31 Days — Amyzing Journey (My brave and grateful Sister)

I didn’t cry The first time I saw the epic 2018 version of A Star is Born I didn’t cry. I teared up a little, who wouldn’t Instead, I saw the movie as one of hope Risks taken and rewarded I was the girl who wanted more from this modern world I had found what […]

via 31 Days — Amyzing Journey

Part 2: Day 1 of Chemo

I haven’t been in Put Out to Pasture in awhile. I just want to encourage everyone to follow my sister’s books as she charts her efforts to suppress metastatic breast cancer. She writes beautifully….

Amyzing Journey

No poetic voice tonight as my shedded body finally lays down in a bed, not attached to an iv for the first time in 9 hours.

The start was fine. Got hooked up and went through the basics and was administered progeta fine. Then we started the Herceptin, which I had every week for a full year and never had a reaction. This time I had shortness of breath, flushing, and bad headache, they have me some benedryl but I must have been too far into the reaction because I felt like ice was flowing through my veins and I was shivering uncontrollably and then started to vomit repeatedly.

While it felt like this went on for hours, it was probably more like 30 minutes. They had to stop the herceptin, stabilize me with more meds and then restart the hereceptin with a very slow drip. I tolerated it better…

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The Not-so-Rare Blue “Flower”

beer can litterWhat has been on my mind  in the two months since I was last in this space? Here’s one small sample. I find myself wondering if there is a relationship between the genuinely horrid, double-negative combination that is a Chelada (Budweiser combined with Clamato, which is tomato juice combined with clam juice, with a touch of salt and lime in a can—also available in Chelada Picante with a spicy kick) and the propensity for littering. My wanderings over dozens of miles of roads and trails behind our rental house tells me that Budweisers of all types are the beer can of choice for littering. I’m a self-confessed beer snob, anyway, and I wonder why people drink something so tasteless? Is the bland sense of slightly fermented barley water why they have to add tomatoes and clam juice?  I’ve walking my dogs more in these glorious, balmy days. Once we’re away from any possibility of traffic, off in Forest Service land, I listen to audiobooks, take notes on my phone, and try to learn the Colorado wildflowers. The blue hues of Budweiser cans, occasionally substituted bythe orange-reds of Chelada cans, can’t be found in my wildflower book. The sandy aluminum I pluck out of the ditches held tasteless hop-water tossed into nature by even more tasteless riffraff.

Home + Change: Memorial Day Edition

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-25,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y
The hills are alive with Memorial Day campers and our world has changed. This morning the two blues and I headed out for some “alone time” in the national forest, as has become our habit. We were accustomed to tents in a few camp sites along the road as the weather has been warming, but this morning each one was filled.

When we rounded the bend for the parking lot I felt dismay when I saw the brown, iron gates that had blocked the roads on either side of the fork were now wide open. Since we moved here they had been closed to regular vehicles and only available for snowmobiles in the winter. Since mud season began we had been hiking in our own personal playground: the only souls in sight the trotting elk tails and also tracks from moose, deer, and bear. All that has changed.

We drove down the road we’ve walked a dozen times at least, parking where we normally turn around for our walk. Maybe half of the campsites along side the road had RVs, tents, and one white Subaru with a contorted yoga form we left in a cloud of dust.

Our untried trail claimed to be a loop and we found ourselves at the fence line of houses keeping watch over massive hayfields and the lake. The ancient mountains looked back, keeping watch over them.

The loop met up with the road, Stillwater Pass, and as we approached, two vehicles a few minutes apart passed in different directions. We trekked the gap down the road back to our truck, ready for cars, managing to jump off the road for the last one we met near where we parked. For months we had been alone. I had come to feel as if we were in our own backyard where my only concern was avoiding animals and their babies.

I’ve never been one for change, even though change is the one thing that we can count on. Still, with one ear cocked for ATVs, the other heard birdsong and squirrels. I was surrounded by pines and aspens, brand new flowers, and a vista sparkling with a lake and dripping in melting, snowcapped mountains. It’s just another day in paradise.