Poem “Positive Feedback”

After several years of cancer treatment, a good attitude I don’t wish to lack,

So the following is a list I’ve written of positive feedback.

There’s nothing that comes close to a refreshing soft bald head,

And eating cups of chocolate ice cream was excellent in my hospital bed.

My family’s love, support and encouragement never strayed off course,

For strength to continue fighting, they were an invaluable source.

Make-A-Wish sent my family and me to Kona, Hawaii in March ’98,

Lava rock beaches, a luau, parasailing – the trip was tropical and great.

U of M athletes came to 7 West Thursday nights because patients they came to see,

Often from room to room to give books wheeled The Giving Library.

Ages 15 and 16 mark important times for a teen, and it must be said,

I was glad to get my driver’s permit and license with thick hair on my head.

Wendy’s restaurant inside the hospital saved me from the intake of hospital food,

Thurston students made a “Get Well” video after my third relapse to boost my mood.

I stayed on track with high school because they aimed to accommodate,

I am thankful to have been able to, in June 2002, graduate.

Scleral Lenses from Boston improved eyesight, as well as my eye condition,

Driving 14 hours with my Mom to Boston was a worthwhile mission.

I have good friends who go by the names Jess, Lisa, Katie and Mo.

The American Cancer Society scholarship was awarded to me three years in a row.

During my second bone marrow transplant, I met Leah and her family,

And wrote letters back and forth with Kevin, who donated marrow to me.

ECP treatments gave time for homework while I fought the battle,

And more things hospital-related I know, but will not rattle.

Sure, there’s more I can mention on positive feedback I recall,

But I’ll end on one page because there’s no room for it all.

God has a special purpose for lives He creates, every single one,

I just hope to fruitfully fulfill mine while I live under the Son.

The End

Storytime

In case you missed that, the title of today’s tale is “R & R: Rehash & Reboot”

 

“Home, home on the range!” he crooned in a high voice while flailing a brown plastic sword he’d just gotten for Christmas. “Where the deer and the antelope play!”

Donning a dark grey Gap sweatshirt and dark jeans, earlier in the lively evening 3-year-old Maxwell James expertly – that is, if scrawling various markers haphazardly across an 8½ by 11 and kindly sharing markers with his younger sister qualifies one as an expert in the field of scribbling – doodled a sketch for his adored Daddy.

Then later after I bumped my left hand’s pointer finger that has a painful split at the top, my exclamation of “Ouch!” was followed by immediate concern by Max. Apparently my injured appendage also triggered a rehashing of a phrase used to refer to his now facing-numerous-obstacles-and-taking-much-too-long-to-finish-under-construction residence.

Much like gooey chocolaty fudge never loses its satisfying flavor no matter how many times you indulge in the savory delight, words like these, repeated out of the mouth of a child yet to ride a two-wheeled bicycle, have yet to lose their sweetness.

“You have a crack finger and I have a crack house!” he exclaimed, continuing with a lighthearted phrase that can only help break up the tension and add some much-needed smiles as the saga of the remodeling of the dwelling rolls determinedly on.

“That’s silly!”

Comfort is Key, Correct?

Like I briefly mentioned in an earlier entry, bring your own comfortable sweats to wear when you’re admitted to the hospital. If you don’t, you’ll probably be swimming in an enormous drafty uncomfortable hospital gown. I very rarely put on a gown; I only wore one for surgery (I’ve had about a dozen but who’s counting?) or when it was absolutely necessary for a test like a CAT scan or echocardiogram.

Every time I was seen in the Emergency Room, which was countless times, I was told to put on a gown. For the most part, that’s just protocol (you know what I’m talking about, you’ve all seen the stereotypical hospital scene on television where a person playing a patient dons a gown that ties in the back and exposes the person’s backside) so don’t be afraid to speak up, politely of course, if you prefer to remain in your own clothes.

 

Catnap with Caution

My GENUINELY WORN OUT Napping Niece (just a couple hours ago)

My GENUINELY WORN OUT Napping Niece (just a couple hours ago)

Don’t act overly tired at a doctor appointment or he may interpret your actions as being sick and admit you! One time I was especially petered out in a private room waiting for the physician to enter, so I stretched out on the blue patient exam table and regrettably neglected to perk up when he finally appeared. As a result, I was admitted for a few very long days because I didn’t need to be there (it took about 72 hours to convince them to let me go).

If you’re really genuinely ill, OF COURSE inform the doctor immediately. However, if you’re just extremely exhausted, don’t emphasize feelings of fatigue.