Rain, Rain, Go Away...

Just to get this out of the way... I've finished my second week of radiation. I think I'm starting to notice some changes in the targeted breast, but nothing really uncomfortable so far. Did I mention that my Dr. told me that the breast that gets bombarded with radiation would wind up firmer than the other one? Just what I need. Lopsided breasts. LOL So I've got another couple of weeks of full time treatments to go, plus however many "boost" treatments she decides to give me. Almost half-way there!

I travel to Madison every single week day to get my treatments, so I've been watching the Ohio river as it has risen beyond its banks. This is hardly the worst flood the Ohio has ever seen. It was several feet higher than it is now back in 1997. I live just a few miles outside of Vevay, IN, but I couldn't get to town without going up and over the ridges. The state highway that follows the river was underwater in several places then. Here are a couple of pics I took of the highway back in 1997.

This was to the east of us.

This was to our west. There was no way to go but up!















I've seen the Ohio spread itself pretty far, so I know what's happening now isn't all that bad. Since I'm seeing it every single day, though, it's easy to notice just how far it's rising and how fast. Yesterday I stopped and took a couple of pictures. Today I took several more. Here they are.

This "road" goes out to the treeline you see in the distance. There are several trailers out there which are used for summer camping. The river is usually on the far side of the trees. Out in the water to the right of the road is a speed limit sign saying "10 MPH." I find that oddly funny.

The river is much closer to the road here than in the shot above, but the road is also at a considerably higher elevation. The water depth at the treeline is several feet.

Some time last week, as Mark and I were passing this old barge I joked that if the water got much higher, it would float away. It is normally sitting on dry ground on a massive trailer. I honestly don't know if it is even capable of floating any longer. It's been sitting there for years. And even if its hull is still water tight, I don't know if it could float with that trailer attached to its bottom. A few more feet of water and we just might find out if she's still river worthy!

This is the river at Madison, IN. That's the Milton/Madison bridge in the distance. Ground has already been broken for its replacement. The bridge opened in 1929 and is now considered "functionally obsolete." There was a great deal of discussion about how to replace the bridge, as it is the only way across the river for 26 miles upstream and 46 miles going down stream. They had talked of using a temporary ferry service while the new bridge was under construction, but common sense prevailed. A ferry would be impossible to use in waters this high and with the amount of debris that's in the river. Plus, it couldn't possibly accommodate the necessary traffic. So they decided to leave the old bridge in place while it's replacement is constructed immediately to its downriver side. Once the new bridge is up and in use, the old bridge will be removed. The construction is supposed to be finished in September of 2012. If you're interested, here's the site for the new bridge. It offers info, a pair of live web cams, and a nifty animation and video of the project.

A massive tree trunk bobbing in the swift-moving water. It was just one of many that I could see. There is undoubtedly more junk below the surface of the water. It's dangerous to be in the water at times like this.

A view upstream from the deck of the Milton/Madison Bridge.

I said I had noticed how quickly the water was rising. Day before yesterday we were watching the news and they said the river level had climbed 2 feet in 8-9 hours. That is a LOT of water! I don't think it's climbing quite that quickly now, but it did jump a foot or so in a 24 hour period and I have the pictures to prove it.

On the way home yesterday, I stopped down at the Paul W. Ogle Riverfront Park here in Vevay. This is the site of many events in Vevay. The first that comes to mind is the Swiss Wine Festival that happens here every August. There are other things that happen there, too. Like antique tractor shows, and car shows. The American Cancer Society's annual Relay of Life takes place at the park. It has a playground for children, basketball courts, baseball fields, as well as restrooms, a small grandstand area, and a large boat ramp. All of it is currently under water. Above are a few shots I took of a little car on a giant spring at the edge of the playground, one of the benches that overlooks it, and the swings. Here they are today, 24 hours later:

The car is almost completely submerged. You can just see it peeking out of the top of the water's surface in the third shot. As you can see, I couldn't even get as close to them today as I could yesterday. And they say the water isn't done rising yet. The latest predictions say it will crest at 51.7 feet around noon on Monday. As of 3:00 PM today, it was measuring at 50 feet. If you'd like to track the river's levels and NOAA's predictions for it, you can do so here.

So, now you've seen what the Ohio is doing currently. As much water as it is, as much water as there was in 1997 when the river crested at 60.7 feet, it's nothing compared to what the river has done in the past. Around here, all floods are compared to the Great Flood of 1937. Just as an FYI, the river crested at 76.1 feet in 1937. All my river depths are as reported at Markland.

Here are just a few references to help you imagine just how deep the water was during the '37 flood.

This building is located in Milton, KY, just across the river from Madison. If you look closely, you can see some wave-shaped indicators painted on the side of the building. Here's a closer view:

There are four marks. The lowest marks the 1997 flood. The next one up is from 1945. Then comes the 1964 flood. And finally, near the building's roof, is the mark indicating the water level during the flood of 1937. If these aren't enough, then take a look at what Vevay has to offer.

This is another shot of the Paul Ogle Riverfront Park in Vevay. The playground is just off to the left. The road I'm standing on normally goes straight ahead, dropping off considerably at the distant treeline to the boat ramp below. If you look closely you can see some towers just left of center of the photo. They are actually a trio of large pipes that mark the water level of the 1937 flood. The top of the pipes is how high the water was at its crest in 1937. Every time I look at them, I am just amazed that it could have gotten that high. Here's a closeup shot of the pipes from yesterday:

As you can see, we haven't actually hit flood stage at 51 feet, yet. It looks like we'll go just beyond it.

They say the 1937 flood could never be repeated. They say that the dams that have been built along the river since then would stop it. But I read a report earlier today that pointed out that at some point, the water levels get so high that all the gates are open and when that happens, there's nothing else they can do. Frankly, I find it amazing that anyone would be foolish enough to suggest that anything man-made can control God's great creation. The river floods, then recedes, then floods again. With just the right weather conditions, there's no reason to believe that the river couldn't reach such depths once again. I pray it never does. Back in 1997 practically the entire town of Falmouth, KY was swept away. It's been rebuilt, of course, but if the '97 flood could do that, then a repeat of the '37 flood would be downright devastating. There are a lot more people living along the Ohio these days. Lord help us all if the waters ever get that high again.

If anyone is interested, there are a couple of articles I came across that appeared in the "RoundAbout" guide in the past that talk about the 1937 flood. You can find the first one here, and the second one here.

And now, a quick note about the earthquakes and tsunami that have struck Japan. Mark caught it on the news this morning and mused that it seems as if there are no "small" earthquakes anymore. They're all high up on the Richter scale. I was talking with a lady in the waiting room at my radiologist's, and she said that upon hearing the news she wondered if the world was coming to an end. She was joking, but I can't bring myself to laugh. The number of natural disasters just seems to be growing by leaps and bounds. Maybe it only seems that way because we have virtually instant media coverage of every single event that happens pretty much anywhere in the world. But I have to wonder if maybe God isn't trying to tell us all something. Something like, "Watch Out! Be Ready!"

Please pray for those effected by the earthquakes and the tsunamis. Almost the entire town of Kesennuma, home to 74,000 people is either burning or submerged. And then there is the possible leak of radiation from one of their nuclear plants. The Japanese media is reporting that they're already estimating the death toll to reach more than 1000 people. There are dark, hard days ahead for the Japanese people. Lift them up to God and while you're at it, give Him thanks for the safety of yourself and your loved ones.

Memories...

(Imagine Elvis singing...) iq Memories... pressed between the pages of my mind... iq

Okay, so Mark and I went up to Scottsburg, IN the other day on a whim. I'd had my radiation and we decided to run up there to have a quick look around. We were actually looking for a used car dealership that used to have a branch in Madison a few years ago. It's called Jeffrey's Auto. It's a Christian dealership and we bought our truck from them back when they were in Madison. Here's what they say about themselves on their website:

We are a Christian, family-owned business. We have owned and operated our car lot in Scottsburg for over 25 years. We place a high value on our reputation and our name. We try very hard to please you, our customer, by providing you an automobile at a very affordable price. We appreciate your inquiry, and we will go out of our way to serve you. Thank you and may our Lord bless you.

 This is their logo:

I mention this because while Mark and I greatly respect and appreciate the fact that they are Christians and don't hesitate to advertise it, the finger pointing up has always struck us as kind of funny. Every time one of us mentions Jeffrey's, the other will point up and say, "One Way." As funny as we find it though, we did have a good experience with them, so we decided to head up to Scottsburg to see what they had on the lot.

We aren't really full out shopping for a new car, but we are browsing at this point. And by new, I mean something newer than what we currently own, not necessarily something that just rolled off the factory line.

Anyway, we didn't find anything, so we drove on through town just to look around, then stopped to get some gas because it was cheaper there than in Madison. After that we headed back through town on our way home. And I've said all this just to get to this point. There's a train track that runs through the heart of town. Sure enough, just as Mark and I neared it, the lights started flashing and the arms came down. We could hear the train whistle blowing as it approached.

I immediately began to grin like a fool. See, where I grew up, trains are a big part of the scenery. There was a track a few dozen yards in front of my grandmother's house. Every time a train went by the entire house shook. The shaking was accompanied by constant tinkling as my grandmother's collection of salt shakers clinked against each other. I used to play on the tracks. (Yes, it was probably dangerous to some extent. But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out a train is coming, especially when you're touching the rails.) There was a trestle just up the tracks a bit and we used to walk up to it and then climb down to play in the water. And I certainly flattened my share of pennies on those tracks through the years

Then there was my hometown of Corinth, MS. (Pronounced Carinth, like the car you drive.) Corinth was known as the crossroads because it was a fairly pivotal rail hub and the tracks literally crossed there.

This is one of the more popular pics of the old station and tracks. It's sold on postcards. There is no way to get around town without crossing the tracks at least once and more likely several times. As we sat there watching the train go by in Scottsburg, Mark and I talked about the trains from home.

There are a number of stories just in my life about various trains and crossings. I'm sure things have changed somewhat in the years since I left, but when I was young, more than a few of the crossings didn't actually have lights or crossbars. You just had to pull up and look both ways before crossing the tracks. One of these crossings was toward the outer edge of town and we used to cross it every time we were coming back home from visiting my grandmother. One day we were coming back into town and we were all tired. Dad was driving and as he approached the crossing he didn't even slow down. He just shot across it without looking. There was a train coming. And by coming I mean it was close enough to scare us all to death when we saw it looming over us. That became an oft repeated story over the years.

The best one, though, involved my mother and sister. They'd been shopping or something and were on their way back home. There was yet another crossing with no lights. My mother did slow down, but she told my sister to hang her head out the window to see if there was a train coming. She did and there was no train. There were, however, a series of mail boxes just on the other side of the tracks. To this day my sister still talks about Mom trying to knock her head off on those mailboxes.

We lived just outside the city limits and there was pretty much no way to get to our house without crossing tracks somewhere. The trains had this really annoying tendency to come to a dead stop on the tracks, blocking the roads. And these weren't short little trains. They were so long that even if you tried to turn around and approach from a different direction, you'd just encounter the same train blocking whatever road you tried to take. So we spent a lot of time sitting there waiting for the trains to finish whatever it was they were doing and get moving again. It was just a part of life in Corinth.

Mark and I laughed and reminisced about this as we watched that train go by in Scottsburg. I couldn't help but feel a little homesick. Trains always make me feel that way, mainly because I don't see all that many of them around here. There was even a track some distance from the house I grew up in. On still, quiet nights we could sometimes hear the whistles as the trains approached town. I love that sound. And I love the clickty-clack of the wheels as they move over the rails. I love the smell of the creosote on the ties as they bake in the sun. It all reminds me of my childhood and takes me back to simpler days.

Mark and I have often talked about moving south one day. I've told him that I don't think I'd want to go back to Corinth. Because it isn't the same town I knew as a child. It's grown tremendously. Everything is different. The church I attended has moved and rebuilt and is now more of a mega church than the tightly knit family it once was. My childhood home was sold years ago and the new owners did some construction so that it doesn't even look the same from the outside. While I wouldn't mind visiting, since I do still have dear friends there, I can't imagine living there. I think it would be more painful than comforting. So if we ever do decide to move south, it will be somewhere else, I think.

Still, I love the town of Corinth. Just thinking about all the wonderful  memories I have of it makes me smile. It's small, but has a lot to offer. There's a lot of simple beauty, especially downtown where the older houses are. And there's no way to even scratch the surface of the history contained in every nook and corner of town. I jokingly tell people that Northerners have no real appreciation of history. I can count on one hand the number of historical markers I've seen in my years living up here. The South is an utterly different story. There's a historical marker or commemorative plaque practically every five feet down there. Most relate to the Civil War, of course. Corinth played a pivotal role in the fight, so there are lots of markers in town. Plenty of cannons, too, all still pointed north. (That's a Southern thing. All Civil War cannons are pointed north no matter where they are.)

I miss a lot about Southern life. If you've never experienced it, you cannot understand how different it is. Things just move at a slower, more easy pace. And there are trains. What's not to love about that?

☢ Radiation Alert! ☢

I began my radiation therapy today. The first treatment was nothing special. It's very fast, taking no more than five minutes at the absolute most for the actual treatment. I spend more time getting ready for it. I have to change into a gown, then I get on the table. Which, by the way, is absurdly uncomfortable. The nurse laughingly told me the first time I got onto it that if I imagined very hard I could pretend that it was comfortable. Yeah, I have an active and well honed imagination, but even I can't drift that far away from reality.

I had my first experience with the table last week when I went in for my setup. For anyone who might one day have to go through with this, I'm going to lay it out step by step for you.

First off, I want to touch on something that caught me completely by surprise. I had all the typical things done along the way since my diagnosis. First came that day that the Dr. noticed the lump in my breast. Then came a breast ultrasound, followed by a mammogram, which in turn led to an in office needle biopsy. A few days later the official diagnosis came and that sent me on my way to the surgeon and the operating room to have the tumor removed. Then there were pet scans and cat scans and heart scans (called a resting MUGA). And I had another procedure under what they call twilight sedation where they inserted an intravenous port under my skin. Next came the chemo, all 8 of them. And Herceptin, a biological medical treatment came along with the last 4 chemos and will continue for a year.

Through every single step, I've been generally calm. I haven't felt scared or uneasy for the most part. No nerves to speak of. Mostly, I attribute this to my trust in God, and my knowledge that He is in complete control. I've had more than one person ask me if I was scared and the answer has always been no. But last week, for some reason, when I found myself standing there in that hospital gown as I waited for the nurse to tell me what to do next, I felt my stomach twist into a knot. My heart was pounding, and I felt just the slightest bit queasy.

She went over a short list of potential side effects, none of which I hadn't heard about before. The biggest one, she said, would be fatigue. She said those who have the radiation before the chemo usually don't start feeling it until about the third week. For those of us who have already had our chemo, the fatigue strikes sooner. She said I'll feel like I need a nap. I pretty much already feel like that all the time, so hopefully it won't get much worse. She also said that it would take approximately 2 months after I finish the radiation for me to start feeling more normal. I was hoping I could look forward to the fatigue being less of an issue since I was finished with the chemo, but it seems that I'll have to contend with it a while longer.

The second side effect I will have to watch for is a skin reaction. Mostly, this doesn't become a real issue until further into the treatment, but it can be anything from a mild redness similar to a sunburn to actual blisters. I'm sincerely hoping I won't have to deal with the worst case scenario.

So, after pointing out these two most common side effects, we went into the room and she adjusted a part of the bed that sits just below my rear to keep my hips in place. At the head of the table is a U shaped head rest and above that are 4 smaller rests to hold my arms. In all honesty, it isn't horrifically uncomfortable. I've lain on worse.

After getting situated on the table, the nurse folded back the gown to expose my right breast. Then she spent several minutes adjusting the position of the table. It moves pretty much in all directions, fast and slow, in tiny increments until they get it positioned precisely where they want it. There are targeting lasers that come out of the ceiling and wall which are used for positioning. After getting me in position, the nurse started drawing an assortment of things on my chest, from the center of my sternum, around the top and bottom of my breast, and off to the side as well. These marks were made with marker and consisted of lines, dots, and X's.

Following the marking, they applied two pieces of tape that had small pieces of metal in them so they could be seen on x-ray. They took an x-ray, then she came in and used a very thin wire that was laid across my breast to mark the outline. Then they took another x-ray. After all this, she came in and applied some tattoo ink to several of the marker dots. She used a small needle and pushed the ink into my skin, making several very small dots. Then, last of all she took a couple of photos of all the marks. And that was my setup for my radiation treatment.

 One of my tattoos. You can see how tiny they are by comparing them to the pores of my skin. I have six of them altogether. This is the only one that's visible while I'm dressed. It's above my sternum in the center of my chest. When I get my treatments they re-mark them with a marker to make them easier to see.

By the time I was finished with my setup, my nerves had mostly subsided. I don't really know why I felt uneasy at the start. I felt much less anxious today when I got my first actual dose of radiation.

Today I went in and after getting into my gown and getting positioned on the table and then getting the table in position, we took two x-rays. They will take x-rays once every week to make sure their targeting is still good. I will be getting treatments every day, Monday through Friday for a full month. During this time they will be targeting the whole breast. After this treatment is finished I will get a few "burst" treatments that will more precisely target the site where the tumor was located.

I was in the office for about 25 minutes today because they took the x-rays. Regular treatment days will probably take 15 minutes or less. I'll spend more time getting to and from the treatments than in the actual treatments. I keep telling myself that at least it's only for a month.

Anniversaries...

Why, do you suppose, do we humans make such an art out of marking the passage of time? We count every single thing on an annual basis. Birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries of every sort. I'm not saying I don't do this. I do. I count everything. I used to actually count even more, but I've gotten a little lazy as I've gotten older. Still, looking at my calendar, I notice that it is virtually littered with reminders of dates that I hold on to for various reasons.

There is my birthday, which I don't actually need a reminder of, but it's there none-the-less. And Mark's birthday, of course. And then come the birthdays of various family members and friends. Add to these personal reminders several holidays, National and Christian. Oh, and the yearly celebration of marriage, too.

What I find interesting is that we don't just mark the annual passage of dates that hearken back to happy days. Independence day, Christmas, Birthdays, Wedding Anniversaries, Valentine's Day, etc. each celebrate presumably happy events. Not being Catholic, I have no actual idea who St. Patrick was, which is fine since that day seems to be less about the saint and more about the green beer. As a kid, it was about making sure I wore something green so that I wouldn't be subjected to pinches. Where in the world did that come from!? Anyway, there are all sorts of holidays out there that either commemorate joyous events, or dates that at least usually make us smile.

There are memorial anniversaries, too. Memorial Day being the most recognized, and Pearl Harbor Day, and Patriot's Day. These dates remind us of those who have died either defending this nation, or in the case of Patriot's Day and Pearl Harbor Day, in attacks upon this nation. They aren't what I'd call happy events, but days to reflect back in somber remembrance to events so momentous that they can never be allowed to be forgotten.

And let's not forget the various dates set aside to honor those who in some way contributed either to the birth of this nation or to it's history. Today is President's Day, but we single out George Washington for his own day. And Martin Luther King, Jr., too. And there are others. Even members of our own families get special days of their own. Mothers, Fathers, Grandparents, all of whom certainly deserve to be recognized for the countless sacrifices they make, often on a daily basis.

There is even a seemingly endless list of far more obscure dates that some like to recognize. Things like National Eat Pie Day, or National Trivia Day. This list is both fascinating in its length and content. National Nothing Day comes on January 16. How, exactly, does one celebrate that, I wonder?

Last but certainly not least come the days that I personally would like to forget, yet that I continue to mark each and every year. Today is one of those days. My mother died on February 21, 1989. For 22 years now I've been watching that day come and go, often marked by tears and sadness, or at the very least, a general malaise. Today will be no different than those that have come before. But there's more to the story of my mother's death than just this date. Because I have two other important dates on either side of it.

Mark and I met on July 31, 1987. It was the last night of the Ohio County 4H Fair in Rising Sun, IN. My sister lived there in those days in a fairly small trailer park that abuts the fairgrounds. My mother and I were visiting her during our summer break. There was a girl my age who also lived in the trailer park and who babysat my sister's children. My sister naturally figured we would get along, and we did. Allison suggested we walk over to the fairgrounds that evening and take a look at the animals as they were loaded up. There was quite a large crowd milling around. At some point as we walked along, I heard a male voice say, "Hey, Allison." I glanced around as she laughed and said, "that was Mark." Not having ever met Mark, I had no idea what he looked like and so had no way to pick him out of the crowd. I shrugged it off.

Later that evening we were sitting on a small bench in front of Allison's trailer. The fair had wound down. We were just talking, as teenage girls do. Then a motorcycle came by carrying two guys. Honestly, I can't remember what the one on the back looked like. I was busy looking at the cutie who was driving. He came to a stop and said hi to us. I don't remember what words were spoken in those first few moments, just that he said he had to take his friend to his truck and that he'd come back after he did. (Mark later told me all about this night from his point of view. He saw me when we passed in the crowd and immediately wondered who I was. Later, as he was taking his friend Jeff to his truck after the fair, he spotted me sitting out there with Allison and stopped. But he was worried about Jeff being interested in me, so he wanted to get him out of there as quick as he could. Isn't that just precious?)

He did come back and we chatted that night. It was obvious to Allison, I suppose, that sparks were flying between Mark and me. So she made a special mention of the fact that I would be going to church with her in the morning. I don't know how long we talked, but he eventually left and I went across the road to my sister's trailer and went to bed. The next morning as Sunday school was winding up, we heard Mark's motorcycle pull into the lot. There is a long, drawn out story behind Mark and his parents and family and this particular church. Suffice it to say that he had not been there in quite some time. But he showed up that morning.

After church we made a date to meet so he could take me for a ride on his bike. This is us, probably on that date.

He was chewing on a straw. I don't know why. Anyway, we went for a ride and came back to my sister's place, then sat out there and talked into the wee hours of the night. I walked into my sister's trailer after he finally left to find my mother waiting up for me. I looked at her and said, "he's the one." Her reply was, "I know," and that was the absolute last time we ever talked about it. Which brings us to the first anniversary of my special cluster.

Mark made his first trip down to Mississippi to see us near the beginning of January of 1988. (I say "us" because he loved my mom as much as he loved me.) Some time after that, I don't remember exactly when, I accidentally over heard him on the phone with my mom talking to her about getting me a ring. (This remained my secret for YEARS, as I was careful to hang up the extension I'd picked up and to never say a word to anyone about what I'd heard. LOL) He gave me that ring on February 20, 1988. This means, of course, that on the date of the first anniversary of our engagement we were sitting in a hospital while my mother was dying.

We talked about it then. How neither of us ever imagined we'd be spending our anniversary like that. I always found it rather remarkable that the timing worked out like it did. I'd like to say that I found a way to take the joy of the 20th and carry it over to the 21st, but I didn't. In fact, I can't actually remember what I did on the first couple of anniversaries after my mother's death. I wasn't catatonic, but I was as close to it as anyone can be while still conscious and upright.

By late 1991 I was finally starting to emerge from the fog of the depression I'd sunk into. Mark, God bless him, stood by me through it all, even when I made his life a living hell. There are an assortment of reasons why we hadn't already gotten married. Partly, I suppose Mark wanted to make sure I would actually remember the ceremony. But he also had issues with our age difference. Despite having given me a ring, he was always afraid that I would "grow up" one day and decide that we didn't have enough in common. It is the only real insecurity I have ever known him to have.

For my part, I knew he had nothing to worry about. I'd known it practically from day one of our relationship. See I believed then and still do today that our meeting was no accident or quirk of fate. Some have told me I was lucky to find such a good man. My response to that is that I am not "lucky," I am saved. I don't believe in fate or luck. I believe in God. And I believe with every fiber of my being that it was His hand that guided Mark to walk past me that July night. It was God's hand that kept Allison and me out there talking so that Mark would see us when he passed by. It was God's hand that led me to attend church with Allison and that brought Mark to that church that Sunday morning in spite of the fact that he had personal reasons not to come. And it was God who knew that a short year and a half later I would desperately need Mark's strength to help me get through the single most emotionally devastating event of my life.

I wasn't looking for a husband when I met Mark. I was barely 16 at the time. (A big part of why Mark was so worried about me "growing up.") And I actually had a very casual boyfriend back home. He and I had decided that we weren't interested in any kind of serious relationship. We just had fun together and so agreed to go out until one of us found someone we did want a relationship with. Ironically, he missed me so much while I was gone visiting my sister that he called me as soon as we got home and told me he'd changed his mind, that he wanted to make our relationship exclusive. I had to tell him the truth. That I'd met someone else and that it was serious.

And Lord knows Mark wasn't looking for a girlfriend. Especially not a 16 year old girl that lived more than 400 miles away in Mississippi. He was 21, going to college at Perdue University. He wanted to be an astronaut. He certainly had the smarts for it. Just as a point of clarification, he didn't realize how young I was when we first met. By the time he figured it out, he was already attached I suppose.

God's funny that way. He likes to hook us up with people we wouldn't necessarily lean toward on our own, be it potential mates or even friends. Mark always called me a city girl. Compared to him, I guess I was. But in every way that mattered, we were alike. We shared the same values, the same belief in God. We shared the same love of family. We made each other laugh and it didn't hurt that we both found the other attractive, too. LOL

So I was engaged to Mark on February 20, 1988. I lost my mother on February 21, 1989. By February of 1992, I was at a point where I was beyond ready to be married. It was a bit of a coercion to get Mark to agree, even then. But agree he did. I decided that we would do it on the anniversary of our engagement. I figured it would be good to try to turn that date back into something joyful. This was all done kinda on the spur of the moment with almost no planning. I did buy a special dress and Mark and I bought rings, but other than that, it was pretty much a quickie kind of deal.

Indiana required prospective newlyweds to jump through quite a few hoops. Kentucky was far less particular. All we needed was proof of who we were and our ages and we could get a license. I called the courthouse and double checked. So on February 20, 1992 Mark and I and his parents headed over to the courthouse in Warsaw, KY to get married. We got our marriage license with no problems. Unfortunately the actual marriage was a bit of an issue. It turns out that the judge over there was gone for the day. There wasn't anyone to marry us. That was a Thursday. Poor Mark, in an effort to soothe my anxiety, suggested that we could just come back the next day.

I was NOT going to get married on the anniversary of my mother's death. I just couldn't. And I knew good and well that no courthouse was open on Saturday, which meant we were looking at waiting until the following week. I wasn't far enough recovered from my severe depression that this snafu didn't send me for a loop. I was angry and upset. I didn't want to wait several more days. It was a mess.

But, again, God came through. Honestly, looking back I can't remember exactly how it all happened. I just know that we found out that the judge in Carroll county was not only going to be in his office on Saturday morning, but that he would be more than happy to marry us then. So on Saturday, February 22, 1992, Mark and I and his parents went to Carrollton, KY and met up with Judge Harold "Shorty" Thomlinson. He married us that morning.

 (I don't know what I find more amusing. The blackness of Vannie's hair, or Mark's. LOL)

I really need to spend some time cleaning this picture up. But at least you can see our rings... and Mark's jeans. He really dressed up for the occasion. LOL

So this is how I came to have three anniversaries in a row. First our engagement, then mom's death, and finally our wedding. Every single year when these three days come around I inevitably wade through a roller coaster of emotions. Still, ultimately, I guess I accomplished what I set out to do. Or I should say that God accomplished what He set out to do. Because if Mark and I had gotten married on the 20th, then I would have had nothing but normal days after the 21st came around. Just regular old days for the grief to linger through. Now, while I may still grieve and mourn on the 21st of every February, the very next day I can't help but remember just how blessed I am.

I have a husband who I adore and who in turn adores me. We make each other happy. We make each other laugh. We would rather be in each others' company than with anyone else either of us knows. And if I had ever had any doubts about just how fabulous a guy my husband is (which I didn't), his faith, love, and support through my cancer diagnosis and treatment would have put them to rest.

Ultimately, I can't help but take some time out of these days to thank God for leading Mark and I to the places we both needed to be. I love my husband dearly. We are so well matched that it can be nothing BUT the hand of God Almighty that set it all in motion. So thank You, Lord, for my husband. Thank You for guiding us to each other. Thank You for blessing and protecting and encouraging us through all these years. And please, Lord, continue to do so.

Response to a Comment...

On the night of the Super Bowl, I posted about the absurdity of how the NFL rejected a commercial with a less than overt Christian message, yet offered several items of their own that openly and repeatedly referred to God: Are You Ready for Some Football (and Religion?) To my surprise, I received a comment from someone I do not know and have never heard of who took issue with my views. Here is his comment:

I trust you are not intentionally disparaging our nation's founding principles and religious heritage.

The truth is that church state separation is central to America's founding principles and faith heritage ... in reaction to the theocracies of colonial America, where "Christian" colonies persecuted and even killed citizens who refused to embrace the official state faith or obey the official religious laws.

In 1644, Baptist Roger Williams (persecuted by Massachusetts' "Christian" colonial theocrats, who considered Baptists heretical) called for a "wall of separation" between church and state. Baptists' "wall of separation" would prevent government from interfering with the free exercise of religion, and prevent government from incorporating religion into governance.

Generations of Baptists were persecuted, and shed blood, in the fight (against colonial theocracies) to separate church and state. Their triumph finally came in the enactment of the First Amendment to the U. S. Constitution, establishing the Baptist vision of a "wall of separation" between church and state.

Deniers of church state separation often respond that the phrase "wall of separation" is not in the U. S. Constitution. Well, neither is the word "Trinity" in the Bible, but most deniers of church state separation probably believe in the Trinity.

More importantly, Christians of the late 18th and early 19th centuries clearly understood that the First Amendment wording - "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof" - separated church from state. Their testimony bears much more weight than the fabricated history loved by many modern conservative Christians and politicians.

Make no mistake: denying church state separation mocks our nation's founding principles and faith heritage. Church state separation was good for America in 1791, and it is good for America now. To see the problems of merging church and state, look to the Middle East, where conservative religious law (Sharia Law, based on the biblical Old Testament) rules.

Church state separation is a liberal, and American, moral value of which we all can be proud.

Bruce Gourley
Director
Baptist History & Heritage Society
www.baptisthistory.org
www.wallofseparation.us

 I visited his sites and decided to respond to his comment. I had to do so by email, since he provides no way for me to comment publicly on his "Wall of Separation" site. Here is what I said:

Mr. Gourley,

You recently commented on a post I made on my blog: winsomebulldog. While I appreciate your interest in my opinion, I believe you misunderstood the point I was attempting to make. I visited your “Wall of Separation” site and in your “Responding to the Lies” section you write this: “Today, many conservative Christians and politicians falsely claim that separation of church and state does not exist, and that the First Amendment was designed only to protect religious persons from government intrusion, not to prohibit government from favoring or establishing religion.” [emphasis mine] Where, precisely, did I made such a claim within my blog? In fact, I expressly stated that the purpose of the First Amendment was to prohibit the government from establishing religion. I said, "All it was ever intended to do was ensure that this nation would never establish a National Church..." I followed this up with a reference to the Church of England, which is in fact the very thing our forefathers were attempting to prevent in this country. I would also like to mention that I find it somewhat lazy of you to avoid addressing my thoughts and words directly and instead simply “cut and paste” the exact words of your website. Apart, of course, from your opening sentence in which you make a thinly veiled suggestion that I am “intentionally disparaging our nation's founding principles and religious heritage.”

I can also cut and paste large groups of words. From your website: Responding to the Lies

And here is a good followup to the argument that goes something like this: “I do believe in separation of church and state, but today the concept is applied to strictly” [Just as an FYI, the word before “strictly” here should be “too,” not “to.”]

Are you in favor of all faiths and no faith – Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, pagans, wiccans, atheists, etc. – equally being allowed to pray (or offer faith-based or non-faith based spiritual or similar commentary) in government-sponsored public settings like public schools, town council meetings, state legislators, Congress, etc.? Or do you think that such public religious roles, in government-sponsored settings, should be reserved for Christians only (or monotheists only)?
Baptists from the 17th century onward insisted that Christians, Muslims, Jews, pagans and atheists should be treated equally. And yes, they advocated for an absolute separation of church and state, as does our U.S. Constitution.
The First Amendment to the U. S. Constitution does allow all individual religious persons to express their faith freely as citizens, and prohibits a religious test clause for government service (that is, a person’s faith or lack of faith has no bearing on government service). At the same time, the First Amendment prohibits government from promoting any religion or enacting religious laws.
This is not to say that America (in practice) always adequately separated church and state even in the 19th century, much less today; theocratic tendencies from our colonial era haunted us then, and still do. Religious majorities yesteryear and today, with their powerful influence and righteous certainty, too frequently want governments to enact their own faith-specific agendas.
My guess would be that many Americans today cannot fully grasp the historical context of our nation’s heritage of separation of church and state, apart from living as a person of minority faith, say, in the Middle East.
And I am quite certain that if Christianity were a small, minority sect in America today, the very voices now condemning separation of church and state would, suddenly, be demanding a strict separation of church and state.

Hmm... first of all, I would say that prayer is not “commentary,” whether it be of Christian, Muslim, or any other origin. [Another FYI, Buddhists do not actually pray to any god.] I would suggest that a prayer of protection and guidance, as would likely be submitted at any of the events you have suggested, cannot be compared to “faith-based or non-faith based spiritual or similar commentary.” Commentary is something you and I and countless others do in places like our blogs and websites.

You speak of Baptists insisting that all points of view (whether religious or atheistic) being treated equally. How, pray tell, does any of this have anything at all to do with me suggesting that a commercial with a profoundly muted Christian message was rejected simply because it had any Christian message at all? And how does any of what you’ve said address the fact that the NFL did this in spite of the fact that they allowed multiple other items with an undeniable religious message to be presented in their broadcast? These are the things I was speaking to. I was simply amazed at the blatant duality of their choices.

You may argue that the First Amendment was intended to support a strict separation of church and state all you like. You, like every other American, are certainly entitled to your opinion. I am simply unwilling to ignore the fact that faith in a single God, the Creator of everything, played a pivotal role in the foundation of this nation. The fact of the matter is, we are a nation with a majority of citizens who claim to be Christian. In the Middle East, where Islam is the dominant faith, I cannot imagine any sane person suing the government because they’re offended by hearing prayers of that faith. And I am not talking about the potential danger of doing such a thing in a place where open rejection of Islam can often be grounds for death. I am merely speaking to the fact that in any nation where the majority of citizens practices a specific religion, I would not be offended to hear them pray to whatever deity they choose to follow. I would not be offended by the sounds of Buddhist believers meditating in Korea or China. I would not be offended by the public Hindu shrines placed on public lands throughout India. These are the beliefs of those nations. I feel no need to fight them simply because I do not share them. By the same token, I cannot understand why so many, especially atheists, are so profoundly offended by prayers that they are not forced to take part in. The solution is very simple. Do not listen. Do not take part. If a nativity scene offends you, look away. If you do not believe in The Ten Commandments, don’t read or practice them.

These are exactly what I and every other Christian do when we encounter something we do not believe in. For example, as a Christian I find many of our society’s trends offensive. I am sickened by how often sex is used to sell products, but I have not sued any business because of it. I simply turn off their commercial or look away from their billboard. I am offended by the fact that the distinctly anti-Christian Theory of Evolution is taught as fact in our government-sponsored public schools, yet I have not sued anyone because of it. I find infidelity abhorrent, but I have not sued or boycotted or otherwise thrown a tantrum in an effort to convince the government to regulate the ceaseless television programs broadcast on public television stations that promote this behavior. The list could go on and on.

My point, which you clearly missed, is that our society bends over backwards to avoid stepping on the toes of those who do not share the Christian faith while making an art form out of slapping Christians in the face at every turn.

I will be addressing your comment on my blog. Please feel free to respond to this if you like. However, do so as an individual who does not share my opinion, not a person seeking to promote, and gain donations for, your website.

Sincerely,

Jennifer L.

I am open to dialogue. I have no problem debating my beliefs with anyone. But I do take issue with someone trying to use my blog to promote themselves. Mr. Gourley seeks to gain members, support, and donations on his "Baptist History & Heritage" site. He reprinted word for word his text from his other site in his comment. This is unacceptable to me. If you want to debate my views, do so personally, not by rote.

Bye, Bye Chemo!

Well, I'm finished with the chemo. Been done for a few weeks now, but was waiting for the last of the side effects to fade before posting. Actually, I'd thought about doing a post that detailed my symptoms through that last chemo, but I just felt too bad to keep up with it. Suffice it to say that I am thankful that the pain is gone and along with it the odd twitching and spasms in my feet and legs. Then there was the first week or so when I couldn't taste anything, followed by the second week when I still couldn't taste anything I ate, but at the same time had a nasty taste in my mouth that nothing seemed to help. And I won't even talk about the diarrhea! The only issue I seem to have left at this point is watery eyes. Those aren't likely to clear up for several months. And I still have no eyebrows or eyelashes, though the hair on my head is slowly coming back. I really do miss having hair.

Yeah, that's my head. Mark teases that I have a receding hairline. I'm just hung up on how much gray there is. I've had a Lily Munster little patch of gray on top for a few years, but the hair on both sides of my head is almost all gray now. I guess that whole hair coming back a different color thing is true. My different color just happens to be gray.






( I just have to interject here that I'm sitting here watching the Gaither Gospel Hour on Inspiration, and Larnelle Harris and Ladye Love Smith are singing "I've Just Seen Jesus." I have always loved that song, though Larnelle originally did it with Sandi Patti. I sang it as a solo years ago, and it still gives me chills. It's that awesome moment when we see Jesus and our lives are changed forever. I love it! Okay, back to what I was saying.)


Hmmm... have I mentioned that my attention span is kinda short, too? Ha. (I've got goose bumps!) I'm going to have to post that video here, just because I now can't get the song out of my head. I loved Larnelle Harris when I was a teen. And Amy Grant, and Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. I remember every afternoon when my best friend and I would get in the car to go home after school, she'd be like, "So, who's it gonna be today? Larnelle, Amy, or Brooklyn Tab?" Need I mention that we were not typical rebellious teenagers?

Okay, NOW I can get back on topic. So, I have the gray hair coming in, eyes that sometimes water like crazy, and lingering fatigue that will take quite a while to overcome. All in all, I count my blessing that the side effects I've had have not been worse.

The funny thing is, Mark and I figured that the worst was over once the chemo was done. And I'm sure it is. But I have had one issue since I finished the chemo. After last week's Herceptin infusion, I developed swelling and a bruise at my port site. We saw my oncologist the next day, and he felt it was probably nothing serious. Mark was still worried, though, especially when the bruise kept getting bigger. So I saw my surgeon's partner on last Friday and after looking at it, he felt it was too early to do further testing. His theory was that my chemo nurse nicked a small blood vessel when I got my infusion. It was also possible that my port was seeping a little, but he didn't want to do further testing until we saw what the next few days brought.

The bruise is sizable, but stopped growing that day. It's now a lovely greenish-blue color. The surgeon told me to pay special attention when I got my infusion today and if anything felt off, to let them know. (As if I needed to be told that!) Anyway, I had my infusion and aside from an issue with the needle's initial placement, everything seems to have gone just fine. No swelling or new bruising so far. Thank you, Lord! I was not looking forward to possibly having to have the port replaced. I still need it for several more months, at least through October.

I'll keep getting the herceptin on a weekly basis while I'm getting radiation. That will start on February 28th. I go next Wednesday to do my practice run. They will also give me a series of small tattoos to make permanent marks for them to use to line up the machine. Not looking forward to that. They'll be very small, just little dots about the size of the head of a pin. The radiation will take about six weeks or so.

It's hard to believe the chemo is all behind me. In the beginning it seemed like it would take forever. Then again, it's hard to believe that I was diagnosed almost seven months ago. Hardly seems possible that so much time has already gone by. It just goes to show how time keeps marching on whether we notice or not.

So, the chemo is done and before I know it, the radiation will be, too. Then it'll just be the herceptin and no doubt that end will come with surprising quickness as well. My father used to tell me that time moved faster as we got older. He was right.

On a side note, one of the ladies from the Cancer Survivors' Network has just informed us that she has cancer for the third time. She was diagnosed with breast cancer back in 2007. She fought it a second time, and was just recently in the hospital for what she thought was pneumonia. They found out after running tests that instead of pneumonia, the cancer has sprung up in her lungs. Her name is Barb. Please lift her up in prayer as she faces this battle once more. I know God will keep her in His care. He's taken good care of me.