Survivor Stories

Over the weekend, I met a guy who was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1995. That makes four people I know who, so far, have survived it.
I know quite a few people who lost their battle with this most deadly of cancers. My life has been touched by lung cancer, so it makes me particularly happy to hear survivor stories. Here’s a little about the four survivors I know.
Gary. A very young cancer victim, Gary had been free of cancer for some time before we talked, so I don’t know many of his treatment details. He battled it for quite a while and had part of a lung removed. He still felt as though his illness wasn’t being treated as aggressively as he wanted by traditional medical professionals. He heard some stories, asked some questions and made some connections. Gary bought a concoction from a lady who sold it out of an alley in Chicago. He followed her directions and has been cancer-free ever since. He attributes it to the back-alley potion.
Pat. This woman is one of the toughest people I know and her cancer story fits her life. She was diagnosed with Stage IV (has metastasized the furthest from the lung), small cell (fastest growing) lung cancer. She took traditional treatment, which is no walk in the park. Because small cell nearly always metastasizes to the brain, Pat’s brain was radiated as a precaution. The treatment worked and Pat, nearly 10 years later, is living normally.
Jean. This lady was a friend of my husband’s from years ago. They lost touch, but I met her at his funeral. Her cancer required her to have a lung removed about 15 years ago. She took chemo and radiation as part of her initial treatment. She has a lot of follow up treatment; fluid build-up has to be regularly removed from around her remaining lung and she is still on a regular chemotherapy regimen. Her oxygen level is very low, which makes it difficult to breathe, greatly reducing her ability to do anything. She told me that her life was miserable. Pointing to Butch in his casket, she said, “He got the easy way out.”
Jim. This is the gentleman I just met. His cancer, apparently, has been in remission since he was diagnosed 15 years ago. He’s never had a treatment. Since diagnosis, he has weathered two divorces and his brother’s suicide; he has also retired. Jim still smokes and still welds. He says he feels fine and quit going to the doctor 5 years ago.

"When Workers Present"

In my state, construction zone speed limits are only in effect if there are workers present.
So, how do I know whether or not they are there until I’ve already sped past them? Does that guy over there with a donut and coffee mean that there are “workers present?”

Hometown Memories

I went to my hometown and took pictures of whatever was interesting. Here’s a cat in a (very high) second story window. I can’t imagine how he gets out there, let alone back in the house!
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This is the walkway that leads from the elementary school to the playground. Just looking at this brings back loads of memories - the rush of adrenaline as we ran south, the thump-thump-thump from letting my fingers bang against the fence, being winded from running, the shrill blare of the whistle telling us that recess was over, the smell of sweaty, dusty kids, and the dejected sorrow as we trudged back to the north.
Our playground had very little equipment. There were some swings, a “twirling bar,” two see-saws, and a set of “monkey bars.” We also had some left-over construction equipment. There were three or four huge concrete tubes about four feet in diameter and six feet high; laid on their side, they formed our “tunnels” and gave a semblance of privacy. Long, thick telephone poles were laid along the interior of the fence so we could play on “the logs.” Sometimes we played with marbles and winter, of course, had the additional offerings that come with snow. I don’t remember any organized games at all. Mostly, we just chased each other, for no reason whatsoever.
Where does that energy go?

I used to play on this railway bridge without a thought. Today, I’d be shaking like a newborn colt, but we used to run across it with ease. The tracks have been abandoned for years, so the trestle has fallen into disrepair; most of the ties are missing, but it still stands.

Here’s another victim of the downfall of railroad transport – the town elevator. Rumor has it that this hulking town icon is slated for demolition soon, like many others across North America. A few communities have turned their grain elevators into museums. They certainly symbolize a historical slice of time.

Hydroponic Gardens

There’s a very active senior citizens center a block away from my rental property, where I used to live. It’s a beautiful old building, which hosts block watch parties, neighborhood festivals and the polls during elections.
Members of the Eleanor Kale Senior Center plant these hydroponic gardens every year. Apparently, plants are grown in nutrients, without soil. They must do well, since the project gets bigger each year.
This particular neighborhood has a city pool, which hasn’t opened for the last two summers due to economic troubles. It’s nice to see this kind of neighborhood projects where they’re really needed!

Moving Forward?

I noticed Toyota’s slogan for the first time yesterday. Does anyone else see the irony for a company with unintended acceleration problems???

Cottonwood

********There is an 80-foot cottonwood tree in my yard. It shades the south side of the house, which never gets really hot inside, even in the summer. The leaves shimmer in the sun and flutter wildly in the wind, so it’s nice to lay under it and stare at the sky through its leaves.
Cottonwoods draw woodpeckers, which are fun to watch. They have pecked countless holes into the porch, which is made from untreated lumber. I can’t believe how loud they are!
The land surrounding my acre hasn’t been farmed since the 70’s, so it’s now full of young cottonwood trees, all from the single one next to my house. I can’t believe how much they’ve grown since I first met Butch. He and his mother used to garden a lot, but the trees are now so tall that there’s really no sun for a garden!
The cottonwood is flying now and the yard is full of it, and the droppings when the cotton is done. It’s hard to believe that it goes away, but this mess will disappear soon enough.
The tree, to me, is a symbol of the home, her memories and the people who lived here. I might name the place Cottonwood Acre. Someday, I'm going to get one of these pretty cottonwood leaves dipped in gold.

Perennial Exchange

*******Sarge organized a perennial exchange in our tiny hometown. It went over very well. There was even a drop-in guest from MSU’s agricultural extension, who brought some plants to show support!