The Joy of Six...

The Dreaded Mom-o-gram

Before I ever had my first mammogram I remember my mother's horror stories about the process of mammography and how they brutally crushed her breasts in that awful vice-like machine until they were flat as pancakes until she couldn't take it anymore and she was almost in tears, and her breasts would hurt for days afterward.  I'd get the calls about how sore she was and how she wondered if something wasn't wrong. "I think those exams can MAKE you have problems with your breasts." 

'Thank you mom. Gee, I can't wait to make MY appointment for one of those. I'll just call tomorrow....You've inspired me.'   Is it any wonder I didn't have my first mammogram until I was 54 years old? 

And when I DID go, you can imagine how surprised I was that: 1) I lived through it.  2) It didn't hurt anywhere near like my mother said it would and I wasn't a mass of quivering jelly on the floor. (and I'm not a small-breasted woman)  3) My breasts were not permanent flapjacks, frisbees....or transformed into any other deformed foreign objects.  I had to come to the realization that Mom had exaggerated just a smidgeon....OR she just had very sensitive breasts.  Since I've heard similar stories in both camps....I'll just say my mom must have had sensitive breasts and let it go at that.  I don't even think my mom had that many mammograms in her lifetime; and you don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out why.

What I do wish my mother had been a little wiser about was telling 'everyone and their uncle'....including me, about the 'tortures' of the mammogram.  But that was my mom, and that was how she was about most medical issues.  I took a lot of things with a grain of salt, but in truth...I wasn't running to the phone to make an appointment either. 

It's not like I'm Miss Model Patient of the Year...believe me.  I just had my second mammogram last year.  Again, it seemed fine. I don't remember it hurting much.  Maybe I'm getting a little cocky.  I just got a reminder in the mail a couple of days ago for another one.  Hey, cripes...okay already.  Now they know where I live...they're tracking me down.  I'll think about it. 

I'll tell you one thing....if THIS (below) ever happened to me....they just might not be squishing MY breasts ever again.....Enjoy!               Love,

POWER OUTAGE DURING A MAMMOGRAM

I went for my mammogram appointment. I was met with, 'Hi! I'm Belinda!' 
 
This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, 'All I need you to do is step into this room right here, strip to the waist, then slip on this gown.

Everything clear?

I'm thinking, 'Belinda, try decaf. This ain't rocket science.'

Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors.

With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left and said, 'Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?'

Fine, I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck and finish me off?

My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other boob wedged between those two 4 inch pieces of square glass) when we heard, then felt a zap! Complete darkness and the power went off!

'Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag.'  Belinda headed for the door.

'Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vice alone are you?' I shouted.

Belinda kept going and said, 'Oh, you fussy puppy...the door's wide open so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be right back..'

Before I could shout 'NOOOO!' she disappeared.

And that's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me, half-naked and part of me dangling from the Jaws of Life, and the other part smashed between glass!

After exchanging polite 'Hi, how's it going' type greetings, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off.

Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as possible, 'Uh, yes, yes I did thanks.'

'You bet, take care' Bubba replied and waved goodbye as though I'd been standing in the line at the grocery store.

Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin. Making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, 'Oh I am sooo sorry!' The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?'

'And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps.'          

                            

This Old House....

I'm on my way to a doctor's appointment...just checking in about my diet which is  going very slowly.  I've hit a wall or something.  I'm kind of sick of the whole 'diet' thing.

Anyway I've got other problems to think about...

It seems I had yet another leak in my roof...only this time it was in my bedroom ceiling.  Yep, a nice little drip by the window.  My handyman and his son came out yesterday morning and said a couple of shingles were missing because of a tree I have right there next to my house.  They cut some branches, fixed the holes and put new shingles up.

Now what do you suppose they suggest I do next?  Yep, they think I should get some estimates to cut that tree down.  Actually, my son has mentioned that to me before.  He's been concerned about that tree for a while.  I just have been putting it off because I haven't wanted to spend the money.  I guess I will now.  There's just no getting around it.  I don't need the grief of worrying about any more roof problems for one thing.  Plus my gutters are always full of leaves and junk.  So there's another thing I'm opting to do.  I'm having my handyman put gutter covers on all of my gutters.  Ouch!  Well, that's another thing I've decided will help my problems in the long run.

Next project...cutting down that tree...Geesh, I truly am praying that will be the end of it.  Look at how one little leak snowballed into all this other stuff....typical. 

Can you tell I'm on a little bit of a downer?  Yeah.... 

The Wisdom in a Child’s Words

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four-year-old child, whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman, who had recently lost his wife.

Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy just said, 'Nothing, I just helped him cry.'

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Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had a different hair color than the other members. One of her students suggested that he was adopted.

A little girl said, 'I know all about adoption, I was adopted..'

'What does it mean to be adopted?', asked another child.

'It means', said the girl, 'that you grew in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy!'

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On my way home one day, I stopped to watch a Little League base ball game that was being played in a park near my home. As I sat down behind the bench on the first-base line, I asked one of the boys what the score was.

'We're behind 14 to nothing,' he answered with a smile.

'Really,' I said. 'I have to say you don't look very discouraged.'

'Discouraged?', the boy asked with a puzzled look on his face...

'Why should we be discouraged? We haven't been up to bat yet.'

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Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in life, I stop and think about little Jamie Scott.

Jamie was trying out for a part in the school play. His mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he would not be chosen.

On the day the parts were awarded, I went with her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement. 'Guess what, Mom,' he shouted, and then said those words that will remain a lesson to me....'I've been chosen to clap and cheer.'

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An eye witness account from New York City, on a cold day in December, some years ago: A little boy, about 10-years-old, was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.

A lady approached the young boy and said, 'My, but you're in such deep thought staring in that window!'

'I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,' was the boy's reply.

The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.

She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel.

By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks.. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes..

She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him.. She patted him on the head and said, 'No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.'

As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked her.

'Are you God's wife?'

 

Thank you Donna for sending these sweet stories my way.  There is such honest beauty in the words of a child, isn’t there?

 

As a mother and grandmother I live for these very moments when one such 'pearl' may fall from a child's lips.  Years ago I shared all the stories my children had to offer.  Now I listen closely to my grandchildren for their wise and amusing accounts of what's going on in their world.  They teach me many things. Times may change, circumstances may alter...but I am always thankful for the beauty and simplicity of a child's story.   ~Joy

When Mom Really Is the Tooth Fairy

My mother was a stickler for healthy teeth.  I'm sure it was exacerbated by the fact that she lost her teeth to gum disease fairly early in her life, and was on a mission to make sure it was not going to happen to her kids.  I can't remember missing a six-month check-up even once all the years growing up; and mom instilled that same obsessive gene in me with my kids. I too have a 'thing' about their teeth.  I've even had dreams...aka, nightmares on occasion, that something's happened to one of them....and their teeth.  Yeah, that's worthy of some analysis...although I think it's pretty obvious.  But on occasion I DO listen to those dreams.

Years ago when my daughters Julie and Jory were freshmen in high school and on the soccer team...I had one such dream. 

Julie was the goalie for the team.  I went to all the games and loved every minute of it.  A couple of nights before a very big game, I dreamt Julie's teeth got hurt in the game.  I honestly didn't know the details that well; I just know it was about her teeth.  The next day I went out and bought her a mouth guard for the game. (Believe it or not...she never wore one as a goalie in any of the games.)  All's well that ends well, right?  If only that were true.

Julie never used the mouth guard. She just wasn't comfortable with it...or just didn't think it was necessary....or whatever kids think when their adrenaline is pumping before a game.

I don't know exactly when it happened....I've blanked a good portion of that day out of my memory....but somewhere toward the end of what was a wonderful game for our team, I remember seeing Julie stopping a ball and NOT getting up.  Suddenly everyone was running over to her, including her sister, Jory, and the coaches.  I had my son, Joe, with me and I started to leave the bleachers to go to the field.  By now they were getting a golf cart to transport Julie to the school for some medical attention and to make some calls.  I couldn't see much of anything as her face was pretty covered up with towels...especially her mouth.  But...I saw the fear and panic in her eyes as she looked at me.  I had to see the damage.  I looked under the towels.  Oh dear Lord...her two front teeth.  One was very loose, but in place.  The other was pushed way back in the roof of her mouth...but also still there....blood everywhere.

"I'm sorry Mom, I'm sorry Mom. You were right."

Oh my God, how I wanted to be wrong.  Never in my life had I wanted to be more wrong.  My pulse was racing...my head was spinning.  My heart was breaking.  My baby was hurt.  Jory looked sick watching her sister's agony....and still had to go finish the game.  We moved on quickly to call the dentist.

That was about 23 years ago.  The emergency work the dentist did on her that day was amazing.  He saved her teeth and did a beautiful job in the process.  He told her that somewhere down the line she may need further work done on them if they should start to cause a problem.  She has just recently been having some work done on those teeth...all these years later.  I really can't thank our dentist enough for his excellent work that day in such an emergency situation.  I think at one point they were more worried about me than Julie.  It really was my nightmare.

So, back to the present...and MY reality.  Why have I gotten so bad about going to the dentist as I've gotten older?  Well, I don't have any dental insurance for one thing.  That kind of stops me from making those little routine six-month visits my mother so instilled in me.  I'm already paying-out-the-snoot for my medical insurance premiums every month....and that doesn't even touch the deductible I have to meet.  I'm one of the gazillions in the same boat.  I feel like a hypocrite when I tell my kids to make those appointments...and I know I've been delinquent about them.  I do go when I have to.  I was just there a few weeks ago checking something out that turned out to be nothing.... but I had my teeth cleaned.  Gee, and that only turned out to be $156.  Sure, no problem.  Hey, it is what it is.  For someone who has always believed it's important to go to the dentist on a regular basis, this really bothers me.  A couple of my kids....and they shall remain nameless....are not good about going to the dentist.  They have no excuses.  They have perfectly good insurance, by the way.  They just don't make the time...and aren't in love with the idea of going.  Well my darlings....who is?  Would you prefer this alternative?  No pressure.... 

  

A Letter to My Mom

Hi Mom,

You’ve been on my mind a lot lately.  I suppose it’s because Mother’s Day is here again; and your last Mother’s Day, three years ago, was the saddest one I can remember…since you left us not long afterward. 

 

You've missed a lot in those three years Mom....your grandson, Bastian, who you never got a chance to meet, just turned three, and is so much fun.  Bella will be six in two months, and is quite a character.  Jory got married in 2006.  Grandma Irene was missed dearly.  (Maybe you were watching from above...it was beautiful.)  All the kids are fine and busy, traveling, working on various projects.  The main thing is...they are all happy and healthy. 

 

Those days at the nursing home were hard on you mom; I know that.  I wonder if you were aware just how difficult it was for Ken and I to see you there any longer than you had to be.  Your health failed so rapidly.  There were days I’d leave your room and it felt like my heart was breaking.  I knew you wanted to be anyplace but there….but THERE, became our only option….except the hospital.  Your life had taken you to the exact place you prayed you’d never be, and I’m so sorry for that Mom.  I think about that all the time, and the irony of it. 

 

I’ve thought about those last days by your bedside holding your hand and talking to you.  You were talking too….but not to me.  I’ve always wondered who it was you were talking to.  God?  Dad? Grandpa?  Sometimes you seemed angry.  I’d stare at your face forever trying to figure out what was going on in your conversations.  We had very few cohesive moments together toward the end Mom.  You were in your own little world, but you managed to clutch my hand the whole time.  I’ll never know if you heard me tell you that 'I loved you.'  It was like when Dad died in my arms and I kept shouting how much I loved him…..I just never knew if he heard me or not. 

 

 

 

I hope you heard me Mom.

 

 

 

Happy Mother’s Day...

 

    Love,

                     Joyce

P.S.  Did you know when Ken and Mary were leaving the nursing home after visiting you on the night you passed away, they were singing 'Good Night Irene' in the Community Room?  Talk about irony....  I left earlier that day.  I cried like a baby when I heard that....

Let Them Eat Cake....

For as long as I can remember I've had a love affair with sweets....candy, pies, cookies, ice cream, you name it..... and especially cake.  You put a gooey frosted cake in front of me and leave a fork anywhere in the vacinity....and I'm in trouble.   I don't necessarily need a knife.   Hell, on a good day...I may not even need that fork.

My son, Joe and I often watch those cake decorating shows on the Food Network...."Last Cake Standing Challenge," "Create A Cake," and "Cool Cake Designing."  I love watching the beautiful and outrageous cakes they come up with on those shows. Many of the shows have themes like weddings or holidays...and that's even better. I just love to see what they come up with for those.  I'm constantly amazed by the artistic and talented minds of those people.

So I'm going to share some cakes with you that are truly amazing pieces of art.  They look so real, it's hard to believe they are just frosting and cakes.  Honestly, if I were given one of them, I don't know if I could even eat it.  NOW THAT WOULD BE A FIRST!!!!  These really do 'take the cake'....... (Click on some pictures to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Aren't these great?  See what I mean?  I don't know if I would have the heart to cut into any of them and ruin their artistry....but that frosting would be calling to me....  Would you be able to devour one of these beautiful creations?