Paradigms

One of the books I'm currently reading is about paradigm shifts, and the author relates some good and funny anecdotes about creating those shifts and perspectives.  So here is a paradigm..."Happy Birthday is a Victory Song."  Never thought about "Happy Birthday to you" quite like that before now.  Being a cancer survivor, I do understand it, and birthdays are a really big celebration in my family, which is always fun.  A second paradigm:  Wow, there are a lot of people in purple shirts, or oh my, there are a lot of people in purple shirts.  That one is a tough one that I argue inside my head and can't really rectify.  On one hand, a lot of people fought courageously and won; on the other hand, a lot of people have had to fight cancer.  Which perspective is better?  I do not know, other than there are survivors out there, so excellent job purple-shirt wearers!


Dad, Me, Mom

 This year I was invited by the team, Bowie Queen Bees, representing my Mom's school to be one of their Survivor walkers in their town's Relay for Life event.  It was my first Relay for Life, and I enjoyed everything but the incredibly high winds.  Each town hosts its own Relay, but people all around turn out and support the American Cancer Society's efforts at ending a dreadful disease.  My Mom, Dad, and Husband showed up for the event, too.  Most of the people there who I knew, I knew before I had cancer, and some I met after winning my battle, and I often wonder what other cancer survivors think.  I think I would have been a guardian angel to my niece and nephew, both under 16 years of age, but I don't think I would have ever known my husband, had I not lived.  It has been 16 years since my battle with breast cancer, and I don't regret one moment of treatment, one dime spent, one physical alteration (one in particular is that where my hair was completely straight before cancer treatments, it is now curly), because my life has truly been a second-time gift from God living a wonderfully grand life filled with a loving family and great friends.  At one time not long after remission, I did live like there was no tomorrow; however, with the passage of time, I think that perception changes.  At least, I know it has for me.  I live planning for the tomorrow's, but there are many roses I stop to smell along my way, and it is a great balance between the here-and-now and further down the road.

Unfortunately, I can call muster for this dreadful disease, and for those before me and those since, I wish fervently that the list ends here.  This purple shirt is for you, too. 

William Beauford Hopson, Jr., my paternal grandfather, lung cancer, 1968.
Hugh DeNise Hollis, my maternal grandfather, liver cancer, 1985.
Martha Trotsel, my aunt's friend and college classmate's Mom, breast cancer, 2004.
Kennedy Elizabeth Smith, two former students' toddler daughter, blastoma, 2006.
Norman Ray Goheen, Jr., my friend and rod-building teacher, brain cancer, 2009.
Al Crise, fly fishing mentor, brain cancer, 2010.