... and the 'Easter Whimsy' winner is ...

 

Goodness, folks ... that was FUN! 

As promised, these little fillers will soon have a brand new home ....

... with Brenda at The Rusty Thimble.  Congratulations, Brenda!  Please email me your info so I can send these little bits of springtime on their way.  Mother Nature needs all the help she can get this year!

Thanks again, my sweet friends.  Have a lovely day if you can ... 

Terrific Under Ten Tuesdays: Lemonade Cupcakes

March is like some sort of crazy Birthdaypalooza around here at our house.  It's our big month for birthdays.  Every year.  These family favorites have gone to school twice in the last week with our two birthday kiddos.  They are fresh, light, delicious, and easy.  And they make us all dream about summer.  I hope you'll enjoy them too ... with or without frosting.  They're a hit either way.

Lemonade Cupcakes

(based on a recipe from Recipezaar)

1 (6 oz.) can frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
1 (18.25 oz.) box white cake mix
1 (8 oz.) carton low fat sour cream
3 oz. cream cheese, softened
3 eggs
1 (12 oz.) can cream cheese frosting, optional


Preheat oven to 350º. Combine lemonade concentrate, cake mix, sour cream, cream cheese and eggs in a large bowl. Beat with mixer until well blended. Spoon batter into paper-lined muffin tins, filling 3/4 full. Bake at 350º for about 20 minutes. Cool completely before frosting.

(click here for printable recipe)

 

 

"Don't hog your journey": Part II

Thank you all so much for your sweet, personal, and uplifting commentary about Thursday’s post.  You are making what feels like a huge leap of faith that much easier.  My story, though personally devastating and unique to me, is but one story.  Upwards of 260,000 women in the U.S. alone will have their own stories to share this year.  They are, I imagine, equally sad, equally inspirational, and equally sobering.  I appreciate that you’re taking the time to focus on mine and I’m hoping it will be helpful to someone (or lots of someones) now that I have decided to share it.

•••••••••••••••

As my surgery date drew closer, so did the holidays, last-minute Christmastime preparations ... and germs.  Lots and lots of nasty germs.  I had just finished with the most essential holiday baking and food gifts (knowing that I would be sidelined for weeks after surgery and wanting to grasp at some semblance of ‘normal’) when the stomach flu decided to take root in our home.  With a vengeance.  It was most definitely not funny at the time, but as with so many life events, a little distance has made the absurd rather humorous.  

Oh, yes ...  sometimes you just have to find the funny, folks.  Wherever it may be and whenever it presents itself. 

Connor was the first casualty, followed quickly by Brendan (in the car no less!), and then Todd.  The day before my surgery.  It was epic and I was beginning to wonder just how much we were meant to bear.  I was also petrified that I would become ill, causing all of our well-oiled surgery and post-surgery plans and meal arrangements to be thoroughly thwarted and delayed. 

Somehow I managed to stay healthy and Todd made a miraculous recovery.  We left bright and early for the hospital and continued on with  mixed emotions, a healthy dose of fear, and the belief that we’d be all right (and done with the worst) after surgery.  It was all completely surreal and we didn’t do a whole lot of talking.  The nurses were wonderful and the pre-op procedures bearable because the professionals in charge of those duties were so kind and skilled.  Again I remember feeling that I was in very capable hands. 

Just before surgery, the anesthesiologist shared with me that she too had gone through the same surgery just sixteen months before.  She was also young -- and a mom -- and I remember thinking she did not have to share that personal information with me.  But I was so glad she did and I was completely touched by her candor.  I was also uplifted to think that she too had managed to endure and seemingly thrive in the aftermath.  So I kissed Todd goodbye and the next thing I remember is waking up in a recovery room packed to the gills with patients, many of whom were making a scene as they came out of anesthesia.  It was nothing short of a madhouse in there! 

I was brought to my room well after dark.  Nearly half a day had passed since the surgery began and I was still quite groggy, uncomfortable, and restless.  As I looked at Todd, I knew something was wrong.  And it was.  He told me that when the doctor biopsied my primary lymph node, the on-site tests found cancer cells there.  Which meant that she then had to remove all of the lymph nodes on my right side for further testing.  Given the ‘clean’ image from the MRI I’d had, this information came as a huge blow to me.  It meant that the worst was only beginning.  It meant that chemo would be a must where it hadn’t even been on the table before, and it meant that the bottom fell out of my world for a second time in as many months.  The roller coaster ride was far from being over, unfortunately.  I cried angry, hot tears right there in front of the nurses that night ... all while Todd assured me we’d be okay.  I wasn’t so sure and I just couldn’t imagine how I was going to deal with what was coming.  Giving up was not an option, but I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to get through to the cure that was still very much a reality.

This may shock you, but I was discharged the very next day after one crazy busy night in the hospital.  My favorite nurse continually teased me because my number of choice on the 1-10 pain scale was always a three.  Most people, she assured me, chose at least nine.  I remember her telling Todd  something to the effect of “This one’s a real tough cookie.”  And, as I recall, he chucked and said something like “You have no idea.”  Both of my doctors cleared me to leave and were pleased to know that I was antsy to get home.  At Christmastime, apparently, a hospital is a hotbed of ‘germiness’ and they wanted me home ASAP to avoid infection.  Though I could’ve stayed, I was more than happy to oblige.  If I was going to feel lousy, I wanted to feel lousy at home.  And I wanted nothing more to do with doctors, nurses, procedures, and bad news.

The next days fell into a predictable and comforting routine of timely meds, surgical drain maintenance, movies, couch time, and lots of food love from friends and family.  We were all well cared for, together, and in what seemed like a protective bubble far removed from the reality that was looming.  But not until after New Year’s once I had healed enough to proceed with treatment.  I allowed myself to set all of that aside as we looked forward to Christmas with the kids and our families.  My brother and his wife came to stay and they were a huge help, along with being a wonderful presence.  My drains came out two days before Christmas -- which was a huge boost.  I finally got to shower and I was feeling stronger every day.  Christmas was bittersweet, but I soaked it all in and dreamed of next Christmas ... when this journey would be a memory.  Oh, the plans I made!

The post-holiday blues, quite predictably, hit hard -- especially as we learned that two additional lymph nodes had been microscopically affected.  The enormity of the situation felt even weightier and more impossible to bear than ever.  We had told the kids only what they most needed to know and now we had to get down to brass tacks and share more with them than we ever intended to.  I wanted to protect them for as long as possible, but the truth -- delivered in a way they could understand -- had to come out.  We talked about breast cancer, chemo, hair loss, fatigue, and so many other things.  We were digging in for the long haul and, like it or not, they too were going to be along for the ride.  Their acceptance and resiliency inspired me.  And it was then that we all began to look forward, to plan for better days, and to make the most of whatever ‘good’ ones presented themselves.  Then we prepared to meet with my oncologist. 

The next unwelcome chapter was about to begin.

•••••••••••••••

Part III will be forthcoming.  Please stay tuned and thanks again for your keen interest, prayers, cheer leading and support.  What a gift!

   

"Don't hog your journey": Part I

Though I am, by nature, an extremely private person, I feel compelled to share this journey with you all ... in the hopes that my story will help someone else.  I recently read an article about Hoda Kotb and her own fight with breast cancer several years ago.  Something that was said to her resonated with me and I’ve been thinking about it ever since: “Breast cancer is part of you; it’s like ... getting married and going to college. Don’t hog your journey; it’s not just for you; think of how many people you could ... help.” 

Some things, though intensely personal and difficult, really do need to be shared.  Especially if the silver lining is that my ordeal can light the way for someone else.  If my story can nudge someone to be vigilant about their own health or give someone a moment of feeling less alone, then it’s worth delving into.  As women, we are our own best line of defense against breast cancer.  Even if being vigilant is frightening.  None of us is alone in this pursuit.  No matter the findings or the outcome.  Even if the outcome is cancer.

I was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma in Situ (DCIS) in November, after discovering a lump in the shower one late September morning.  At first blush, no one was overly concerned.  I was young (only 35), healthy, vibrant, and fastidious about breast self-exams.  My doctor felt it was most likely a cyst and sent me on my way for a mammogram.  (Incidentally, I was not due to have one of those until my 40th birthday.)

Fear and worry quickly settled in.  Though everyone was sure I’d be fine, I had a deep sense of foreboding.  Which turned out to be right on the money.  The mammogram looked suspicious and the ultrasound that followed looked worse.  Even though the lump itself felt routine and not at all worrisome.  No one could say for sure if it was in fact cancer.  No one could tell me anything and more appointments were made.  I remember sitting in the car and crying my eyes out.  I had nothing definitive to go on, but I knew.  And I was scared.

About two weeks later, I had a surgical consult for the biopsy that had been scheduled for me.  I went alone as I thought we would just be reviewing the steps of the procedure.  Big mistake.  The first thing the surgeon told me was: “We can’t prove anything yet, but I don’t like what I see in these images.  You need to get mentally prepared for a cancer diagnosis.”

It was in that moment that the bottom fell completely out of my world.  I sat there in shock, thinking about Todd and the kids, my life, and my future.   Did I have a future?  Would I be around to raise my children?  My thoughts and heart were racing as we talked about what was likely going to happen.  I remember the surgeon telling me that this was a detour and not a death sentence.  I remember him mentioning that the next year of my life was going to be hell, but that I would likely thrive in the aftermath.  I remember him telling me, above all else, to continue living my life.

And I remember hearing myself say: “We have work to do so let’s get started.”  As he offered me a box of tissues, I declined and told him I was not about to cry in front of him.  And I didn’t.  The tears came later and often.  More so than in any other time in my life.

Two biopsies followed (the first was inconclusive ... which only happens about 6% of the time), along with torturous waiting, worrying, and weeping.  Telling Todd broke my heart.  Looking at the kids reduced me to tears ... but life went on.  It had to.  And anger quickly became my emotion and weapon of choice.  That and an all-encompassing sense of stubborn determination.  Tensions were high while we waited for news, hoping that -- somehow -- we’d get a miracle.  And I began to try and lead by example ... staying busy, taking care of business, and setting a tone of purposefulness and composure.  I knew if I fell apart, everyone else near and dear to me would too.

The call we’d been waiting for came on November 12th.  The news was not miraculous, but somewhat hopeful ... according to the surgeon.  DCIS, he informed us, was the “best” kind of cancer to have.  It was not only treatable, but beatable.  I would be cured if I could just hold on for the roller coaster ride that awaited me.  We discussed surgical options and he left me to think about what I’d like to choose:  a double mastectomy or a lumpectomy.  I called him back the next day and said that I was electing to have a double mastectomy with reconstruction.  Though both options were equally sound, this option -- for me -- provided the most peace of mind.  Especially knowing that I couldn’t possibly repeat this arduous process again.  It was simply too much.

The “good news/bad news” trend continued as I underwent an MRI to determine whether or not there were any other suspicious lumps to contend with.  (Incidentally, we had to wait for this procedure until a firm diagnosis was established.  Since my breast cancer risk on paper was virtually nonexistent, insurance would not cover the procedure otherwise.  Oh, the irony.)  Though my lymph nodes looked clean, one area in my other breast was flagged and I went in for yet another ultrasound.  This time, it was only a cyst and I remember thinking “If only my first appointment had gone so well.”  



That was the plan anyway.  But as plans so often do, this one went astray and the ball game changed yet again ... while the roller coaster ride continued.

••••••••••••••••

I’ll share Part II with you all soon.  If you’ve stayed with me this far, thanks for reading.  If you know someone who might be helped by my story, please feel free to direct them here.  Anytime.

As always, your interest, prayers, and support remain invaluable.  As you'll later see, you are all a part of this story too. 

Easter Whimsy Giveaway

As usual, spring is taking its sweet time arriving (and staying!) here in midcoast Maine.  We've had sunshine, mild temps, bitter cold and ... snow.  So typically New England.

So while we're waiting on this long overdue seasonal shift, I thought it might be fun to 'think spring' with a sweet little giveaway.  Something else that feels long overdue.

Here's what the lucky winner will be sent:

  {2 bunny faces, 2 baby chicks, 2 eggs, and 1 flower}

As always, entering is simple: Leave a comment (for this post only) below and please make sure that you are listed as a follower.  One entry per person, please.  If you do not have a blog, please provide your email address with your comment so that I can contact you if you win.  U.S. residents only, please.

 We'll choose a winner on Wednesday, March 30th via Random.org

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Thanks so much for the continued, faithful, and fervent support.  Your prayers and well-wishes are greatly appreciated and it's heartening to be on the receiving end of so much positivity.  It amazes me daily, actually.  

What a force you all have become!

I will be heading in for Round #5 of chemo on Friday morning ... my first of what is supposed to be the 'easier' half of treatment.  Only time will tell if that proves to be true, but it's good to know that I'll only have three rounds left after tomorrow.  The end (of this leg, at least) is nearly in sight.  And -- just like spring -- it's getting closer every day.

Enjoy embracing your inner Irish today.  We sure plan to!

Terrific Under Ten Tuesdays: Springtime Easter Wreath

 

Kindra's hosting another inspirational round of 'Terrific Under Ten Tuesdays' today.  And since she's sharing something Dollar Tree Store-inspired, I thought I would too.

Last year -- in an effort to beat the late winter doldrums -- I bought several floral and Easter egg picks at The Dollar Tree Store and came home to create something festive and 'springy' ... all for much less than $10.00 .. since I already had the grapevine wreath on hand.  

I can't wait to display this little bargain beauty again!  

Thanks for stopping by!  Don't forget to take a peek at what's happening here:

 

thinking about spring ... and molasses oatmeal banana bread

Yep ... we're still longing for spring here in Midcoast Maine.  And we are still surrounded by snowbanks that have grown to epic proportions this winter.  Fortunately, Old Man Winter is set to give us a break next week.  Warm enough temps to start melting some of this tired old snow away.  We hope.

In the meantime, we're making the best of it ... baking and setting out just a few hopeful touches of spring.

 

::: MOLASSES OATMEAL BANANA BREAD :::

This recipe was a huge hit with the kids!  The only thing I did differently was to double it and sprinkle each loaf with just a little sugar before baking.  You can find the Molasses Oatmeal Banana Bread recipe here.

In other hopeful news, yesterday marked the halfway point for chemo.  The 'worst' four treatments are completed and the remaining four promise to be somewhat easier to manage.  Either way, this milestone sure feels like a good and welcome one.  We're getting there!

Thanks as always, for checking in and continuing to bolster my spirits with your kind interest, comments, prayers, and support.  Have a lovely weekend if you can ...

Terrific Under Ten Tuesdays: Springtime Bowl Fillers

It's no secret that winter has been endless here in Midcoast Maine ... so I thought a little springtime salt dough crafting was in order.  Since these little bowl fillers can be whipped up for pennies, I thought I'd link up to At Home With K's 'Terrific Under Ten Tuesdays' as well:


If you've never made salt dough bowl fillers before, you can check out my basic tutorial here.  But I'm warning you ... once you start, you'll be hooked!

The little seed packets were a new idea ... and I'm excited to see that they actually turned out the way I envisioned.  Here's a quick recap of how I made them:

I found a load of wonderful (and free!) vintage seed packet labels here and then printed them out in a variety of sizes.

Then, as I was making my cutouts, I eye-balled the dimensions and used one label as a guide, making my rectangles slightly larger than the labels.

Once the rectangles were painted and aged (as explained in the tutorial), I watered down some school glue and attached the labels to each one, making sure that all of the edges were sealed well.  Then, as in the tutorial, I dipped them in melted wax.

I hope you'll have fun making some sweet springtime (or any time!) bowl fillers as well.  If you're having trouble finding cookie cutters locally, you might want to take a peek here.  I have had fabulous luck shopping with them whenever I'm looking for something special.

Thanks so much for stopping by!  Don't forget to visit Kindra so you can see what everyone else is up to this week: