Built in 1952, Still Going in 2023!

Some days, it’s going strong, some days it’s a stroll. And that is more than ok.

Spending my birthday today, the way I want. On the patio and on the deck, depending on the sun/heat. Going to find a cake with delicious buttercream frosting. Going to eat all four corners of it. It’s my favorite piece. And of course, ice cream! Thinking about what kind I would like. The possibilities are limitless.

It will be a surprise until I find the perfect thing. An adventure in shopping. Yep. We’re worth it. I’ll stop by and see how Mom is doing; she’s wanting to stay home, only, and not go for a haircut or anything. Mental note to call the beautician. OK, will do. The Babe is cooking steaks on the grill, and that’s just fine by me. It’s all about the cake on your birthday, anyway. I love birthdays, a day to celebrate you. Not like Christmas or Thanksgiving, it’s a day about who entered the world that day.

While your person is recovering after the cancer treatment, and from the cancer treatment, we need to be open for what they feel up to and don’t. It can change from minute to minute. It’s hard when they can’t decide, then they decide isn’t what they really wanted. Their minds are all over the place, and if they’re elderly, they’re worrying they won’t be able to stay in their homes. Yes, it’s an adventure. It gets better, though.

We’ve been so busy with Mom, I have had little chance to think about the significance of turning 71 this year. Life is becoming even more important to me than it was before. It is fragile, yet reinforced. It is long, yet too short. And it goes by too quickly. Ask anyone at any stage of life. We all have stories.

Sharing our stories helps other become informed of what could be ahead of them. No, no two cases are the same, no two patients are the same. Yet, some tips from everyone may be helpful to those who feel adrift at sea. You’re not alone, we’re all ready to listen and offer you and your friend or loved one what we learned and what helped us. We’re stronger together, all playing a part in this journey.

Have a beautiful day today. Help me celebrate today, have an ice cream cone or a cupcake. I appreciate it! And just have fun. See you tomorrow!

Brother Steve Had a Birthday

on May 16. #65, how can that be?

Happy Birthday, little brother, Steve. You came into my life as I was finishing kindergarten; in 1958. I don’t remember what it was like when Mom was pregnant with you. Those sorts of things were magical. We didn’t know the details. All I knew was at Dad’s announcement, we had a little brother. I didn’t know we could pick which gender we wanted. I learned three years later I couldn’t pick. They made nothing but boys. At least in our family, that was true.

Yesterday, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. Like the new kid in town. Like I was in a vacation town, just off the interstate.

I had some errands to do. The Babe wanted to do the yard, so I set out on my own. I haven’t been by myself in over six weeks. I’d drive to Mom’s, but she’d be with me for the rest of the day. Yesterday, I wasn’t picking up any passengers. I went to the bank in Gretna. The nursery in town, introduced to us by the Leavitt’s seven summers ago, is closing at the end of the summer. The owner is retiring.

I am really going to miss them. They have so many beautiful varieties of geraniums. Ivy geraniums, in hanging baskets, are outstanding. Photos later, after planting. I hoped to go to them for as long as I can plant. I’ll just have to over-winter them from now on. The Babe’s aunt taught me how to do that. I’d never heard of it before. Yet, here we are, doing it year after year. Thanks, Aunt Jo.

As I went from one place to another, two in Gretna, two in West Omaha, I could not believe the amount of building done during the past six weeks. Several homes built, streets poured and set up, many more being prepped. How much things have changed in such a short time!

It goes to show,how much life keeps going on, no matter if we’re paying attention or not. I felt much the same whenever I’ve had major surgery and spent six weeks or longer recuperating. This made me realize for the umteenth time in my life, time really travels at the speed of sound. I still marvel at the growth happening in our small town. Good and bad. A wonderful park/water park/baseball fields/and dam-site is going in close to where we live. Should help with our resale value. The Babe said he’ll be dead before they get the dam filled up with water, so he’s not worried about noise, traffic, and the negative part. I should be gone by then, too.

Have a beautiful Wednesday, friends. We’ll see each other tomorrow.

The Day After the Last Treatment

Mom’s treatment ended yesterday. It is a strange feeling already. No cancer doctor appointment until later in the summer. No further testing until labs and scans completed next month. Wow! Now what do we do?

You get so wrapped up in the daily treatments, planning your life around them, and you can’t think further ahead. What will fill your time now?

The Babe and I are lucky. We have plenty to do at home. Yes. Despite living there for 8 years, we never got settled in. Now we have book cases to fill in the lower level, and finding new homes for all the ones I no longer want to keep. I’m going to find the library in Gretna and see if they’re open to donations. And the high school may or may not want books on quilting and sewing. Who knows? The kids may want to learn something old but new to them.

The stats are looking good this month for the blog. We have published nearly 1,314 blogs daily since we started, and we notify 1,097 people each time a new one goes live. Thanks, friends! Let’s keep growing, ok? Help a girl out. Thank you! Share with your friends, your mom, aunt, even your tech savvy grandma. There’s room for men, too. Your secret is safe with me!

As we dive further into the week, take a little time to reconnect with your friends. Just a text, email, or phone call. They’ll love hearing from you. We’re planning on doing the same thing. Get out there, and Live a Great Story!

Mother’s Day Thoughts – 2023

A brief break today on cancer, but I’m still writing 30 minutes a day for the American Cancer Society Challenge to write 30 minutes a day for the 31 days of May. I’m raising funds for Cancer Research to honor mom and all the other friends and family who have endured treatment and this terrible disease.

Mother’s Day, like Christmas, is a holiday that can really stir a lot of memories – both good and bad.

It reminded me of that fact when I got up today. The Babe let me sleep until I woke up, which was about 8:45. I haven’t slept that long in forever. I got a cup of coffee and saw a stain on the carpet. One dog was sick. Oh boy. At least I got extra sleep!

The contrast of that start to my day reminded me of the contrasts mothers have with this holiday. It’s a hot button.

Some moms make their children’s lives miserable if we do not honor them to the hilt on this day. Flowers, dinner out, expensive greeting cards. Our mom wasn’t like this. After we were on our own (at least I was) she said it was her day, so she bowled in the state bowling tournament. Many women had family plans. She said she wanted to spend the day her way. And that was ok. It’s what she wanted.

Ok, in one way she was right. We’d always go to Grandma T’s for breakfast/brunch after church, then home for the kids to nap. I remember one year, my first husband was playing basketball with the neighbor’s grown kid, sprained his ankle, and I had to take care of him instead of enjoying a day off from the cooking. Fat chance! Oh well.

I also have a memory that is sweet. One year, the father of my kids scrambled eggs for breakfast in bed. The kids carried my plate upstairs and dropped them off on the carpet. They picked the eggs up and didn’t tell me until after I ate them, they fell on the floor. All I could do was laugh.

Every family has that one kid who will rat everyone out. Mine was middle child, Nick the narc. He had glasses and huge brown eyes. Looked like a little bug. Sweet child, but a rat. As a mom, you love them all. Frankie, Nick, and Becky, you were my life for so long. It was lonely when you went off and found your own place in life. Proud of all of you.

A chef, a truck driver, and a radiology tech/assistant turned mom. They are all good people and have very different personalities. It’s been a ride. Being a Mom is all I ever wanted to do. Being a Grandma is a bonus, especially being a bonus grandma! To Addison, Joell, Gavin, and especially Kayla and Cody: love all of you, and it’s wonderful seeing you all grow up.

My step-kids are the best, and I love them as I love my own. We all met as adults, and they’ve been very gracious to me and took time to know me, and I know they love me.

This is a big day today, Mom’s last radiation and oral cancer treatment! And now, we wait. One of the hardest things to do. We will make a new schedule now and decide how Mom wants to spend her time. Hopefully, she’ll be able to sit out and look at the flowers our youngest brother planted in her flower pots. It’s a tradition they have, and it’s nice. She appreciates it a lot. Hope your Monday is great, and you have something to celebrate. We do. See you tomorrow!

ACS Challenge-31daysx30 minutes

Over the years, one thing standing out among all the achievements in cancer treatment is fewer people are dying from it. Treatment helps you not only kick cancer, but is also helps you have more birthdays. Some of us might not, I understand that, too.

One thing some people do is procrastinate getting the diagnosis. They don’t want to ruin Christmas, or your birthday, or anniversary, so they put off the visit to the doctor. They delay the scans. Work is always a great excuse. Trust me, if you work for a company with health insurance and/or PTO, you can certainly miss an hour to have this important test. Your life may depend on it. Too blunt?

Sorry, not sorry if it is. The whole point I’ve learned over the years is something ACS hammers home every chance it gets: Early Detection Saves Lives.

Please, get those diagnostic tests.

Some people with cancer the Babe and I know diagnosed early had much better chances of survival after treatments. Some cancers, hard to detect, are advanced staged at diagnosis. The Babe’s ex-wife Sandy was one of these people. We were all friends, and Sandy and I became good friends during her illness. I was home during the day, and when she felt up to it, we’d go to a movie or have lunch during a weekday. I treasure that friendship. She, given 6 months to live, lived a life full of love from her kids and grandkids. And she lived two years longer than expected. She enriched all of our lives. Miss you, my friend.

Sandy’s sister Sharon, diagnosed with the same cancer as Sandy, died the next spring. Their mother died in 1988 from the same cancer. Sad situation all the way around. Sharon’s husband, Lou, began inviting us to have Christmas dinner with him, with the Babe’s daughter Tracy, TJ, Addison and Gavin. It’s become an annual blessing. The Babe worked for Lou at Watkins Concrete Block Co, Inc. until they both retired. A very kind man, with a big heart. Miss them both now.

We’ve known two people diagnosed with kidney cancer. They both underwent kidney removal surgery. Later on, cancer appeared in a nearby location, and the fight was on. The cancer, and other factors, resulted in the loss of another friend. The other person, the Babe’s Mom Liz, had the kidney removed and not more cancer. She passed from complications from MS. Bless her, too. Miss her every day.

For about seven or eight years, it seemed that’s all we knew, one friend after another; lost to cancer.

The loss to our family of my sister-in-law Laura was equally as devastating as the loss of our dad.

Married to my brother Tim, Laura was a sweetheart since kindergarten. Yes, kindergarten. Their lives went different ways, but they remained in touch. Laura married after high school, divorced with one child. She remarried, was pregnant, and her husband died of cancer. Two little children, a girl and a boy.

She wed again, had two more boys, and this husband committed suicide. Dear God, this could be a movie plot. And it’s absolutely true. Alone with four children. My brother re-entered her life.

It was a roller coaster much of the time. They were intent on changing each of their lives, and learning a better way to live and raise the children. After several years of marriage, they diagnosed Laura with oral cancer. Her brother passed from it as well. Now, Laura suffered the same fate.

To help my brother, I spent a lot of time with her. He was trying to work his job, save his time off for when he absolutely needed it, and run the house, keeping track of the kids. Hard enough for two people, much less for one with a day job. She was in and out of the hospital, feeding tube, massive weight loss, chemo and radiation, and she stayed positive. We talked a lot about heaven, God, and forgiveness. She and I were distant over a misunderstanding for a long time. Her illness and my love for my brother helped heal that issue, and I’m grateful for what I learned from her.

Mend your fences, folks. Take it from one who knows. You don’t want to run out of time. Love you, sister! See you in heaven, someday.

Both women added to my life and my understanding of others. So grateful for their friendships and the memories I have with them. Make some memories today. See you tomorrow.

The Worst Year of My Life – Part 2

1988, as we’ve been talking about yesterday and today was the worst year on record for me. So far. You never know. If you didn’t get to read Part 1, click above, and take a minute to read. I’ll wait.

So that brings us up to September, 1988. Several cancer-related deaths of friends, family, and others make for a hard year. And it wasn’t over yet.

Dad retired in July 1988, and was enjoying not going to work, especially on Saturday nights during football season. Before e-mail for photos, etc., if there was a Saturday night game in Lincoln, Nebraska, the film had to be driven up from Lincoln, processed, then printed for the paper on Sunday. They were proud of their color photos of the Huskers.

The delay meant an extra long night for the pressroom. Dad told us about that at a late celebration for Mom’s birthday, at my home with the kids. It was a Saturday night, and the first football game of the season. I’ll never forget hearing him tell us how glad he was to not be working that night.

Dad didn’t feel well for the rest of September. He had an ache in his side. He thought it was a pulled muscle. It seemed to get worse. He found out he had lung cancer on October 20, my oldest son’s birthday. We felt crushed. My kids weren’t seeing their dad much, and Dad was a great male role model to them.

I remember again what Dad said. Let’s wait to worry until we find out what we’re dealing with. Expert advice, but so very hard to do. It’s something we try to do when we learn of another diagnosis, friend, family, or neighbor. Don’t desert your people. Yes, it’s hard, but being isolated because your friends are uncomfortable is not good. They need you, and especially now.

Of all days Dad could of died, it was December 7, 1988. A day of infamy. Absolutely.

There are constant reminders of Dad everywhere that first year. In less than a month, we had the first Christmas and his first birthday (January 1) without him. It was all uphill from there. We were all so sad; this great man who never had a vacation missed his trip of a lifetime. His Blackhawk Division was due to go on a tour of Europe that spring. Seeing the sights they saw as young men in combat.

He’s missed graduations, weddings, births, and other deaths. He was only 64 when he died. So unnecessary. Like most men his age, he was a lifelong smoker. That, and the work environment at a newspaper, probably left lots of stuff in his lungs that were constant irritants. Many of his fellow pressmen also died of lung cancer in the years that followed.

I don’t know if any of you survived years longer than your parent(s) did, but it is a strange feeling. I’m 71 this month; when I was 65, I spent a lot of time thinking about how short Dad’s life was. It seriously robbed him. I know we won’t all live forever, and some folks live longer than others. It’s frightening. It left me with all kinds of unresolved feelings. I think what made it worse since I had kids to comfort, and had no one to comfort me. Loss is so hard when you’re alone.

Cancer played a huge part in the worst year of my life. Big losses in a short time. After Dad died, I had one thing to be grateful for. I didn’t have a self-centered boyfriend to contend with. That was a great blessing. And now, I can look back and see how God makes some changes in your life to help with what is coming. We might not understand it, but He does. And I’m glad.

That year taught me a lot about myself. And about life. I’d never want to re-live it.

May 5, 2023 – ACS 31 x 30

Good morning, friends! We are on day 5 of writing 30 minutes a day for the 31 days of May. How’s your world this morning? 

Mom’s not doing too well this morning, so I went over early, and she’s napping. It’s interesting, she didn’t want a recliner/chair to help her stand up. Boy, she’s just loving it now. 

That’s another thing you learn while helping someone who is aging and ill. Change is so difficult. They just want to have some control over something. It’s not unusual for any of us. They’re vulnerable, afraid, and just want something to be the same for them. Don’t we all? 

Those of us who are open to change and consider it necessary may have a hard time dealing with that attitude. From our point of view, sure, it seems to make sense, you’re over 90 years old, you can’t do most things as you used to, limitations are making your world so much smaller. No one likes that. And it happens so quickly.

It’s hard to watch them struggle, and hard to know if they want help with simple things or if they want to do it themselves. A few days ago, Mom told me she was going to do a couple of odd minor tasks. She said, “If I need you, I’ll let you know.” I try to keep it at that level. 

And here’s another it’s hard to believe we saw this moment:

After parking the car at the pickup circle, I brought Mom out in the wheelchair to get her loaded in the car. I parked behind an original 1976 Firebird Trans Am, complete with t-tops, which were off for the beautiful day.

“Does she have hearing aids?” 

“Yes.” We didn’t know what to expect then.

“I’ll wait until you get her in the car to start my car. It’s very loud, and I don’t want to hurt her ears.”

How nice of them! Can you believe it? You can find people blessing one another in unusual ways. Humans are pretty good, after all.

After parking the wheelchair back inside, another elderly person walked out with his family. It was obvious he had hearing aids, too. I smiled to myself. I leaned close to the ladies in the Trans Am and said, “Girls, you could be here for a while.” 

They laughed and told me, “We just said the same thing. I’m going to put it in neutral and roll down to the thru lanes to exit and then fire it up.” She sure knew how to start that baby. It’s rare you find anyone, much less a lady, who knows how to do that. It did my heart proud of all the girls out there. Smooth as silk!

In your journey through life, and not just cancer, things appear each day that are unexpected. We should pay attention if we’re able, and be grateful for the respites, especially during a hard day, or morning, afternoon, or hour. 

And her passenger was picked up in style from her cancer treatment. What a treat, for all of us.

Cancer and My Family, Friends

May 2, 2023


I want to thank my cousin Bob A., my friend Kathy K., and my lifelong friend Jan W. for their generous donations to the ACS during my 30-Minute-Daily Writing Challenge. Today, we continue telling the stories of cancer touching lives in our immediate and extended families. Jan’s family has a member just diagnosed. You’re in my prayers. God can work miracles.

Years ago, there was a movie called, “Medicine Man,” which starred Sean Connery, and Lorraine Bracco. We all know of Mr. Connery, and Ms. Bracco was a relative newcomer. She played Karen, Ray Liotta’s wife, in Goodfellas. She did well in this movie, made in 1992. 

The gist of the story was at a remote village in the Amazon, was a tribe who were never around outsiders, only their own people. No plagues, illnesses, or other malaise troubled these fortunate people. 

The catch is there is a plant growing here which will cure cancer. Amazing. The moral dilemma, explains Connery, is whether it is worth introducing this area of the world to mankind with all its disease, troubles, and assorted bad things, to get a supply of a naturally growing plant which will cure cancer. The story is a typical back-and-forth to expose the information to the rest of the world, inviting the press, swindlers, and thoughtless chaps to descend on this pure and peaceful world to what we live with every day in “civilization.” It’s an interesting problem.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there were such a thing available somewhere? The American Cancer Society is trying to find a cure without disrupting the peace of the world, society, and the environment. 

They used many improvements in treatment today to help people with the side effects of the treatments, and that is significant progress. I recall my dad asking, “If I could only see what is causing the pain; There’s nothing visible.” That has stuck with me for many years. 

I’ve heard cancer doesn’t cause any pain. It is when the tumors grow large enough to impinge on other organs, bones, tendons, and tissue is when the pain begins. Many times, the cancer has spread by the time they diagnosed it. Other times, as with my breast cancer, there is no pain; I didn’t even have a lump. Believe me, everyone attempted to palpate it. 

My cancer didn’t hurt either. What hurt was the lumpectomy. The tumors were small, and in situ. That means in the milk ducts. It had not spread. What a blessing. To make sure there were good margins, or areas free of the cells that would develop into cancer in a near future, they took a baseball size equivalent of tissue. Locate a baseball and hold it in your hand. It is huge when thought of in this way. 

The wound healed with nary a scar. It’s a beautiful job. Many of the doctors looked and said, “That’s beautiful; er, I mean, it’s a beautiful surgical job.” I had to laugh, and I knew what they meant. I could have opted for reconstruction, but I didn’t care then. At 57 years old, and I didn’t think it was necessary for me. Now, however, fourteen years later, I wonder if I should have had something done. Things oddly shift around after 60. I find the size difference much more noticeable. At my age now, 70, it’s off the table from my perspective. 

9 treatments to go. God, help us get there. See you all tomorrow and thank you for the support and prayers. I appreciate you.

ACS Write-30-Minutes a Day in May

May 1, 2023

Here I am, a blogger, an author, a grandma, a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a creative person who is taking part in a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society. I opened the donations with a $25 donation from me. If that’s all we receive, it’s ok with me. What? http://facebook.com/fundraisers If you click on link, sign into your personal Facebook page, then you can find my May 30 Minutes donation page. (allegedly. If you have trouble, please let me know, I’ll get a better link). Thank you.

The ACS has a lot of donations. They will always have full coffers because of the way the disease, this source, this plague, devastates the human body, families, lives, and the way it tries to change attitudes from loving life to cursing it. 

When people lose hope, that’s when cancer wins. No matter the outcome, when people lose their ability to be positive and keep the faith, that’s when cancer wins. Please know it is an unspoken fight the patient and their family are also engaged in. Not just a fight for the body; It’s a battle for your hope, mind, outlook, and future. It’s a battle for your very soul.

I’m thinking of making a daily entry, no matter how long it is, and use it as my blog for each day. I’ve long thought of writing a book for families, on the emotional toll a family experiences. No, I’m no expert, not at all. 

It riddled my life and the Babes with this journey; to walk with people we love and their families through the ends of their battles. Mine began when my dad died of lung cancer in 1988. 

In my family of origin, there are six people. Three of us have had cancer. Dad, Mom (twice), and me. Mom had oral cancer about 20 years ago. She had surgery and no treatment. No recurrence. I had Stage 1 breast cancer, had a lumpectomy and 33 treatments of radiation. Survivor and proud of it. Yet, in the back of my mind, there is a healthy fear it could return. I pray a lot. Now Mom has cancer. We’ll discuss it at a later point, along with my sister-in-law’s death from oral cancer. It was the saddest experience. I miss her. 

It is the same, yet very different every time. Every cancer is decidedly different (and that’s what makes it hard to cure), every cancer patient and their families are different, too. The spirit and souls of these groups are different, too. 

We’ll talk about our friends and family, who shall have their names changed to protect their privacy. There are many triumphs and tragedies. And yes, there is one good thing about cancer. You talk with your family and friends, but only if you want to. No one can make you or them. There is the opportunity to do so. If you die suddenly of a heart attack or in a car accident, you do not have that opportunity. It’s there in front of you. Be brave enough to use it. It is a gift.

This is my first entry, written yesterday, for this month of May, 2023. See you tomorrow.

Happy Saturday!

Here we are, at the last Saturday in April, 2023.

The past four months have passed in a quick blink of an eye. How does this happen?

We passed Mom’s 17th treatment of 28 today. That has sped by, too. Some days, she’s so tired of the hustle (she is 93, after all), but she doesn’t get too grumpy. I try to make her laugh about something from we were all at home. Usually she does. It’s good she isn’t all doom and gloom. Whatever she thinks while she’s alone, I have no idea. I’ve told her she doesn’t have to hide it, she needs to talk. Oddly enough, she does. It’s taken a bit, and she volunteers things, which is new for her. I’m grateful for that. She’s finally let me in a little. It’s finally happened. God is, indeed, good.

Do you ever watch Dateline on Friday nights? Aren’t there just a lot of people to be afraid of? That’s one way to think. And yes, there are people whom we should approach with caution. I don’t believe most folks are like that, though. I have to keep the positive thought the world is more good than bad.

I’m planning today and tomorrow what I’m using for my project to write 30 minutes a day to raise funds for the American Cancer Society. They issued a challenge for the Month of May, and I thought it was perfect. I want to concentrate on my children’s book during the next month. The second item of importance is my novel, I stopped working on at a certain part of the story which is close to something in my life. It’s hard, but ends happily, just like it did in real life.

The trouble sometimes with writing is we have ideas for so many stories, it’s hard to settle on one to work on. I have an idea for a book about the friends we knew at the VFW; I also have many ideas for a story about families dealing with cancer.

At times, I think there is a common theme with ideas I have for stories; and they all include a big element of sadness in them. Does that mean I’m a downer? Are my ideas only sad? Or are they good resources for teaching others how to deal with real-life situations? I hope they become resources for helping families in time of trouble.

Many of the people I’ve talked to about my kids book have told me they could have used something like it for them, their kids, and everyone involved when they’ve had a loss. This is encouraging. My primary goal is to not only to write well; I want to write well in a way that helps people. Help can be help with a real-life problem or enjoyment or escape in good fiction.

I think there was nothing about grief when my dad died in 1988. I know my family didn’t grieve in a healthy way. None of us did. After the Babe and I married in 1998, we were lucky to be involved in Stephens Ministry. We were introduced to healthy ways to grieve, to walk with someone through their life changes, grief, and the like. It changed our lives and our outlook. All those contacts are treasured friends today. And we’re grateful for all of it.

Here’s hoping we all have a great Saturday. And we’ll see each other tomorrow, too. Be safe out there.