Category: Bladder cancer

When they started this “relationship”, they decided, no rules, no promises.  Okay, he thought, this should be easy enough.  I can just see how it goes, and if it doesn’t work to my advantage, so what. 

They began corresponding quite frequently, and he couldn’t believe how he missed her if only a short time went by with no contact. She remained hesitant to write too much. After all, she was married, had children. This was wrong and she knew it. 

 As time passed, she realized there was a connection that surprised them both. They waited impatiently for every letter. He thought possibly he was in love, but no, they had never physically met; separated by miles of land and ocean, with only anticipation of the next letter to keep them going. His occupation did not allow for traveling, it seemed the letters would have to do. Her conscious was warning her to stop before she fell totally in love with this mysterious man. How could she think of loving someone she had never met? Across the miles, he was thinking the same. 

They made the decision to meet, try it out, see if a real connection was possible. She was in the airport parking lot. Her hastily packed bag sitting in her lap. The taxi driver was growing impatient. “Lady, are you going or not?” She remembered their first conversation, no promises. “Take me home”, she said softly.
 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/promises/

I don’t sleep well at night either, love my iPad, and totally relate to this hilarious post.

So happy to see this! I am already smiling, just reading this word. The term slewfoot comes to mind, dad’s name for my sister. But that’s another story. Let me preface this by saying all my plates and bowls are melamine, a sad note for me since my all time favorite dishes are white china with an aqua and rust colored American Indian design. They are in storage, along with many treasured items since I moved in 2014. I only became aware of how the mismatched plastic dishes might be unappealing when I had visitors for a meal. Most of my meals are accompanied by children, and they don’t seem to notice. A few stoneware plates have survived, but they are too heavy for me to use, so remain untouched in the dining cabinet. Coffee mugs with a sturdy handle are the only breakable items I use.

The really dangerous clumsiness is forgetting that my legs and feet don’t cooperate as I still think they will. Getting in and out of a car, finding I can’t move my foot because I’ve stepped on it with my other foot, now that’s just embarrassing! Usually it ends up with a laugh, but sometimes an awkward slump into the car. Having my mind on another matter, moving into the wheelchair when I forgot to set the brake – that’s always a thrill. I can’t really blame recent events for my clumsiness. I’ve been this way all my life. I have the mind of a ballerina, and the body of a clod.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/clumsy/

Really liked this post.  Thought I would share it, didn’t go smoothly…..please check out the original:

https://twoboobsonefight.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/the-great-equalizer/

Since a friend here in blog town, wrote about this on her post: 

https://robertapimentel.com/2016/10/10/personal-hygiene-a-corporate-social-responsibility/

I thought I would chime in. I wrote about this in my introductory blog posts because it is of utmost importance when you have the result of bladder cancer, a urostomy. Before I was living with this day to day, I wondered if people could tell. I wondered if I would smell like urine. Don’t be grossed out, please. It’s a very real concern. I must admit, after the first few weeks, with constant leaks and finding no solutions, it was foremost on my mind. I remember once telling my mom “you always smell so good”. So I always tried to emulate that quality. And it is a quality, as I soon realized, with leaking for three months after the operation. Luckily I never did any socializing, only doctor appointments, etc. But it wasn’t a huge problem because I could tell immediately and fix it. That’s why I recommended in the first posts to be prepared. I still carry everything with me, just in case. Murphy’s law and I are old friends…..

I also wrote about not taking a full shower everyday, which is an irritating circumstance, but you can’t soak these appliances (bags) without having to take them off. The surrounding skin can’t take that treatment every day, because the “glue” to adhere it in the first place is too strong. So you’re thinking, no leaks, or glue-ripped skin? I make my choice every day. I can’t take baths in a tub because my legs won’t cooperate to get in and out, so showers suffice. I’m lucky to live in a new apartment where a hand held shower head is provided. I very much enjoy it, but impossible every day.  

So this is my explanation. I’m not excusing my position, it’s just the facts, ma’am.

https://rugby843.wordpress.com

Thanks to Nezel Yurong, purposivewriter.wordpress.com for entering me into this challenge.  Day one, silly, day two, serious, and my choice for day three is a little of both: 

“You have brains in your head, feet in your shoes, you can steer yourself any direction you choose”

 
I loved reading Dr. Seuss to my children and grandchildren.  They were always funny, but carried an important message.  

My nominated blogs for you to peruse are:

1. https://pplscrt79.wordpress.com/author/pplscrt79/
2. https://akinderway.wordpress.com
3. https://innatejames.wordpress.com

https://rugby843.wordpress.com

Hello! Reading so many interesting peoples’ blogs and love the photographs. I’m new and suggestions welcome.My second post, Accepting Change, probably says the most about why I started here.

Formerly known as: My Way or the Highway

I enjoy a good, friendly argument. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to be “Johnny on the Spot” when I think I know about something, quickly open my mouth, and out it comes, my opinion. Growing up in my family everything was either black or white, no in-between. It took a lot of experience to realize there are many colors in the world which make life interesting. If mom found us kids arguing, she never wanted to hear excuses.  We were wrong, no matter who “started it”, and she got after us both. If you hesitated to explain, you were sent to the yard to get a switch.  A reasonable explanation for this is she didn’t have the time to listen to us fighting over who did what or why. Since my dad was the head of the household in every respect, none of our family members argued. There was no talking back unless you were extremely brave, or foolish and wanted to suffer the consequences. He liked to argue with others, but not the immediate family.

I prefer calling it a discussion. I enjoy listening to people and hearing what they think on all types of matters.  

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/argument/

 Sneaking into the library again, I tried not to wake my grandfather, sitting at the desk. He had drifted off, reading “War and Peace”. Who wouldn’t? No offense, I’ve never read it just to say I did, like this man is. I have my eye on “The Catcher in the Rye” which I’ve heard is a page turner, and not for kids my age. I’ve always been an excellent reader, and get good marks in school. But certain books older people talk about are not allowed at home, at least not in my room. That’s why I’m in my socks, surreptitiously skittering into the library, a forbidden journey in this home. There are so many rooms I’m not allowed, at least not without adult supervision. The library is my favorite, but I don’t like being monitored while choosing my books. So here I am, stealing across the room, hoping the book I want does not require the sliding ladder to obtain. I have been caught in here before, and not allowed any books for a week’s time. Well except for school, of course, and they’re just boring. Thank heaven my grandfather is snoring, so he might not wake when I do have to move the ladder,  quietly as I can. The books are alphabetized like most libraries, but not sectioned off in the Dewey Decimal System. Thank God for that too. Otherwise I would be in here way too long and surely be discovered. I push the ladder over to the left of the desk. The wheels cooperate, don’t squeak, and slide along the wood floor with hardly a sound. I climb, not easy in these loose socks, but I reach the Ts. I quickly grab the book and descend the stairs. I leave the ladder, no use taking a chance, and walk on tip toes to the door. He’s still snoring, success! I check outside the door, no one’s there. I run, skid across the ceramic tiles, and up the staircase to my room. And it begins, “If you really want to hear about it,”.