Never a Question in My Mind

Just recently I found myself home alone on a Saturday. My husband was out for the day. He had slipped out of bed in the early morning hours forsaking sleep to go play in a golf tournament. I took the opportunity to stay in bed a little longer than usual and took my time as I went about my morning drinking my coffee and watching the news and then a little home improvement. Around 10:30 I figured I better do something productive with my day. I had a couple of options for projects. I could clean out the linen closet in the master bathroom, those are called "ensuites" now, aren't they? Or I could start to tackle the store room in the basement. The store room was by far the bigger of the two projects in my mind and would be a multiple session clean out but you have start somewhere. I debated the tasks in my mind for a good thirty minutes before texting my sister and asking her what she thought. We messaged back and forth for a bit before I decided on the master bath closet. I told her I would send her a before and after picture. You know, accountability. That way I would not opt to watch home improvement television for the rest of the day, something I sensed I might be at risk of doing. I got up, stretched and let the dogs outside figuring this would only take me 45 minutes, an hour tops.

I think it's fair to say that I grossly underestimated the scope of this project. About an hour in I had only gutted the top shelf of this 5 shelf storage area that could be regarded as nothing less than a graveyard for anything from topical burn creams, almost empty bottles of lotion and forgotten extra tubes of toothpaste. I had a plastic storage draw in which I discovered a bottle of nail polish remover had leaked and then subsequently dried as evidenced by a ring of flakey orange dye that served as the color for the product. I wiped down the menagerie of nail polishes that were stored with it and took a snapshot of the rather large collection of practically untouched colors which I sent to my daughter with the caption "Do you like?" She answered right away that she wanted them so I started a pile for her. Even though the dried remover was not sticky, it was crusty, so I felt a good rinsing was in order. I pulled the drawer to the end of it's plastic frame where it got hung up for a moment. As I tilted it up and wiggled the drawer in the opposite direction I saw what was hanging it up. It was a sandwich sized ziplock bag that appeared to be empty wedged between the draw and it's frame. Just as I reached to free it, it floated onto my bathroom sink. The bag wasn't empty at all and I recognized what it was immediately. Contained within the protective plastic was a lock of hair. It wasn't a tress saved as a beautiful milestone from one of my children's first haircuts. This hair was mine. I tentatively touched the bag as I remembered the haircut that was given to me on a cold 2010 February evening by one of my middle son's dearest friends from high school. It was shortly after my cancer diagnosis in preparation for me to lose my hair. I remember thinking that I just wanted it short in preparation for the inevitable. Losing it. It was actually her idea to save a piece of it for this was to become a milestone for me. So we did. Apparently I had thrown it up in this draw that I had just cleaned more than 4 years ago. My eyes didn't fill with tears, instead I immediately noted the shape the hair had taken when it had been placed lovingly within it's plastic home. It looked like a big question mark. "Huh." I thought. You know maybe there was a question of whether or not I would be here right now on that cold February evening. A question on everybody else's part maybe but not for me. Survive advanced stage 4 anal cancer? There was never a question in my mind :image


Annabelle, Bryan threw a punch at your cancer.
Bryan sent you a prayer.
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Oh, the reminders we come across, eh? Shows you knew then just how strong you are!
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I love this story! Hugs to you, my sweet friend!
Michele likes this comment
You gave me goosebumps!!!
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I love the way you write! I'm waiting for your book..which at some point will become a movie...which will then become a series!! XO
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Girl...I have a book! It's called "If You're Not Laughing, You're Dying" available for order at the Hillsboro Free Press or on Amazon for as an e-book. LOL...I thought you knew?

What energy! And what elegant writing! Besos!
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Wow...what a story.
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What a story! The picture tops it off. Thanks for sharing, as always!
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Michele likes this comment
I loved your story. Thanks for sharing it with us.
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Uplifting.... Stay strong ..!!
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I just love you Michele.. You gave me goose bumps too..I love the way you write and share your inner self.. You are so strong and inspiring to all. You are so blessed in so many ways and I am especially for knowing you... hugs and love and always prayers Sabina
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January 31, 1963 - June 10, 2020

Vital Info


October 3, 2011

Click Here

January 31, 1963

June 10

Cancer Info

Anal Cancer

Squamous Cell Carcinoma of the anus

February 5, 2010

Stage 4

2.1 - 3.0 cm

Grade 3


As much as possible

Proceeds from my published blog donated monthly

It is a thief

You have to live every day of your life and stay positive :)

Donate $$ to the anal cancer foundation. Raising awareness saves lives!

Is there anything good about poison?

Bone, lung recurrence 9/20/2012

Cancer Center of Kansas, MD Anderson

Bland diet, sitz baths, take your drugs...nobody gets extra credit for suffering.

Talk, talk, talk to somebody. I chose to write.

April 20, 2010

September 20, 2010

Rectal bleeding, itching, sciatic pain. (thought my hemorhoid was acting up)

My blog has been published and proceeds go to The HPV and Anal Cancer Foundation.


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