you’re not alone; I talk to my family and my dear friends and find them always ready to listen; and lastly, I have become involved in volunteering at my church. I assist in the office, help with special projects and produce their monthly newsletter. This has changed my life in such a positive way as I move into a new and different direction without my life’s mate. I have a new purpose, can dust off old skills and feel useful and appreciated. I am grateful for that.

I know people, perhaps you, too, struggle with what to say to a person grieving. I guess my advice is not to be at all reluctant to talk about the deceased, say their name, tell stories and share remembrances. Don’t hesitate for a moment to do this—it’s not awkward as you might think, but affirms that your loved one is remembered, that their life mattered. If you are part of a couple, please don’t forget to include us widows and widowers in your plans. We are feeling alone and missing those times together with you as couples.

And this…was not at all what I had intended to write today but it seems to have taken on a life of its own.

I’ll close with a portion of the lyrics to a song I listen to very often at night. It is both comforting and affirming to me. 

In the Morning

Song by JJ Heller

I see the tears sitting on your cheeks
I know you're tired, fall now to sleep
Stop fighting so hard, it's time to surrender
Raise your white flag and always remember

Your heart will feel lighter
Everything will be brighter
Find peace in knowing
That all will be well in the morning
In the morning
All will be well
All will be well in the morning

It's been a long day, and you did your best
Let go of the past, it's time now to rest
The weight of the world is getting too heavy
Give it to Jesus, His arms are steady. 

And your heart will feel lighter
Everything will be brighter
Find peace in knowing
That all will be well in the morning,
All will be well in the morning.

As always, thank you for visiting today and letting me share my random thoughts.

Bittersweet treasures

My beloved husband George lost his bladder cancer battle in the early morning hours of August 19. He was right here at home, in a hospital bed in our living room, overlooking the lake that he loved. He was ready for his journey. We had called Hospice who guided us through those last days; he received the sacrament and last rites of his Catholic faith; kids and grandkids were here in person or via FaceTime; he hugged every one of them, his dear treasures.

One last cribbage game with his favorite partner, Steve; several hand squeezes for me and then he grew tired and silent. My youngest sister was here with me and one of us held his hand through the night. My hand was firmly in his as he left for his new home with Jesus, our Lord and Savior who we worshipped together.

It was both bittersweet and a treasure. Calm, peaceful, beautiful. At 93, he earned his heavenly reward; he served the world well; he caught all the fish he needed; his WordFind books were full, his work was done. 

Relaxing with his WordFind
book of puzzles in Arizona  

We had a lovely funeral service for him at our church. It was perfect in every way, complete with an honor guard, a gun salute and a flag presentation to honor George, an Air Force veteran. A luncheon was enjoyed afterwards, a time to visit and relive memories.

And now here am I, alone and missing him more than words can say. But I have treasures now, too. Friends and family who never left me, neighbors whose offers of help mean so much, expressions of sympathy, memorial gifts, cards and phone calls, all reminding me I'm not alone. I have beautiful memories to savor. I’m very fortunate and very blessed.

I treasure above all the greatest gift my husband gave me: absolute and endless unconditional love. I will return his love beyond measure in my heart to the end of time. 

Rest well, my sweetheart.

Two down

Two.  #2  twodown

George had his second immunotherapy infusion this week. So far, so good. No big side effects, only perhaps increased fatigue and some lower abdominal pain that didn't last very long. 

Immunotherapy is relatively new as a cancer treatment but is more palliative than curative. It gives your own immune system a boost to help fight the cancer.  

And this is where the port comes in. The infusion can be given through the port, eliminating the need for those tricky IV pokes each time, assuming a viable vein can even be found. In George's case, that becomes a major challenge.

Before each infusion, he has blood draws that determine his overall status and ability to tolerate the infusion. Once the lab has released these results, we see a nurse practitioner who makes that determination. George's hemoglobin is still low but staying steady. His iron is still low as well contributing to his weakness, and so a series of iron infusions were ordered, separate from the immunotherapy appointments.  

So now we simply put the key in the ignition and our Suburu automatically goes to the hospital cancer center. Who needs an electric car?

MHealth Fairview Hospital, Wyoming, Minnesota

The staff at the cancer center are very kind and it's not an altogether unpleasant experience. To prepare for our winter in Arizona, we will need to find an oncologist there, arrange to have the immunotherapies ordered and of course, find a cancer center where we can continue the course. 

Hopefully, we'll be able to continue the "so far, so good" reports. We thank you for all your support and encouragement. 

Thanks for listening to my random thoughts. If you would like to be added as a "Follower," I'd be thrilled.

The port

George’s journey to cancer treatments began today with the implant of a port. This device, put in George’s right upper chest, will allow for the recommended immunotherapy to be administered without the constant needle pokes and IV starts each time.

We began the day with the 58 mile drive to MHealth Fairview Southdale hospital in Edina. After the usual registration paperwork, we were escorted to his suite-for-the-day and greeted by a lovely nursing assistant who recorded his vital signs and covered him with that wonderful blanket fresh out of the the warmer, the one—possibly the only one—benefit of day surgery.

He was able to rest for awhile under that nice warm blanket until the fun began with a nurse coming in to start an IV. 

This is never an easy job for even the most talented and skilled of nurses. George has been told he has “rolling veins” which seem to disappear entirely when a needle is anywhere near. It not only takes several tries but usually several nurses and several hot packs to achieve success.

Today was no exception. 

The third nurse to try finally got it as we all held our collective breaths. The IV in place with the patient now greatly relieved, it was discovered he had an order for some lab work. Normally this is not a big deal as blood is just withdrawn through the IV. But, as luck would have it, that wasn’t a go. A lab tech was called and more hot packs and needle sticks ensued.

When all preliminaries were complete, a nurse practitioner came to explain the procedure in detail. Using a model, she showed us what the port looks like and told us the advantages of having a port implanted. She also reviewed the care for afterwards. George will wear a bracelet after the procedure as an alert that he has a port.

Finally, his assigned nurse scrubbed the area on the upper chest and administered an antibiotic through his IV.

So now we’re ready and it’s time for set-go. Away he went down the hall for the hour-long procedure as I turned in another direction to the cafeteria for some lunch. I said a little prayer and knew he was in the Lord’s care.

When I returned to his room, he was already back, sound asleep and snoring up a storm. They said all went well and he could go home in another hour.

I have to put a plug in for the hospital staff. They were extremely busy, yet every staff member was kind, pleasant, professional, took more than ample time with us and made us feel important. God bless them for their tireless work. 

And now…bring on the treatments to arrest that cancer. 🥊

Thank you for listening to my random thoughts 

If you would like to join as a follower, I’d be beyond thrilled.

The C-word revisits

Back in 2014, I posted that my husband, George, was diagnosed with bladder cancer. It was alarming because he had no symptoms; it was found during a routine physical when something was flagged in his bloodwork. It led to a cystoscopy, several types of scans and tests, and ultimately the removal of his bladder and a urostomy bag for urine output. It was a rough surgery and a lengthy recovery. 

But after some trial and error and a few complications, he made it through and adjusted to the urine bag. He continued to have checkups at regular intervals, first very often, then every three months, then six, then yearly. When he reached the five-year mark, the scans continued to be clear and the doctor pronounced him cancer-free.

Fast forward to 2022.

What we thought was completely gone was a little too good to be true. In February, while we were in Arizona, George became very ill with nausea, constant diarrhea, chills, and loss of appetite resulting in a drastic loss of weight. Emergency room visits, hospitalizations, numerous doctor visits and scans became routine. He was diagnosed and treated for diverticulitis but nothing that was prescribed seemed to help. I couldn't imagine trying to get him back home to Minnesota where our regular medical care was. I really thought we were stuck in Arizona and my husband wasn't getting any better.

When we told our kids we just couldn't risk coming home, my son took charge, flew to Arizona to help close up the park model and get us packed, booked our airline travel, arranged for wheelchairs, and single-handedly managed George so I was quite literally just along for the ride. God bless him. 

Once home in Minnesota, we headed to the local hospital emergency room and George was admitted to the hospital. Another CT scan revealed a rather good-sized and suspicious-looking mass adjacent to the colon. A colonoscopy was ordered but was unsuccessful because the scope couldn't get past a certain point to get near the mass. George continued to get weaker and the decision was made to move him to a nearby transitional care unit. Another colonoscopy was ordered, this time at the University of Minnesota, and again, after an hour of trying, it was unsuccessful in reaching the mass to get a biopsy.

Finally, it was decided to try a needle biopsy by going to the site through the skin. Enough tissue was obtained to analyze and the results were not what we'd hoped, although admittedly we both had a gut feeling. The diagnosis was urothelial cancer. It was thought that when we assumed he was cancer-free, some nasty cells had crept their way up to the area just beside the descending colon. 

And now we have an oncologist to add to our medical team.

The next step was a PET scan and that, too, resulted in more unwelcome news. The cancer was seen in multiple lymph nodes. The oncologist, however, was glad to see it hadn't invaded the liver or other organs and we decided we'd take any shred of positive news we could get.

Why did I give you all this detailed background information? 

So many wonderful people including family, friends, relatives, neighbors and acquaintances have been asking about George's progress. So I thought about starting a CaringBridge site to keep everyone informed and updated. Then I remembered I have a blog!  So I'll use this way to update and let you know when there's a new post.

Next steps?

Next week a port will be implanted and a series of immunotherapy infusions will begin once every three weeks taking us to the end of September.  We're told there will be another CT scan in between to check his progress and, of course, more visits to the oncologist. 

But there are more fish 🐠 to be caught, more outdoor exploring to do, more cribbage games 🎴 to play, and much more doting on grandchildren and great-grandchildren. 

We are more than ready to hit the START button. 

Your prayers and positive thoughts are more than welcome.   🙏🙏

Thank you for reading my random thoughts.  
If you choose to join as a follower, I would be thrilled.

Press on…

I present what has now become my annual posting. Time was, I wrote many times a year, then down to several, then a few, now it seems New Years is all I seem to manage. But I still look forward to visiting with you on the start of a new year. It’s always such a fresh and new and hopeful time for me. 

Last year’s post lamented the fact that we had an unwelcome pandemic in our midst that halted everything and changed our lives in ways we’d never even imagined. Like I’ve often said, it was something straight out of a science fiction movie.

So the new year of 2021 arrived introducing some hope. We now had vaccines. Restaurants, movie theaters, hair salons—well, those that remained—were able to reopen and a bit of normal-ness slowly crept back in to our everyday routines. For us, that meant seeing friends we’d missed, enjoying outdoor concerts in the local park and a few picnics. We even became a little lax in grabbing our masks to leave the house. 

Then we learned about Delta. Then Omicron. Well, shoot, all of a sudden, we’re back to Square 1. Even worse. We put away all our cloth masks we’d accumulated and ordered the N95s, making sure a stash of them was available in the car, lest we forget ourselves when we walk out the door. 

Big *sigh.*

Now that I’ve recapped what you already knew, wherever you are in the world, allow me to share my mantra for 2022.

PRESS ON.

Press on… never losing hope for the days of the future but with our minds set on today. Today is what we have, what we’ve been given. Whatever our circumstances. 

Even limited, we can still make the world a better place. We can still pray. We can bring our neighbor a loaf of banana bread from our oven, offer to pick something up from the store so we both don’t have to risk going, make a telephone call to keep in touch, be encouraging when someone needs a pick-me-up.

Why do I write these flowery words of wise advice?

Because I need them. I need to write them, I need to read them. Over and over, every day. When I heed these words, I find I’m the winner. The one that comes out ahead. And many days, I’m behind.

So, press on. 

I need you, the world needs you. Take good care of yourself. 

All the best of God’s goodness is wished for you for this new year.

Thanks for allowing me to share my random thoughts.  💭

In with the new

Every year on New Year’s Eve, I write in my journal. I highlight events of the year with any travels we’d done, muse about a few resolutions, list the books read during the year and asterisk my favorites, and optimistically declare that the new year will be the best ever.

How does one sum up 2020? 

Yep. That about says it all, right? 

We all know the downsides to this past year. We’ve grumbled and complained, wore our masks, washed our hands, social distanced, stayed home, binge watched Netflix, worked on jigsaw puzzles, tried a few new recipes, and on and on. Our hair grew longer and grayer.  We lamented all the events and  gatherings we missed. We were introduced to Zoom. We ordered groceries online and Amazon thrived. My orders alone could send several kids to college.

I think the upside was.....well, never mind, I actually can’t think of any.

But aside from our indignant grumbles about the limitations Covid-19 placed on us during the past year, we have to admit they were petty if we were home safely, employed or had a steady income, had food and were well. The countless number of our world’s neighbors who lost both jobs and homes, lost loved ones, were hospitalized on ventilators and wondered if they would see another day, leave alone a new year, make others of us realize our inconveniences were small. 

But still, no matter our circumstances, the year wasn’t kind. So we say, goodbye, 2020 and good riddance.

So what will the new year bring? The start of another year is actually just another day, but turning the page on one year to the next always brings the fresh renewal of hope. 

At the risk of dating myself, do you remember the Magic Slate? You could scribble on it and make a mess but then lift the plastic and voila! the page was clean again. I remember taking out my frustration or maybe my anger and scribbling and pounding really hard on it, taking a deep breath, lifting the plastic, and it would all magically disappear. I could get on with the next thing. Ah, the drama of childhood.

I hope 2021 is like a Magic Slate for you. Lift the plastic and start a new slate. One that brings you renewed hope, gives you reason to feel optimistic, dream big, smile more, and care for your neighbor. Please, whatever you do, follow guidelines to stay safe and healthy.

2020–the year of the mask!


Thank you for reading my random thoughts. If you choose to be a follower, I’d be thrilled.