Life After Breast Cancer Is a Marathon...Not a Sprint

I read this morning in Breast Cancer Survivors - Life After Treatments End that life is a marathon, not a sprint.  With four and a half years of treatments remaining, I readily admit surviving breast cancer is a marathon.  But I, and every other 1 in 8 women, have been...or will be..signed up for this race without training and against our will.

One of my favorite bible verses is 2 Corinthians 5:17: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.  I think the last half of this verse also applies to life after a breast cancer diagnosis.  I am beginning to accept that there will always be uncertainty.  But life is uncertain even without a cancer diagnosis.  No matter how hard you may try to resume a "normal" life, you will struggle with discovering a "new normal".  

My emotions are different.  I am hyper-sensitive. The good in that is..my empathy meter has ramped up about a hundred percent; but that can be draining.  My body is different, for sure. Four months out from radiation treatments, I expected to be at my pre-diagnosis levels in energy and stamina.  That hasn't happened yet.  Of course, a stress fracture and the side-effects of Tamoxifen could be to blame.  

One puzzling "new normal" is that before diagnosis, I loved reading, art journaling, and writing.  Those things have become cumbersome.  I can't seem to concentrate or find the motivation.  One thing I hoped would change, but has not....I still LOVE to eat!  

Just writing this blog post is difficult.  My focus is pulled out the window to the beautiful red blooms..in December..still lingering on the pineapple sage plant.  One of my favorite quotes from Jane Eyre is, "You must be tenacious of life!"  Like the pineapple sage...so am I. Different is sometimes a good thing; and exactly what is "normal" anyway?

Copyright 2015

Charlotte Laney 

Autumn Blues

Weeks of rain, interrupted briefly by foggy, heavily-clouded days here and there has created one depressed Laney.  It never fails; when I think I have conquered the beast of fall malaise, angst, doldrums, blues...whatever you want to call it.. it rears its ugly head again.  The trigger usually occurs simultaneously with end of daylight savings time.  By then, the days have already grown shorter and the sun sets earlier.  By 5:30, it is completely dark.

The beautiful colors of the dogwood, poplar, and maples in our yard usually delay the feeling until the trees are bare..if I can at least see the sun.  But there has been only one sunny day in weeks.  I crave it like a thirsty man wandering in the desert.  I dread the inevitable....winter is coming.

Copyright 2015
Charlotte Laney 

Breast Cancer Journey - Part Six

On Friday night after meeting with the surgeon, I sat up way too late reading a woman's blog about her cancer journey.  So many of her thoughts paralleled mine, including what I
wanted to do Saturday morning..pull a blanket over my head and retreat from the world. Thankfully, friends and family didn't let me do that for long.

After my crazy declaration at the surgeon's office concerning double mastectomy instead of lumpectomy, I admitted to myself and God that my sudden decision was based totally on fear of the future, financial concerns, and my desire to maintain some "control" of the situation.  Even before Dr. W. called saying she felt I could be safely monitored post-surgery with tomosynthesis and ultrasound, and only use MRI when absolutely necessary, I had already decided to proceed with her recommendation of breast-conserving surgery, followed by radiation, and possibly hormone therapy. God alone is in control of my life and destiny.  I am not my own; I was bought with a price. A GREAT PRICE!  I will follow Jesus all the days of my life; however long that is.  I  choose to trust Him for all outcomes.  God's Word gives me peace and comfort for what is yet to come.

"Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess.  For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have One who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet He did not sin.  Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need." - Hebrews 4:14-16

"He will cover you with His feathers.  He will shelter you with His wings.  His faithful promises are your armor and protection." - Psalm 91:4

"Be gracious to me, O God, be gracious to me, for my soul takes refuge in You; And in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge until destruction passes by." - Psalm 57:1

I daydreamed about the ocean that day.  I really don't know of another place that seems to calm my soul like the sea.  While it's personality seems to change each time I see it, it still speaks to me.  I could sit for hours listening and watching the waves.  I decided when surgery and radiation treatments were finished---that's where I wanted to be.

I had no idea what to expect at Tuesday's hospital pre-op appointment.  My dear brother took me to breakfast and went with me.  (Have I mentioned what awesome family and friends I have?) I met with a man who went over my demographic information, took my ID, insurance card, and palm-scanned me. My thought on the palm scans...seriously, did they think someone was going to show up for surgery in my place?  Hey, I would let them, but don't think I'd find many takers...although my brother did say he would go through this for me, if he could!

I was sent from there to see the pre-op screening team. The hospital screening nurse was so sweet.  She had two young children, so we discussed kids and grandkids while she took my blood pressure, temperature, and EKG.  I told her about my blood draw phobia, so she used a butterfly needle (very small) to get blood for testing.  She promised the anesthesia team for surgery would take good care of me.  I was in and out in less than an hour.

Wednesday was my only free day with no medical appointments scheduled.  My west-coast son and two oldest grandkids entertained me for the day.  We went to one of my favorite antique malls, had lunch at a Mexican restaurant, made a stop at Toys-R-Us for the kids, and The Guitar Center for my big kid, then Sam's Club, a used bookstore, and Maggie Moo's for ice cream.  All in all a great day without the stress of appointments and..THINKING.

Thursday was Radiation Therapy appointment day.  My best friend and I spent the morning shopping at our favorite craft store, then had lunch at a Chinese buffet. She went with me to my appointment as "designated note-taker and question-asker", especially after my question list for the surgeon stayed folded, unread, during that session.  She's much more organized than me, and definitely takes neater, better notes.

Forms, forms, forms.  I am so sick of filling out forms, and being asked for the same information over and over again.  How many times do I have to repeat...I have no drug allergies, no gallbladder, and no history of cancer in my family?

First I met with a nurse who took all of my vitals.  Yes!  No blood taken that day.  I then met with the doctor who asked lots of questions, checked me over--reflexes, eyes, throat, joints, and breathing.  My friend stepped out while I underwent yet another breast exam.  After a month of repeated exams, modesty gets tossed out the window.  Dr. M. said near the end of radiation, I would most likely be referred to an oncologist for followup, and at that time I will decide on hormone-suppressing medication.  There are side effects and some women decide not to take them.  I wanted to discuss this with friends who've had cancer and research the subject on my own, so that I could make an informed decision.

My friend asked about creams to lessen the radiation "burn".  He said they could suggest some once I started my treatments--which would probably begin 3-8 weeks after surgery. He said the standard number of treatments was 33, six and a half weeks of daily radiation, Monday through Friday.  Wow!!  The thought was daunting, but I knew I could do it.

Our pastor came to our house about 7:30 p.m. the night before surgery to pray with us.  I knew I would rather he do so the night before, rather than at the hospital when I would be more emotional. I think I was as mentally and spiritually prepared for surgery as possible, when a text from our son was received.  Our friend, who was also our former pastor and daughter-in-law's father had fallen and was hospitalized in a coma.

Oh how quickly our lives can change!  It is such a blessing we cannot see the future.  I went to sleep Thursday night earnestly praying for Bradley, and that my hospital's finest IV nurse was an early-riser and would be there for me in the morning.

Copyright 2015 Charlotte Laney

Breast Cancer Journey - (Part Five)

When Dr. K. called mid-May with my diagnosis of Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, his words of advice, "Avoid Internet research".  What????  Anyone who knows me knows I am the Queen of Google!  Little did he know since day one, I spent hours reading the major breast cancer sites and a few personal blogs.  If not, I wouldn't have had a clue what DCIS was, or that it is the breast cancer with the highest "recovery" rate. Why should I have known...there is no history of breast cancer in my family? But, after his warning, I did try.  

In the interim of waiting, I had sleepless nights, and days when I just wanted to pull a blanket over my head and cry the day away. I found it difficult to make choices (or even think clearly about anything).  I love reading novels, but it seemed ADD had taken over my brain, and I couldn't concentrate to get through one page. I was hyper-emotional about everything, which is not my norm. I felt adrift, somewhere between diagnosis and knowing what comes next.  Were these feelings indicative of a lack of faith?  No, God made me, and he understands my human limitations. 

Diversions are a wonderful thing in the times of WAITING. My favorite diversions are my grandchildren.  My nine year old west-coast granddaughter was home.  On Sunday night after Friday's diagnosis, she pulled out a children's poetry book at bedtime. She recalled we read from it last summer just before they moved over 3,000 miles away. On that long ago night, when the lump in my throat became too large, I told her that she would have to read. I remember tears sneaking out of my eyes, and she reached up and wiped them away.  But this year I did better and kept the tears at bay. We had fun reading in Scottish and British "southern" accents.  Oh how I love that girl!  If only my mom could have had the chance to meet and love on her.  She loved reading and poetry, and they definitely would have been kindred spirits.

From my experience, the knee-jerk response to a cancer diagnosis is...GET IT OUT NOW! Your brain tells you that every day it is growing and spreading. I could have taken time to poll all my friends and interview surgeons until I found the "perfect one".  But I didn't.  I wanted to go forward as quickly as possible, even though I now realize it wasn't necessary. I trust Dr. K., the radiologist who performed my biopsy; he recommended Dr. W. and made the appointment for surgery consultation for the next Friday.

During that week my pastor, a very wise man, prayed with me and asked me to decide how much involvement I wanted from him in the process.  Friends reached out with words of encouragement and prayers for clarity and peace.  

I spent the morning of my surgical consultation reading Bible verses meaningful to where I was emotionally.  As a part of the Internet research (I was supposed to be avoiding), it was suggested to make a list of questions to take to the surgery consultation.  I made a nice long list.

My husband went with me to the appointment around midday.  Dr. W. and her staff were wonderful.  Yes, there were tons of financial, privacy, and medical forms to fill out...which I had already completed at the mammography, MRI, and biopsy clinics. You would think since all these physicians and offices are in the same medical network, they could link their information!  Dr. W. performed a clinical breast exam and asked lots of questions, and she was very patient in answering mine.  Oh yeah...remember that long list of questions I made? Well..it stayed folded on top of my purse on the other side of the exam room!  

Attempting to absorb the information regarding breast-conserving surgery, radiation, hormone therapy, and long term follow-up screenings, I had a sudden overwhelming dread of the future and I panicked.  Out of nowhere came the thought, and then I said it out loud.  "I don't want to deal with this again.  I think I want to have a double mastectomy and reconstruction and be done." 

Wow!  I'm sure my husband and surgeon were shocked by that declaration.  They probably looked at me like I had two heads!  Dr. W. calmly said, "Let's go ahead and set up the lumpectomy. I will talk to your radiologist about future screenings.  We can always cancel if you decide on the more extensive surgery. You can think about it for a few days."  

I walked out of her office on Friday afternoon with a pre-op hospital appointment on Tuesday, a radiation therapy consultation on Thursday, and surgery scheduled for Friday. Life just got too real!  

Copyright 2015 Laney's Musings 

Breast Cancer Journey - (Part Four)

In the midst of a quest for diagnosis and treatment of any major illness you can either suffer in silence, or allow others to share in your journey.  I admit, I struggled with this one.  How much information do you share, and with whom do you share it?  In the beginning, I was conflicted, thinking tests will probably prove this to be nothing; I will have worried them needlessly. From the onset, sharing with my husband was a given; my best friend also knew everything from day one.  (You are extremely blessed if you have at least ONE true friend). Sharing my fears and concerns with others came slower.

Did I pray?  Of course. God is the only one with whom I could share ANYTHING and EVERYTHING and be TOTALLY understood.  Yet, when life doesn't make sense, and you are having the worst day of your life, God gives brothers and sisters-in-Christ the awesome privilege to be arm-lifters, prayer-speakers, and grief-sharers.  Word spread from family members and friends, to our church family..then to their circle of influence..people thousands of miles away that I may never meet. What a wonderful comfort to truly "feel" the prayers of others on your behalf!

Over the spring and summer months, it became a challenge to schedule LIFE around my medical appointment calendar!  Decisions were so much easier when someone else made them all for me. I might not have liked their choice, but at least if it didn't turn out well, I could blame someone besides myself.  I tried to put life into perspective with the thought, "My happiest day is someone's saddest; and my saddest is someone's happiest".

In situations of turmoil, peace of mind can be high-jacked and replaced with mood swings, muddled thoughts, and the inability to make even the simplest decision.  My first Sunday at church following diagnosis was emotional. Explaining my diagnosis to our bible study class members was hard.  I was encouraged by three women who confided they have had breast cancer.  I think I cried through every song. Anyone who didn't know my situation was probably wondering what's wrong with that crazy hand-lifting woman?  "No sickness, no secret, no chain is strong enough...to keep us from your love, to keep us from your love. How high, how wide; no matter where I am, healing is in Your hands.  How deep, how strong; now by your grace I stand; Healing is in Your hands."  (From Christy Nockels, Healing Is In Your Hands)

When you feel your life is out of control, stop and make a conscious effort to let God speak peace over your life and situation through prayer, His Word, His people, music, and poetry.  There are times when we need to be alone, and times when we need to be with people.  Take time to "be still and know that He is God"...that He is still in control of your life and circumstances..although it may not seem so at the moment.  

Let these words sink into your very soul.  “When I think of the wisdom and scope of God’s plan, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit. And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God” (Ephesians 3:14–19, NLT).

After surgery, I found a line in the beautiful poem, "Jesus of the Scars" - by Edward Shillito (1872-1948). He was a Free Church minister in England during World War I.  My favorite line, so appropriate for a woman who has had body-altering surgery..."But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak, and not a god has wounds, but You alone". 

One of the most meaningful notes of encouragement I received came from an Alabama cousin. Her mom lost the battle against breast cancer a few years ago.  She assured us she was praying for me, my husband, my family, and "for a successful surgery, for trustworthy doctors who love the Lord and know what is best for you and your body, for comfort in the coming days as you mourn for what you no longer have, for strength throughout your treatment process."  

I still tear up when I read those words, dear Deana.  All "over-comers" and "warriors" of diseases, disorders, injuries, loneliness, tragedies, sadness, broken relationships, the loss of those we love, and for a myriad other reasons...we do mourn for what we no longer have. 

"Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." - Matthew 11:28  He still says...COME.

Copyright 2015 Laney's Musings

Breast Cancer Journey - (Part Three)

Biopsy...that is such a scary word, is it not?  We all associate that word with the dreaded "C"...cancer.  In my 60-plus years, I have had a few, most while asleep; but I was
wide-awake, staring at the ultrasound screen for the one I had May.

From my personal journal:  "Today was "B Day"...biopsy.  Traffic was light, so we got to the 1-Day Surgery area early.  At 7:30 in the morning, the surgery lobby was already filled with people either waiting for their surgery, or family members waiting for their loved ones.  When you feel alone in your struggles...look around you!  There are so many hurting people!"

Dr. K. was to perform an ultrasound-guided biopsy...with two Amys attending.  They explained the entire process beforehand, and the "whys".  When there is a nodule or lump, biopsy is the only way to rule out or confirm cancer.

I think there are two ways people approach medical concerns.  There is the researcher-type who wants to know everything there is to know; and then there is the ostrich-type who out of fear wants to know NOTHING.  I am a researcher when it comes to myself, but a bit of an ostrich when it comes to those closest to me that I love dearly.

I did my research and watched a needle-core biopsy online, so I knew what to expect.  The numbing shot was supposed to feel like a bee sting.  Dr. K. told me to say "Ow, ow, ow!"  He inserted the needle in several places and numbness occurred quite quickly. Most of what I could feel was pressure, pushing, and tugging sensations.

Dr. K. used ultrasound to locate the nodule and had one of the Amys measure it and take screen shots. I watched the entire procedure.  A wire was inserted through a tiny breast incision and the needle through that.  The hollow needle was inserted into the nodule, and a popping sound, similar to stapling papers, occurred when the tissue was cut and harvested for biopsy.  From the online video I watched, the samples are spaghetti-like pieces of tissue. Dr. K. harvested about four samples.

After the samples were taken, a small titanium marker or clip was inserted through the wire to the biopsy site.  I was told that "if" I needed further surgery, or for future breast scans, the clip would indicate the biopsied area.  Once the procedure was over, one of the two Amys took me to a small exam room and did a few mammogram scans.

Immediately afterward, I was sent around the block to the Breast Center where I had my first MRI.  I had "another" mammogram and a short (maybe five minute) MRI to make sure the biopsy and clip were in the right place.  I was sent home with an ice bag and a small compression bandage to be removed 24 hours post-biopsy, and surgery strips to remain in place for five days.  No aspirin or ibuprofen could be taken for a few days; but Tylenol instead for pain.

It was two days later when I received the dreaded phone call that I had breast cancer.  Dr. K. made the phone call himself instead of delegating it to an assistant, which I felt was a kind gesture.  I am sure he performs and reads hundreds, if not thousands, of pathology reports, yet he took the time to call me and put the wheels in motion for the next step....surgery.


Copyright 2015 Laney's Musings

Breast Cancer Journey (Part Two)

Most women past the age of forty have experienced a mammogram.  For the uninitiated, it's kind of like being run over by a steam roller that backs up and runs you over again from another direction. That's why I call the Breast Center the Booby Garage.  But, if being run over once a year saves your life...it's worth it.

The second step in my breast cancer journey, following mammogram and ultrasound, was an MRI.  While I really don't like tight spaces, I survived a previous MRI without a problem, so I really wasn't too concerned about the process.  To be honest, I was way more fearful of the IV needle used for injecting contrast solution.  I am a "hard stick" and two techs spent about ten minutes inspecting both arms from above my elbows to the tops of wrists before finding one good vein.  Remember where your best veins are...for future reference!

The MRI was completed in two parts: first without contrast, then with contrast. You are placed face down on a table, with open spaces for both breasts, arms stretched out above your head.  I was given a small bulb to hold so that if I panicked at any time, I could squeeze it to stop the procedure.  But I was warned if I halted the procedure during the contrast portion, I would have to return another day to complete it ...which I definitely did not want to do!  I wonder...if I had squeezed the bulb, would they have really stopped...or was it just a psychological crutch?  Either way, it felt pretty good to feel I had some measure of control.

MRI machines are extremely loud, so I was given earplugs.  I could still hear the technicians instructions, and the roar of the machine, so I felt they were pretty useless. I went into the "tube" head-first.  The technician gave instructions throughout the 20-30 minute session, with a few pauses throughout to take a big breath before moving on.  To me, it felt longer than 30 minutes.

How did I pass time in the MRI tube?  I found myself singing the children's song, Jesus Loves Me, and quoting verses to myself like "What time I am afraid, I will trust in You."  I prayed for friends who were having medical issues, particularly a little girl who was in critical condition at a hospital in Columbus, Ohio.

Job 42:10 says, "And Jehovah turned the captivity of Job when he prayed for his friends." The best way to shake yourself out of a pity party is to stop focusing on yourself, be thankful, and pray for others.  Hey Laney...that's pretty good advice!

By far the hardest part of getting to a breast cancer diagnosis was WAITING. While my MRI was performed in the morning, the radiologist did not begin the process of reading the day's screenings until about 1:30 p.m.   Sadly, there was a lobby full of middle-aged and older women, just like me, so I was warned that getting "the phone call" could take up to 48 hours.

I guess I was expecting hoping for a definitive diagnosis following the MRI, but when the radiologist called at 4:30 the same day...she just said she felt a biopsy was needed, and would be scheduling mine for the next week.  She tried to encourage me with the fact that 80 percent of breast lump biopsies prove to be benign...but in my gut, I already knew mine was not.


Copyright 2015 Laney's Musings

One In Eight - Breast Cancer Journey (Part One)

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month...the Pink Storm.  If there is ever a time to be transparent about my journey, I guess this is it. I have avoided blogging since life kind of turned upside down for me in April, when what I thought would be a routine screening mammogram turned into much more.



First of all, an I AM STUPID admission! I waited two and a half years between mammograms.  I had the "I'll show you" mentality of skipping mammos because my insurance company does not (and I doubt yours does either) cover diagnostic mammograms.  

If you fell for the Obamacare promise of free mammograms for all women (insert sarcastic laugh here), there is a loophole for insurance companies.  Only very basic screening mammograms are fully covered without co-pay or deductible.  So, if you have dense tissue..which many women have, you probably require diagnostic mammograms.  Dense tissue appears white on mammograms...as does cancer, making screenings more difficult to identify (or rule out) cancer.  

Did you know women with high breast density are four to five times more likely to get breast cancer than women with low breast density?  Why did I not know that?  Since that is a fact, wouldn't you think that insurance companies would make diagnostic screenings for women who are at higher risk free, as well?  Okay...enough with that rant!

I might have continued with my one-woman crusade had not my family physician strongly recommended I have one.  I specifically requested the free "screening mammo" instead of my normal diagnostic one...knowing full well I'd get a call back for more views. But, God was in control and apparently the Breast Center didn't get the memo.  On April 29th I had a diagnostic mammogram and a 3-D mammogram.  The radiologist was in-house to read them...more views ensued.  I became anxious when told there was an area they wanted to look at more closely with ultrasound.  

The radiologist told me there was an "indeterminable nodule" in my left breast which he recommended for further investigation.  Of course, no one ever used the "C" word.  One week later, May 6, I am having an MRI.  I received a phone call that afternoon from the radiologist who read my MRI.  She told me that a biopsy was needed; and it was scheduled for the next week on May 13.  

The “1 in 8” Sorority – May, 2015

At 12:40 on Friday, May 15, 2015, I received the phone call I was dreading.  Dr. K., my radiologist, called to see how I was doing two days post-biopsy.  I told him “fine, no problems today; a little sore, but no visible bruising.”  His next words were chilling, but not really unexpected.  My pathology report was “positive”.  The good news, he said, (is there good news when you’ve just been told you have cancer?) --the biopsied cells were “ductal carcinoma in situ”, meaning in the original place of origin, non-invasive.  And, yes, that is a very good thing! 

After a two weeks and two days initiation process, I was inducted into the “1 in 8 Sorority”--just like that! 

Copyright 2015

Laney's Musings

Grandma Warriors Over Snakes and Other Creepy Things

My niece is a friend to all species of the buzzing variety.  When we play cards, she cringes when I heartlessly squish any flying thing that makes its way onto the table.  Don't think badly of me; I am a discriminating bug killer.  I would never harm butterflies, lightning or lady bugs, praying mantises, granddaddy-long-legs, or bumble bees.  But--beware, all other six, eight, or multi-legged crawling or flying creatures.  Be afraid..be very afraid!

I recently had a flashback of my mom stomping across the bed, all the while swinging a rolled up newspaper in hot pursuit of a mosquito flying near the bedroom ceiling.  During the 1950's and 60's in the south, we did not have the luxury of air conditioning.  In summer, doors and windows were flung wide, window fans hummed, doing little more than stir hot air.   As kids running in and out of the house, our parents didn't say, "Close that door, you're letting the heat in!"  Instead, we heard, "Close the screen door, you're letting the flies in!"  Needless to say, every southern mama was deadly with a fly swatter...an art I've never quite mastered. While I don't miss the whiz of the flyswatter, I do kind of miss the summer sound of the squeaking spring and slapping thud of a screen door closing. 

My best friend recently encountered a large black snake reclining on a shelf on her carport.   Although he was only a few inches from her face, she calmly left him to go his merry way.  She says black snakes and king snakes do a great job keeping down the rodent population, and she's probably right.  Another friend recently discovered a black snake curled up between her storm door and front door.  She, however, shares my sentiments concerning snakes.  He is no longer with us. 

Snake Warrior Grandma Laura

When I was a child, I tagged along with my mom and my tiny 4' 11" grandmother down a path near our house in the country to pick blackberries.  We were picking away when my grandmother leaned down and saw a snake coiled on the ground below.  Was she content to vacate the premises and leave him to his blackberries?  No, she stood her ground, sending my mom and me running back to the house for a hoe.  She brandished that hoe like a Samurai warrior, and proceeded to kill the snake.....many times over!  

Was the snake poisonous?  I don't know, nor do I care.  In my eyes, the only "good" snake is a "dead" snake.  I wish I were brave like my grandmother.  Sadly, I have not lived up to the first name we share.  Should a snake be so unfortunate to cross my path, I will not check to see his coloration, or the shape of his head.  I will run for my husband, and then the hoe!  And so it should be...

Genesis 3:14-15:  "The LORD God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, cursed are you above all livestock and above all beasts of the field; on your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” 

Copyright 2015 Laney's Musings

Life's Lessons Learned

I love history.  I especially enjoy reading old letters, diaries and journals.  They give an intimate view into the lives of those who came before.  I wish I could say I have been faithful to journal throughout my life. I've been sporadic, at best. Fortunately, my dad documented a good portion of his early life, so his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids can know who he was, and what life experiences developed his personality, strengths, and weaknesses.

Diaries and journals document our stories so that, hopefully, when we depart this earth and all our life's possessions end up in a box...our journals will still be in that box for the next generation.

I remember receiving a diary for Christmas when I was eleven or twelve years old.  It had a little strap across the pages, and a lock and key so that my thoughts were kept private. Who knows where that little book is now?  I probably lost the key and it got tossed in the trash at some point in time.  I doubt seriously it would be very interesting to anyone but me. My life was pretty boring at twelve.  I might have penned how much I loved Paul McCartney, or that I wished the boys in sixth grade were taller.  At five feet four, I felt like the Jolly Green Giant on "dance day".  Thankfully, I stopped growing, and the boys didn't.

I found one of my incomplete journals from about 1999.  Here was my list of important lessons learned from life:

• Be a good listener; you'll learn more than if you always have to be the center of attention in every conversation.

• Be a faithful friend...someone they can trust with a secret.

• Cultivate compassion. Learn how to empathize with other's pain. They don't always need answers to the hurts and sorrows. Just knowing you care and hurt with them is usually enough.

• Think twice before you speak. Words once out of your mouth can't be taken back, though you may wish that they could.

• Tell others that you love them. We never get tired of hearing it!

Copyright 2015Charlotte Laney

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The "I Am Boring" Personality Test

I woke up this morning with a realization...I am boring.  Since retirement, I have fallen into a daily routine which rarely varies.  Monday through Friday, I am out of bed when I feel like it, don my Nike flip flops, open all blinds and drapes to let in what I desperately hope will be morning sunshine, pat the big black dog's head, and proceed to the kitchen.  My "healthy" breakfast consists of a pack of Lance low-fat Toast-Chee Crackers and a Diet Coke.  I multi-task at breakfast by checking Facebook for the latest family/friend drama which transpired overnight.  The level of drama dictates when the bed is made and housework and laundry is begun.

Hey, even our choice of restaurants is boring.  In a city of conservatively hundreds, if not thousands of restaurants, we usually pick from less than ten...all on "our side of town." We don't care if we are the only English speakers, or have the palest skin--it's what we do.  

Boredom recently sent me to the internet to check out a personality profile test.  Surprise, surprise!  I was underwhelmed by the results.  I could have predicted most of them without a test.

I am an ISFJ-A variant.  Hmmm.  Exactly what does that mean?  Well, I am an introverted, observant, feeling, judging, yet assertive person.  Some of those traits seem contradictory. But, hey, the test couldn't possibly be wrong, could it?  Can you fail a personality test?

According to the test, I am altruistic.  I have to admit, I had to look that one up.  I wasn't sure I wanted to be 'altruistic'. But I discovered that means I am usually "unselfishly concerned for, or devoted to, the welfare of others--as opposed to being egotistical."  Well, I guess that is a good thing!  I kinda like being considered "altruistic", but I guess I shouldn't dwell on that trait too much, because doing so might be considered "egotistical".  :)  

I have come to the conclusion...yes, indeed, I am boring.  But that is not necessarily a bad thing--as long as I do 'boring' in an introverted, observant, feeling, judging, yet assertive way. Okay, I'll move on to the important task at hand.  I need a refill on my glass of Diet Coke. 

Addendum to post on 8/6/2015 - I have adventured out of the box a bit in the past two months when it comes to choice of restaurants, thank you very much.  I have eaten at at least six restaurants not previously on the go-to list:  House of Ling, Olive Garden, Mayflower Seafood, Chipotle Mexican Grill, Tokyo Buffet, and Newk's Eatery.  How's that for variety? I think I should now learn a second language. 

Copyright 2015
Charlotte Laney

Daffodils and Holy Week 2015

Today is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week.  We sang and waved palm fronds in church this morning to commemorate Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem over 2000 years ago.  On that day, the crowds cheered and waved palm branches, crying "Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the King of Israel!"  In less than one week, those same worshipers were shouting, "Crucify him!"  

Jesus Christ chose the way of the cross as payment for the sins of those he created.  He was betrayed by the fickle crowd.  Even his own disciples turned away from him in his hour of need, fearing the consequences of association. 

The time around Easter is bittersweet for me.  It is a time of rejoicing for Christians as we celebrate the risen Lord, but my sweet mama passed away on Good Friday ten years ago. The melancholy I often feel during this time of year is lifted when I see the sunny, yellow faces of the daffodils.  They remind me of a specific time where God stepped in and gave me hope and grace when I needed it most. 

Alzheimer's is the disease of long goodbyes...and its deadly tentacles stole my mother from me, bit by bit.  Over a period of several years her personality changed drastically.  Most days she recognized me, but I mourned the change of relationship. I became the parent, and she the child.  

In January of 2005, Hospice told us my mother had three to six months to live. For anyone who has experienced making end of life decisions for a loved one, it is heartbreaking.  We had no doubts of her faith in God, or that He was waiting for her in heaven with open arms, but still...she was a much-loved wife and mother.

In mid March, Mom still lingered, growing thinner and weaker each day.  Sadness overshadowed everything in life.  Physically and emotionally spent, I felt no joy.  Spring had arrived and I hadn't even noticed.  Returning from the nursing home one afternoon, there they were..literally hundreds of daffodils in our next door neighbor's yard. 

First a thought, then a tiny prayer..."God, I would love to have some daffodils.  They are so beautiful."  The next day, there was a knock at the door.  My husband answered, returning with (you guessed it) a huge bouquet of yellow daffodils!  I couldn't believe it!  Of course I cried, wondering how this could be possible.  I told no one but God how much I wanted daffodils.  But in His love..oh in His love and compassion for his child, He whispered my secret to the little girl next door.  Two weeks later, my mother died on Good Friday and spent her first Easter in heaven.  

Since that day ten years ago, daffodils have new meaning for me.  Of course, I now have them in my own flower garden.  I watch for their green stalks to break through the cold ground of winter.  I know that soon their blooms will bring beauty and color to my world.   They are a visual reminder of God's personal love and care for me..even in the seemingly unimportant, trivial aspects of my life.  But more importantly, they symbolize salvation through the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Because He lives...I have assurance of life after death, reunited with loved ones who have gone before, and to see my Redeemer..face-to-face!

Copyright 2015 

Charlotte Laney

Banana Split Girl

When I was ten years old in the 1960’s, my Big Brother fell in love with the Banana Split Girl at Pike's Drug Store.  Pike’s promoted banana split sales with discount tickets placed inside balloons.  Since Banana Split Girl put the tickets in the balloons, she knew which contained “penny” tickets.  When a banana split was ordered, you picked a balloon.   When it was popped, whatever the price was, that’s what you paid.   Banana Split Girl had a huge crush on Big Brother, but he hadn’t quite noticed her.  To move things along, whenever he and his friends sat at her drugstore counter, she picked Big Brother’s balloon for him, making sure he got the “penny”.  I guess the cliché is true…the surest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

Soon the courtship began, and being the cute Little Sister, I got to tag along on a few dates.   By today’s standard, Big Brother and Banana Split Girl were too young for marriage…he was 18 and she was only 16.  Having two older brothers, I was excited to have a sister in the family.  And that is exactly what she was to me—a sister.   I wanted to be just like my new sister-in-law.  She wore cute clothes and shoes, got a Beatle haircut, could twirl a baton–fling it in the air and catch it, too.  She could sew, roller skate backwards, throw a ball like a boy, and did the best cartwheel ever!  I thought she could leap tall buildings with a single bound…who wouldn’t want to be like her?!  On the Friday evening of their wedding, Banana Split Girl was a vision in white, wearing a ballet-length wedding dress, carrying a white Bible with flowers on the top.

While Big Brother and Banana Split Girl were still newlyweds, I was invited for sleepovers at their garage apartment.  I remember helping make iced tea and we exploded the glass pitcher all over the kitchen! Her first turkey was cooked, giblet bag and neck still inside the bird. We never let her live it down. Inexperience and kitchen disasters later morphed into Banana Split Girl being a kitchen marvel and gourmet cook.

The summer I was twelve, both of us got into trouble when she played matchmaker.  She set me up on my first date…an unchaperoned walk to Shoney’s for breakfast with the boy who lived next door to her parents.   Let’s just say…Big Brother, Mama & Daddy were not happy…and I got sent home with no boys in my foreseeable future. She and I laughed and shared secrets.  But some secrets she didn’t keep.  She had to show my brothers my first “Band-Aid” bra, box of feminine products, and “You're a Young Lady Now” booklet my mom ordered.  I was mortified! 

One of my best memories is after First Niece was born when Big Brother and Banana Split Girl lived in a little duplex off The Plaza.  We put baby First Niece in her stroller and caught a bus downtown to watch a matinee of Breakfast at Tiffany’s at The Carolina Theatre. I felt so grown up.

During my teen years, Banana Split Girl and I swapped clothes (and wigs) just like sisters.  Since she was two inches shorter than me, her dresses were definitely mini-skirts; and since Daddy didn’t approve of short skirts, I had to sneak out of the house in them.
   
Since she married so young, Banana Split Girl couldn't finish high school with her peers.  But it was important to her to finish her education, so she did…at night school.  She was married several years before she got her first driver’s license.  I would often tag along on late night runs to the store.  You know…for important stuff like bobby pins!  LOL!  We were in the Park ‘N Shop grocery store on Wilkinson Boulevard late one night when it was robbed by a man with a gun.  She saw what was happening, grabbed me, and we ran and hid in the bathroom until it was all over.  Yes, back then, I think she could have leaped tall buildings in a single bound!

Nieces Two and Three were added to the quiver of Big Brother and Banana Split Girl…loved by all.  As with Niece One, I cried because I wasn't permitted to visit the maternity ward at their births.  Stupid rules! Nieces One, Two and Three grew into Little Girls who loved their aunt, and were a little jealous of boyfriends.  I kissed a few toads before meeting Mr. Right.  Of course, Banana Split Girl was the obvious choice for my matron of honor.  In the wedding planning, she discovered she was expecting Little Four...long awaited Only Nephew.  Of course, we didn't know all that at the time..before ultrasounds.  No problem; we just added yardage to the waist of the red bridesmaid dress and forged onward.  She hosted my shower, did my hair, veil, and makeup.  After the wedding, she put my suitcases and clothes in our car, then stood in the driveway waving...as I rode away to my new life.

Distance, becoming a wife with babies of my own, balancing a full-time job, and life in general stretched the connection between me and my Banana Split Girl.  Family dinners, shopping trips, visits, and phone calls became less frequent.  I can sadly lament, she worked harder at staying connected than I did.  I deeply regret that fact.

Yesterday, I got the sad news.  Banana Split Girl passed away at the age of 67.  She made the last phone call to me, and probably the one before that.  I deeply mourn her loss! 

Copyright 2015 
Charlotte Laney