Mammogram

Tuesday morning I went in for my annual mammogram. It was the usual unusualness. They always assume it will be one normal mammo, but it inevitably leads to extra shots, ultrasounds followed by even more mammo. It was with intimate consciousness that I reflected on the last 3 experiences. When I found my lump 3 years ago it was the first sense of fear I had in 20 years. By nature I am the antithesis of fear in body and mind. There I lay probing my breast over and over the strawberry sized lump in an attempt to knead out the collection that would not move. I went from breast to breast feeling and re-feeling to make sure the intruder was really there. After twenty minutes of insanity I finally lay limp, tears streaming my face, defeated. I didn't tell anyone for a week. In fact I told myself we were not going to think about it. My mind carefully tucked away the fear behind the fog of denial. Each day I seemed to gain back control until that Monday with no warning, I broke. Crawling into bed with Keith I lay there sobbing. He rolled over worried as I am not a crier. I revealed I had a lump to which he immediately searched for the offender. Shoulders slumped at his discovery and he held me while I shook out the fear. After calling for the appointment we both sat in a stupor. It's like nothing you can explain sitting with no forward moving thoughts. Just sitting. I went in the next day walking in a  surreal out of body awareness. I dressed and ascended the table keenly aware of the nervous energy coming off the nurse. She treated me like glass. As the doctor came in he asked some questions and began probing. He confirmed the size and I began to cry again. It was ridiculous. Both doctor and nurse stopped and turned to me. With tenderness he told me that we should not worry until we get the results, patting my leg. The next day I went into the Allison Women's Imaging Center for my first mammogram. The receptionist could not hide her surprise at my age. I sat waiting, fidgeting. As they called me back I couldn't help but notice the demeanor of my technician. She knew my fear. Her actions were sure, deliberate and deeply kind. Her words were soft and reassuring. As would be the case from here on out they would require an ultrasound. The room was dark and quiet. So much so that I had difficulty quieting my thoughts. It must have been apparent to the tech because upon wrapping it up she squeezed my hand and told me I had nothing to worry about. She had asked permission to allay my fears and the radiologist had consented. It was a moment of intense relief. I walked out to the car in a daze. I sat holding the wheel trying to piece the events together. I prayed, thanking my Heavenly Father for His help and comfort, thanking Him for putting these kind people in my path today and just thanking Him. In stark contrast; Tuesday I went in and was still treated different for being young but it was lost on me. My smile and easy demeanor allowed for casual conversation with the techs. There was even laughing which I supremely prefer to crying. They still had the confused look after the ultrasound but said everything was in order and they would see me in 6 months. I walked out trying to remember where I parked, another task off my chore list. The relief was there but muted. I still gave a prayer of gratitude as my life is always in His hands, but my fear was gone.....or maybe just sleeping lightly. I think on my kids and sometimes it stabs through, but I tuck it back in it's place until next time.

Joy

I have 3 children (well 4 if you count the man I married) that when I look upon them I feel such a strong instinct to bundle them into my bosom and love on them. They recently went to Washington to visit my father without me and that visit opened a new dimension of understanding concerning the relationship between me and my  children. I am pretty much their sole parenting presence as their father works much of the time but I do not begrudge this. In the beginning as infants they were a mass of bawling, stinky flesh that nearly drowned me with their demands but by the age of two I began thoroughly enjoying these little humans. They each bring something fantastic to the table that not only enlightens but sends light shining through the universe to which they belong. I love sitting in church with them surrounding me, my arms around them. My hands touch their soft faces and run through their hair. I pull them close and whisper "I love you" and watch as they pull their characteristic faces of pure pleasure. Who would have thought that my words of affection could bring so much joy to another? Who would have thought that their mere presence would bring such joy to me? I waited at the airport like a little kid on Christmas morning, searching almost frantically for their arrival. Upon seeing them descend the escalator my being was filled with such indescribable joy that I scarce could contain. We embraced and I recognized how short my time was with these incredible creatures that I love so very much. I recognize what a gift I have and I am truly grateful.

Multi

I was looking at my picture with good ole Brigham Young and I realized that it probably invokes various thoughts in the people who read my blog. I personally love Brigham Young. He is one of the most tenacious and strong willed individuals in history. In spite of bloody persecution and an extermination order at the command of Governor Boggs, Brigham Young managed to herd a bunch of ill prepared Mormons across desolate plains only to come to a deserted valley which he turned into an oasis for those traveling in the name of freedom. His reverence for education served as the catalyst for the institutions which he erected all over Utah, the University of Utah being the first. Ironically that student body would hang him if they had the chance today. There is one major point of contest between President Young and myself and I believe that to be the chink in his armor. I stand with Joseph Smith in respect to race and the church. I know without a doubt that God is not a respecter of persons and that Brigham Young got it wrong in his stance against the blacks. He however was not alone in his beliefs according to the dictates of almost the entire society. I say almost as people like Joseph Smith and the Quakers (among various other small groups) were the few by a long shot. There really are only small numbers of people who love people because they are people without requisite. I love Winston Churchill as well and I am sure we are all painfully aware of his chinks. I guess it stands to reason that there just aren't any perfect people but there are good people who do great things. I can only imagine the trek across the plains with mostly women and children clinging to the bare handcarts, telling themselves to keep putting the next foot forward, waiting to die. I can only imagine being responsible for their care  and arrival. I can only imagine their painful deaths and suffering. I am proud to share in this heritage, to know that my ancestors crossed these plains. In keeping with seeing the good I applaud President Brigham Young for as I stretch my eyes across the valley I take in the amazing fruits of his labor. I see the creations of Utah and the prosperity and clean living. I see also the dirt and grime, the parts better left unspoken but the good far outweighs these and I bask in the glow that started with the Lion of the Lord.....Brigham Young.

Family is an interesting thing. I grew up in a very patriarchal home where my mother was a virtual door mat. My father was in charge of everything including our feelings and it was his way or the highway. Once they divorced it let up a bit but the intensity of his requests never diminished. It wasn't until I was 16 years old that I made the decision to walk to the beat of my own drum but even then it was with hesitation. I usually speak my mind but with my dad I try to keep myself with a certain parameter. At 38 years old it is the same. My father requested I compete in an annual tournament that he attends every May. This year my little brother would not be able to attend and my father had planned not to come at all. This is usually 1 of only 2 times we see my father during the year. He called and stated that if my brother wasn't coming then he wouldn't be either. I told him we still wanted to see him and in a moment of clarity he asked if I would compete. I stated there was too little time for preparation and I hadn't competed in years so that was a bad idea all around. Undeterred he latched on to his new idea with the conviction of a hungry predator and what was a passing thought turned into a full out demand. In the proceeding days I could not convince him that I was not competing. I would state emphatically that I was absolutely not competing and he would respond with a "yes you are, don't tell me no" answer. I was at a loss so I started to triage. The tournament has 2 categories; Kata (a memorized set of moves you perform) and Kumite(fighting). I am in pretty good condition. I usually exercise regularly but at the end of the school year I had little time or energy for my regular speed walking. In a nut shell I was not ready physically for the work out that would precede this contest. I knew Kata was out as I just didn't have the time to prepare but I thought if I just tried very hard not to get disqualified for unnecessary force then I might have a chance at the fighting.I knew I would be slower than usual and defeat was possible but if my dad wanted to reminisce then I would do my best to make it short and sweet. What a grand plan that went catastrophically wrong. I am a black belt and was put in with 3 other black belts. If I won I would fight the grand champion for the cup. As I fought the first competitor my confidence soared. I beat her 6-0. Each time they started the round I charged forward and the fear etched on her face was intoxicating. It was almost embarrassing as she was 10-15 years younger and had been preparing for this competition for years.The next fight was a little more exciting as this one had a some fight in her but as I aggressively pursued her she became more and more fearful. At some point I kicked her squarely in the gut and she toppled, crying out. Now we all know there is no crying in karate but there she lay crying. I was ashamed for her but again she had been working out for hours daily for the fight. I had not.Again a victory of 6-0. I didn't realize how much intensity I was fighting and using up large amounts of energy that was not being replaced. There was a 10 minute break while the men fought and I caught my breath feeling pretty good about myself. People were quite impressed that I was taking these younger girls so easily and my success was assured for the final fight.When I entered the ring the fatigue hit as my adrenaline shot through me. It was like the muscles were warning me to fight fast and furious and get it over. This round was 2 two minute rounds with a  minute break and 8 point total. The woman I was fighting was the sensie of the girl I made cry and I believe she was nursing a bit of a grudge. This might be a good time for a little back ground. As black belts we are allowed to hit to the face but with control. My control is limited as I have not been practicing so any hits to the face I made forcefully were not intentional. I still didn't cause the damage I worried I might but  none the less I didn't not have the control I usually do. This woman has been practicing for years and has perfect control. Her plow to my face was an act of revenge and I knew it. It woke me up and I wracked up a few points. By the end of the first round I was ahead by 1 but my body was drained. I had fought 2 competitors and she was fresh but I kept pressing. After the first punch to the face my anger rose and I popped her back effectively breaking her nose. The next jab blacked her eye. We started again and she came at me like a wild animal catching my lip and splitting it. Once the blood was under control they resumed the fight. I thought about calling the fight. Here we both stood bruised and battered and the judges were not calling points with the intent of extending the fight. No matter how I connected with her the point wasn't called. My legs were aching as the bruises swelled from contacting her. My face didn't look as bad as hers but I would need stitches for the gaping lip wound. It was at this moment that I realized how transitional life is. She was much older than me and the wounds I inflicted on her were hurtful to me. I called out at one point asking the judges how many times they wanted me to hit her face and was met with a reprimand. I realized these people had been in it too long. I stepped away for 20 years and when I came back the brutality was heartbreaking. I wanted to win but the satisfaction was not there when I did. I felt bad for hurting another human. I knew I could tear them apart but I wasn't satisfied in doing so. The second round ended with her ahead by one point thus giving her the hard fought victory. I can't say it wasn't frustrating because I intended to win but the disgust that I left the ring with was because I couldn't believe anyone would allow for such brutality unchecked. The judges would not give the controlled points because the match was getting too exciting. The crowd was on the edge and the blood added to their frenzy. I tried my best to end it and it should have ended much sooner. I was surprised they didn't try to extend but mercifully there was a winner and it came to a close. It was a bitter sweet moment as I realized I had evolved and they had stayed in the blood bath relishing their barbarism. I was taken to the hospital for stitches and diagnosed with a mild concussion. My legs are raised with bruises and I wonder as I look at my battered body what that poor woman if feeling today. Can she see out of her eye? Is her nose swollen up blocking her breathing? It wasn't worth it. The shiny cup wasn't worth it. As the master sensie called for me to ask me to join their team set for the Japanese championships I bowed with respect and thanked him for his offer then left to tend to the wounds unnecessarily inflicted for the shiny silver cup.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day has come and gone and I reflect on an interesting weekend. Of course I went to see my mother and spent the weekend chatting and eating. I also dropped my children by my mother-in-laws because it has been a long time since she has seen them. This of course is not of my doing but rather a fault of their father who only visits when the kids are in school. My mother-in-law and I have had quite the relationship spanning 19 years of marriage and many run ins of the escalated sort. She loved me in the beginning but, as many find, I come with both sides of the coin. She decided my bad was not enough to trump my good and has spent the last 19 years trying to hate me. I say trying because she often fails as her assumption that my bad trumps my good is flawed. She has been effectively abandoned by all but one of her 5 children for reasons I am not informed as I have a closer relationship with the clerk at Walmart than my in laws. In the past 12 years whenever she needed someone to clean her house after a debilitating accident it was I that lent the hand. When she fell apart from the loneliness and couldn't handle the strain I was the one she came to stay with to handle her grief. It was I who invited her to my family Christmas party because her own had overlooked her. I could tell of the countless efforts by me and my family to include her despite her insistence on speaking unkindly to others on our behalf. For the most part I simply set aside my feelings of frustration and tell myself she is old and feeble so I must care for her because no one else will. This last encounter was a straw that severed my spine. After a heated discussion that led to her disparaging my mother on an epic level I told her to leave and she promptly backhanded my face. I think it was a long time coming but because I have never raised my voice to her before or been disrespectful she never had the opportunity (though I surmise by the gusto with which she delivered the blow she had been fantasizing). I promptly called the police and documented her crazy gesture for future security. I told my husband that she would not be allowed back into my house and that was that. Since then she has called and made a feeble attempt at reconciliation (though no apology was issued) and I assured her that she would be able to see her grandchildren but I wanted nothing to do with her. She launched a never before seen campaign against me pelting my husband with reasons that he should divorce me and accosting anyone who would listen with tales of my evilness. To this I still showed up with her grandchildren to spend the night with her and even presented her with a present that I myself created. I was finally able to enter her house as previously I just couldn't bring myself to see her face. I found it funny that I felt nothing for her. I believe in being courteous even when you don't like someone. I believe in treating people with respect even when they don't deserve it. I also believe that after you cross me enough the feelings of affection are effectively squelched and are unlikely to return. Until she passes I will continue to respectfully take her grandchildren to see her. I will honor her birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas with the necessary tokens. I will give her the respect an old person deserves no matter how cantankerous but I will not mourn her when she leaves. I am not a pretender.

I didn't want a dog

I've been crying for 3 days. I read somewhere that Magory Pay Hinkley did not like to cry because it "gave her a headache". Well I've had a headache for 3 days. 5 years ago I bought this dog. He was the runt and so tiny with the longest tongue I had ever seen. Reminded me of Gene Simmons in concert every time the little thing yawned. To say he is the perfect dog is not just lip service. He trained easily and fast, learned tricks the first time and poops around the peripheri of the yard. I can not remember shoveling poop because Jake detests it as much as me. I remember holding 2 little puppies and looking into both of their faces only to discover that Jake was the geometric "Cindy Crawford" of puppies. He has the most adorable face (and I will knock down anyone who says otherwise). He fell asleep in the crook of my neck and I took him home for good. I didn't want a dog. The kids wanted a dog. Keith wanted a dog. I had 2 mini-horses, a goat and some chickens. Oh, and a rabbit. I did not want a dog. Mostly because unlike 90 % of the world I don't believe that animals are objects. Each one has it's own soul as pure as the most refined gold. Look deep into their eyes and you will see it. People say I have a way with animals. Well I do. I love them and they love me. My horses would nuzzle my ears while I fixed the fence. My goats would tug at my hair while I checked their hooves. My bunnies followed me through the kitchen and rested on my feet. Even the chickens would break into a full out run from the back acre upon seeing me on the porch. They loved me because I loved them. I didn't want a dog because I would love it too much. I love him too much........and now he is lost. Ironically the picture I posted online was taken while I sat crying over a broken heart. He sat next to me looking intently as the tears spilled onto my face. He didn't try to fix it or give me advice. He just sat with me as I cried and now I sit alone....crying. Where could my littlest guy be? Did someone find this wonderous creature and realize that he was someone's treasure then decide to keep him because his value was too great? Is he wandering around lost wondering why I haven't found him? Is he hungry? Is he cold? On and on my mind reels as I cry. Where is my Jake? Please....I need my Jake? I pray and pray and then pray again. Please bring my Jake home because.......I love him.

Older means ugly

So I see this cite "10 ugliest celebrities" and I click. I was so saddened to see that the only thing being addressed was the fact that these people were older. Older automatically means ugly? Wow! OK there were 2 people who were not very attractive but that was because the plastic surgeon had wreaked havoc. The rest were just older. It really made me think how superficial things are. Some of the most beautiful people I know are older. Even ones I don't know who had nothing surgically done to them like Audry Hepburn. She became lovelier with each passing year. There needs to be a memo sent to Hollywood that we would love to see more "older" people because we value them and they are beautiful!

38

Do you ever wonder how people become so devious? Are they born that way? Do they develop the skill later after serious trauma? Were they bullied? I have never been the devious type. My mind is an open book and I expect everyone to be honest. It still comes as a shock after 38 years on this planet when I encounter devious behavior. I was raised direct and honest. My parents abhorred the thought of leading anyone in any direction that was less than forthcoming. I have learned that most people do not appreciate direct or honest feedback but I still come away wondering why. Is life really the cut-throat competition that requires blood to be the victor? Are we less because we live without gile? What is really gained by deception and manipulation? I just find myself perplexed at the behavior wondering what is achieved as there must be something worth the devaluing of ones' soul. It just makes me ponder and then ponder more because the answer is still eluding me after 38 years.

A day in the life...: Where do we go?

A day in the life...: Where do we go?: Today is a day off for me and my children. I love that there are days off especially now that my mind is unsettled and I need a different fo...

Where do we go?

Today is a day off for me and my children. I love that there are days off especially now that my mind is unsettled and I need a different focus from the goings on in the political forum. I fight between the feeling of forboding and positivity. Is there a way to be informed and stay positive? That is my quandry. I look at the present occurances and the forces that are not in the interest of the population and my blood curdles. Then I think, "Where is my positive outlook?" Some of my discussions begin with warnings or dissemination of information in the hopes that people in my social circle will become better informed or give me solutions to my concerns. It hasn't been comforting so far and my fear is mounting as it seems the writing is on the wall. My dear friend and I were discussing the fact that our children will not know the world that we knew. It is true of every generation that things progress or radically change but usually in relation to technology or fashion. Our conversation centered around the liberties that are changing and the tide swinging to a social call for babysitting. This is the generation expecting to be cared for and coddled. This group does not want the indepence of action and thought that will allow them the future of their choosing. They are screaming for our government to rule their lives in virtually every aspect without exception. I know it is a precarious position to look into a future that is unrealized and have the impact of knowing what you choose will bring good or bad but there isn't a set course. Things can be remedied if in fact they run amuck. Mistakes teach lessons and the end result is a person refined. My life has had little coaching and my choices have led me in varying directions but they were mine and I have deeply benefited. The individual I am is a direct result of both the good and the bad. Actually the more refined side is due largely to the bad. When you hurt or dissappointment is your companion you can't wait to severe that tie and never return. It is highly beneficial and promotes growth. I fear the leachery that will ensue from nursing off the government will only serve to produce fully grown infants wailing at the drop of a hat when their needs are not immediately granted and shocked that they must wait. That is only one of the ailments I fear we will see. The mere treatment of one another will shortly become an every man for himself, leave the others behind. When you treat people as infants they behave with the same self indulged egocentrism that is indicative of an individual who does not do for him/herself. You can't know patience if you have never had to wait. You can't know selflessness if there isn't a sacrifice required. This will be a 50/50 situation for awhile as half the population will be required to coddle the other half. When that group becomes disenchated then we will see an all out collapse of our society. The scary part is we are not accustomed to this kind of living. America has always been the land of opportunity for those who would forge their own way. That kind of individualism will be hard lost and difficult to reverse to a titty sucking government laden lifestyle. There will be huge ramifications that will ultimately lead to a contentious, broken society that no longer has the power to protect itself from those laying in wait, and believe me they have been biting at the bit for our interior to collapse thus allowing for the weak link they need to devour us. I can only pray that the like minded will band together and prevent such backward thinking to prevail as the state of our survival depends on it.