Thom

How are you tonight?

Amy

Thom: Thanks for the positive perspective. I wish my guilt would go away. I guess being sick brough back memories. The antibiotics are finally working so I feel better now and more positive. Thanks. Amy

Thom

Of course I listen. And always will. Well, the flu is at least self-limiting; the cancer was not - which is the hard part, knowing you can't just rest and it will get better. And your flu will get better. Cancer is not a punishment, and none of the reasons for our cancers are our fault - unlike smokers and lung cancer, for example. And I don't think your body betrayed you. Look at all the wonderful things it has helped you get - Raymond, the boys, educated, etc. That's a better place for one's focus. Cells go crazy sometimes for reasons we don't understand. Who cares? If you must think that way, think of it as being tested. Why? Who knows. But you were tested, and since you still struggle a bit to understand, you are still being tested. So far, however, you are winning and passing the test. Take solace and strength from that and from knowing you are a survivor. Thom

Amy

Thom: I am having one of those moments that maybe only you can understand. It is self pity and anger. I have the flu and no matter how hard I try, my body is winning just as it did with cancer. Despite being past the physical threat of cancer, I still resent my body for betraying me. Perhaps I am a dualist. I have always approached life with patience and forgiveness. But when I got cancer, the fingers were pointed at me. The breast surgeon blamed my cancer on having my first baby after the age of 37, my family blamed me for drinking wine, and my primary physcian blamed the stress in my life. Either way, my body was hacked away and the physical scars left behind to remind me of my mistakes. I am so agnry at my body for betraying me. My spirit, mind, or soul is still strong; thus the dualist in me. If I am a monist, then my body is my enemy and has been rightly punished. Or, perhaps the mind heals long before the body. I see every illness as a threat. I have the flu, that’s all. But I feel helpless to defeat it. Thanks for listening to this rant. Amy

Amy

You are kind. Funny how silly thoughts pop in your head. Then I move on.

Thom

Very nice. Thank you.

Amy

This is about turning points in our lives, those moments when we have a realization. My father had only an eighth-grade education but he excelled in the steel industry of Western PA. He was a foreman at the Nation Forge in Irving PA. He had a supportive wife and three children, two of which had visual disabilities. He paid for my education, my sister’s wedding and subsequent divorce, and for the machinery that enabled my brother to start his carpentry business. He was a gruff father who made it clear that only sissies cry when they skin their knees. The first time he told me he loved me was over the phone after the birth of my second child who was born prematurely. Now he is retired, with numerous grandchildren and great grandchildren. For me, my turning point in my relationship with my father came during Halloween this last year. I was at his and my mother’s home to take my boys trick-or-treating for the first time. The youngest grandchildren and great grandchildren had put on their costumes and were ready for the night’s events; that is except for my eight-year old Nathaniel. He had yet to put on his costume. I was yelling at him to hurry up and was agitated. My father said to me “Take it easy, he is only a child and having a good time.” I quickly responded: “Who are you and what have you done with my father?” He took my face in his hands and kissed my cheek. I wonder whose turning point this was, was it my father’s or mine? Perhaps it was forgiveness and understanding from both a father and daughter.

Amy

I churned this out quickly after your last post. I hope you forgive the typos. Your last post prompted the following: This is about turning points in our lives, those moments when we have a realization. My father had only an eighth-grade education but he excelled in the steel industry of Western PA. He was a foreman at the Nationak Forge in Irving PA. He had a supportive wife and three children, two of whom had visual disabilities. He paid for my education, my sister’s wedding and subsequent divorce, and for the machinery that enabled my brother to start his carpentry business. He was a gruff father who made it clear that only sissies cry when they skin their knees. The first time he told me he loved me was over the phone after the birth of my second child who was born prematurely. Now he is retired, with numerous grandchildren and great grandchildren. For me, my turning point in my relationship with my father came during Halloween this last year. I was at his and my mother’s home to take my boys trick-or-treating for the first time. The youngest grandchildren and great grandchildren had put on their costumes and were ready for the night’s events; that is except for my eight-year old Nathaniel. He had yet to put on his costume. I was yelling at him to hurry up and was agitated. My father said to me “Take it easy, he is only a child and having a good time.” I quickly responded: “Who are you and what have you done with my father?” He took my face in his hands and kissed my cheek. I wonder whose turning point this was, was it my father’s or mine? Perhaps it was forgiveness and understanding from both a father and daughter.

Thom

The best thing about anniversaries is that you are around to remember them. They are a testament to your strength.

Amy

Perhaps you, if anyone understands. You had talked about your anniversaries so I know you understand the milestones we note in our private thoughts. Today is my oldest son’s 9th birthday. But I remember only two years ago waiting for my hair to grow back after chemotherapy. Back then, my joy was running behind my boys as we taught them to ride their bikes, something I dreamt about during treatment. In my thoughts I recount my fears and emotions about cancer each time I lift the page of the calendar to turn it as if I am celebrating a victory over the thief that stole my security. I feel strong this year and am grateful I am here with my children. Amy

Thom

Another important memory. You rock! Thanks for continuing to share.

Amy

Raymond is cooking dinner so I am going try to get this one out.

We gathered in the auditorium of my senior high school to recognize those who were graduating. I made it to my senior year. Barbara Streisand’s “The Way We Were” began to play. I was safely seated. Childhood images of the graduating class were displayed on the overhead projector. My classmates cheered and laughed.

Then it hit me. My picture may appear. How will my classmates react? The fear overcame me. Not because I saw myself as a martyr or because of a self-fulfilling prophecy I need to prove, but I understood I was different and my classmate didn’t like me. I prepared myself. It happened.

A first-grade picture of me appeared on the screen. I was dressed in a white shirt and plaid jumper. My mother was proud of me, but I had thick glasses. I stared at myself on that huge screen. Where was the applause the other students got when their pictures were displayed? It seemed the silence and humiliation lasted forever, but no real harm was done because I knew what to expect and put my armor on.

How does one overcome adversity? That's how.

Thom

Thank you, but yay you. You did the work. I just happened to be close by. I still am.

Amy

Thom: I just wanted to say thank you for listening to the stories from my childhood that tormented me into my adult life. Because of your kind and non-judgmental ear, I feel liberated from the pain of my past. You helped me to turn pain into forgiveness. I know there is more, but you gave me a safe place, for now.

Thom

Of course. Enjoy your day. And many more.

Great story too.

Amy

Raymond and I are looking forward to June 24th. Thank you for remembering us. By now, you probably know I like “The Coming of the Snow” song, but what you probably do not know is that Raymond proposed to me in December 1998. Because I was recovering from a relationship without trust, and a cancelled wedding, I told Raymond that I would marry him the first time it snowed in 1999 if the proposal was still good. Well, it snowed like the dickens on January 7th in Columbus Ohio. Raymond was true to his commitment and I my promise. Thus, January 7th is our anniversary. Corny I know, but I am listening to “The Coming of the Snow” on YouTube. Please keep personal.