Three Short Stories

A full and busy mind, with many things that also require lots of footwork can affect one’s ability to see and share things creatively.

So I’m just going to tell about three recent and unfolding stories in a matter-of-fact manner.

Story Number One:

I had a PET Scan on April 26th as a 3-month follow-up from the last one at the end of January.  I had an appointment with my Hematologist on May 1st, and while in the waiting room and then the exam room, trying to manage a whirlwind of emotions, including fear, uncertainty, acceptance, peace, and hope.   He told me to come back in three months, that everything looks stable and even a slight bit better.  I still have an area that lights up, but it seems like it’s a combination of calcification, dead cells, and other non-worrisome junk.   I can’t describe the relief and gratefulness I feel from this news.

The next story has resulted in the same feelings that this story did:

Fear, uncertainty, acceptance, peace, hope.…and gratefulness.

Story Number Two:

Yesterday, my mother moved into a skilled nursing facility.  It hit me like a lightening bolt less than two weeks ago that she needed to be where there’s more care, attention, and opportunities for socialization, and I need the same.   It was a difficult day for both of us, but we’re both adjusting.  The staff think she’s cute and sweet.  And for her first full day, (today) she attended an activity where the main attraction was a pink pot-bellied pig named Bacon Bits.  I was lucky enough to be at the pig event too.  After a while, I asked her if she wanted to go take a nap and she said “no, not until the pig leaves.”

I knew at that moment that this was the right decision.

He really is pink under his sweater.

Story Number Three:

I bought a bicycle!

I pick it up next week and plan to pedal down the river and through the woods, and leave my cares behind for a while!

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Hate~~~Love // Love~~~Hate

~Living with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma that is Hopefully in Remission~

I think of hate and love as being very separate and different.  But I’ve also heard many times that someone has a love/hate relationship with someone or something.  It seems illogical to have feelings that are opposing about a thing or a person, but they really go together and seem to create a balance.

Without studying Yin and Yang to any great degree, I have thought about this seemingly unusual relationship of opposites as it related to love and hate.

Here’s my list of Hate and Love that’s been going through my mind lately:

My Hematologist: 

-I really hate him.  When I think of him, my first thought is that he is the barer of bad news.  He has actually called me on my cell a few times and never has anything good to say.   He walks into the exam room and tells me I have cancer or that my scans and biopsies are not normal.  I HATE him!

-But I really love him too because he has told me on a few occasions that he has thought of me and my complicated and puzzling case over periods of days which leads me to believe that he wants to help me in the best way he can.  He was the one who arranged the treatments for me and wrote on the care plan that the goal was for cure.  I LOVE him for giving me hope in my darkest hour.


-There’s nothing scarier than coming to the realization that Chemo poison will be poured in to your body.  The stories of the immediate side effects are enough to trigger a pity party, and God knows what all of the late term side effects can be.   I hate that we even need Chemo and can’t just eliminate the beast, cancer!

-But, Chemo can also be life-saving or prolonging, and as it turns out, the side effects are not as bad as they used to be, and can be managed very easily.  I love having Chemo as a weapon in the arsenal against cancer.

Testing, Testing, and more Testing:

-I hate all of these tests!  It sometimes feels like a full time job scheduling tests, preparing for them, and then waiting for the results. Waiting is the worst.  Anxiety provoking.

-But these tests are absolutely necessary and can be life-saving.   With lymphoma, the tests are so refined that they can usually isolate one kind of lymphoma from about 80, which helps with treatment decisions.  Without extensive testing with precise outcomes, prognoses can be less than favorable.


-It’s obvious that cancer is hated.  A no-brainer.  An unplanned and uninvited guest.  A challenge that no-one wants to face.   We all HATE it.

-But I’ve read time and time again that having cancer has been an enlightening experience for so many as it has brought in to focus what’s important.  It’s also sent many people on to important tasks of research, writing, and developing important programs that support others in their personal battles.  I don’t think I’ve ever read or heard anyone say they LOVE cancer, but I have heard that they wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

I’m not sure I’m there yet, or will ever be there for that matter.

This diagnosis has changed me, but I’m just not exactly sure about all of the ways yet.

Enlightenment doesn’t happen overnight.

I can wait patiently to learn of all I’ve gained from this, hopefully including having a better understanding of the meaning of life.

I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.

I have a love~~~hate relationship with this “work of art”. I really hate the finished product, but I love the technique and can see myself trying it again, maybe with a better focus and plan.


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The Space Ship Has Landed

Life with Mom

In her good-natured way, my mother tells me every day that she’s homeless.  I stopped telling her that she’s not homeless because it seems to upset her because she thinks that I don’t believe her or I’m not taking her seriously.  So, I now say that I know she’s homeless and that if she doesn’t have any place to stay “tonight”, she’s welcomed to stay with us.  She looks relieved every time I tell her this and just wants me to clear it with my husband.  So, I ask Brian if it’s OK that she stay with us each night, and he says only if her cat can stay too.  She gets that this is a joke and we all laugh.   My bother’s girlfriend heard me ask Brian one night if my mother could stay, and she was mortified that I actually “had” to ask him.  The girlfriend didn’t hear my mother ask me to clear it with Brian, and wasn’t aware that I really have to do this for Mom to be satisfied because she thinks she’s imposing.

She also asks quite frequently how we got here.  Sometimes I tell her we arrived by bus, train, or car, but the other night I told her we arrived by space ship, and that the space ship landed in the side yard.  She laughed and can’t figure out why I don’t give her a serious answer.    Often, I try to amuse myself while also trying to make her smile.  It works most of the time.

Sometimes, she just doesn’t know who I am.  She often asks me if I know Brian Sikorski (my husband) and when I tell her I’m married to him, she’s shocked because she thinks his wife is someone else.  She calls his wife Diane Sikorski. (I never changed my name when we got married 22 years ago).

Just last night, she told me that Diane Sikorski was married to Brian Sikorski.  So, to amuse myself, I began this conversation:

Me:  That Diane Sikorski must be one heck of a gal!

Mom:  She’s OK.

Me:  Is she beautiful?

Mom:  No…not really.  (Hahahaha…laugh to myself)

Me:  Is she smart?

Mom:  Kind of.  (Laugh again to myself)

Me:  Is she funny?

Mom:  Not especially.  (I couldn’t hold it in any longer…laughed out loud!)

Me:   That Brian Sikorski didn’t marry too well, did he?

The conversation ended because I couldn’t stop laughing.  She laughed along.

So, next time the space ship lands, I’m going to personally put Diane Sikorski on it and send her to the moon.

She needs a little vacation any way.

Mom and her big smile about a month ago.


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Fellow Travelers

“Life with Mom and Living with Lymphoma”

I headed out to an Alzheimer’s Caregiver’s conference last week and didn’t get very far.  First, I was late leaving my house because my mother was having a mini crisis thinking that her teeth were disintegrating. I reassured her that they weren’t after conducting a thorough assessment (at least I made her think it was a legit assessment).  She was finally satisfied that she would be able to chew her lunch that day.  I left and made it about 3/10 of a mile away when my car broke down.  I ditched it and walked home.   On my way home, I had to walk past the plot of land where I spent nine years of my early childhood.   I stopped and looked at the enormous tree that was the focal point of our front yard and was flooded with memories of easier days filled with hide-and-seek, pogo sticks, cartwheels, and bug and butterfly hunting.  I got back home, grabbed another car and went on to my conference.  When I got there, I couldn’t find a parking spot for about 10 minutes (at least it felt like 10 minutes).  I finally found one and actually got there in plenty of time to hear the key-note speaker.

The day was filled with people who are directly touched by a loved one with dementia.  Some are daughters and sons, some are spouses, and some are brothers and sisters.  Some are dealing with their own health issues, or raising children, or live too far away to feel helpful.  All of us are trying to learn more about the cognitive diseases that we’re dealing with, how to best help the person with dementia, and probably most importantly, how to help ourselves in these times of enormous stress.

These last few weeks have been especially difficult for me because my mother seems to be ailing from issue(s) other than dementia.  In other words, there seems to be something physically/medically going on with her.  I’ve had her to see her doctor three times in two weeks and aside from a UTI (which, by the way, can completely throw a person with dementia off), nothing else was discovered.  She continued on with her increased confusion and fatigue for a few weeks after antibiotic treatment.

Yesterday, she told me that she was homeless and didn’t know where she would sleep that night.  She has mentioned this multiple times over the last few weeks, and although I know that reality orientation doesn’t work and shouldn’t be used, I do try to assure her that she lives here with me and she’s not homeless.  Yesterday, instead of trying to reassure her, I attempted to distract her by asking how in the world she ever raised five kids with the amount of worrying she does.  She told me that raising the kids wasn’t half as bad as the last 2 weeks she’s spent with me!   I never expected such an answer and laughed out loud.  She began laughing too, reached for my hand, pulled me down to her level, kissed me on the cheek, and told me she loved me.  I’m not sure what I’ll say next time she tells me she’s homeless, but I hope I have the wisdom and the creativity to distract her and turn it in to another moment that we can both enjoy.

The end of the conference was a 45 minute presentation from Dr. Joel Goodman, the founder of The Humor Project.  He told us about how he and his wife moved eight hours away from their home to be with his mother who had dementia.   He emphasized the importance of humor for both caregivers and the person with dementia, and to look for the little things that are in front of each of us every day that can be funny.   I was proud of myself when thinking of how my morning started.  I walked in to the building thinking about my mother’s teeth, my broken down car, and my difficulty finding a parking spot, and laughed to myself.  I realize now, that with a life threatening disease like lymphoma, and caregiving responsibilities for my mother, that these little things are not only things that shouldn’t rob you of peace of mind, but can also be hilarious.  My mother’s teeth are really intact, my car is being fixed, and I gained so much from being at this conference.

There was really never anything to worry or stress about.

Dr. Goodman left us with a philosophical and enlightening thought.  He wrote these words on newsprint for all to see, and asked us what we saw.   Because this is typed, I’m limited in the way I can present this, but he wrote it in such a way that people interpreted it differently.  He wrote:

Opportunity is nowhere.  You could read it like that, or like this:

Opportunity is now here.

The latter is the message I saw and hope to never forget.

Flowers from my old garden. Although there is still snow on the ground, spring is in the air. Planting time is fast approaching. More opportunities for joy.

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I’m a Puzzle

~Living my Life with Lymphoma~

I had my appointment today with my hematologist.  He walked into the room and said “This is a puzzle.  I’ve been thinking of you and your case for a few days now, ever since I got the biopsy report back.”  He said it doesn’t show any evidence of lymphoma.  He was surprised because the PET scan lit up in that area.  It mostly shows scar tissue and some other cells, but not lymphoma.   He said as there is such a thing as a false positive for PET scans, there is also such a thing as false negatives for biopsies, but for now, not to worry.

In any event, I’ve been put on a monitoring program where I’ll have another PET scan at the end of April.  Meanwhile, I will rejoice in this little break from the madness, and continue on with my life.  We’ve been invited to three parties during the next three weeks, and now I can RSVP saying I can’t wait to go!  I will embrace this break and treat it like it’s the divine gift that it is.

I’m lost for words and not able to describe the depth of my gratefulness and gratitude for the prayers, positive words, encouragement, humor, cards, gifts, and the willingness to travel along with me during this past year.  I can only say that I will pay the goodness forward every chance I have because I know first-hand how important it is to hold others up during their darkest days.

I’ve been reading a book on survivors of lymphoma put together by author Jamie Reno, who is also a 15 year survivor of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  Forty people tell their stories and why they think they’ve survived and stayed alive.

As the book’s names implies, it has given me much hope.



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Change in plans. Patience challenged. Hope stretches.

~Living my Life with Lymphoma~

The officials have declared a state of emergency in the wake of Stella, the blizzard of 2017.   Only emergency travel is advised from Virginia to New Hampshire.  We happen to be on the direct path of this Nor ‘eastern, and the world seems to have just stopped.

Today was supposed to be a day for a turning point for me.  I was supposed to meet with my hematologist this afternoon to learn of the results of my latest biopsy that I had over a week ago.  I’ve had 4 months off from chemo and still feel good.  Unfortunately, feeling good on its own amounts to almost nothing.  Lymphoma is a funny disease, and people can actually have it for years and not know it.  I’m pretty sure I was in this elite club for at least three years before becoming overwhelmed with sickness and pain last year.

My appointment has been rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon, March 15th and I will either learn that I need a stem cell transplant, more chemo, or my hiatus will continue with close monitoring.

I belong to some Facebook support groups for this unwelcomed disease and have found an enormous amount of support.  We’re all in the same boat when it comes to waiting, wondering, and worrying, and I’m heading there right now for some friendly loyalty.

Tisha, a FB support group member said:

“I am always amazed how our biggest fears bring strangers together and make us friends!”

That’s exactly what’s happened.

Thank God for social media.

Painting today. A good distraction.

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Pleasant Confusion

“Life with Mom”

My mother’s confusion surfaces every day…sometimes multiple times a day.  And her bewilderment usually surrounds her home, or in her mind, her lack of a home.   She told me yesterday that she needs to find a place to rent because she’s too old to buy something now.  And after that, she guesses she needs to start looking for a nursing home.   I told her that we “rent” this place we’re in now and the rent is paid up through the end of March, so we don’t even have to think about it at the moment.

The other night while she and I were sitting in the living room together, she asked me what the name of this club was.  She’s asked me this before and depending on my level of tiredness, the answers I give are either creative or lame.  Either way, she always accepts my response.  This particular night, I was having trouble thinking up something, and as luck would have it, Brian was walking by.  I asked him what the name of this club was, while discretely pointing at my mother.  He stumbled a little trying to answer, but finally came up with something.  I thought I’d share the burden of answering these questions with him, and to see how creative he could be.  He came up with something that worked perfectly.

I have a beautiful photograph of Mom when she was about 20 years old in my living room.  She sees it every night while sitting with me after dinner.  Last week, she told me that Diane (she doesn’t realize it’s me, Diane, who she’s talking to) takes her to many different houses (I don’t) and in every house, there’s the same photograph of her.   I told her that people must think she’s a popular movie star, and asked her if anyone ever asks for her autograph.  She laughed.  I changed the subject.

The other night when I was putting her to bed, she saw her shoes next to the night stand.  She was surprised to see them and wondered how they got here since she “doesn’t” live here.  By the time I’m helping her to bed, I’m usually extremely tired.  I took a deep breath, and said “Gosh, you ask too many questions sometimes.”  She laughed and went to bed.

A few weeks ago when we got home from grocery shopping, I brought her and her groceries over to her little apartment so she could put them away like we’ve done a thousand times.  I went back to the house (the house and apartment are connected from inside) and put my own groceries away.  When I finished, I went back to her apartment to give her medication and she was gone.  I began to panic, running around looking for her.  The phone was ringing and I wasn’t going to answer it because I needed to stay focused on finding her.  I finally answered it because the person hung up and called again.  I was so glad I answered because it was a neighbor from down the road who said my mother was there with a bag of bananas and cat food.  My immediate sense of relief was mixed with a little fear wondering if leaving the house was going to begin the next phase of dementia.  She was looking for her home and was unable to be consoled for the rest of the day.  She cried that evening, feeling like she didn’t know where she belonged.  Nothing I could do or say made her feel better that night.

She’s become less and less active.  Her mobility is fading probably due to Parkinson’s, Lewy Body Dementia, and her diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis.  She’s also having trouble reading the newspaper, something she’s done her entire life.  I find that the more she sits around and does nothing, the more she sits around and does nothing.  So I thought that she and I could do artwork together this morning to keep her active and maybe distracted from her confusion as to where she lives.   She’s never shown an interest in any kind of art, but I was hoping she would get lost in coloring some simple pictures.  I cut out a drawing from a coloring book and gave her some markers.  She reluctantly agreed to color while I painted.  I watched her closely during our art hour, and she seemed to be heavily concentrating on her masterpiece.

We both got tired and gave up for a while.  We’ll finish our show pieces later this week.



As I’m sitting here writing this, she’s mentioning to me that she has to do something about finding a place to live.  I asked her (again) if she would just stay with me.  She said she’ll think about it, but doesn’t want to tie me down or interrupt my life.

Next week will be four years since we moved in with her.  She would sound so logical if this was another place and time.

But we all know that her mission for finding her own place to live is not going to happen.   And that’s that.

I just have to keep trying to convince her.

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