Great News!

She Who Lets Bob Make Her Coffee is on the next to last step to full recovery in her fight against breast cancer.  Supremely awesome news.  I had the pleasure of meeting Bob and his wife over a year ago, and I look forward to seeing them again sometime.

Cancer is a bitch. Go enjoy the story of someone kicking cancer’s ass.

I Was Hoping For Extraordinary*

But apparently, my breasts are normal.  At least according to the doc that read my smash and scan today.  And they don’t want to see me again until I’m 40. (7 years and 10 days from today, if you’re counting.)

It was corporate smash day today, so I got to share the event with my female coworkers.  You know, a real bonding experience.  The good people from the imaging center picked us up and drove us down there.  They served fruit and cheeses while we waited, and then provided massages after the smash and scan before shuttling us back to work.  And really, the smash and scan wasn’t nearly as bad as I was afraid.  It wasn’t a big deal, honestly.  If you’re scared, don’t be.

We were talking about massage on the way back to the office, and I mentioned that hubby needs to get his hands worked over fairly regularly due to his line of work.

Driver nurse: So what does your husband do?

Me: Leather work.  Holsters mostly.

Driver nurse: Does he sell to a lot of police and that sort of thing?

Me: Some.  He mostly sells to conceal carry permit holders.

Coworker in front seat: It’s surprising how many people have their permits now.

Me: Quite a few people do.

Coworker in front seat: It’s scary.

Driver nurse: I’ve got mine.  My husband has his too.

Me: Me too.  See me where it isn’t prohibited, and I’m likely carrying.

Silence from the coworker in the front seat.

It wasn’t a freaked out silence either.  More contemplative.  Like the idea of regular people carrying just became a little more real and a little more normal. And that’s how we win.

*They’re really not.  Any evidence to the contrary is an illusion. And the engineering of underthings.


Sometimes, You Get A Wild Hair

And I get a lot of them.

But really, I shouldn’t be so selfish with my wild hairs.

Because Pantene beautiful lengths can use it for people that lost all their wild hairs fighting cancer.  Too many people in my life have lost that battle recently.  So in honor of Donna, Pat, and little Madison, I’m sending this off to Pantene Beautiful Lengths.

Wanna see the back?

FarmDad doesn’t like it, but he likes why I did it.  Others loved it.  I have to admit, I enjoyed the shock value of walking up the drive-way into a group of people that almost didn’t recognize me.  I did this just before leaving town for Blogorado.  Actually, we hit the road immediately from the salon.  Tom of Color Correction Salon cracked up that we showed up with the car all packed.  Tom has been cutting my hair since I was 16.  He’s awesome and enjoys the dramatic as much as I do.  This is not the first time I’ve chopped this much off at once.  Always gets shocked gasps from the room.  And hey, who doesn’t want to drop a few pounds before seeing old friends 😉

Work should be fun tomorrow.  Only a few co-workers read the blog.

Remember folks, it’s breast cancer awareness month.  My boob smash day is this Thursday.  I am giving my hair for chemo patients.  What are you doing?

September 21, 2006-May 18, 2011

In the words of her mother.  Madison earned her angel wings today.

She got her miracle.  She is healed.  And she is in a place where there will never be any more sickness or pain.

I Have A Word

The Greek word translated in most English Bibles as compassion is splagchnizomai.

to be moved in the inward parts, i.e. to feel compassion

splagxnízomai – “from splanxna, ‘the inward parts,’ especially the nobler entrails – the heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys. These gradually came to denote the seat of the affections

That’s the feeling with the latest news on Madison this morning.  As our senior pastor says, “Hit in the guts.”

I work with Madison’s mom.  She’s part of my ladies Bible study group.  And she is living through a parent’s worst nightmare.  Her daughter has cancer.  They are talking about palliative care and experimental treatments because there is nothing else left.

I can’t even wrap my mind around that kind of fear.  Just thinking about it gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  Sheer terror.  Splagchnizomai-moved in my inward parts.

I’ve only ever seen Madison once.  She was a tiny angel.  I mean that literally.  It was Halloween.  She was dressed as an angel.  Her mom brought her to the office to trick-or-treat around the cubes.


I know You’ve got this one.  I know Your thoughts are not my thoughts, but I’m praying for a miracle for this little girl and her family.  Give them the peace that only You can provide.