Friday, January 3, 2020
Today was supposed to be a chemotherapy day. Instead I am kicking back at home, so I do not die. I know I am a little (okay, a lot) dramatic, but Dr. Doom and Gloom has told me in no uncertain terms, the hospital is my enemy. With my compromised immunity, any issue that could land me in the hospital could kill me. that is why I have been very vigilant treating the chest cold that has been plaguing me since November. If it turns to pneumonia, I could be a goner.
 
Since December 11, 2019, I have been sweating profusely. I have written that it could be the beginning of my end. I contacted Dr. Doom and Gloom’s office about ten days after the extreme sweating started to voice my concerns. Since I did not have any other “bad” symptoms such as fever, vomiting, or decreased appetite, I was told to keep on keeping on.
 
Yesterday morning I had my pre-chemotherapy appointment with Candice the PA. I told her I was still a member of the extreme sweating team, but it was not every single day (and, of course, not yesterday), simply most days. I told Candice the PA my appetite had decreased, but I was still not having any fevers or vomiting. I mentioned off hand that I had some undigested tomatoes in my poop on Wednesday that had freaked me out because they looked like blood, and I knew blood in the stool was bad.
 
I mentioned the color of the tomatoes stood out so well because my poop had been more clear liquid looking than poop looking for the past two days. Who knew clear liquid looking poop was an important observation? The nurses and doctors never ask me if my poop is clear; they only ask if there is any blood. How am I supposed to know clear liquid looking poop is important?
 
Candice the PA ordered a stool sample to be collected with my blood draw after our appointment. All was right with the world, until 4:30 p.m. Candace the PA called me at home. Candace the PA does not call me at home. If there is an issue with my lab results, one of the office staff calls to tell me to take more magnesium or stay away from people or I need a blood transfusion. You know it is bad news when someone who can actually answer your medical questions completely calls you.
 
Honestly, I feel fine so I do not know how bad it could actually be. Candice the PA told me my stool tested positive for C. diff (Clostridium difficile (klos-TRID-e-um dif-uh-SEEL)). She then told me I could not have chemotherapy treatment today because the treatment would allow the C. diff to get worse and I could end up in the hospital. The hospital is my enemy so I agreed I should skip my chemotherapy today and start antibiotics instead (at least the antibiotics are oral and do not require me to go to the hospital).
 
Today I am kicking back torn between two thoughts. On one side, I am happy they caught the infection and it did not get bad enough to put me in the hospital (at this point). I have had two chemotherapy treatments since the sweating manifested and did not end up in the hospital. However, if the infection is the cause of my extreme sweating why was the sweating less on my respite week? On the other side, this delay pushes my treatment schedule another week into June when my seven-year-old will be out of school and I want to run the streets with her. The worst part of my cancer is still the time commitment.
 
My piece of advice to you is keep digging until you find the positive. Yes, I think Dr. Doom and Gloom and Candice the PA are overreacting, but they do it because they care. Yes, part of another two days in June will be spent at the hospital, but if I do not take that extra week off now, I might not be around for any days at all in June.
 
Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Thursday, January 2, 2020
My seven-year-old, Mika, is afraid. You name it, she is probably afraid of it. She has always been sensitive to loud noises. The first time I took baby Mika to her sister’s high school swim meet she cried during every race. Fifty to 100 people cheering for the swimmers in an enclosed pool was more than she could bear. I bought Mika headphones for the next swim meet.
 
When we went on walks, Mika would not walk near any equipment that made any noise. The vacuum cleaner and lawn mower sent her running to my lap in tears. She would not watch any type construction truck or even the train. Loud noises terrified tiny Mika. Mika still avoids loud noises when she can; I do not think I will ever be able to take her to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra, the noise and fire are just asking for a meltdown.
 
Some of Mika’s fears make sense to me. Mika has nightmares frequently and many times those nightmares involve the death of her family. Those nightmares started before I knew about the cancer, so I think they are ordinary childhood dreams. I had nightmares about my sister dying (always the same sister) until I completed elementary school. I remember how afraid I was to go to sleep each night.
 
Some of Mika’s fears I find completely ridiculous. I get it, she is only seven, but once she thinks there can possibly be a problem, she is afraid. Mika is currently afraid to flush the downstairs toilet. A couple of weeks ago, my downstairs toilet overflowed, and I needed to have a plumber clear my main line. Mika was not the one who flushed the toilet when it overflowed, but now that she knows it can overflow, she is afraid it will.
 
Mika is afraid to open a soda can. Mika has watched YouTube videos in which someone shakes up a can, gives it to someone, they open the soda can, and it sprays in their face. There is also a loud noise when the can actually opens that scares Mika. Yesterday, I needed to open a grapefruit soda and it took 15 minutes of me trying to convince Mika it would not explode on her. I ended up using my teeth to pop the seal (so bad for your teeth) and persuaded her to pull the tab to open it the rest of the way.
 
During this school holiday break, Mika has been afraid to sleep alone. This means she wants to sleep with me, on my twin-size hospital bed. Mika is quite tall and can no longer curl up at the bottom of my bed where feet would be if I had any. Mika starts curled up with her head at the foot of my bed, but shortly after she falls asleep, she stretches her legs out and kicks me all night long. I am a light sleeper usually, so all Mika’s movement keeps waking me up.
 
I know Mika will get over most of her childhood fears. Mika does not freak out anymore when she sees some types of bugs, and she is getting better about staying calm around bees, but we still have a long way to go with spiders and snakes. I would like to work more on the soda can issue, however I rarely drink soda and do not want to drink sodas any more often.
 
I am still afraid of falling. Not a little fear; when it grips me, I cannot move, and it is hard to breathe. I have been afraid of falling since I was a child and that fear turned crippling after Mika was born premature and I was afraid I would drop her. You would think six years after I quit worrying about dropping Mika, my intense fear would have abated. It has not. I cannot cross walkovers alone. I cannot breathe if the elevator goes higher than the fourth floor. I am terrified to ride in an automobile on a mountain road.
 
My piece of advice to you is acknowledge and work around your fears. I may not roll across the bridge to see the elephants with Mika at the zoo, but at least I was there for the rest of the excitement.

Until next time,
Susanne

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 Wednesday, January 1, 2020
I started the new year my favorite way; in bed, asleep. I am not a drinker, so I do not need an excuse to party and I believe February 13th is just as good a date as January 1st to start a new project. I started writing this journal on October 5th. I would have missed 88 days and more than 55,000 words (some of those words are profound and some are  completely irrelevant) that may comfort my family (or not) when I pass if I waited for today to start. New Year’s Day is not an event I feel the need to celebrate in any manner.
 
Today is already much better than yesterday. I almost told my daughter to leave me in bed after she gave me my shower yesterday morning. I had not slept well and was very tired. My seven-year-old, Mika, was home on school break so she could get me drinks and food as needed. I convinced myself a nap was no reason to stay in bed and put that extra work on Mika; I need to save bed days for when I really need them.
 
By 11:00 a.m. nausea was hitting me hard and I was thinking bad thoughts about the part of my brain that had overruled the part of my brain telling me to stay in bed. My tummy felt fine at 9:00 a.m., but somewhere my brain must have known what was coming because I do not remember not wanting to get up because I was tired before today. Usually, I feel trapped in the bed as soon as I wake up and cannot wait until someone is here to get me up.
 
I was sweaty and extremely cold from the minute I got up. At first, I attributed the extra cold to the fact I had showered in the morning rather than at night. It takes me a few hours to warm back up after I shower. Before my hair fell out, if I took a shower in the morning, I never seemed to warm up completely the entire day. I was only able to work for about an hour until I started shivering too hard to control my arms enough to continue working.
 
I turned on Netflix on my computer and started watching a movie. At 11:30 a.m. I tried to convince Mika to open a grapefruit soda for me to help with my nausea. Mika is afraid to open a soda can so that took us more than 15 minutes. The grapefruit soda did start to settle my stomach, but the excessive shivering was making me even more tired. I laid my chair back in hopes I could get hot air from my two space heaters blowing directly on more of my body and that might warm me up.
 
I was slightly warmer, and I even managed to doze off for about ten minutes, which is a feat itself because my chair is impossible to get comfortable in lying back. I would sit up approximately every 15 minutes to take a drink of my soda. Around 1:30 p.m. I started getting lightheaded when I sat up. The high heat, less fluids, and changing positions were wreaking havoc on my blood pressure, lowering it even more. I needed Mika to give me drinks when I started coughing (yes, I am still being held hostage by the nasty virus running Colorado Springs).
 
At noon, while I was still extremely nauseous, I was wishing like crazy my significant other, Donald, would end up only working half a day like Christmas Eve. No such luck. At 1:30 p.m., I was lying in my chair, counting the minutes until 2:30 p.m. when Donald would get off work and start home to put me in bed. At 3:20 p.m. I was calling Donald asking him when he would be home from running errands. Donald was not running errands and reminded me he was on his winter schedule (and has been for two months) and did not get off until 3:00 p.m. and would be home in a few minutes. I blame fatigue for my brain lapse.
 
My piece of advice to you is to trust your gut sometimes. I would have had a much better day yesterday if I had simply listened to the voice whispering in my ear, “Stay in bed.” Next time that voice needs to yell.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Tuesday, December 31, 2019
I have interesting dreams. I do not remember most of them, and the ones I do remember usually involve buildings exploding after I walk out of them. My favorite dreams relate to my paralysis. I had my first paralysis dream within the first six months after my automobile accident. In my dream, I was riding on a sidewalk in my wheelchair. When I arrived at the end of the block, there was not a curb cut. I did what anyone else would have done, I hopped out of my wheelchair, pushed the wheelchair off the five-inch curb, sat back in the wheelchair, and continued rolling on to my destination.
 
Some people may have interpreted my dream to mean I would walk again someday. Not me, that ship had sailed. That dream told me obstacles could be easily over come if you did not get bogged down by details. In my dream, it did not matter that I was paralyzed, the easiest way to get the wheelchair off the sidewalk was to do it myself. My dream self maneuvered around the obstacle and continued on to her destination.
 
Some off my favorite paralysis dreams are those in which I remember I am paralyzed or have amputations during the dream. I dance occasionally in my dreams. After my amputations, in every dream I can remember of me dancing I am wearing thigh-high boots. No one can see that I do not have feet when my lack of lower legs is covered by leather. Never mind the fact that I cannot stand without feet (I have never had prosthetics in any dream I remember), that is simply a detail I do not need to get bogged down with.
 
In other dreams I know I am paralyzed, and I am in my wheelchair, but I do not have any physical limits. I recently had a dream in which I was checking out a neighborhood for accessibility. In the dream I was looking at apartments and the woman with me said the third one would be mine. I was in the apartment in my wheelchair and I told the woman, “No, I need the first apartment. This one has three stairs that I cannot get up in my wheelchair. Even while still dreaming I realized I could not possibly be inside that third apartment and immediately appeared in front of the building instead of inside. I woke up laughing.
 
I had a new type of paralysis dream last night. I rode a bicycle! This was not a three-wheeled hand cycle, like I have ridden sitting down since my accident a few times. It was a regular, two-wheeled bicycle that tips over easily. In my dream, I was bicycling along some rural roads in the area I was raised. I knew I was paralyzed in the dream because my significant other had to drive beside me because I might fall off the bike and be trapped on the ground.
 
I do not remember noticing thigh-high boots to camouflage my lack of feet, but I do not think that was my focus during the dream. I remember being impressed that I was able to bicycle all those miles (I get winded with the tiniest bit of physical activity now.) and keep going. I choose to believe my dream means I will get to continue on my journey longer than I think possible.
 
I have not had any cancer dreams that I have remembered, and I hope I never will. I accepted my paralysis and its consequences the day I had my automobile accident. I think if I dream of cancer it would mean I finally accept its consequences, and I am not ready to lose my favorite friend Denial and face reality.
 
My piece of advice to you is think about your dreams when you remember them. I think my dreams reflect my personality and I enjoy watching myself react the same way in dreams as I would while awake.

Until next time,
Susanne
 
P.S. I am annoyed because I have successfully not learned to spell paralysis without spell check for 24 years (Denial is my favorite friend) until today. Thank you, cancer, for taking that away from me too!

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Monday, December 30, 2019
My significant other, Donald, has a potty mouth. He works construction and feels that profanity is perfectly acceptable to use at any time. I, on the other hand, feel profanity is almost never acceptable. Donald used to attempt not to swear so much, but since my accident 24 years ago, he quit trying. It is hard for children to be subjected to such language, even when it is not directed specifically at them.
 
I am afraid to try out any Netflix original programming. I love Grace and Frankie, but I am verbally assaulted every time I try to watch an episode. The Ranch is hilarious, but I am pretty sure there are more profane words than work-appropriate words on any given episode. I am over these types of shows. When did USA Network get to use the F word on their shows? Broadcast television is not a lot better, but I can at least watch it with my seven-year-old, Mika, in the room.
 
This past weekend, Donald was mad about the state of the house (and me by proxy) and was upstairs swearing up a storm. Mika was downstairs with me, and I could see how the tone and profanity were hurting her heart. I told Donald he needed to stop swearing. He then prattled off nonsense about me not swearing because of my religious upbringing and he would stop to protect my holier-than-thou sensitivities.
 
Donald was wrong about why I do not swear. The reason he was wrong is his number one complaint about me; I never talk to him. Obviously, I never told him why I do not swear (other than I think it is disrespectful). Donald has a great memory, unlike me, so if I had ever told him, he would know the real reason I do not swear. In my defense, he has never asked me.
 
I do not swear because I think I am better than that. That does not mean I think I am better than people who do swear. I quit comparing myself to other people when I was a teenager. I set standards for myself as to the type of person I want to be at a young age. When I was a freshman in high school, my English teacher made an off-hand remark that has stuck in my head until this day. She said intelligent people did not need to swear because they could come up with far more creative words to express themselves.
 
I had already quit using contractions and abbreviations (I spell out etcetera) in my writings because I felt they were simply a way to tell the reader they were not worthy of me taking a few seconds to write out the entire word. It distresses me that I find myself using contractions in conversations. I am better than that. You are worthy of me communicating with you in complete words and creative thoughts. Eliminating profanity was the next logical step.
 
I know I am probably the only person in the United States of America (no USA from me) that loves words so much I am distressed by profanity, contractions, abbreviations AND symbols, and that is okay with me. Once again, I do not compare myself to others. What you do does not affect me, unless you are the head of original programming at Netflix. My 25-year-old self would be appalled at my use of “lazy” contractions in my verbal communication, but I am much older and wiser than she was.
 
My piece of advice to you is live by your own standards; but be flexible when you need to be. I learned to ignore Donald’s profanity-filled tirades years ago. Those are his standards. I learned with my older daughter, however, sometimes I need to stop him, or he will lose any hope of maintaining a good relationship with Mika as she grows up. When your child is afraid to cry in front of you because it may make you mad, your standards may need to be adjusted.
 
Until next time, 
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Sunday, December 29, 2019
I spoke with my youngest sister, Karen Mae, on the phone today. I am pretty sure she is the only reason any of my siblings have any idea what is going on in the lives of any of the other siblings. Karen Mae actually calls people (gasp)! Karen Mae probably texts and Facebook messages my other siblings also, but she knows email and phone are the only way I will respond in an even slightly timely manner.
 
I have never asked Karen Mae if she resents the fact that her siblings rarely reach out to her (it may not be everyone in my family; it may just be me) and she does all the work. I should ask her. I think Karen Mae is simply a social child in a family of loners. Once again, I am sure I am the worst, but since my other siblings rarely call me, I think they probably rarely call her. We should count ourselves fortunate that Karen Mae has a personality that wants to keep us connected.
 
Just because we are a family of loners does not mean we do not love each other. We were raised with the idea that no news is good news, so if you do not hear from me, all is right in the world. When we do get together, we have wonderful conversations and enjoy talking to each other. We simply do not feel the need to do it often. I am the same way with my business networking groups.
 
There are all types of business networking groups. The groups I am familiar with here in Colorado Springs meet every week or once a month for regularly scheduled events. There is one group that meets twice a month, but I have never attended, and I am not sure they still are active. I cannot commit to the weekly groups. I do not want to see the same people every single week. I like the people, but I do not want to talk to them that often. Friendship is best experienced in moderation.
 
I enjoy the monthly networking groups because I can catch up on what people are doing, and then I have time to miss them by the next meeting and be genuinely interested in talking to them. There is a little overlap since others also belong to more than one group, but I only see them twice a month and I may not speak with them at both events each month.
 
Karen Mae and I talked about her selling her house near Kansas City and moving in with her fiancée. They have plans to marry in February and will own his house together. They, like all newly moved in couples, are learning how to adjust to living with each other full time. It helps that they have some unshared interests, so they will have opportunities to enjoy activities without the other person with them.
 
Karen Mae is making arrangements to visit me (without her then husband) for all of my seven-year-old’s spring break in March. My significant other may want to move out for the week because our constant chatter will drive him crazy. Karen Mae is coming to help with my decluttering project and wants to have the time to have a quality visit with all three of my children. Karen Mae can work an extra half hour a day at her job during January, February, and early March to earn the maximum 20 credit hours she can carry into a pay period. With the accumulation of the credit hours, she only needs to use 20 hours vacation time and can see me for the full week! What a great job benefit to offer.
 
My piece of advice to you is to try reach out more often. I really enjoy my phone calls with Karen Mae, even though I almost never initiate them. I feel happy after our calls and my soul is full. It is a great way to start the day.
 
Until next time,
Susanne 

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Saturday, December 28, 2019
I feel a little stupid today. I saw an article title stating the Netherlands was no longer going to be using the name Holland. I clicked the link because I thought Holland was a part of the Netherlands along with Sweden, Denmark, Norway and all those other northern European countries. I was wrong. I have been wrong for as long as I learned about the Netherlands in school.
 
I obviously was not paying attention when we learned about the Netherlands. The Netherlands is a country, not a group of countries. Holland is not a country (although the Netherlands has been called Holland in their tourist advertising for many years); it is two provinces of the Netherlands. How could I have gotten it so wrong? It makes me wonder how many other facts I have wrong in my head. It makes me see how easy it is to believe misinformation.
 
Many times during the past few years the news has run segments about how blatantly false stories are believed and shared on social media. I have always wondered how people could possibly believe these stories. Do they not question the idea that the Clintons are sex traffickers? Do they not fact check?
 
Why would people fact check if the information seemed even a little credible. If I had told you Denmark and Sweden were in the Netherlands, you probably would have believed me (unless you knew better) because I believed me. I can be quite persuasive in person. I might even convince someone who knows better (until they fact check me).
 
If I had spread my misinformation, it would have been a harmless, unintentional mistake. People who knew better would have laughed at my ignorance and people who believed me might tell others, but bad geography is not likely to create problems for anyone until they see a headline that reads, “Why the Netherlands is ditching Holland as its nickname”, click it, and feel a little stupid (like me).
 
Might you click on a link for “President Trump orders the execution of five turkeys pardoned by Obama” or “NPR: 25 million votes for Clinton ‘completely fake’”? You may think you do not click political story links, so you will never get fooled. What about a link for “Las Vegas: video footage confirms multiple shooters, coordinated attack” or “Expert confirms flu shot behind deadly epidemic that’s killed thousands"? These links could have been legitimate news stories (they were not).
 
Might you click on an, “I cannot believe it is true, so let me check it out link” such as “Morgue employee cremated by mistake while taking nap” or “Elderly woman accused of training her 65 cats to steal from neighbors” or “Popeyes manager arrested for allegedly dipping chicken in cocaine based flour to increase business sales” or “Death row inmate eats an entire bible at his last meal”? Admit it, you want to know. I probably would have clicked on two of those links.
 
I am working hard not to clicks links that are not by trusted sources; but is hard to avoid the spoof sites that use similar names to CBS, CNN, or Fox News. It helps that I do not click “news” links on social media, however I sometimes need to fact check an article I find on a google search.
 
My piece of advice to you is to enjoy your ignorance on subjects that do not matter. I wish I did not know Pluto had been reclassified as a dwarf planet and now we have just eight planets. I grew up with Inter-planet Janet and I miss not being able to share her with my youngest child. However, I do not want to spread misinformation.
 
Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Friday, December 27, 2019
My seven-year-old, Mika, and I have been sorting Mika’s very large collection of toys to pull out toys she no longer wants. We started last Friday and plan to finish by January 7th. Some days Mika does a pretty good job of sorting. Other days, like today, we have issues such as Mika pausing to play with each toy she touches or simply an unwillingness to work.
 
I confess, I get annoyed when Mika plays with every toy she touches when we are supposed to be cleaning. I want Mika to have fun, but it stresses me when it takes more than an hour to sort a medium-size bucket of toys when it should not take more than 15 minutes. At some point, when Mika is very distracted, I will raise my voice a little and snap at her in an annoyed tone. Mika will then burst into tears and tell me to quit yelling at her. Today while Mika was crying, she looked at me and said, “You know I have sensitive feelings.”
 
I blame the school and our politically correct society. It started when Mika was in Head Start and came home one day to proclaim, “I do not have to do anything I do not want to. My teacher told me I can say no.” and has gone downhill from there. I am pretty sure Head Start was teaching about no-no places and attempting to teach kids to say no to sexual aggression by others, but all four-year-old Mika heard was that she did not have to do what she was told.
 
I am not sure why this is curriculum in our schools. When my older daughter, Megan, had been in Head Start 17 years earlier, she spent her time writing her full name and letters. Megan learned about time and money. Mika learned to tell her momma no and did not learn how to spell her last name. I am sending my child to school to learn how to read, not how to tell me no.
 
The school trying to parent my child would not bother me so much if they would ever get it right. Every time Mika is subjected to one of these state-mandated sensitivity trainings, I need to unteach her what she learned at school. Mika was convinced she was being bullied nearly every day in first grade and I told her she was being too sensitive. Honestly, I was too sick to check out what was going on.
 
Mika started second grade telling me everyday she had been bullied and when I mentioned it to another mother, she said her daughter was saying the same thing. I asked a few other parents and they said their children complained of being bullied often. After conversations with the kids, we realized they did not understand the difference between having your feeling hurt and being bullied. Mika thought when someone said they did not like her art, they were bullying her.
 
I went to the school and explained the issue with their training, and they brushed me off. Mika and her friends are “smart” kids, if they do not understand what they are being told I am sure a lot of others are not either. Mika has been legitimately bullied twice in second grade (that I know of). Once, she was purposely bitten by another child at recess. The other time a girl said mean things to her in a bathroom. The girl in the second incident wrote Mika a very nice apology note, and Mika wrote her a thank you note back. We could all learn a lot from second graders.
 
My piece of advice to you is to help your kids feel their feelings and move on. I give Mika a hug and apologize for hurting her feelings when I snap at her. When she feels better, I help her see how her actions contribute to the situation and tell her she needs to apologize for her part. I am hoping to raise a child who will take responsibility for her mistakes and not always look for others to blame.

Until next time,
Susanne

Please check out my GoFundMe page.

Thursday, December 26, 2019
I am not after-Christmas shopping this year. Bargain shopping is one of the joys my terminal diagnosis has taken from me. I would like to think I was getting near to the realization my clutter had taken over my home and was ready to make the necessary changes on my own, but I would be lying to myself. Since my cancer diagnosis last year, my brain keeps saying to me, “Do not buy anything you do not need, you may die soon.” anytime I try to buy items for me or for the “future”.
 
I do not NEED any item I would be after-Christmas shopping for this year. I have 10 to 15 rolls of wrapping paper and pages of gift tags from past bargain purchases. I have half of my laundry room stacked to the ceiling with “future” gifts. I will not run out of any item I might buy today, tomorrow or even next week before next Christmas. Yes, I could use new lights for my Christmas tree, but I have eight unopened boxes of lights down in my lower shed that could probably be used on my tree if I bothered to look.
 
I did not to go to Christmas lunch with the family yesterday. I know it could be my last Christmas, but I am still fighting the nasty virus that resurfaced a week ago. I still have (pathetic) coughing fits and about half an hour before it was time to leave, I started to get extra sweaty and my nose started to run. I decided not to expose the seniors in my mother-in-law’s assisted living center dining hall to my germs. I would have been so cold and miserable; I would want to leave early which would have lessened the cheer for everyone else.
 
I rationalized that since I had participated in the most important part of the day for my seven- year-old, Mika, (opening presents) she would have a positive memory if this was our last Christmas. Hopefully we will have several more Christmas Days together and this one will not be Mika’s last Christmas memory.
 
I did need to leave the house today for my weekly blood draw. This is my rest week, so I do not have to think about cancer again until my pre-chemo appointment with Candice the PA next Thursday. I get seven whole days off! Because the infusion clinic was closed yesterday for Christmas, my usual appointment times were unavailable, and I went mid-afternoon. I have had a couple of afternoon appointments now and I have noticed the infusion clinic seems to run more on time later in the day.
 
When I ride the bus, I am given a transfer after I pay. A transfer is good for two hours after it is issued and can be used up to three times. I need to transfer to another bus to get to the hospital for my appointments. The only bus route you may not use a transfer on is the route from which the transfer was issued. If you pay and get a transfer boarding route six, you may transfer to route nine to go to the post office, and then transfer to route five to stop at the mall, but you cannot use that transfer to get back on route six to go back home even if it took you less than two hours to finish your errands. You must pay again to ride route six.
 
That example is similar to my situation when I have either a blood draw or shot at the hospital. I take a bus downtown and then transfer to the bus that goes past the hospital. I use the same transfer to take the second bus back downtown, but then I need to pay again to get home even though I have a few minutes left on my transfer. Unless… There is another route which gets me near (approximately a mile) my home. If the nurse is super quick at the infusion clinic, I finish early enough to catch the other route and only pay one time for the entire trip. Today we finished early enough.
 
My piece of advice to you is to take the small wins. I only saved 85 cents by not waiting 15 minutes for the route that comes close to my home, and I get home at the same time because I am dropped off farther away by the other route. Yet, I felt like getting to my destination and back on one purchased ride was my little bit of after-Christmas bargain shopping.

Until next time,
Susanne

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Wednesday, December 25, 2019
It is Christmas morning and this year I am up and waiting for my seven-year-old, Mika, to awaken for the day. My being up before Mika is a rare occurrence on Christmas Day. Usually Mika wakes up early and needs to wait for me to be gotten out of bed before she unwraps her presents. Mika usually runs to my bedroom to tell me excitedly Santa has come and describes to me everything she has seen. This year I get to see the expression on Mika’s face when she looks under the tree.
 
We were late putting up our Christmas tree this year. Apparently, my son thinks he can have his own life and he was unable to come the weekend before last to put together my Christmas tree and hang the tree lights, so he came this past Sunday to do it. Mika decorated the tree last night. I did not see the decorated tree until this morning because Mika did not start decorating until after I had already been put in my bed.
 
Mika was very excited when she came across an ornament with a photo on it last night and brought it to my room. “Is this Megan?” she asked me. I told Mika it was and asked her if she was going to put it on the tree. Mika got a giant smile on her face, yelled yes, and ran back to the tree to hang the ornament. Her joy at seeing her sister’s face on an ornament got me thinking (never a good thing).
 
Yearly photo ornaments would have been a wonderful holiday tradition if I had thought about it before now. I could create age 1 - 18 sets for my two older children when I reach phase two of my decluttering project and start sorting photos. I do birthday photos for each of my children until they turn 18 and could pull those photos out for this purpose. I am missing the set from when my son turned five or six because I threw them out of the window of a moving car during an argument in my less laid-back years (Oh, the stories my significant other could tell).
 
I think yearly photo ornaments should be a life-time holiday tradition. If I had thought about this before last night, I could have taken a snapshot of my older children and their dad and me each year before Christmas and made an ornament for each of us. It would be so wonderful to have a tree with more than 100 (If I started when my son was born) family photos. What a loving legacy to leave your children.
 
The smile on Mika’s face this morning was amazing! Mika came downstairs, stopped at my computer to give me a good-morning hug, walked toward the Christmas tree, and turned back toward me, her face alight. Mika started her happy dance and yelled, “Santa came!” I rolled toward the tree and showed Mika she did not do a very good job of putting the ornament boxes back in the storage bucket last night. As Mika put all the boxes back in the bucket, I told her it was a good thing Santa had magic to get around her mess.
 
Mika received way more presents than any one child needs. We had gotten her three books, two CDs, a big Play-Doh  set, and five LEGO sets. On Monday, one of her dad’s coworkers gave him six more very nice toys for Mika. Unwrapping all those toys took a while this morning and she loved all of them. She got the big LEGO classics set, something called Num-noms, a Frozen blanket craft set, a Razor scooter, and more from her dad’s coworker. So much for downsizing. Mika does have a Razor scooter I bought at a yard sale this Fall for her, so she plans to regift the new scooter to a friend, but I do not think I can pry any of the other gifts away from her.
 
My piece of advice to you is to start photo ornaments as a holiday tradition this coming year even if you do not celebrate Christmas. You could create a magnet wall in your house, pick any day of the year for photos (I like November 20th), get magnetic photo sleeves from Amazon or Etsy, and add more photos every year.

Until next time,
Susanne

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