"Move Along" Song Strength

It has been exactly one year since my second of three brain surgeries. I haven't written too much about my brain surgeries because there was a lot of healing and reflecting to do before I really even knew what to say.  Here goes...

With my husband Kurtis immediately before going into the second brain surgery, March 31, 2011.

First meal after the second surgery, April 1, 2011.

I remember the day I found out I had a brain tumor. My mom met me at my doctor's office so we could hear the results of my MRI together. I had been complaining about headaches that occurred when I did simple things like climb a flight of stairs, turn my head, or bend over to tie my shoe. Those reoccurring tasks would cause a throbbing jolt of pain to my head and then it would fade until I did one of those seemingly simple tasks again. The appointment was set up for several weeks out, but one day at work, tears leaked from my eyes out of pain and frustration so I called to see if I could come in sooner.

A few days later I had my appointment and strangely enough, my headaches had been less frequent, but I kept my appointment. I had to know what was happening! My doctor had the tough job of telling me the reality that a tumor the size of an apple or an orange sat in the center of my brain, where the cerebral fluid is made. Immediately after my doctor told me the news, he told me I needed to see a neuro surgeon that same day, whose name happened to be Dr. Scully. There were a few hours until he would be available to explain the situation in more detail to us, so we made some emotional calls to my husband, dad and sister to fill them in on the shocking development, then I went to work to tell my manager and co-workers all that we knew at the time. On the way to work I heard this song in my car on the radio: Move Along by The All-American Rejects

The song has stuck with me and is a constant reminder to stay strong no matter what. (I must add a disclaimer that crying doesn't mean one is not strong.) It definitely felt like God meant for that song to give me an extra boost of courage. At that moment in my car driving to work after the new information, I needed to hear that song.

At the end of the music video where all the hands come up to catch the man, I am so fortunate that I had that—the love and strength of a truly incredible supportive, encouraging, selfless system who wouldn't let me feel alone or defeated...even to this day. I thank God for the people placed in my life to lift me up.

My family wore "Live Strong" bracelets, which, even now, when I see them still wearing them makes me feel so blessed.

In my case, my rare central neurocytoma tumor turned out to be non-cancerous, which was and still is such a blessing. But when I recall first hearing the news, I felt I had so much still to do. I remember saying to Dr. Scully once he told me what I had, "But I haven't done anything yet." And I don't mean "anything," but there was just that overwhelming sense that I have more juice to burn and have allowed my procrastinating ways to hold me back. So many dreams that I hadn't pursued yet still lurked in my soul; so many wishes I had not explored yet.

I'm so thankful that my rotten headaches are gone and my life is pretty well back to normal. There are things I forget and I'm really terrible at math, but all things considered, things are getting back on track after a year-long detour. I am due for another MRI mid-April to see if the left over tumor has changed or not. I am eager to hear the status in May. While I wouldn't wish my experience on anyone else, I also wouldn't trade my experience for anything either. I just have to remember to keep going. Writing this post is a good reminder to myself to stop wasting time. Do things. Experience life. Live strong. Trust God. Love.

Keepin' on,
Dawn

Handsome Hopper

Hi, fella!

You are most definitely the largest and most handsome grasshopper I've ever seen up close and I'm so lucky you let me take your portrait. Kurtis and I were thrilled to have met you, but we're sorry that your leg was sore. I know you never would have let us get that close to you if you could have hopped away. Hoping for lots of long hops for you, and we hope you didn't mind the tree well in which we placed you.

Cheerio, ol' chap!
Dawn

The Wearing Off of My Caramel Macchiato

Dear delicious caramel-flavored caffeinated beverage,

I needed you today and while I'm very grateful for the time you spent with me, I'm a little disappointed that I can feel your affects are about ready to leave me for the night. Please hang in there a little longer, Joe. Be a pal. Even if your influence on me must fade, I'm expecting to see you again tomorrow...and then maybe the next day...and the next? Thanks for the pep talk. Let's do this again.

Much more calmly now,
Dawn

Fishing for Planets

It has been a while since we dragged out the telescope and since the view is definitely more panoramic from my parents' home, we hauled the scope and tripod over there for a visit under the stars starting with a feast of fish, wild rice, and coleslaw, with tomato and cucumber slices. Then we trekked outside, aiming the scope west, pointed toward the two bright spots in the sky.


Since we didn't do our research before looking at the close-together planets, we weren't entirely sure what we were about to scope out, but we had our tackle box with us complete with a flashlight, a few lenses, and a camera. Time to go planet fishing. We tossed a line into a sea of stars.

First we found the seemingly smaller of the two planets and since we could visibly see four smaller satellites around the planet, we knew the planet was Jupiter. Jupiter has 16 larger "moons" (but really 63 altogether) and we could see four of them through the telescope.

So what was the mysterious bright planet? We threw out our line into space a little to the right of Jupiter to hunt for the brightest point in the sky that night. Turns out it was lovely Venus.

We gazed deeper into the heavens until the apple pie in the kitchen called us away from the shores of the stars.

Star-struck,
Dawn