Along The Way With Dottie Stay

I wrote this poem a week before I found out I had cancer.  I felt bad for so many that have been struggling during such a difficult time. SO much conflict and disaster all around. I am way too much of a softie and wish I could fix everything.   I wanted to create something that meant something to me, and could hopefully bring joy to others.  Little did I know that I would want to reflect on this often for my own personal fall back.  I am a sucker for all things artsy.  I wish I felt more comfortable sharing things I have written.  This blog feels safe because I can see how many looks it gets and thankfully it isn't too many.  I don't know why that gives me relief.  I feel so easily judged and very vulnerable right now.  I don't like it.  And I don't know what imaginary bar I have set for myself and why I have.  SO DUMB.  The problem I've realized is that I think the truth of the matter is, the fake bar that I do have set for myself is ever changing, and because o

Ever since April 15th I have lived with a pit in my stomach.   Hearing the C word as a diagnosis isn't fun.  There are such varying degrees of the c word as well.   So how do you even gauge that?  It just sucks.  What's the next step,  what do I do in the mean time,  do I tell people, do I now tell people? It is just a disaster of feelings and emotions, and then reliving them every time you talk to someone new.  It is so overwhelming.  I wanted to be sedated and wake up in January 2021.  I mean who doesn't right?! I have ductal carcinoma in SITU.  It is a contained form of breast cancer.  My lump is the size of small plum.  But not in thickness.  Just in diameter.  It's an inch think.  I found it just going in for my yearly mammogram.  I had to go back and have another mammogram, and then an ultrasound, and then a biopsy, and then an MRI.  Holy crap.  I do not wish  that on anyone.  especially the biopsy.  It is like a torture chamber.  You are awake the whole time, a

These are some texts that I sent to people during all that was going on.  I want to make sure to have these on record.  My Feelings 2020 I just got off the phone with the surgeons office.    She specializes in this and is known for being INCREDIBLY THOROUGH.     so thank the heavens above (literally). I see her Thursday the 23rd at 3:30. They said that everything is a case by case.    And by Monday they said she will be so well versed with my case that I will almost be a little scared how well she knows me when I see her on Thursday.     They said that when I leave Thursday I will have the full plan in place.    Everything.    Surgery, radiation, hormones, anything and everything will be scheduled and in place.     🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻  I feel confident and secure about everything.    Like I feel like it is all falling into place well.     It will be a fight, but for the love, what doesn’t kill me had better freaking start running because I am pissed and ready for war. Thanks so m

There I was.  It was early in the morning on February 21, 2020, and I woke up to what I thought was a real life enactment of Julius Caesar's death.   Holy pain.  I didn't want to wake Deron so I tried to get to the bathroom without making a sound.  That's hard when the swear words are forming in your throat.  Anyway, long story, longer, kidney stones.  "Or it could be.....?  kidney stones.  Or maybe..... kidney stones" I felt like Joey Tribiani.  Thankfully these bad boys were much smaller than my ones from the previous year coming in at 11mm and 7mm. These were 4mm and 2mm.  So good newsroom the ER visit Deron made me go to.  "Take these drugs, this lovely sieve to pee in to catch the stones, and you can be on your way.  You will pass them in the next few days."  Right.  Right.  To the normal person this would have gone as said plan.  Fast forward to the next day. Deron - " Have you passed anything?" Me - "I want to poke out either you

(I guess I had written this and never posted it.  So why not do it now.). So, I had a hysterectomy in December 2018.    That was weird at first.  Who am I kidding.  It's weird now.  I feel like I someone stole my purse.  It carries/carried some of my most precious items.  After my surgery my youngest son asked me how I was feeling.  I told him I was okay.  He then asked me how I felt without my "baby holder" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  Of course initially I cried.  I mean I was drugged, and hormonal.   Which isn't saying much because I may not be drugged daily(that's debatable), but I'd say I am insane and hormonal most days.  I just embrace it.  I am getting better though.  Other drugs, exorcism, and some "special" balm have given me some major improvements. After the good cry,  I wanted to tell him I felt a good riddance to that baby holder.  I don't need it anymore, it's causing me grief, and to top it all off... no more