Found a photo, but on someone else's computer without my photo manager and stuff, I'm lost. So here's the skinny for tonight. Had a great day. It's late and I'm finally wearing down. Thought maybe by now my friend Sharon might call back. We haven't seen each other in fifty years. She called this evening, while we are talking she's freaking out. "Oh, Kat, you won't believe this. I'm breaking out. Blotches everywhere. It's all over my legs." She checked her tummy. "Even my stomach." Sounded like allergic reaction to me. Assured her I'd find people to start praying. Hope it's nothing serious, but as we talked we were both thinking "Urgent Care" here I come.
For those who sent email, I can see you wrote, but for some reason on this computer, I can't view the messages. Grrr. Oh well, by the weekend and another computer I'll figure it out. (Did I say Roger where are you?)
Jill I see you are trying to put the crit group together on another night, great. My only problem is getting there. Possibly Teresa or Glennette will join, I'll check that out as we go along. Oh, well then there is this thing called "Cancer" that might interuppt my plans, too. I do hope you keep moving forward on your ideas anyway, you have my full support grlfrnd.
Then back to that thing that's interuppting my life. Did I tell you a six-year old gave up his window seat for me? He shrugged his shoulders like no big deal. Bobbed his cute little curly locks and grinned at me. "It's alright, I don't mind," he said. Then later when the flight attendant said, "Mrs. Crawford, you need a wheel chair, right?" That little guy looked at me, his eyes wide and said, "You handicapped?" Cute. You should have seen his mothers shocked reaction. Priceless. Kids are sooooo real.
But back to this thing. I've found myself saying, "Please be careful of my left arm, I've had surgery." That makes people think frozen shoulder, broken arm, or possibly pulled muscles. I realized tonight I avoid the C word. Gotta get wild and wooly with this THING that no longer lives in my body, but has created a hole in my future. Cancer demands respect, you can't avoid it, step around it or pretend it's not real.
Oh and one other reminder, it doesn't matter if cancer has history in your family. I only have one Aunt that had breast cancer. You see, cancer doesn't respect the gene pool. Remember ladies, be good to yourself. Have a mammogram once a year and self exam often. You only have one life, use it to the fullest.
PS: Have you found my other blog A Caregivers Corner? I did post there today for the first time in months. Life is just too full to get everything done I want to do before I'm done here.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
I’m flying to Oregon tomorrow. Husband is choosing to stay home as #1 caregiver for Paddy dog, our special child still at home. This month Paddy celebrated his tenth birthday. In December 1999 Tilly, our second border collie died. I said no more dogs. Then I said no dogs until spring. Husband still took me to the kennels and even to the humane society. Those people really freaked me out.
We filled out all the adoption papers, answered a gazillion questions and then those people—I call them “those people” rather than other names—turned husband down. Said he wasn’t a good candidate to adopt because his dog had just died after ten years.
When we left there I thought husband might forget the dog getting, but he didn’t. The next day I called our daughter in Oregon after work. We were chatting away when a horrible ruckus took place on the front porch.
“Mom, what’s that noise?”
“Must be the neighbor kids selling something.” I let husband answer the door. In bounded three adorable border collie pups. One merle colored, one black and then this yellow fur ball with black patches, yes, that was Paddy Awfulous O’Reilly’s entrance into our home. He came straight from a pig farm. He’d rolled in so much farm stuff he smelled a fright and looked a deep tan/yellow cream colored. The owner gave us a Christmas discount when I continued to say “no dog.”
Husband gave Paddy three baths before he cleaned up real pretty.
Paddy’s smart as a whip. He shakes hands with both paws, plays dead, sits up, tells us where the cookies are and can spell forwards and backwards. He opens the door to let himself out and he also says his prayers. He’s also my protector.
Paddy is also smart enough to know when you enter a hospital you keep your yap shut. In December 2002 when husband was fading fast, our family doctor said to call our children from Oregon, “I’m not sure Gary will make it through the weekend.” That’s when I decided a paddy visit might stir husband from the pits. I asked my friend Jean to help me and prince that Paddy is, he walked through the hospital like a Champ winning Best of Show.
There are many reports about animal therapy, but I’m here to tell you, puppy visits aren’t always as beautiful as portrayed in the movies. Husband freaked when he saw Paddy. He grabbed his stomach and kept saying, “No! Paddy, No!” Afraid he’d have a ball of fur in his lap.
The good news is, we brought husband home from that hospital and he and Paddy still live in my house. I’m sorry husband isn’t traveling with me, but I love our Paddy dog and understand that he and his master need each other. The other really good news is, my visit to the hospital this month was only an overnighter. My cancer isn’t rare like husband’s pseudomyxoma peritonei. Hopefully, I won’t need a Paddy visit, I’ll manage all treatment from home. For that I’m so very grateful.
We filled out all the adoption papers, answered a gazillion questions and then those people—I call them “those people” rather than other names—turned husband down. Said he wasn’t a good candidate to adopt because his dog had just died after ten years.
When we left there I thought husband might forget the dog getting, but he didn’t. The next day I called our daughter in Oregon after work. We were chatting away when a horrible ruckus took place on the front porch.
“Mom, what’s that noise?”
“Must be the neighbor kids selling something.” I let husband answer the door. In bounded three adorable border collie pups. One merle colored, one black and then this yellow fur ball with black patches, yes, that was Paddy Awfulous O’Reilly’s entrance into our home. He came straight from a pig farm. He’d rolled in so much farm stuff he smelled a fright and looked a deep tan/yellow cream colored. The owner gave us a Christmas discount when I continued to say “no dog.”
Husband gave Paddy three baths before he cleaned up real pretty.
Paddy’s smart as a whip. He shakes hands with both paws, plays dead, sits up, tells us where the cookies are and can spell forwards and backwards. He opens the door to let himself out and he also says his prayers. He’s also my protector.
Paddy is also smart enough to know when you enter a hospital you keep your yap shut. In December 2002 when husband was fading fast, our family doctor said to call our children from Oregon, “I’m not sure Gary will make it through the weekend.” That’s when I decided a paddy visit might stir husband from the pits. I asked my friend Jean to help me and prince that Paddy is, he walked through the hospital like a Champ winning Best of Show.
There are many reports about animal therapy, but I’m here to tell you, puppy visits aren’t always as beautiful as portrayed in the movies. Husband freaked when he saw Paddy. He grabbed his stomach and kept saying, “No! Paddy, No!” Afraid he’d have a ball of fur in his lap.
The good news is, we brought husband home from that hospital and he and Paddy still live in my house. I’m sorry husband isn’t traveling with me, but I love our Paddy dog and understand that he and his master need each other. The other really good news is, my visit to the hospital this month was only an overnighter. My cancer isn’t rare like husband’s pseudomyxoma peritonei. Hopefully, I won’t need a Paddy visit, I’ll manage all treatment from home. For that I’m so very grateful.
Friday, August 14, 2009
It's All About Perspective
There’s an email floating around, been out there for years, about the college student that writes home to her parents. Her dorm burned, she jumped out the window, a boy rescued her and took her home. She ends up pregnant but promises to get married before the baby is born. Then she mentions the young man is good to her although of different race and religion, “But after all Mom and Dad, you raised me to love all people.” She mentions she’s headed to the doctor with an infection she caught from the young man, but not too worry too much. That’s when she says, “Well none of the above is true, but I did flunk history and algebra, I just wanted you to see the problem in perspective.
I’ve read that email more than once over the years. Today I’m being faced with perspective. I’m headed for surgery. Not some rare disease like husband’s battle with Pseudomyxoma Peritonei (PMP). The surgery he went through is lovingly called “The Mother of all Surgeries.” No, my battle comes with cute pink ribbons, hats, and purses. Tons of books have been written and almost every woman is related to or has experienced this cancer.
As common as breast cancer is, it remains the #2 killer of women. (Lung cancer is #1). Still I needed perspective today. I don’t post a lot on the PMP support group, but I still keep in touch and read. One dear Dr. Loggie patient has been battling PMP since 1999. Recently she ended up in the hospital with infection in her pelvic region. Yesterday she emailed me to say the antibiotics got the infection under control, but where the tumor is located has broke out…she is flying from the east coast to see Dr. L again. She mentioned her dread of traveling in this condition.
After reading the email I thought about the many others with rare cancer, the struggles with fear of the unknown—I know my journey is doable. Thank you each one for your support, I need your wisdom, I’m trying to keep my listening ears available and a good perspective on my situation.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Know It Well
Just kissed the Wanna Be Armstong now Wanna Be Caregiver goodbye. He's off to an early morning ride.It’s Thursday, the day I planned to sleep in, everyone said rest. Why not? Only I have this long “to do” list. The phone rang at 5 a.m. Sherri my daily driver said, “I’m sorry. You aren’t going to work today. Go back to sleep.” Talk about giggles and grins.
In the olden days I’d have been upset, today I realized with my list ahead Sherri did me a favor. I brushed my teeth, made coffee, pulled out a devotional book by quadriplegic Joni E. Tada. She’s a woman that always gives me perspective. How can I complain? She can do nothing for herself, someone serves as her caregiver 24/7 and without them she’d die.
Dear husband is moving into that caregiver role and wants to serve, but I balk at the idea. Well, sometimes. Last night I wanted him to spoil me and fix food. He truly doesn’t like thinking meals and nicely asked me to fix dinner. Okay, so what can a “Looking well” woman do? I fixed a nice balanced meal and he thanked me. Then I made a phone call to Mary Ann, a dear friend husband and I cooked and cleaned for from 1999 until 2002 when husband’s cancer interrupted our lives.
I sat on the front porch talking with Mary Ann and truth be known, I hoped my Wannabe caregiver might step up to the plate and he did. Before I finished talking with Mary Ann, he cleaned the kitchen. With Mary Ann still on the phone I returned to the kitchen and praised the man. I put the phone on speaker and Mary Ann said, “Hey, Mr. Caregiver I know a good book you might need for your new role.”
“Don’t have to read it, I’ve lived it, and know it by heart, I’ve heard it so much.”
What can I say? Capsules of Hope is at work even in my home.
In the olden days I’d have been upset, today I realized with my list ahead Sherri did me a favor. I brushed my teeth, made coffee, pulled out a devotional book by quadriplegic Joni E. Tada. She’s a woman that always gives me perspective. How can I complain? She can do nothing for herself, someone serves as her caregiver 24/7 and without them she’d die.
Dear husband is moving into that caregiver role and wants to serve, but I balk at the idea. Well, sometimes. Last night I wanted him to spoil me and fix food. He truly doesn’t like thinking meals and nicely asked me to fix dinner. Okay, so what can a “Looking well” woman do? I fixed a nice balanced meal and he thanked me. Then I made a phone call to Mary Ann, a dear friend husband and I cooked and cleaned for from 1999 until 2002 when husband’s cancer interrupted our lives.
I sat on the front porch talking with Mary Ann and truth be known, I hoped my Wannabe caregiver might step up to the plate and he did. Before I finished talking with Mary Ann, he cleaned the kitchen. With Mary Ann still on the phone I returned to the kitchen and praised the man. I put the phone on speaker and Mary Ann said, “Hey, Mr. Caregiver I know a good book you might need for your new role.”
“Don’t have to read it, I’ve lived it, and know it by heart, I’ve heard it so much.”
What can I say? Capsules of Hope is at work even in my home.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Screaming Hope Anyway I Can
A torn paper surfaced on my desk today. It said, “Lance Armstrong is riding. He is screaming HOPE anyway he can.” I’d written that while listening to a commentator during the Tour De France. I probably wouldn’t have taken the time to watch this year, but in 2004 Dr. Loggie told husband to ride a bike to help his recovery. That summer husband became the Lance Armstrong wannabe. No, not modeling Lance’s lifestyle, but he’s tenacity. We’ve followed him during his retirement and watched him train for this year’s big race. We wanted him to win. He didn’t, but he still placed third.
It seemed to me the race was rather tame this year, until the day Lance revved it up. The newscasters were screaming he rode so fast and past others they didn’t think possible. Husband’s watched the repeats over and over again.
I don’t plan to ride a bike anytime soon, but I want to “Scream Hope” to others. Anyway I can. That’s not a bad legacy to leave behind.
It seemed to me the race was rather tame this year, until the day Lance revved it up. The newscasters were screaming he rode so fast and past others they didn’t think possible. Husband’s watched the repeats over and over again.
I don’t plan to ride a bike anytime soon, but I want to “Scream Hope” to others. Anyway I can. That’s not a bad legacy to leave behind.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
A Plan Before Us
One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar. Helen Keller
We now have a plan before us. We did have consults with onology doctors, Tuesday, Thursday, and a plastic surgeon on Friday. Their offices are all over the city of Omaha, which I mentioned to husband sounded like a future nightmare of run here and there and lots of co-ordination of time and missed work.
Yesterday gave us an instant solution, I’m now scheduled for surgery August 14th.
After my surgical procedure July 28th, I beat myself up. I’m the woman that wrote the book and I did not ask nearly enough questions. When I arrived at the procedure center I planned for a lumpectomy, that’s not what happened. The surgeon did an excise biopsy—no sentinel biopsy, no core biopsy. All she did was remove the lumps.
Before the surgery, husband attended the consult where the surgeon formed her hands in large circle saying baseball sized lumps. She also said fast growing, needed surgery quickly. That is why I didn’t opt for needle biopsy—let’s get this stuff out, now.
Last Friday the surgeon walked into the room, sat herself on a stool and said, “It’s cancer,” and nodded her head emphatically. She suggested lumpectomy won’t take care of the problem. When I said, “With my history, do I need to consider bilateral?” the doctor agreed. She then said, “Meet with medical oncologist and plastic surgeon and then we’ll schedule the surgery.”
When we left the doctor’s office husband drove me to see Kevin (PMP patient) and Roni at Creighton. Kevin faces a much tougher battle than I do, they are here from The Bronx, and I wanted to give caregiver Roni a hug. What a blessing to spend time with them, pray with them, receive several hugs from Roni and hear Roni pray for our decision making.
Downstairs in Creighton, Holly, Dr. Loggie’s PA took a few minutes to consult with me. I’d remembered Dr. Silva being in the office with Dr. Loggie and his specialty, breast cancer. Holly highly recommended him and gave me his new phone number. (Loggie is husband’s PMP doctor and he wrote the forward to Capsules of Hope.)
Dr. Silva is a teaching doctor and from the moment he stepped into the room, we were his latest students. He explained everything, drew out the exact size of the lumps from the path report, showed me the pathology report; explained the type of cancer and why he suspects it is hormone related. I had taken twenty questions to the office, when the doctor prepared to leave, husband said, “My wife had a list of questions, will you look this over.” Dr. Silva took time to check each one, and answered those we hadn’t talked about.
There is more, but in only a few minutes we made a decision to follow Dr. Silva’s plan of action. On August 14th I will have a lumpectomy and any other necessary testing to determine further cancer involvement. I will post more about the treatment plan after that surgery.
When I talked about the possibility of flying to Oregon on August 20th for my 50th HS reunion, the doctor said, “Good idea. Yes, by all means go.”
All weekend I’d wondered about the results of chemo, how much time off work, how will husband manage if I’m down for weeks, maybe months. (I’ve watched others through the process.) Yesterday, we walked from Dr. Silva’s office with a whole different scene in front of us.
Roni sent me a scripture last night, 58:6-11. I’m not sure she realized, but in August 2002 I’d sent the 58:11 verse in Gary’s lunch: “The Lord will guide you always….” He has and is, please continue to pray for me and Dr. Silva and team. This is still cancer, I still face more surgery, but with God all things are possible.
I do have the impulse to soar—now to buy the ticket, please pray for the upcoming surgery, my medical team, and my flight companions.
We now have a plan before us. We did have consults with onology doctors, Tuesday, Thursday, and a plastic surgeon on Friday. Their offices are all over the city of Omaha, which I mentioned to husband sounded like a future nightmare of run here and there and lots of co-ordination of time and missed work.
Yesterday gave us an instant solution, I’m now scheduled for surgery August 14th.
After my surgical procedure July 28th, I beat myself up. I’m the woman that wrote the book and I did not ask nearly enough questions. When I arrived at the procedure center I planned for a lumpectomy, that’s not what happened. The surgeon did an excise biopsy—no sentinel biopsy, no core biopsy. All she did was remove the lumps.
Before the surgery, husband attended the consult where the surgeon formed her hands in large circle saying baseball sized lumps. She also said fast growing, needed surgery quickly. That is why I didn’t opt for needle biopsy—let’s get this stuff out, now.
Last Friday the surgeon walked into the room, sat herself on a stool and said, “It’s cancer,” and nodded her head emphatically. She suggested lumpectomy won’t take care of the problem. When I said, “With my history, do I need to consider bilateral?” the doctor agreed. She then said, “Meet with medical oncologist and plastic surgeon and then we’ll schedule the surgery.”
When we left the doctor’s office husband drove me to see Kevin (PMP patient) and Roni at Creighton. Kevin faces a much tougher battle than I do, they are here from The Bronx, and I wanted to give caregiver Roni a hug. What a blessing to spend time with them, pray with them, receive several hugs from Roni and hear Roni pray for our decision making.
Downstairs in Creighton, Holly, Dr. Loggie’s PA took a few minutes to consult with me. I’d remembered Dr. Silva being in the office with Dr. Loggie and his specialty, breast cancer. Holly highly recommended him and gave me his new phone number. (Loggie is husband’s PMP doctor and he wrote the forward to Capsules of Hope.)
Dr. Silva is a teaching doctor and from the moment he stepped into the room, we were his latest students. He explained everything, drew out the exact size of the lumps from the path report, showed me the pathology report; explained the type of cancer and why he suspects it is hormone related. I had taken twenty questions to the office, when the doctor prepared to leave, husband said, “My wife had a list of questions, will you look this over.” Dr. Silva took time to check each one, and answered those we hadn’t talked about.
There is more, but in only a few minutes we made a decision to follow Dr. Silva’s plan of action. On August 14th I will have a lumpectomy and any other necessary testing to determine further cancer involvement. I will post more about the treatment plan after that surgery.
When I talked about the possibility of flying to Oregon on August 20th for my 50th HS reunion, the doctor said, “Good idea. Yes, by all means go.”
All weekend I’d wondered about the results of chemo, how much time off work, how will husband manage if I’m down for weeks, maybe months. (I’ve watched others through the process.) Yesterday, we walked from Dr. Silva’s office with a whole different scene in front of us.
Roni sent me a scripture last night, 58:6-11. I’m not sure she realized, but in August 2002 I’d sent the 58:11 verse in Gary’s lunch: “The Lord will guide you always….” He has and is, please continue to pray for me and Dr. Silva and team. This is still cancer, I still face more surgery, but with God all things are possible.
I do have the impulse to soar—now to buy the ticket, please pray for the upcoming surgery, my medical team, and my flight companions.
Monday, August 3, 2009
My friend from Wordsowers writers group, Lee Warren compiled the information for a perpetual calendar, Inspiring Moments from the Great Outdoors. I bought one when they first came out and placed it near our printer at work. Many of my co-workers have commented on the bits of trivia. Today I read one that said,
“In 1934 the fastest wind speed ever recorded in the United States was recorded on top of Mt. Washington in New Hampshire. The wind reached 231 MPH.”
The idea of wind traveling that fast reminded me of where I stand right now. I feel like I’m on top of that mountain with stuff flying at me from all directions, the “stuff” is flying by me so fast I can’t get a grip on anything.
Oh well, whoever recorded that fastest wind speed ever, only experienced it once. That must mean this too will pass and later this week I’ll handle whatever comes my way. Until then, I’ll rely on the Lord, husband, family and friends to help me remember what’s absolutely necessary. The rest, well it really doesn’t matter in the game of life anyway, right?
“In 1934 the fastest wind speed ever recorded in the United States was recorded on top of Mt. Washington in New Hampshire. The wind reached 231 MPH.”
The idea of wind traveling that fast reminded me of where I stand right now. I feel like I’m on top of that mountain with stuff flying at me from all directions, the “stuff” is flying by me so fast I can’t get a grip on anything.
Oh well, whoever recorded that fastest wind speed ever, only experienced it once. That must mean this too will pass and later this week I’ll handle whatever comes my way. Until then, I’ll rely on the Lord, husband, family and friends to help me remember what’s absolutely necessary. The rest, well it really doesn’t matter in the game of life anyway, right?
Need Hope in a Capsule
The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible. -- Arthur C. Clarke
That quote came to my inbox, today. Isn't it funny how a quote, a sermon and a friend can change the outlook of the day. I’m dealing with some stupid pain that irritates me. Quit the pain meds, they just mess up other parts of my daily routine, so I just deal with the pain.
Now my mother never ever takes pain meds, neither does husband, but me, I’ll avoid the hurt if possible. However, I don’t like my life to feel out of control, like dizzy/sleepy all the time, or these other necessary bodily functions to be clogged up either—so I’m doing the Mom-Gary thing, no meds.
By the time we arrived at the St. Mark’s United Methodist Church to hear the Blackwoods, I’d slipped into a really good, feel-sorry-for-me-worried-about-the-finances persona. Then a friend gave me a hug (yeah, I guard my front). “No news yet?”
“Yes. It’s cancer.”
“You can beat this. I know several….” She listed off the many friends and relatives and for two seconds I felt miffed. Gary steered me into the sanctuary to hear the Blackwoods. Gospel music helps turn my thinking around. Then the surprise sermon, we’d driven an hour to hear the Blackwoods again, not realizing they were the opening for a sermon.
God and husband knew what I needed: Jesus feeding the 5,000, the impossible made possible not because of the disciples, the people or the boy’s lunch, but because Jesus turns the impossible into the possible.
When we left I hugged my friend and thanked her for being part of my re-focusing. Between her counsel, the message and the music, I’m back on track. Wonder how many times I’ll need to be re-routed in the next few weeks? Gotta remember, the Lord is all around me and hope, even a little bit of hope, even capsule sized hope can make a difference. I will not lose sight of hope.
That quote came to my inbox, today. Isn't it funny how a quote, a sermon and a friend can change the outlook of the day. I’m dealing with some stupid pain that irritates me. Quit the pain meds, they just mess up other parts of my daily routine, so I just deal with the pain.
Now my mother never ever takes pain meds, neither does husband, but me, I’ll avoid the hurt if possible. However, I don’t like my life to feel out of control, like dizzy/sleepy all the time, or these other necessary bodily functions to be clogged up either—so I’m doing the Mom-Gary thing, no meds.
By the time we arrived at the St. Mark’s United Methodist Church to hear the Blackwoods, I’d slipped into a really good, feel-sorry-for-me-worried-about-the-finances persona. Then a friend gave me a hug (yeah, I guard my front). “No news yet?”
“Yes. It’s cancer.”
“You can beat this. I know several….” She listed off the many friends and relatives and for two seconds I felt miffed. Gary steered me into the sanctuary to hear the Blackwoods. Gospel music helps turn my thinking around. Then the surprise sermon, we’d driven an hour to hear the Blackwoods again, not realizing they were the opening for a sermon.
God and husband knew what I needed: Jesus feeding the 5,000, the impossible made possible not because of the disciples, the people or the boy’s lunch, but because Jesus turns the impossible into the possible.
When we left I hugged my friend and thanked her for being part of my re-focusing. Between her counsel, the message and the music, I’m back on track. Wonder how many times I’ll need to be re-routed in the next few weeks? Gotta remember, the Lord is all around me and hope, even a little bit of hope, even capsule sized hope can make a difference. I will not lose sight of hope.
Thank You For Your Prayers
For whatever reason this won't post correctly.
I slept well and now headed to work. Hope you figure out the problem and can find info. I'm headed for work and it's now daylight.
Want more info check out http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kat2009
Life is what we make it, enjoy the journey.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Thanks for the prayers, I slept like a baby last night—awake every couple hours. (grin)The good news is I listened to husband’s soft snore, realized he slept well, and then fell back asleep.
This morning I read Psalm 126. I love the phrase in the second verse, “Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.” Decided today I’ll search for things that bring laughter to our household. Then I continued to read to verse nine, “Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.”
Like I said, this isn’t about me. Truly thought the whole trip to a surgeon’s office had to do with other caregivers, their needs, there loneliness—how do I create a great awareness? After reading today’s devotional I know God has a plan to turn this into something I can neither think nor fathom.
Read the Psalm again and thought back to December 2001 when I whined to my friend Lynn, “My life feels like a little box. Do the same things in the same square every day.” Lynn gave me The Prayer of Jabez, where Jabez prayed God would enlarge his territory. Well no way in the world did I choose husband’s cancer to meet more people, but Psuedomyxoma Peritonei (pmp) definitely increased the size of my world.
Wonder what will happen in the next few weeks? Who will I meet? Will Capsules of Hope create a difference in another’s life or will I just write a new saga in the next book?
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