Goodbye, Miss Molly

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." ~Dr. Seuss It was over 15 years ago that Hector and I decided to open our hearts and our home to an adorable little 8 pound dog. She was 8 weeks old, part Pekingese, part Cocker Spaniel, part who knows what else, and part crazy! Our first dog! We named her Molly, and later nicknamed her Ta'Molly (tamale), which later progressed into Miss Ta'Molly Polly Pockets... a crazy name to fit her crazy personality! The guy at the animal shelter where we adopted her from told us that she'd been abandoned by her mother, and that she sure did give the big dogs a run for their money in the yard each day. He also told us that she was a hand full, but that with the right owners, she could potentially become a great family pet. And she was... she was crazy, and a hand full, and a great family pet.

Today, our family said goodbye to Molly. She was unable to stand up this morning, and was struggling to breathe. By the time I got her to our vet clinic, she was almost gone. I had only a few minutes to talk to the vet and say my goodbyes to Molly, before she slipped away. I was hoping to type some of my favorite memories of Molly here, because there are so many. But I'm just not there yet. Can't seem to let go of the sorrow and focus on the happy memories we had with this dog for 15 1/2 years of our lives. But I know that I will get there eventually. Goodbye, Miss Molly. You are so deeply missed.

Are You The Easter Bunny?

Yesterday after school, Avery and I were in my bedroom reading, when she turned to me and said that she had something important to ask me. I put down my book...

Avery: "If the Easter Bunny brings us candy and toys, then why do stores sell those things too?"

Me: "That's a good question. Why do you think stores sell those things?"

Avery: "I think it's because parents are really the Easter Bunny. Are you the Easter Bunny? Am I right?"

Me: "What do you think? Do you think you're right?"

Avery: "Yes, because I don't really think there can be such a thing as a big bunny who sneaks into your house at night. That just doesn't seem real to me. Am I right?"

Me: "Yes, Avery, you are right."

Avery: "I knew it! That is so funny! Why do parents do that?"

Me: "Because it's fun. And because we love seeing your face light up on Easter morning."

Avery: "I think those are great reasons. And I think it's so cool that it's really you that's been giving us all that stuff. That's so nice of you. So, if you're the Easter Bunny, is Daddy Santa Claus?"

*Sigh*

So, my 7-year-old daughter figured it out, all on her own. Avery, so it seems to me anyway, has always been in a hurry to figure things out and grow up much more quickly than I'd like for her to. She's always been inquisitive. Always asked questions. Always been able to connect the dots. Always thinking. Always asking. Always... I love that about her. But at times, I wish she'd slow down.

I was in 1st grade when a friend told me the truth about Santa Claus. I couldn't believe it. I didn't believe it. I continued to believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny until I was in 6th grade. 6th grade!!! That's when my 2 older sisters showed me the Easter candy and goodies that had been "hidden" in our laundry room by our mom. I remember my mom talking to me about it and telling me the truth. I wasn't upset. I remember thinking it was funny, kind of like Avery did.

I wanted to lie to Avery last night, because there is a huge part of me that wants her to stay little and innocent and naive. I don't want her to lose that wonderful child-like imagination that she has. But I realized very early on with Avery that she "gets" things much sooner than a lot of other kids her age. I realized that with Avery, when she starts asking questions, honesty is always the best policy. Because if I don't tell her the truth from the very beginning, she will just continue to ask questions until she does get the truth. And because 9 times out of 10, she already knows the truth before she ever asks the first question. And so I've created a very honest, very open relationship with her, and she knows that she can ask me anything. She asks, and even though at times I don't want to tell her the truth, I always do. And so she keeps coming back to me for answers, for which I have to remind myself at times, is really a good thing.

There's a fine line to be walked in all of this though. Even though Avery seeks these answers from me, sometimes I have to not tell her the WHOLE truth. Sometimes, she's just not ready to hear everything. It's kind of like the Easter story of Christ on the cross. You can't tell a 2 year old that Jesus was brutally killed on a wooden cross for our salvation. You focus on Jesus leaving the tomb and going to Heaven to prepare a place for us. But when chlidren are around 9 or 10, they start asking questions and wanting to know the full story, which interestingly enough, seems to be the age that a lot of children start to "get it" and come to know Christ as their Savior.

My hope in all of this is that later in Avery's life, when she really needs answers to the much more important questions, that she will know that she can come to me for those answers too. I hope and pray that will be the case.

And so this Easter, my prayer for my daughter as well as for my 2 sons, is that they will always seek the truth, and that they will always know exactly where they can find it. Happy Easter!

Christ has risen!

"He himself bore our sins on his body on the tree, so that we might die to our sin and live for righteousness; by his wounds, we are healed." 1 Peter 2:24

"For what I have received, I have passed on to you as of the most importance; that Christ died for our sins, he was buried, and he rose again on the third day." 1 Corinthians 15:3-4

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." John 8:32

I'm in a New York State of Mind

Warning: Tons of pictures coming your way... Hector and I returned home a couple of days ago from a trip we took to New York City. Hector's travelled there many times for business. This was my first time to the Big Apple. The city was everything I imagined it would be; crowded, noisy, busy, fun, exciting, and electric with energy. We went in celebration of my 39th birthday (which, by the way, passed by without too many "I'm getting old." emotional moments from me). New York City really is exactly like what you see in the movies. The streets are always full of taxis and ambulances and cop cars and people. Tons of people.Someone is always honking, but very rarely does anyone move or respond to the honking. And there's bike messengers and delivery personnel walking and weaving their way in and out of all of the cars.Things I expected... I expected Time Square to be bright and loud and visually enticing. And it was. I also expected the streets to be crowded and somewhat dirty. And they were. At night, the restaurants and local businesses throw tons of bags of trash onto the sidewalks. The already over-crowded sidewalks become even more crowded as people try to weave around tons of bags of garbage. That was one part of New York that I honestly could have done without. I expected the food to be awesome. And it was. I'm a foodie. Yes, I took pictures of the food. I loved every single minute of the food in NYC.I expected the Statue of Liberty to be breathtaking. And she was. The moment I saw her, I was in love. Seriously, she is beautiful. And I was so thrilled that I was able to see her, in all of her glory, in my lifetime.Things I didn't expect... I didn't expect Central Park to be as beautiful as it was. I knew it would be nice. But I was blown away with just how romantic the atmosphere was. All of the detail in the stone bridges and iron work all over the park like on the lamp posts and hand rails on the bridges, and all of the gloriously detailed carvings in the park benches... it really was beautiful.I didn't expect Grand Central Station to be beautiful too. I expected it to be dirty and shady looking. But it wasn't. They have crystal chandeliers hanging in Grand Central Station, and marble floors, and stained glass windows, and a beautiful mural on the ceiling. That was quite a shock to me.I didn't expect to stumble upon a part of Manhattan called the Sutton Area. Sutton is my maiden name, and I found it amusing that so many of the local businesses had "Sutton" in their name. I also didn't expect for my purse to be knocked off my arm on the way to see Wicked on Broadway. True story... We were leaving the hotel to go to dinner before the show. As a cab pulled up to get us, a woman walked by and knocked my purse off my arm. My purse fell to the ground and it opened up. In that moment of chaos, I simply picked up my purse and we jumped into the cab. It wasn't until after we ate dinner and were almost to the theater that I realized that the tickets for the show were not in my purse. Panic set in. By the time we got to the theater, I was in tears. I walked up to the very first ticket window in a long line of windows. I explained to the man what had happened. While crying, I think I said something to the effect of, "Purse - knocked off arm - rude woman - lost tickets - what can we do?" The man asked me what our seat numbers were, and thank God that Hector actually knew the seats! The man reached over, and handed me our tickets! Someone had found them on the street, and went all the way to the theater to turn them in for us! Obviously, both Hector and I were ecstatic and were honestly in shock that someone went to all the trouble to help out complete strangers. Let me put this into perspective for you all. The man who found the tickets either walked 1.5 miles (one way) from the hotel to the theater, or paid probably around a $25 cab fare (one way) to go turn in our tickets for us. This man (who we later found out from the hotel's concierge was literally just a man walking by our hotel and saw the tickets and decided to do the right thing), not only went into the hotel and tried to find us, but when he realized that we were not in our room and that the show was that night and was starting soon, he decided to stop what he was in the process of doing. He decided to not leave the tickets at the hotel's front desk, and he decided to take the tickets to the Gershwin Theater himself. And let me break this down even more. He decided to not try to use the tickets for himself. And he decided to not try to sell the tickets on the street... 7th row Broadway show musical tickets... Thanks be to God that there are honest, kind people in this world, even in New York City!!! :-) I am now convinced that New Yorkers have an undeserved bad reputation as rude and short-tempered people. Every New Yorker we met was beyond nice and helpful to us. And that was quite possibly the most wonderfully unexpected part of our trip. We were SOOOO happy to be sitting in our seats! And the show was amazing!

There were a few things we weren't able to see (like the Empire State Building) because of bad weather. But all in all, it was a truly wonderful and truly memorable trip. But now, Spring Break is over and it is back to life in Texas, and back to reality.

2 Weeks

Two weeks ago, I had surgery to remove my left ovary and the cyst that had taken up residency there. The day before my surgery, we had a winter storm blow through town. The roads were not full of snow, they were full of ice. Bad ice! Thick ice! Like a foot thick of black ice! School was cancelled, and I thought my surgery would surely be postponed as well. But I got the call from the hospital saying that my surgery would go forward the next day, as planned. The nurse on the phone actually told me, "Schools might close because of this weather, but we never close." Good point!

The next morning, Hector drove me to the hospital to start my pre-registration, and then he drove the kids (since school was still closed) to a friend's house. I've never been so thankful to have this cool little feature on my Suburban, that allows for extra traction on icy roads. It felt like my car was reaching out and literally gripping the roads. It was so cool. Anyway, back to the story. It took Hector almost 2 hours to make the 20 mile round trip to my friend's house. I wasn't able to see him before they wheeled me into the operating room, but I managed to hold it all together, kind of... I remember the anesthesiologist telling me that he was giving me some "loopy medicine" to help calm my nerves... nothing major... it wouldn't knock me out or anything... just something to take the edge off. Then he told me that he was going to put an oxygen mask on me. Here again, nothing major.... just oxygen... He told me to relax and that he'd be giving me the anesthesia shortly thereafter. That's the last thing I remember. Just loopy medicine and oxygen, huh???

Anyway, I remember waking up in recovery, trying to open my eyes and thinking to myself that I really wished I could open them more.

"Why can't I open my eyes?"

"You're coming out of anesthesia. Just relax."

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes. Now just relax."

"Who are you?"

"I'm your nurse."

2 minutes later...

"Why can't I open my eyes? What's wrong with me? Am I dreaming?"

"You've just had surgery. You're still trying to wake up from the anesthesia. Just relax."

"Am I really saying these things out loud? Because I feel like I'm just thinking them."

"Yes, you really are asking these questions out loud. Would you like me to go get your husband now?"

Do you suppose the nurse was growing tired of me asking the same questions over and over again?

"Yes, please go get my husband."

Supposedly, I asked Hector 2 more times why I couldn't open my eyes all the way, and whether or not I made it through surgery or if I had died. I mean, why couldn't I open my eyes all the way??? The 3rd time I asked him, he just started laughing. And I don't think he ever answered me...

About an hour later, the nurse came in and asked if I was ready to stand up and walk around. What?!?! Seriously?!?! Oops, I said that out loud too... I mean, I'd barely just gotten my eyes open all the way, and this woman wanted me to stand up and walk around now. Seriously?!?! Yes, seriously. So, I got up and walked around, and about an hour later I was on my way home. I slept for about 2 hours, and that's when I woke up, not feeling well at all. Apparently, my body was ready to get rid of the leftover anesthesia. I was sick. Horribly sick. I tried to take some pain medicine, and that made me even more sick. My first 2 days at home after my surgery were rough. I couldn't understand how my belly button, for being such a small body part, could be the source of so much pain.

As I started coming out of my fog more and more, I slowly started to realize that my doctor had NOT taken my request seriously, to do a little liposuction on my tummy, you know, while she was poking around in the general area anyway.

By the 3rd day, I was able to drink broth and keep it down. I took a shower. It was at 4:00 in the afternoon, but I took a shower that day! And by the way, I realized how truly unimportant drying off the lower half of my body was that day. Simply not necessary!

By the 4th day, the ice had started to melt on the roads, and some of my good friends started coming over to visit and to bring my family food, for which we were all extremely grateful. God has blessed us with a wonderful church family and wonderful friends, who have always reached out to us, becoming the arms and legs of Christ, stretching out to us and supporting us in times such as this. It was a great blessing, to say the least.

And well, here we are... 2 weeks since my surgery, and I'm doing a lot better. I'm still a little sore and tender, but doing much better overall. I had my 2 week follow-up appointment with my doctor, and I seem to be healing quite nicely. And let me just say that I was shocked when my doctor asked me if I wanted to see the pictures she took during my surgery. "Uhhhh, YEAH I want to see pictures!!!"

She showed me a picture of my right, healthy ovary first. It was red/pink in color, and about the size of a walnut. Cool picture. THEN..... she flipped the page to the second picture of my left ovary. That's right about the time that I gasped and my jaw hit the floor. My left ovary was grey. And it was huge. The cyst was about the size of a baseball. It was twice the size of my uterus, which I also got to see a picture of. Now folks, before my surgery I went back and forth on whether or not I wanted my doctor to remove my ovary. But I knew in my heart that it needed to be done. I listened to that tiny inner voice (which my mother truly believes is the gift of the Holy Spirit guiding us - which I am truly inclined to believe as well). And guess what? While the cyst itself came back benign, pre-cancerous cells were found in my ovary. I was in the early stages of getting ovarian cancer. My doctor showed me the words... Mucinous Carcinoma. I tried not to Google it. I really did try. But how could I not? She said it over and over again to me, and showed it to me on the papers she was holding. Mucinous Carcinoma...

So I'm reading about it online, and I'm not thinking too much about it, and that's when I get towards the bottom of the paragraph where it says that mortality occurs in 8 - 12% of stage 1 Mucinous Carcinoma patients, and that, "Advanced stage Mucinous Carcinoma is uniformly fatal." Uniformly fatal.

I think it is safe to say that I agree 100% with my doctor when she said that she was so glad we decided to take the ovary now!!! Yes indeed, I am so glad to finally be rid of that bum ovary!

6 in 13

So, I'm sitting in my doctor's office yesterday, and she tells me that despite the fact that she really hoped my cyst would go away, it hasn't. It's gotten bigger. Big enough that she's worried. It's causing me pain. We've waited 5 months in the hopes it would go away. But it's still hanging around. It's time to remove it surgically. She talks about the surgery, and everything that's involved in great detail. And this is why I trust and respect my doctor. She's professional and knowledgeable, yet she puts things in terms that I can understand. And then she tells me that she really feels like it would be best to remove my ovary too. And when I start to ask her why she feels the need to remove my ovary (even though I already knew why), my voice cracks and starts to quiver. And when she starts to explain it to me, her voice cracks and starts to quiver too. She explains to me that my ovary just doesn't work properly. It never has. And as long as I keep it, it will continue to produce cysts and I will continue to need surgery every couple of years. And that's when she tells me that I've had 6 surgeries in the past 13 years. 6 in 13... Do I really want to have another surgery in a couple more years, and put myself and my family through this again? And this is why I've come to really like my doctor. She gets it. She gets me. She understands that this is something we both wanted to avoid, but for my long-term overall health and well-being, it is time to do something more permanent to take care of this recurrent problem. And that is why I've decided to have the surgery and say goodbye forever to my bum ovary and the pesky cysts that like to hang out there.

My surgery is scheduled for Thursday, February 3. Prayers for a smooth procedure and speedy recovery are greatly appreciated.