Such a Wonderful Grandmother

I wrote about my Grandmother a few days ago. This is my favorite photograph of her and me.  It has always been framed in my bedroom, still with the big red nose sitting on top.  It was taken in 1992 at her 95th birthday party just after I burst into the church at the end of mass.

My blog the other day inspired me to email several members of my family to share their best stories of "Rosetta Loretta Pitstick Kavanagh Barmann."  Grandma was loving, funny, stern, constantly cleaning or cooking, and very matter-of-fact.  Just about every story I got back reflected her ability to say exactly what was on her mind.

My cousin Mary C, shared this story . . . . 

"When I brought my first-born to introduce him to Grandma, she took him in her lap and slowly looked him over.  She intently checked out the look of his face, examined the shape of his head, uncovered his feet and opened his hands.  With what seemed to me to be a scowl and a frown she spent an inordinate amount of time examining my precious child.

"Finally she looked up at me, pointed to a slight flat area on the side of his ear and said, 'You see this flat spot, he got that from the Pitsticks.'  No congratulations, no oooohing or ahhhing, just a stern acknowledgement that he had passed muster into the family clan by virtue of his ear anomaly."

And interestingly, my sister Cece had a very similar story about when Grandma came to see her firstborn . . . . 

"Don't ask me why I expected some words of wisdom or sentimental talk, since it was Grandma, but her words when I gave him to her to hold were, "Well he feels just like a sack of flour!"

My brother recalls the day of his ordination when he asked Grandma for advice.  She told him not to watch soap operas because they are filled with lots of sex.  But Kev reminded her that she watched them every day.  "It doesn't matter for old ladies," she said.

And when she gave Mary C a talk about sex, Grandma told her "she purposefully paced and extended saying the evening rosary as she knelt beside the bed with her husband.  Her rationale she said was her hope that he would fall asleep so she would not be called upon to 'do her duty' with an amorous spouse."

And my sister Kathy remembers this story . . . . 

"Grandma asked me to carry plates and silverware to the table.  At the last moment she wanted to include napkins, but I told her I couldn't carry it all.  She said, 'Just stick the napkins down your blouse and carry them that way,' at which time she did a double take and said, 'never mind, they will fall to the floor the way you're built.'"

And my favorite story is from the last time I saw her.  She was 97 and living with my Aunt Monnie and Uncle Chuck.  She sat stroking my hand, as she always did, and told me that she had something to tell me that she hoped I would never forget.

"So many people tell you what to eat so that you'll live longer.  Others tell you to exercise or work less, so you'll live longer.  None of those people have lived longer.  I have.  Trust me, there is nothing wonderful about living longer.  I'm sitting here with my urine in my purse (she had a catheter), and I hurt most of the time.  So I say, eat what you want and pray that it takes you early."

Aunt Monnie, a bit frustrated, said to her, "Mom, you keep saying that you wish you were gone. When is it that you would have liked to die?  85?  88?  92?  When?"

Grandma looked at her, stuck out her tongue, and said, "Thursday.  That lasagna was terrible."

Dared evil

We all have been reading this week about the avalanche that killed eleven climbers at the summit of K2 in Pakistan.  Every time I hear the story, I am fascinated by the idea of people wanting to endure that challenge.  Nothing could be further from my being.  Give me a small riddle, or maybe a design problem, but a frozen ice peak 28,000 feet in the sky?  I'll pass.

We are all born with different passions.  What is it that moves someone to risk his life, probably his fortune, and a good bit of his office vacation on the side of a mountain?  Why are some drawn to black bears?  Sword swallowing?  White water rafting?  Or even extreme sports?

It must be the danger involved.  Danger must be an adrenaline rush for many people.  The LA freeways are dangerous.  French fries are dangerous.  But eating McDonalds on the 405 does not excite me.

So here is my question.  When these risk takers are confronted with other challenges, let's just say normal life conflicts like . . . oh, maybe cancer . . . does that also give them a rush to tackle it? I pose this as a serious question.  Here is one of the reasons I ask.  There are many parts of my recent experience that have somewhat invigorated me.  I am learning a lot about a new subject. In so many ways, it makes me a better, stronger person.  I am discovering many things about myself and my body, both physically and psychologically, and I get a face-to-face look at the modern advances in healthcare.  Later, I can help coach others.

Am I getting a small taste of what they feel?  Accomplishment, determined spirit . . . lightheadedness?

Yesterday I was stretched out inside a CT scan machine pondering all of these deep thoughts. There's not really much else to do except ponder.  Ponder and panic if you're claustrophobic. And I thought, "This is an experience I'm actually glad to have. I know what it's like to be injected with radioactive materials and then put under a microscope."  (And by the way, I had to stay away from pregnant women and children for 12 hours.)

I don't say all of this lightly.  Perhaps there is a small part of a daredevil  in me after all.  It's kind of exciting to find my way down from this mountaintop when forced to do so.  I wouldn't have chosen it, but most of the greatest things I have learned in life did not come from situations I would have chosen.  We all stretch ourselves in various ways, and I so much commend those who do it to extreme.  The greater the difficulty, the greater the reward.

That being said, you can keep your parachutes and bungee chords.  I'll stick to my Adriamycin. 

Funny, I Was Just Thinking That

Humor has always been a big part of my life.  When I was young, my father told me that God gave me the gift to laugh and I should always remember to spread it to others.  Later, words like "sick" and "twisted" were used to describe the gift, and maybe I should think twice about the spreading part.

Is laughter the best medicine?  A recent report in "Science Daily" found that  it is one of the greatest assets in healing and stress reduction.  And it also found that employees reported higher job satisfaction when they worked for someone who used humor.  "If employees view their managers as humor-oriented, they also view them as more effective."  This was even truer in medical settings where pain and depression were a daily part of life.

I recently blogged about my "C Card" . . . those business-looking cards that I have handed out to people allowing me to "play the C card."  I have expanded on them, creating others that read, "You're not really that boring.  It's chemo fatigue," "Shampoo?," and "I'm sorry to hear you're having a bad day.  Did I tell you I have cancer?"

So I went online to find other people in the world of cancer who might appreciate them.  To my surprise, when I Googled "Cancer, Funny," there were almost 5 million hits.  By the end of my reading, I was laughing and crying and I realized that I hadn't felt better in weeks.  Medicine?

A woman by the name of Christine Clifford founded CancerClub.com.  She is also the author of "Not Now, I'm Having A No Hair Day."  Her site, her books, and her speaking engagements all reflect the same humor, which I love.  She also markets products for people with cancer who choose to laugh.

I emailed Christine and heard back from her within a couple of hours.  (Ya gotta love this age of instant communication.)  She will be speaking here in Los Angeles in a few weeks and invited me to the event, which I will definitely attend.

This is her introduction on her website . . . 

"Humor is a great connector of people.  I know I needed people, especially family members, around me as I faced my journey with cancer.  Therefore, it is often the patients themselves who need to 'set the tone' and let family members know the timing is right to bring laughter back into their life.

How can we accomplish this?  It's simple:  there comes a point in the life of most patients when they realize that they can't change their situation, but they can change their attitude.  They want their life to get back to normal, and humor is an important ingredient in the recovery process."

Those Glorious Dead People

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times . . . I don't know how I would have gotten through this year without the love and support of my family and friends.  If you imagined the greatest gift you could be given in life, what could be better?

But secretly, I also depend on the love and assistance of a few key people who have left this world and went "movin' on up."  I take great comfort in knowing they are also watching out for me. I have been using the expression "trust rather than fear."  That's been my motto for several months.

I imagine them all, relatives and friends, playing a big card game, laughing and drinking and eating all things decadent.  Every once and awhile, they stop and talk about me.  And then it ends abruptly with Dad saying, "Good Lord Bill, just kick that cancer's butt and get on with it."

My grandmother, Rosetta Loretta Pitstick Kavanagh Barmann, is definitely at the head of the table.  She was the matriarch of our family and loved by everyone.  For many years she worked on our family tree.  She visited grave sites and libraries, families and friends, digging up information.  (Hopefully she didn't do any of the digging at the cemeteries.)  

When Grandma died, she willed the family tree to me.  My brother and I are the last to carry on the Kavanagh name.  For many years she had a chain of photos hanging in her living room.  Her grandparents on their wedding day, her parents on their wedding day, her on her wedding day, my father on his wedding day, and one blank frame waiting for me.  Just before she died, I went to visit her and noticed that she had given up hope.  The bottom frame had someone's dog in it.

This week I pulled out that old family tree.  The last entry was 1987.  I have started entering it into a software program that I can share with all of my relatives.  While doing that, I have become overwhelmed with all the souls that might be at that card game.  All of the personalities that I never knew.  It's fun to think about who they might have been, and how we might be alike.  (I won't dwell on the fact that their inconsiderate genetics probably gave me this cancer in the first place.)

So for all the Myrtles, Stellas, Wilfreds, and Alloysius' in my past, I thank you for taking time from your bridge game to guide me a bit.  And watch out for Grandma.  She's been known to cheat.

Queen of Chemo

My good friend Kristen took me to my chemo treatment yesterday.  We worked together at Disney on many animated movie premieres involving every imaginable princess, so it was only fitting that we crown her Queen of Chemo.

I came prepared with my oxygen, my camera, and of course all necessary props.  Kristen came prepared with incredibly delicious oatmeal-cookie-coated popcorn.  But neither of us came prepared for an earthquake on the drive to the hospital.  While sitting at a traffic light, we thought were hit by the car behind us.  It wasn't until we got to the hospital that they told us the truth.

All was well in the city.  No injuries or major damage.  All was well in my veins.  No injuries or major damage.  And I would love to say that all is well with Kristen, but these photos could possibly cause major damage.  The nurse walked in as we were laughing and shooting the pictures, and she asked, "What does this say about our clinic?"  Kristen responded, "It says that fun people continue to have fun no matter what."

I have had 14 treatments with 14 different loving friends or family accompanying me.  Hopefully there are only two treatments left, but after posting these pictures, it might be hard to find two more daring candidates.  When we were kids, my brother would pose for photos in anything I asked him to wear.  Maybe he'll come back and I can create a Pope's outfit with a hypodermic hat.  Kev?

Thinking

I have written many times that I have been given a beautiful gift of reflection through this little bout with cancer.  Most people do not have the opportunity or time to sit and focus on the What-if's, and the What-now's, and the What-could's.  Life is too fast and it's hard enough to keep up withe the What-the-Hell's and the What-the-#*@k's.  I'm always impressed when people tell me they had the time to read this blog.

One day someone suddenly says you can't work for a year.  You can't go anywhere, and you might not feel so great.  So you sit and think.  And then you think some more.  And then you think about what you might think about next.  (And then you blog about thinking.)

I still have managed to have a bit of my life.  Time with family and friends, and a chance to appreciate that as well.  And then.  A mean doctor says, "No that's not good.  Now you must be tied to a sofa 24 hours a day by a clear tube connected to your nose."  And so I will think some more.  A lot more.

The kitchen is within reach of the tubing.  And while baking muffins this morning, it occurred to me that bending over a gas oven with oxygen in my nose was probably not a great idea.  Evidently I wasn't THINKING?

I can watch TV.  That does not qualify as thinking.  Yes, I can read, but I think I try to avoid it, even though it has become a good friend.  Thinking and learning are different. Or are they?  I'll think about that.

I read enough of the daily paper and watch enough CNN to be a breaking news reporter.  I feel like I know every footstep of Obama and McCain.  And did you hear that Britney has her bikini body back and will get more custody of her kids?

One of the definitions in the dictionary for "think" is "To bring something to a particular condition using the mind."  OK.  I don't think I'm on the sofa right now.  I think I'm on a beach in Hawaii.

All joking aside, I truly do feel that this year has been such a gift for my soul.  It's been a cleansing and a redecorating of my psyche.  Free time does not bring boredom, it transforms into new areas of thought.

Bottom line.  Thinking is good.  More thinking must be better.   I think.

Lunch, Glorious Lunch

OK, it's a toss up between grilled cheese and peanut butter and jelly . . . with every variation imaginable for both.

From Nancy:

"Ooey Gooey Buttery Sloppy Grilled Cheese on honey wheat berry bread with a slice of tomato, accompanied by heavily peppered steak fries and some tangy dill pickles.  No contest."

From Craig:

"Peanut butter and jelly with Fritos and a dill pickle.  And it must be eaten in a specific order."

And there was grilled peanut butter and jelly.  Grilled peanut butter, honey and bananas.  Peanut butter and marshmallow.

Grilled cheese with tomato soup was very popular.  (I have to admit, I had it for lunch the day I read it.  It sparked a huge craving.)  And I can't wait to try grilled cheese with organic baby food sweet potatoes.  My friend Kristen swears by it.

Egg salad was popular.  "Packed on a bicycle, on pumpernickle, with a pickle."

Bacon lettuce and (only fresh) tomatoes.  Has to be on whole wheat.  (Everyone got so demanding that all sandwiches be done exactly as God intended.)

I think maybe the strangest entry was Doc B's mayo and sugar sandwich, however he redeemed himself with the tasty sounding hot dog and Welch's grape juice.

Then there were the odd bunch of submissions.  Liverworst and mustard??  I don't think so. And I have to admit that the Irishman in me had to Google "conpollo."  I know enough Spanish to know it means "with chicken," but I wasn't sure what was with chicken.  Turns out it is just rice.  I can tell you that most mothers barely turn out a PB&J, much less whipping up some rice and roasted chicken.

Chicken soup of course had a high ranking.  We all seem to associate that with being sick.  It is the most popular sick-kid lunch.

All of my Midwestern readers were not impressed with the Californians who commented on the blog that they like "fresh salad, fruit, and leafy greens."  We do have a west coast image to maintain, but I will tell you that one of those came from my nephew Patrick in Chicago.  So there.

And I end with, hands down, my absolute favorite entry.  It was from my niece who completely surprised me with a lunch that she said my sister would make for her daughters.  She put different colors of food coloring in bowls of milk and had the kids paint the bread.  Then she would make them into grilled cheese "works of art."  And it would work for french toast as well. That is the most creative childhood lunch I have ever heard of.  The blue ribbon goes to my sister Eileen!