posted Wednesday, 28 June 2006
Terry Gifford is my friend Sara's mom. In 2000, she was told that she had breast cancer... and her prognosis was not good. Terry didn't believe what the drs told her. In fact, she refused to believe it. She fought with all she had and prooved them all wrong, entering remission. Unfortunately, the cancer was too aggressive and it continued to attack. I met Terry in June 2005, the same week that I had received my diagnosis. Some friends thought I was crazy (that it would be too hard to see someone so entrenched in the battle), but I wanted to meet this amazing woman. While I spent only a few hours with Terry, she made a lasting impression on me. Her positive attitude, open nature and obvious love for her family and for life are things I will always carry with me. The Giffords are a beautiful family and Terry was a beautiful mother and friend. She was one of the bravest women I've ever met. Terry died on June 24. We celebrated Terry Gifford's life on July 8/9, at her home and church in Hartford, CT.
I'm sorry Sara - I'm sorry that your family had to go through so much hurt. I'm sorry that we couldn't make her better. I'm sorry that I didn't know her better. Most of all, I'm sorry you had to say goodbye.
GIFFORD, Terry Lynne Terry Lynne (Stansfield) Gifford died peacefully on Saturday, (June 24, 2006) at her home in Marlborough. She was born on September 13, 1951 in Dayton, OH to Donald H. and Louise (Sinclair) Stansfield and moved to Hamilton Square, NJ when she was 5. She was an avid skater and progressed to the Pre-Gold Test level in ice dancing. She graduated second in her class from Steinert High School in Hamilton Square in 1969. She attended St. Lawrence University in Canton, NY. There she was instrumental in forming The Larryettes, an ice skating club that performed during the intermissions of the hockey games. She graduated in 1972 as valedictorian, summa cum laude in mathematics and a member of the Phi Beta Kappa national academic honorary. After earning a Masters degree in mathematics at the University of Denver in 1974 she went to work in the Information Systems department at Pratt & Whitney in East Hartford where she continued in positions of increasing responsibility until April 2005. In 1977 she married Michael T. Gifford and settled in Marlborough. Terry was an active member and past president of the Skating Club of Hartford and worked on the Hartford World Figure Skating Championships in 1981. The couple have three beloved daughters of whom they are very proud, Sara, age 26, Elizabeth (Libby), age 24, and Jennifer, age 22. Sara is currently working as a programmer in Morristown, NJ, Libby is a speech therapist in Framingham, MA and Jennifer a graduate student in geology at the University of Florida in Gainesville, FL. Terry was one of the founding mothers of the Marlborough Educational Child Care Association (MECCA) latchkey center at Elmer Thienes Elementary School. A long time member of the Marlborough Congregational Church, she was financial secretary for several years and a member of the bell choir. After her diagnosis with breast cancer in 2000, she fulfilled a dream by becoming a professional needlepoint designer. Terry's Kick Back & Stitch geometric designs are very successful and widely known. A memorial service will be held at the Marlborough Congregational Church on Sunday, July 9 at 2 p.m. Spencer Funeral Home, 112 Main St., East Hampton has care of arrangements.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Monday, June 5, 2006
LET THE "CANCER-VERSARIES" BEGIN
posted Monday, 5 June 2006
One year ago today, I was getting ready to head out to watch the "Pike Invite" ultimate tournament, when I noticed a lump in my left breast. It felt like a "Mike and Ike" under the skin - yet I kept thinking that perhaps it was my imagination. I got ready and headed out to the fields. As I drove, my hands kept wandering over to my breast... feeling one side... and then the other... comparing... prodding... I couldn't decide whether it was real or in my head... so I solicited the advice of my dear friend Susie. While not a medical expert, Susie was able to confirm that there was definitely something there that didn't feel right. Interesting. I didn't freak out. I didn't panic. I woke the next morning and called my ob/gyn and they made me an appointment for later that week. I debated whether to tell my mother. I knew she would be worried and since 80% of lumps in young women are "nothing"... why worry her over nothing. But I knew that she would be even more upset if I didn't tell her. Over the next few weeks, my breasts lost everything sacred. Over 20 strangers saw them... touched them... so did the majority of my girlfriends (though that probably wasn't that out of the ordinary!) They became clinical. In fact, I wanted all my girlfriends to touch my lump - to feel what it felt like - to educate themselves.
Life as I knew it was never going to be the same. That wasn't all bad, in fact, I can honestly say that I life took on a new and improved direction. Over the course of the next year, I would find out just what I was made of... and just how much support and love I had from those around me (if I would only slow down and let them).
Rolling up on the one year mark has really been in my head. So much is now in the past, but so much uncertainty lies in the future. I celebrate a victory... but recognize that there may be battles lying ahead. Sometimes I don't know whether to celebrate or to cry. I welcome you to both celebrate and cry with me. In fact, I invite you to. These anniversaries bring cancer once again to the fore-front of my mind... it weighs heavy. Once again, I will lean on my friends and family to get me through. Striking a balance between fear and ambivolance is a challenge. I figure, I will learn as I live.
My upcoming "cancer-versaries":
June 5 - found a lump in my left breast
June 9 - visit ob/gyn... ultrasound... mammogram
June 10 - visit breast surgeon... breast biopsy
June 20 - diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma (LET'S CELEBRATE AND CRY AS I MARK ONE YEAR AS A CANCER SURVIVOR)
June 21 - pre-admission testing, chest x-ray, bone scan, ct scan
June 23 - PET scan
June 28 - lumpectomy & lanxillary ymph node dissection
July 25 - re-excision lumpectomy
August 8 - chemo begins
November 16 - last chemo
December 12 - begin tamoxifen
December 30 - receive genetic testing results
January 4 - bilateral mastectomy
February 2 - left expander removed
...
...
January 2007? - latissimus dorsal flap reconstruction
MOM MADE THIS COMMENT,
June 20th is the date that stands out in my mind. That is the date that the doctor confirmed what we were hoping and praying wasn't true. In 2005 that was the worst day of our lives...but in 2006 it marks a year that you have survived and that is a very happy day! We will go on, one day at a time. You cannot waste precious time worrying about things you can't control...I say that to myself as much as to you. I love you and admire all the strength, wisdom, and courage you have shown this past year.
KATIE MADE THIS COMMENT,
Bravo Linda! I still remember your call and those very quiet first minutes you told me about your lump being cancer. I am grateful to be reading this today, I love you
One year ago today, I was getting ready to head out to watch the "Pike Invite" ultimate tournament, when I noticed a lump in my left breast. It felt like a "Mike and Ike" under the skin - yet I kept thinking that perhaps it was my imagination. I got ready and headed out to the fields. As I drove, my hands kept wandering over to my breast... feeling one side... and then the other... comparing... prodding... I couldn't decide whether it was real or in my head... so I solicited the advice of my dear friend Susie. While not a medical expert, Susie was able to confirm that there was definitely something there that didn't feel right. Interesting. I didn't freak out. I didn't panic. I woke the next morning and called my ob/gyn and they made me an appointment for later that week. I debated whether to tell my mother. I knew she would be worried and since 80% of lumps in young women are "nothing"... why worry her over nothing. But I knew that she would be even more upset if I didn't tell her. Over the next few weeks, my breasts lost everything sacred. Over 20 strangers saw them... touched them... so did the majority of my girlfriends (though that probably wasn't that out of the ordinary!) They became clinical. In fact, I wanted all my girlfriends to touch my lump - to feel what it felt like - to educate themselves.
Life as I knew it was never going to be the same. That wasn't all bad, in fact, I can honestly say that I life took on a new and improved direction. Over the course of the next year, I would find out just what I was made of... and just how much support and love I had from those around me (if I would only slow down and let them).
Rolling up on the one year mark has really been in my head. So much is now in the past, but so much uncertainty lies in the future. I celebrate a victory... but recognize that there may be battles lying ahead. Sometimes I don't know whether to celebrate or to cry. I welcome you to both celebrate and cry with me. In fact, I invite you to. These anniversaries bring cancer once again to the fore-front of my mind... it weighs heavy. Once again, I will lean on my friends and family to get me through. Striking a balance between fear and ambivolance is a challenge. I figure, I will learn as I live.
My upcoming "cancer-versaries":
June 5 - found a lump in my left breast
June 9 - visit ob/gyn... ultrasound... mammogram
June 10 - visit breast surgeon... breast biopsy
June 20 - diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma (LET'S CELEBRATE AND CRY AS I MARK ONE YEAR AS A CANCER SURVIVOR)
June 21 - pre-admission testing, chest x-ray, bone scan, ct scan
June 23 - PET scan
June 28 - lumpectomy & lanxillary ymph node dissection
July 25 - re-excision lumpectomy
August 8 - chemo begins
November 16 - last chemo
December 12 - begin tamoxifen
December 30 - receive genetic testing results
January 4 - bilateral mastectomy
February 2 - left expander removed
...
...
January 2007? - latissimus dorsal flap reconstruction
MOM MADE THIS COMMENT,
June 20th is the date that stands out in my mind. That is the date that the doctor confirmed what we were hoping and praying wasn't true. In 2005 that was the worst day of our lives...but in 2006 it marks a year that you have survived and that is a very happy day! We will go on, one day at a time. You cannot waste precious time worrying about things you can't control...I say that to myself as much as to you. I love you and admire all the strength, wisdom, and courage you have shown this past year.
KATIE MADE THIS COMMENT,
Bravo Linda! I still remember your call and those very quiet first minutes you told me about your lump being cancer. I am grateful to be reading this today, I love you
DEAR MARCELA
posted Monday, 5 June 2006
I got a txt message last night from one of my two roommates from the Young Women's Breast Cancer Convention in Denver this past February. The txt message woke me from sleep - I picked up my phone to read those words... It said "call me about marcela". immediately I knew. When I returned Andrea's call, my fear was confirmed. Marcela Vargas died Thursday morning.
Marcela, our 3rd roommate was a ray of sunshine. She had booked a hotel room and offered it up to us on a message board for young women with breast cancer. Not knowing anyone at this conference, I responded to her email and decided to room with her at the conference.
Marcela and I bonded - Nov 17, 2005 marked the last day of chemo for both of us. We shared the same struggle of facing this battle alone, as a single young woman. Wondering if we would ever find someone who would look beyond our battle and join us on our journey. Dealing with friends who could not face our disease and so chose to turn away. Ultimately gracious for the friends and family who, despite how uncomfotable this whole thing made them, chose instead to lift us up and help us keep moving forward. Marcela and I lay awake our last night in Denver, in the dark, and talked openly and honestly, as if we had known each other for years. We cried for one another.
Marcela was diagnosed with metastisis to her hips, spine & left lung less than 2 weeks after we got home from Denver. She had been complaining of hip pain while we were there, but her dr had told it was only a pinched nerve. She was just about to finish her treatment, when all the rules changed. She had 4 more weeks of radiation for her bone mets and more chemo for her lungs. All this when she was just gearing up to celebrate the end of her initial treatment.
Marcela - I cried for you again today. This world is a lonelier place without you in it. You fought good girl. You inspired others. I know that you will be looking down on your sisters here - not only your sisters by birth... but your sisters by circumstance... praying for us as we continue on our journeys. Live BIG!
Marcela Vargas
February 18, 1975 - June 1, 2006
Miss Me, But Let Me Go
Author Unknown
When I come to the end of the road, and the sun has set for me.
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room. Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little—but not too long, and not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that was once shared. Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take, and each must go alone.
It’s all a part of the master’s plan, a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart, go to the friends we know.
Bear your sorrow in good deeds. Miss me, but let me go.
I got a txt message last night from one of my two roommates from the Young Women's Breast Cancer Convention in Denver this past February. The txt message woke me from sleep - I picked up my phone to read those words... It said "call me about marcela". immediately I knew. When I returned Andrea's call, my fear was confirmed. Marcela Vargas died Thursday morning.
Marcela, our 3rd roommate was a ray of sunshine. She had booked a hotel room and offered it up to us on a message board for young women with breast cancer. Not knowing anyone at this conference, I responded to her email and decided to room with her at the conference.
Marcela and I bonded - Nov 17, 2005 marked the last day of chemo for both of us. We shared the same struggle of facing this battle alone, as a single young woman. Wondering if we would ever find someone who would look beyond our battle and join us on our journey. Dealing with friends who could not face our disease and so chose to turn away. Ultimately gracious for the friends and family who, despite how uncomfotable this whole thing made them, chose instead to lift us up and help us keep moving forward. Marcela and I lay awake our last night in Denver, in the dark, and talked openly and honestly, as if we had known each other for years. We cried for one another.
Marcela was diagnosed with metastisis to her hips, spine & left lung less than 2 weeks after we got home from Denver. She had been complaining of hip pain while we were there, but her dr had told it was only a pinched nerve. She was just about to finish her treatment, when all the rules changed. She had 4 more weeks of radiation for her bone mets and more chemo for her lungs. All this when she was just gearing up to celebrate the end of her initial treatment.
Marcela - I cried for you again today. This world is a lonelier place without you in it. You fought good girl. You inspired others. I know that you will be looking down on your sisters here - not only your sisters by birth... but your sisters by circumstance... praying for us as we continue on our journeys. Live BIG!
Marcela Vargas
February 18, 1975 - June 1, 2006
Miss Me, But Let Me Go
Author Unknown
When I come to the end of the road, and the sun has set for me.
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room. Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little—but not too long, and not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that was once shared. Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take, and each must go alone.
It’s all a part of the master’s plan, a step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart, go to the friends we know.
Bear your sorrow in good deeds. Miss me, but let me go.
Thursday, June 1, 2006
LIFE IS A THEATRE
posted Thursday, 1 June 2006
Life is a Theatre
Life is a Theatre
Invite Your Audience Carefully!
Not everyone is healthy enough to have a front row seat in our lives.
There are some people in our life that need to be loved from a distance.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you let go of,
or at least minimize your time with draining, negative, incompatible,
not-going-anywhere relationships and friendships.
Observe the relationships around you.
Pay attention.
Which ones lift and which ones lean?
Which ones encourage and which ones discourage?
Which ones are on a path of growth uphill and which ones are going downhill?
When you leave certain people do you feel better or worse?
Which ones have drama or don’t really understand, know, or appreciate you?
The more you seek quality, respect, growth, peace of mind, love, and truth around you, the easier it will become for you to decide who gets to sit in the front row
and who should be moved to the balcony of your life.
If you can not “change” the people around you,
change the people you’re around.
MOM MADE THIS COMMENT,
I would like to reserve a seat in your front row. :-)
Life is a Theatre
Life is a Theatre
Invite Your Audience Carefully!
Not everyone is healthy enough to have a front row seat in our lives.
There are some people in our life that need to be loved from a distance.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you let go of,
or at least minimize your time with draining, negative, incompatible,
not-going-anywhere relationships and friendships.
Observe the relationships around you.
Pay attention.
Which ones lift and which ones lean?
Which ones encourage and which ones discourage?
Which ones are on a path of growth uphill and which ones are going downhill?
When you leave certain people do you feel better or worse?
Which ones have drama or don’t really understand, know, or appreciate you?
The more you seek quality, respect, growth, peace of mind, love, and truth around you, the easier it will become for you to decide who gets to sit in the front row
and who should be moved to the balcony of your life.
If you can not “change” the people around you,
change the people you’re around.
MOM MADE THIS COMMENT,
I would like to reserve a seat in your front row. :-)
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