The C word...

I don't often feel compelled to talk about my journey through breast cancer for a couple of reasons.

One, I survived and two, I always felt weird that people view you as a hero, throw parades on your behalf and applaud for you for simply progressing through this journey called life.

I honestly don't feel heroic or different from anyone else, however, because so many people have a fear of cancer, I decided that maybe my little story could help them understand what it is like to live with cancer.

I discovered a lump in my left breast shortly after my oldest daughter's wedding which was on January 1, 2006. Unlike most stories I've heard, I actually discovered it because I could feel a pinpoint-sized, deeply localized, sharp pain in the region.

There had been several lumps detected over the years in my then, dense breast and they had always been a result of too much caffeine consumption, being overweight and from being what one doctor referred to as "a lumpy gal". Because my mother had had breast cancer, I generally always had anything suspicious checked out eventually if they stayed around long enough.

My doctor and I took this latest lump with a grain of salt because it wasn't totally uncommon except for the pain. After going for a mammogram, I was surprised that they asked me if I could wait and have an ultrasound of the breast taken the same day.

That was a new one.

"Oh, well. While I'm here, why not."

That ultrasound saved my life.

My surgeon would later display the recent mammogram result beside one taken two years prior. There was no sign of anything abnormal based upon the mammogram. As it turned out, the ultrasound was requested for two reasons: My physician could feel a lump and because I had large breast.

The ultrasound displayed a tumor near my chest wall.

I returned to the hospital to have a biopsy taken. Not having a clue what a breast biopsy would entail, I drove myself back to the hospital a few days later. As I climbed onto the exam table in the quiet, dimly lit room, I was relaxed and curious. My personal MD and I didn't really expect it to be anything but a benign mass.

My curiosity soon turned to discomfort as the radiologist could not get a successful grab at the thing. It was so close to my chest wall he was fearful of puncturing the cavity. I had to reposition myself several times and endure many pokes accompanied by the "clicking" sound the needle made, repeatedly followed by a "sigh" from the doctor with each miss. The gentle ultrasound tech grabbed my hand and looked at my face with compassion as I grimaced while the clock ticked on. AT last two biopsied tissues were taken that the radiologist was satisfied with. I was given a bandage and instructed that the results would be sent to my doctor in approximately 1 week.

Over an hour later and somewhat sore from the ordeal, I ventured home, prepared dinner as usual and finished some laundry. Everything was business as usual. I was a bit apprehensive to hear the results because the lump was still there and still painful but I just kept busy. I had started a new college course at UNO and was busy with a full-time job and family.

A few days later I was enjoying a staff work-day. The climate was relaxed because there were no students in the building. I called my doctor's office because I knew the results were expected that day. The nurse put me on hold and got the doctor. I knew something was wrong because the nurse never gets the doctor to tell you that a biopsy is benign.

Holding my breath, I waited to hear her voice. After a minute or two, Doctor Fox came on;

"Hi, Tami. I have the results here in front of me...
the tumor does show cancer."

weird pause...

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh. Okay. Well, what do I do now?"

"I am going to put my nurse back on and she will get you scheduled to see a surgeon. If you have any other questions please call. Good Luck"

"Thanks."

I gently hung up the phone and stared at the old, dog-eared Omaha phone book resting on the counter beside the phone. "How does the paint get chipped on the wall of a staff phone booth?" I randomly thought to myself. The walls looked ugly and neglected compared to the walls in the rest of school. No one cares about what the inside of a staff phone booth looks like...

As though scripted, my right hand flew to my mouth, just like in the movies, as a melodramatic gasp for air punctuated the 4 by 4 foot, bland, theater. However, there were no cameras rolling, no crew directing this episode.

It was silent, still and empty.

Another gasp for air. My hand now clutching the sides of my face...Finally, I could exhale.

Into my hand came staccato waves of breathe, my brow furrowed deeply as my eyes welled with water. No tears would fall. Suddenly, my hand dropped away from my face.

Like a flint, I raised my chin, drew a long, deep, determined breathe and I rose to my feet. I pivoted my numb body in the tiny room, faced the door, grasped the handle and turned it.

I stepped into a different hall, into a different world. A world where cancer demanded its selfish center-stage.

I began walking. No where in particular ~ just walking because I was in a hall and I was on a break and I had cancer in my body. I just started walking...


" The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."


The Word of the Lord.

~Tami


To be continued.....

I will not be moved...literally

My elementary school is enormous. The building was designed to nestle into the side of a rolling hill, so common to the landscape of Omaha. With five levels, it is impossible to avoid getting from one location of the building to another without ascending or descending one of the imposing, cold, gray, concrete open stairwells.

I would venture to assume the building's architects had never worked with children. Had they experienced firsthand, the fine art of guiding twenty-plus 5 year old students, lined up singled-filed (or something remotely similar) safely and swiftly up a flight of 20 stairs with open railings on all sides, they would have discarded the blueprints and returned to their proverbial drawing board.

To compound the structural impediment, one also must factor in the curious nature of young children. Even the most docile or timid kindergartner channels their inner acrobat as they approach the infrastructure. Simply ascending one foot before the other is a "learned" behavior for these little people. Their lower man is set upon finding the riskiest maneuver to climb the stairs with more than a few, aimed at breaking the current school record and creating an as of yet unknown-to-mankind, ridiculously dangerous pattern of ascent.

To further complicate this endeavor is to factor in the defiant, obstinate, emotionally wounded child who sprinkles the day with their random displays of immobility and or rage.

Friday, my dear friend chose to exercise her will on the 5th step as we headed upstairs to the lunch room. Prepared for combat, I already had her hand in mine, so when the collapse occurred I was able to save the children directly behind her from taking a fall backwards.

"Up on your feet, Genoa, you're our leader today," was my cheery redirection.

To this she kicked off one of her shoes. As the rest of the class attempted to press in on the developing situation, I was able to call on the carpet over the open railing, the three kiddos on the lower level to my right spinning the "Welcome" sign and remind the pressing throng behind me to

"Be safe and stay in your bubble space,"

followed by leading out in a softly sung, quick musical chorus of,

"Body basics, body basics on the stairs, on the stairs, one hand is on the railing, our eyes are to the front, walking safe, walking safe..."

As I attempted a gentle upward pull of the child's arm, it was apparent this was going to be an all-out melt down if I allowed myself to be emotionally phased.

With a second class arriving at our heels, I calmly directed the rest of my class to

"Carefully walk around Genoa, she has chosen not to be our leader,"

Employing the educator's safety lift, I lifted my plumpest kindergarten friend to my chest in a single clean jerk, and with as much grace and joy as The Holy Spirit provided for the moment, whisked her 60 pounds up the remaining 15 steps, my high-heels clicking and landed her with care in the threshold of the cafeteria, pronouncing happily,

"There you go, stay in ABC order class!"

I whisked past her, hoping she would follow...

She did and I sighed as I continued to lead the children through the ridiculous long list of lunch "choices" that were available for their dining pleasure...

Later as I recalled the event to my husband I felt proud that I was able to respond to this hurting girl without destroying her dignity nor mine as we avoided an emotional catastrophe. As Genoa was set upon being 'unmoved" by the wrong reasons, I was set upon being "unmoved" for more noble reasons. It is all in a days work to remain steadfast and stoic in the face of great adversity....why is it so hard to retain this emotional disposition when the adversity meets us at other junctures?

1 Corinthians 15:58

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast and unmoveable; always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.

The Word of the Lord

~Tami

Love is a pancake....

A lot of attention is given to the fact that teacher's are grossly underpaid and unappreciated. They are certainly underpaid considering the level of education required to become and remain certified, for the amount of time and outside study involved in being successful in their field and for the amount of their own money which is invested into the students they teach.

I disagree with the notion that they are unappreciated though. I suppose it depends on how one defines and measures appreciation...

If gratitude is demonstrated by quarterly or annual bonuses for outstanding achievement - then you may disagree me.

If gratitude is a pat on the back and encouragement from the general public in which you are indentured ~ my premise would be found false.

If gratitude is expressed through gift cards, Bath and Body baskets and notes and cards of praise ~ then I have missed the mark entirely.

However....if we measure appreciation as the sincere expression of admiration,thankfulness and well...even love for another...well then...that's a "whole other story!"

I am lavished with love and admiration on a daily basis. Just this past week I was the humbled recipient of a dangling, purple plastic and genuine gold earring from a 5 year-old.

Another day I was honored with a carefully clipped-out store ad for the boys favorite new toy which comes complete with, "A latch!".

Original masterpieces are stapled to my wall, having been commissioned by admiring kindergarten children who depict me as a stick figure (hey, I can roll with "that!") with a crayon-yellow flipped "do" and glasses...and rainbows....lots and lots of rainbows.

A forlorn little girl whose home life could best be described as "hell on earth" brought me a dirty, cotton cat. A knock-off of the plush Beany Babies, less a few
dozen beans. I took it home and washed it and treasure it.

I have been lauded with gaudy velvet roses, a menagerie of whatnots and "lots of cheap chocolate"

Teacher Appreciation Week can be viewed with optimism or pessimism at my inner city school. The pessimist complain that their college friend who teaches in West Omaha got a gift card for a massage, theater tickets, monetary gifts and other lavish expressions of appreciation from their articulate and involved families, while they only got a single card last year.

Then there are the optimist...my friend Alicia was surprised one year to receive a hand-crocheted tube top made by the mother of one student. This odd expression of appreciation is compounded by the fact that Alicia is a Lane Bryant sized woman!

The most memorable teacher appreciation gift, and one that has yet to be topped is my friends Molly's pancake. I walked into her room and spied a pancake in a ziploc bag on her desk ~

"No time for breakfast?" was my pithy comment.

"That is my teacher appreciation gift from Diego", she replied with a twinkle.

We exchanged understanding smiles and continued our conversation.

We have all been called to work. Work is noble and necessary. It is part of the human experience. If we can keep our eyes on Him whom enabled us to work we will be able to keep our perspective and gain the wisdom to discern what gifts are true and eternal.

If you are feeling unappreciated, underpaid and unimportant today ~ maybe you need to throw out your measuring utensils and look to Jesus for understanding the paradoxes of truth.

"As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 'I tell you the truth,' he said, 'this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on."

The Word of The Lord.

My prayer today is that My eyes will not be turned away from what is true and sincerely rich for the temporal and gaudy things humans attach themselves to. Let me offer my work to Christ, for His approval alone. Let me be constantly reminded that I am His and He is mine and that His approval transcends my toil to that which is divine. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord grant us peace. AMEN

~Tami