Archive for the ‘About Me’ Category

Am I going to make it?

Sunday, January 15th, 2012

The world continues to spin even after death despite feeling like it has stopped.

Life moves forward even after death despite our want to go back in time or to never take one more step.

Last evening I went to dinner with 2 widows: one who is 3 years out like myself, and one who is 6 months out.  Later in the evening we met up some friends of one of the widows.  In that group there was a man who had lost his youngest son not long ago in a car accident when he was 25.  Towards the end of the night, most of the “grieving” were on one end of the table, reminiscing about our past loves, speaking out about our fears for the present and the future, and expressing a wonder at how we could ever move forward.

On the way home I had an amazing feeling of quiet and comprehension.  A feeling came over me and I knew it was true: life goes on.  It wasn’t as simple as that, though.  After death of someone we love, the feelings are suffocating.  You question whether you are going to survive them, let alone figure out how to feel happiness like you once did.  Everyone “assures” you that you’ll be ok, that life will have happiness and joy again, but I can vouch for the fact that in those first months, even years, none of that is apparent.  There is a hopelessness unlike anything you ever experienced.  And for you support system people, you shiny happy people, we do not believe we will ever be like you again.  This is a real and true feeling.  You cannot fix this with a happy and encouraging cliche.  This is just how it is.

But, at some point, it’s possible.  And I know that because of last night.  The widow that I met last evening who is also 3 years out said she was amazed at the strength she had discovered in herself.  I nodded in agreement.  Many times I felt completely weak and helpless, but there has come many times in the past year where I was able to acknowledge the fact that I had kicked ass and done more than I thought possible.  I didn’t, however, capture the essence of coming full circle.

So, as I was saying, I drove home and that feeling washed over me.  It was happiness and joy.  It was calm.  It was assurance (which has been extremely lacking these days).  Peace.  Healing.  Dare I even say, bliss?  I just knew that I was there.  I am at a point of health in my grieving.  While I believe that no one can be cured of grief, or that any of us can every say we never think about it or deal with anymore, I do believe, after last night, that we can reach a point where everything feels great in spite of our loss.

For years I justified my joy with “it doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could have Kevin back, I do, but…”.  I no longer feel that need to excuse, to justify.  Now, that’s just wrapped up with me.  Just as I don’t say “well, I do love writing despite the fact that I didn’t get into my dream writing school, Northwestern, 10 years ago”.  It doesn’t factor into the immediate conversation anymore.  It’s part of the full package, and right now, it’s wrapped up pretty nicely.

If you’re asking if you’re going to be OK, if you’re going to make it, I say, yes.  It doesn’t feel that way.  And you don’t know what OK is anymore.  Honestly, you don’t really know what anything is anymore.  But know that I am OK.  I made it.  I survived (survival first being waking up every morning, and surviving now being living and thriving).  Everyone has their timeline and I will say that not everyone gets to this point.  And if they do, it may not be at 3+ years.  It might be at 10.  20.  1.  Many factors determine how we turn out.  But, to answer your question?  Yes.

 

Mistakes

Tuesday, December 27th, 2011

Why do words affect me so?  They create drama in my brain that I can’t shut off.  I use other people’s words to torture myself.  If I make a mistake, and it’s pointed out, I go over it again and again and feel the shame of it everytime.  Shame of being imperfect.  It’s ridiculous.

Whenever I struggled with things, when Kevin was ill, I would turn to the bible, or to an online devotional.  I would filter my negativity through God’s words to find some solace and comfort.  Today, I found this:

“From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.”

- James 3:10 (NRSV)

It is hard to remember that I am not perfect.  It is not that I look at myself and speak of how amazing I am, but it is that I forget that I am capable and allowed to make mistakes.  Humanity creates mistakes, not perfection.

Countless times I have beat myself up over and over again about forgetting to do something, to call someone, to send a card, to remember a date, to lock a door, to turn off the coffee maker.  Humanity means that I am not perfect.  Words that remind me of that are just that: reminders.  They are little tidbits of guidance to help me to not make that same mistake again.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

I am going to make mistakes.  I need to allow for this instead of turning those words against myself to create discontent.

Grief & Social Media

Sunday, December 18th, 2011

Big thanks to Leigh of the York Daily Record for featuring me in an article about grief and social media.  Take the time to read and also view the video to learn more about the other family featured, the Dolins.

Social media, a place to share life events, becomes a place to grieve as well

*update*

Last evening I visited the boy and his wonderful coworkers had given him 3 copies of the York Daily Record.  Having already read the article online, I didn’t think it would be any different.  What I didn’t realize is that there was a thumbnail picture of me on the FRONT PAGE and a spread on the 4th page.  I am truly honored and excited about the opportunities this may bring.  Thank you!

Bottom Right Thumbnail

Fourth Page Spread

Guest Post at Gray Hair and Acne

Thursday, December 15th, 2011

Today you can find a blog post from moi over at Gray Hair and Acne.   The Case Against “Couldn’t.  Stop over and weigh in on your “couldn’t”s.

What Would I Be if I Weren’t the Crazy Widow?

Tuesday, December 6th, 2011

Defining yourself is not one easy task.  It is ongoing.  You evaluate all the things that bring you to this point in life.  You ask around about the characteristics that people believe define your existence.

I don’t believe any one of us wants to be labeled as any one thing.  Widow.  Crazy.  The combo.  When I wasn’t a widow, I was wife, but I wasn’t just a wife.  I was much, much more, and today, even more so.

Through becoming immersed in a great online community I have created a persona behind my ‘Crazywidow’ moniker, and it is one of which I am extremely proud.  Prior to blogging regularly and becoming involved in twitter and through that, grief associations, I was a Lancaster county gal just beginning to redeem her love of writing from high school.  It wasn’t “out there” in the world as it is now.  I didn’t go to tweetups and introduce myself as ‘Crazywidow’ instead of Brenda.  Now I do, and people know who I am.  But they have also come to know Brenda, besides widowhood.

Instantly upon coming to my blog and reading my twitter handle you know I’m a widow.  Or in some cases, you think it’s a joke with another symbolism.  For the record, it is not.  I built a “following” of 1100 people on Twitter whom I interact with daily.  The connection made on these online forums have blossomed and allowed me to explore travel writing in ways I never believed possible.  It has given me access to hundreds of other grieving people to interact with.  But now, 3 + years after losing Kevin and 2.5 years after discovering Twitter, I feel the need to recapture who I am online.

I will still feel the need to write about grieving, and it may still remain a central theme on this blog, but my life entails so many other things.  Just click on my media page.  While you will see many articles pertaining to my experience with grief, you will also notice that I’m part of a freelance writing co-op, a women’s music ensemble, an exclusive travel writer for Wyndham, and many more things.  My passions have come along for this ride of grief, and many have been influenced by the recurring theme of living in the moment and enjoying what I can with the talent I have.

So how would YOU define me?  I would like to create one central website to everything.  One person in particular whose blog inspires me in its diversity is Amber Degrace.  She has found a way for all of her talents to be featured in one area, and I’d like to do the same.

I would love some feedback.

Trusting my Decision

Tuesday, November 29th, 2011

I realized today that I really suck at make decisions on my own.  I can’t just speak out “YES” or “NO” without seeking further input on a decision.  Maybe it’s because I’ve been known to be too spontaneous for my own good.  Or because I’m fearful that I’ll make the wrong decision, so at least I can fall back on the others and feel that I sought out all the information I could at the time.

As I emailed friends and family this morning about the overwhelming feelings I have about working multiple jobs, I know deep down this is a decision I need to make, but with a plan.  Not just a career decision, but a faith decision.  Trusting not only in myself, but in something higher to guide my path even if I feel I’ve made the wrong decision.  Trusting that I will be provided for.  Trusting that doors will open when the timing is right.

Trust.  Decisions.  Both things I am not so good at.

I constantly worry about being assumed lazy, inadequate, or not doing enough.  I don’t know what I need to do to prove to myself that I have never been any of the above?  How often do I need to open doors to feel overwhelmed before I see that I am doing all I can and beyond what I should?

How do you?

Savvy Auntie Guest Blog – From Widow to Auntie

Wednesday, November 9th, 2011

I am so proud to have a blog featured on the Savvy Auntie website!  I was ecstatic when Melanie Notkin, Savvy Auntie founder, replied to my email inquiry asking if I could share my story about how Monkey (my niece) changed my family and I’s world after a very difficult 2 years of death and cancer.  You can read the article HERE. Please take the time to share.  Thanks!

Monkey!

Emotions of an Anniversary

Thursday, October 27th, 2011

Meet bitter Brenda.  I am happy to say that, for the most part, she doesn’t show up until the bad timing of others.  It’s not their INTENTIONAL bad timing (although it feels that way) it’s more or less that I would rather not be bugged or asked any questions during times that I feel pissy.  Today = pissy.  Don’t ask me to make a decision, a correction, or to review something you’re sharing with me.  I don’t have time.  No, that’s not true.  I don’t have energy.  I’m angry.  I don’t want to be dealing with the emotions of the third year.  I don’t want to know that it will be 3 years that Kevin died on Friday.  So, whatever you bring to me right now that interferes with me dealing with THAT tidbit of life?  I don’t have time for.

Hypochondriac.  What felt like a 2 minute dizzy spell during my tutoring.  I KNOW I didn’t make that up.  I took my pill later than usual, but it was on a full stomach.  Oh no, now my head hurts.  Sinus like.  Not going to look at a computer screen tonight, maybe I’m straining my eyes?  Crawl in bed.  Heart beat races.  Dammit.  I really SHOULD schedule that appt.with a cardiologist about my SVT.  I think it’s getting worse.  What if I have a brain tumor??

Empowerment.  Whooooo doggy, I can take on the world.  Why DIDN’T I take that full time job in Montana, maybe then I could have gone far in the company and provided for Kevin and I?  I could’ve done it.  Tonight, I’m going to writer’s group and I’m gonna finish writing the last memories before Kevin became sick.  I’m gonna plow through so that I can show a publisher my first draft. Oohhhh yeah.

Anti-EVERYTHING Skeptic.  Facebook is not working properly and it’s ruining everything.  My spam filter sucks.  I’m going to ban technology from my life.  I hate these ____ a$$holes.  You’re causing me problems, I’m banning you too.  Why did you send me an email?  You KNOW I’m grieving, blocking you too.

I hate change.  Salted caramels?  NOPE, don’t even want to TRY them!  Who would want to screw up the delicacy of a caramel?  Not me.  I am not going to give into this craze like I do everything else.  Just give me what I already know I like, and enjoy, and don’t change it.

Survival.  I made it through all of this and I’m still alive.  Recalling WHAT I went through I feel guilt, devastation, but still, I am here.  And most days, I am happy.  Hmm…I made it.  Right?

Success.  This could be because I realized I survived, or it (more than likely) has something to do with the fact that I finished the writing portion of the memoir last night.  Something to cheer about, celebrate, in the midst of approaching the 3rd anniversary.  Success, reaching 3 years without dying.  Without killing anyone.  With friends and family mostly in tact.

Every anniversary has brought with it so many emotions so quickly that I barely had time to breathe.  Most times, I ended up in near panic attacks trying to field the emotions one by one.  While I still feel them, I let them roll into me, and roll out of me as quick as they come.  I try not to hold onto them as they hit me.

Welcome to the life of a griever during the week of a sad anniversary.

Searching for the Soul Job

Monday, October 10th, 2011

23 jobs, I think; some repetitive.  There were, and always have been, multiple jobs.  I love seeing my dreams from when I was 14, beginning my first job, I wanted to be a writer, a journalist, a musician.  Now, 13 years later, those things are all part of my life and everyday are becoming more so.

To some, my resume looks flighty.  It says, this girl can’t stick to a job.  For me it has never been about commitment problems but about trying to find my dream.  I still believe that a person can achieve a big dream and sometimes that means trying every path to make it come true.  For me, it took 23  jobs in 13 years to start to see something that fits.  I feel like I’m ebbing closer every day to fulfilling today’s dreams.  And yes, dreams can, do, and should change!

When I was 14 I took a job at the Strasburg railroad as a cashier and server at the dining car.  It was my first official ‘on the books’ position (I had previously babysat for several families in my hometown, and yes, I had taken the American Red Cross babysitter course – highly recommended).  I worked there for nearly two years dealing with tourists and their children.  I enjoyed my coworkers and can recall a time, when walking through Strasburg after a shift at work, flashing my first car.  Yes, these were interesting and developing times.  I wanted something more challenging, with more hours during the off season, so a friend recommended me for a position at Ganse Apothecary in downtown Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

While continuing work with the railroad as they needed me, I began at the Apothecary by running the cashier, then helping out at their mini U.S. Postal desk in the back, and eventually even counting pills!  I worked there for several years throughout high school and also one summer after graduation.  I mostly worked during the summer when I could work full time, but also some after school hours as I could.  I felt very grown up, especially when I could finally drive there in my own car!

The unfortunate demise of those two jobs was due to the scheduling: although I did continue working sporadically for the the apothecary, the railroad was only seasonal work and I needed something more sustainable.  I needed more funds to pay for my car and a place where I could work between marching band practices, football games, and competitions.

My brother, as well as many of my friends, worked for a local retirement home, Willow Valley, and soon I found myself working in the assisted living residences as a server after school.  The schedule was great, but the boss, not so much.  I despised her but, admittedly now, it was probably more out of the stories I heard of her than my actual interaction with her.  Within 6 months I was desperately looking for a job that paid the slightly-above-minimum wages I was making.

I saw an ad for Secret Sneaker and figured that a retail sales job would be great.  I got the job, but I also got an even worse boss.  After just 1 night, and my new co-workers telling me they felt bad that I had to work here, I quit.  I didn’t know what else to do but go back to Willow Valley, but I did not want to be in the same area as my old boss.  I looked for a more desirable position, and found one as a hostess in another section of Willow Valley.  I loved it.

Some people from my youth group worked there, I met new friends (one whom I lived with for nearly a year when I was 25 and who is now dating Kevin’s best friend (set them up), and another whom I set up with her husband!) and enjoyed the residents and their stories.  I felt I had more of a position of authority as a hostess, and to be quite honest, I enjoyed that too.  I worked there for nearly 5 years (on and off).  When I graduated high school I decided it was time to find a job where I could secure more hours.

I went to retail as a bedding and bath consultant at Linens N Things.  The pay was decent, the hours significant, but besides the rockin’ clearance and discount promotions, it wasn’t something I loved.  I worked there while attending Penn State York as an Advertising/P.R. major, but quit when I decided to pursue a different college degree at a different school, out of state.

With New Jersey came coffee.  I said cahfee, they say cawfee.  It was distinct.  I worked for the small, no longer existent, Coffee Club in Montclair, NJ, one of the most rich zip codes in the United States.  Also home to my then school, Montclair State University where I began studying Music Therapy with a focus on Tuba.  I was still the little menno girl from Lancaster, and I felt ignorant.  But, I stuck to the job while I was there.  Tips were crappy and so was the pay, but my boss always took care of us.  Let me tell you a little about the coffee club.  It was owned by a very Jewish couple.  She was a speech pathologist who ran a dating service out of the coffee shop (Maybe this would work for Square One?!) and he was a Psychotherapist, and, the Rabbi.  They were vibrant and strong personalities and VERY intimidating to someone like me.  Someone still figuring out life outside of Lancaster County.  I knew nothing of coffee, but they taught me, and soon, I was a Barista.  We had a chalkboard filled with roughly 50 different drink combinations.  Think Milkyway.  We had fresh teas.  We served food, HOT food.  We had breakfast book clubs, Gay and Lesbian Valentine speed dating night (oh yes, the Menno in me was freaked at the time), open mic, live music, and everything.  It was fun. The chics were worldly and one would work alternate nights working in Greenwich Village in NY just a few miles away.  I was being taught by the sole tuba player for the New York Philharmonic during the day and listening to folksy artists trying to make a buck by night.  It WAS the most interesting job I have ever had.  But, I left Montclair to go home that summer nearly sure that I would not be returning.  I was going to “take a year off”, aka, drop out of college.  I knew I had an amazing opportunity, I just wasn’t sure that opportunity was for me.

I returned home, and through connections with a local Saturn Tuner Club in which I was the P.R. gal (yes, I was a car tuner geek…for Saturns..insert jokes now), I was able to interview and receive a job as Service Assistant for Saturn of Harrisburg.  It was, really, my first adult job.  I drove 1 hour + to work from Conestoga every single day and enjoyed what it felt like to have my own benefits, pay all my bills on my own, and be a college dropout.  It wasn’t as peachy as it sounds.  Before I knew it, I had racked up 30,000 miles on my 2nd used Saturn between dating a guy in CT and commuting.  I hated it.

I sought out another job and soon I was interviewing for a position as the Recreational Therapy Assistant back at my old haunt, Willow Valley.  I connected immediately with the director and soon I met the assistant, who happened to be the friend of my former high school tuba instructor.  Lancaster is such a small world most times!

Let me just begin this phase by saying I LOOOOVEEEEED THIS JOB.  I loved the director.  I loved the assistant.  I loved the residents.  I loved leading baking, exercise, field trips, and one to one visitation.  I began working some nights back at the old dining room I had worked in high school for some extra hours.  I bought a tuba and gave lessons to keep my love of music alive.  But then, the crap hit the fan.  My Director had a falling out with her boss, and the director gets “fired”.  Assistant goes on maternity leave and I am left there, by myself, with the new (but formerly worked there and no one in the building could believe they hired her back so they must be desperate) director.  I was to lead all the activities, do all visitation, come up with everything at just 6 months in.  It was overwhelming.  I hit the end when I was given a violation when a resident fell when I left the room to take other residents out in their wheelchairs and my director was not paying attention (she was in the room).  I was apparently the one in charge and supposed to be supervising, yet, also supposed to get the residents to and from the room.  I quit.

Right around that time Saturn of Lancaster was hiring and was happy to receive my resume for Service Consultant.  I left my residents with tears in my eyes and was quite sad- I had wanted to go back to school for that job, but not under those conditions.  So, I went back to work for Saturn.

I actually enjoyed my job at Saturn except for the crude dudes in the shop.  I worked 11-7 full time and enjoyed good bonuses, benefits and time off to see my new boyfriend (Kev) whom I had met online.  It stressed me out at times, especially being a woman, but honestly, it was a good job.  I loved the training and being involved in a company I believed in.  I bought my first new car (and my 3rd Saturn), moved out on my own, and became my own woman.  I sent myself back to school at HACC and, insanely, one semester, worked full time while attending school full time.  I was doing it all.

My friend asked me to join her team of makeup consultants, and soon I was making my own money on the side as a Mary Kay beauty consultant.  I loved the girliness of it all in comparison to the shop talk I was used to.  I loved winning things, the makeup, the camaraderie with the women.  But, still, something was missing.

About 1 year into my job at Saturn I was yearning to be more involved in the outdoors.  I was still missing the recreational aspect of my job at the retirement home, but also missed traveling.  I kept thinking back to my 3 week post-H.S. graduation roadtrip with my best friend.  I remembered Montana.  I missed my girlfriend whom I had visited in Montana just the year before.  I felt Montana had stolen a bit of my heart both times I had visited.  No one understood this yearning.

As I continued my studies at HACC and worked my ass off, I also began researching schools in Montana.  While I wanted a degree, I mostly just wanted to get out of town.  The guy I was dating (before I met Kevin) had turned out to be married and I was heartbroken.  I wanted to be independent and successful and away.  I found that a cool town in Montana that I had never been, Missoula, had a University (University of Montana) with an Outdoor Recreation major.  I could use it to work in parks.  I could travel, be outdoors, recreate with others.  I applied, and I was accepted.  I began planning my move and paying off as many bills as possible to have some financial freedom.

Then I met Kev.  It didn’t stop me.  I quit my job at Saturn, my well paying job (I still don’t make as much as I did there, but now that they’re GONE I see I made the right choice) and moved out to Montana with the help of my parents and sister,  without a job, and never having visited the town or the apartment where I would live.  I was running, but to or from, I wasn’t quite sure.

Within a few days of arriving, I was unpacked, settled in, with my parents and sister heading back home, and with a new job courtesy of a local employment agency.  I began work as a Sales Assistant at Spectrum Aquatics.  I was in a WHOLE NEW LAND and I was freaked, yet excited.  I kept working my Mary Kay business, and within 3 months, I had quit my job at Spectrum to focus full time on Mary Kay, was engaged, beginning immigration processes to get Kev into the country, and unsure of what was ahead.

What was ahead was a decision to move back home after only 6 months in my dreamland.  The choice was determined by lack of funds, few jobs for Kevin and I in the future, homesickness, and uncertainty about our immigration process and the delays and financial commitment involved.  In August 2006 I had a garage sale and sold everything that wouldn’t fit in my Saturn.  I headed home.

I returned home to live back with my parents and took the first job I was able to find as a receptionist for Faulkner Body Shop.  I lasted only 3 months before the disturbing office setting (ex-con manager and an “it is what it is” hard ass boss) before I quit after speaking with a family friend whose mother had just passed from cancer.  I began watching her children and caring for her father’s home immediately.  Immigration finally worked out, Kev and I married, and though we had no money, we got by with the help of everyone around us.

That Summer after determining we could no longer financially make it on my Nanny salary, I took a job at the County Courthouse as a receptionist for Juvenile Probation.  I enjoyed my coworkers and briefly thought about going back to school to be a court reporter.  It looked to be good money, but I had trouble seeing how anyone could be promoted there.

A more lucrative opportunity came the following Spring at my brother in law’s place of employment, and soon I had talked myself into a job at Prosource Wholesale Flooring doing their sales.  It was a tough environment, but I was finally bringing home the bacon that we needed.

I also began working with Associated Content (now Yahoo! Contributor Network) writing freelance articles about things I knew.  Kevin encouraged me to write, even if it was about “nothing”.

I had worked hard with Mary Kay and had won queen of sales that year.

Then Kevin got sick.  I had to become his full time caretaker.  Mary Kay went on hold, the classes at HACC I had registered for in the Fall were canceled, and my new sales career was gone because I simply could not be there.  I wrote when I could, but most of my writing energy was spent on the blog.

The following January, after Kevin’s death, I got a call from my family friend.  The nanny that had replaced me was pregnant with complications – could I come back to work for them part time?  Yes.  Then she told me about a second part time job with her aunt and uncle at their architecture firm.  They worked together and between the two I had nearly full time hours, but no benefits.  Soon I switched my duties so that I could work full time and receive benefits at the firm, while still watching the kids one day a week and this continued for two years.  The firm gave me additional duties working for their storage facility and with their newly acquired campground.  I watched the kids and continue working for the 3 companies the firm owns.  I sent myself back to school.  I gave up Mary Kay after 5 years and focused on the tangibles.

I discovered a travel writing gig with Visit Pennsylvania that opened up doors for more travel writing.

I wrote an article about U.S. Healthcare and won a writing award without a degree.

I graduated from HACC with my degree in business.

I won a travel writing gig with Wyndham Women on their Way because I had a story, and I have believers…in me.

I quit my job nannying.

I am writing a book.

I tutor others in creative writing and joined a writer’s co-op to promote our freelance services.

I give piano and tuba lessons and duet with my boy.

I wear nearly a dozen hats throughout the day, but my life has seemingly continued to revolve around a love for people, a passion for music, a drive to write, and a goal to find and complete my variety of dreams.  That search has not yet been completed, but there are many indicators that I am finally getting there.

I don’t feel that I have had too many jobs.  Each one was an experience that led to the next that put me where I am now.  I could have taken the regular route.  I could have gone to school and be working a normal 9-5 right now like many of my peers.  But would that have been any fun for me?  No.  I got my degree, but I also got to live in a variety of ways that no one else has ever experienced.  That is a credit to my commitment for adventure and for the soul search in life.

 

 

 

 

 

Moments

Friday, September 23rd, 2011

I’ve been pretty quiet for an entire week which is just slight of a miracle for me.  The last time I went silent was probably when something bad happened.  In this case, nothing BAD really happened, just lots of change in a short amount of time.

As you may recall, I kind of (ok, did) broke my back about 7 weeks ago at the end of July.  This past Monday I went under the knife to have the broken piece of L5/S1 disc removed.  As I was in the pre-op holding room with nurses trying to poke my dehydrated veins I heard a conversation next to me.  “Amputation”.  My heart gave out.  That word terrified me.  “Sarcoma”.  My eyes got HUGE.  I looked at the nursing student who had been keeping me calm, stared at her, then burst down in sobs.   “That woman next door, she’s getting her leg amputated, she has sarcoma.  My husband died of sarcoma”.  Why was this ‘coincidence’ happening here and now?  After calming me, I asked that the nurse tell the woman I would pray for her.  But things went fast and while the nurse assured me I would have time to tell her myself, before I knew it I was kissing my Mom and Boyfriend Ta-tas and heading off to the operating holding room.  Alone.  Without telling the woman anything.

I lay there in my thigh high Ted stockings, my gown with nothing underneath.  The nurse scurried about making sure operations were beginning as on time as possible.  A gurney pulled up next to me, a young Amish man.  His first IV, first surgery.  I joked with him about our lovely hats and gowns trying to calm him, and myself.  I discovered he too was having his L5/S1 disc repaired, but with a much more invasive fusion.  He HAD been a mason, past tense.  I found out later he was just 21.  No wonder he was so nervous.

Every gurney that came in, I listened intently for her name, her voice.  Finally, just 10 minutes before my crew took me out for surgery, she was brought upstairs, but on the other side of the room.  As I listened to the other conversations, I hoped that I would get to tell her.  Tell her what?  My husband died of the disease that was causing her leg to be amputated?  What a pep talk Brenda, I thought.  No, I wouldn’t tell her that.  The anesthesiologist and OR nurse came in and began wheeling me away.  I sent good wishes to the Amish man and then craned my neck as they wheeled me out.  With no glasses on, I had no clue if the person to whom I was asking was Bonnie was really Bonnie or even a woman, but I called out anyways.  “Bonnie, are you Bonnie?” I asked, waving the nurse to stop for a minute.  There was silence then, “yes..”  “I just wanted you to know that sarcoma has touched my life deeply and that I’m having a fundraiser for it on Saturday.  I will be praying for you today.”  Quiet.  “Ok,” she said, certainly confused about how I knew her name or that she had Sarcoma.

The surgery itself went routine and they made a small 2″ incision in my lower back and removed a chunk of broken disc that was about the size of half a thumb.  While I was in the dizzy fog coming out of anesthesia my surgeon informed me that the nerve was very crunched and it was likely I would have long term numbness.  I cried.  I was given pain meds.  I got nauseas.  My family came in, I cried some more, slept some more.  Bathroom, muscle relaxers, more nausea.  Sleep.  Finally, awake enough to move and get taken home after a very long day.

The following week has been difficult.  I have been dealing with nausea from the numerous medications which are thankfully now straightened out.  I experienced what appeared to be a spinal headache – hope I never have to deal with those again.  And today I am trying to wind up the last of the details for that Sarcoma fundraiser tomorrow while doing anti rain dances in my head.

It’s been a very long, trying week.  Not all things are permanent.  Life is about moments.  I can only get a taste of those moments sometimes but I am always astounded at how they connect to the moments ahead or in the present.  Bonnie – this Saturday is about you as much as it is about Kevin.  And it’s also about me and getting to walk despite what the prognosis could be.  Numbness or no, I plan to be there tomorrow, for all the many ways that Sarcoma has brought moments into my life.