Gratitude

Gratitude is good! And I'm filled with it!

I have only one son and we've been estranged for awhile. It was really hard on him when he learned I had lung cancer. I've been his rock for most of his life and the thought that he might lose that freaked him out. Things got even more difficult for him when his wife left him and took his three boys with her only a month or so after I learned I was sick.

For nearly a year, we had little contact and what little we had, was not great. He asked me if we couldn't let bygones be bygones ... so there's no real need to converse about the particulars. But, I want to set the stage for why I am grateful today.

My son has had a lot of trauma and drama in his life. For many years he chose to look at the negatives rather than the positives. He remembered the bad things that happened to him but could not recall the good times. Despite the fact that I live my life looking at the bright side most of the time, I could never convince him that doing so would make him a much happier person. He went through many years drugged on legal drugs obtained through the Veteran's Administration. They were the only way he could cope with life.

I was not particularly excited when I learned that he and his girlfriend would be coming to town last week. In fact, it took lots of prayer and remembering the Biblical story of the Prodigal Son to even agree to see them, much less allow them to come to my home. As I said, there was lots of water under the bridge and letting those bygones be bygones is not as easily done as requested.

After I was diagnosed with cancer, I decided that life was way too short to spend it in the middle of dramatic situations. I explained to him that I now avoid drama like the plague and could not put up with him bringing any when he arrived here. He agreed, but I wasn't wholly convinced we could avoid it.

I am delighted to say that I was wrong. Way wrong. My son is as happy as I can remember seeing him for years and years. His girlfriend has done what I was unable to do - taught him to examine a situation and look for the good in it. For the first time in 20 years or more, he is contented. Confident. Happy from the inside out. Do you know what joy that brings a mom? A dad? Gratitude.

Divorced

The reason my son came home was to go to court to finalize his divorce. The divorce went pretty much like he wanted, giving him liberal visitation rights. The boys have always been his reason for being ... they make him whole. The knowledge that he can legally see them every other weekend, holidays, and school breaks fills him with joy.

Needless to say, he wanted to see the boys the first weekend after the divorce finalized. Unfortunately, that weekend was their Mom's weekend. She didn't have to allow him to see the kids if she chose not to. That would mean he would either not get to see the kids at all while he was in town or that he would have to stay an entire week longer so that he could see them on "his" weekend.

Fortunately, his ex-wife agreed to let the kids come over on that weekend. She drove them all the way to our house - a trip clear across Dallas. And allowed them to stay from Friday night until Sunday afternoon. Gratitude.

Reunion

My son had not seen his boys for 13 months. The way they had been torn apart left us apprehensive about what their reaction to their dad would be when they finally reunited. Their last memories of their dad were not good ones. We expected that they might be reticent or worse, especially the baby, who was only 3 when they were separated. 

Imagine how happy we all were when the boys arrived and ran yelling and screaming into their dad's arms - excited beyond words to see him again. There was not one second needed to warm up. While they had never once brought him up to me during the time he was gone, it was obvious they missed him terribly. Far more than we could realize.

Gratitude.

The boys noticed the change in their dad. They could see and sense the contentment. The entire weekend passed without him raising his voice a single time. He laughed with them and played with them and hugged them close. And loved them. Oh so much.

When the time came for their mom to take them back home, it was very emotional. It was doubly hard because my son and his girlfriend were leaving for their home out of state the following day. No one knows when the next reunion will occur. One thing we do know though is this: God willing, there WILL be another reunion and it won't take another 13 months to occur.

Gratitude.

Merry Christmas

It is nearly time to turn in for the night and prepare for a big day tomorrow! My mom, my brother with his Boxer Bo, my three grandsons, and my daughter-in-law (ex) will be descending on us at various times tomorrow morning. The cooking (lasagna and spaghetti) is mostly done, the house is partly cleaned, the presents are wrapped!! I'm going to get up bright and early in the morning to finish cleaning (as much as I plan to clean, anyway) ... I was just too tired tonight to finish it up.

While I relish the idea of spending the blessed day with my family, I am also excited to see Christmas come and go. I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ with all of my heart and I am pleased that we have a day to celebrate His birth ... but I am afraid it has become so commercialized that I am not really sure how much celebrating of His birth we do anymore. It has been constant work here for the past several days - shopping, cooking, cleaning, decorating, wrapping ... other than going to the orthopedic surgeon one last time on 12/26 so he can release me, I plan to relax, relax, relax!!! Except that I will probably want to take down the tree. I don't like leaving it up much past Christmas...

I just read a blog written by an acquaintance who is battling colon cancer. She has a humorous outlook on life and she mentioned in her blog today that she is actually grateful for cancer in some ways. I agree with her. I know it sounds silly. But, sometimes it takes something really major to make you realize that sweating the small stuff is really pretty silly.

I think I probably smile more and laugh harder and enjoy life far more now than I ever did before. Standing in lines, facing crowds, crazy traffic - all things that used to send me over the edge - generally are accepted much more readily now. (Not always. I am still ME!) Those are small things compared to battling for your life :) Cancer helps you put things into perspective.

Well ... it is nearly 11 PM and I have vowed I will get up at 5 to finish my cleaning chores before the family arrives. I guess I should go to sleep and dream of ol' Saint Nick coming tomorrow.

From my family to yours: Merry Christmas! May your holiday be filled with joy, peace, and love ... and health!

Faces of Cancer

I started writing this article yesterday while I was in the waiting room at the Seay building at UT Southwestern. I guess I lost Internet before it was saved so I lost it all :( I'm really sad about it because I felt "inspired" while writing it and think it was good (and no one can ever dispute that since it is gone, gone, gone!).

I am going to attempt to reconstruct what I wrote, what I was feeling when I wrote it. Wish my memory was not horrible! That's a BAD sad effect of having chemo (or maybe of getting old or maybe both) - no memory. At all. Thoughts rush into my mind and leave before I can grab hold of them!!

Going to a cancer center is eye-opening. They are all full. When I go to Texas Oncology at Presbyterian Hospital, the waiting room, the infusion room, and the hallway where you wait for labs are all full of people. When I go to the Seay building of UT Southwestern, there are even more people everywhere you look. So many lives struck by cancer.

Yesterday - Monday - we had a hard time finding a place to sit even though there are two different large waiting rooms to choose between. My picture doesn't reflect how very crowded it was, but it is the only picture I tried to take of the waiting room ... It's a little blurry but I decided that's okay because I am not trying to identify anybody who was sitting in there ... just to record the crowd...



If you are not personally affected by having the disease yourself, you know someone - usually a friend or family member - who has battled some kind of cancer at some point in their lives. My dad died of cancer at age 49. My beloved stepfather, Bob Massie, was eaten up with cancer and passed away just five years after he and Mom married. My maternal aunt died from cancer and my paternal uncle did, too. Over the last few years, Robert and I lost two great friends to cancer - Mike Schoolfield and Richard McCann died about a year apart. Another good friend, Steve Massengale, was given only weeks to live after cancer that had eaten him up was discovered. His is a success story!!! He has been a survivor for at least 10 years!! The more I think, the more friends and family I think of who have suffered from cancer. Some fall victim and some beat it ... but they and their families have been touched by it.

And, for every person who receives that awful diagnosis themselves, there are family and friends who love them whose lives also change immediately and forever. It is an insidious disease for sure.

In the relatively small department where I work, Janice's husband has had lymphoma. He is currently in remission, praise God!, but has developed multiple myeloma - the disease Robin Roberts from Good Morning America chronicled as she has battled it. The brother-in-law of my friend Cindy is battling leukemia. They had it under control for a few months, but it has returned now. The grandmother of another coworker has been fighting cancer for months, surprising the doctors who thought she would die within only weeks of diagnosis. My former boss was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer only months after I received my diagnosis. Cancer is just everywhere. Everywhere.

 I just read recently that David Phelps' sister passed away last year. David is the unbelievable tenor who often sings with the Bill Gaither Vocal Band. His sister frequently sang backup for David when he was on the road doing concerts. You would never have realized it by looking at her or watching her, but she was fighting liver and back cancer that ultimately took her life. She was only 49. She had so much life left to live, but cancer cut it short. For some reason, that broke my heart. She always had a big smile and seemed so full of life. Gone..............

It doesn't matter how much money you have. How old you are. What your name is or what your parentage is. What color you are. Cancer does not discriminate.

These melancholy thoughts were in my mind when I saw the following in one of the waiting rooms yesterday:



This young mom and her daughter were both messing with the doll the mom is holding. Mom was braiding the doll's hair, using great care to do a good job of it. I wish I had had my good camera and the nerve to ask if I could take a picture or a series of pictures of the two of them. Mom, with her mask and bald head from chemo. Daughter with her smiles and happy countenance. For some reason, the two of them represent The Face of Cancer to me. There is a lot of sadness in this picture, but also hope. Neither Mom nor daughter appear to be giving in to the disease.

On the other hand, I am struck by one more thing when I observe the people in these cancer centers. Nearly everyone has a very pleasant attitude. I hear polite, happy people speaking. I rarely see anyone who doesn't smile - even when they look like cancer has really ravaged them. Very few appear to have given in to the disease. I do believe that  you will see more happy and contented people in the cancer centers than you will at nearly anywhere else. I sometimes pat myself on the back for having a good attitude about being sick, but truthfully, it is more common than not for cancer patients to have a positive outlook on life.

At the same time as I saw the mom and young daughter above, there was another man and his family or friends sitting there. Lots of hospital staff came up to the man to speak and kid around with him. He is obviously a favorite. Based on his appearance, I have to wonder how much longer he has on this earth. His head was not bald like the mom's is but you could tell that chemo had done its work on his hair. He was skinny ... REAL skinny. Sick skinny. But, his smile was bright and cheerful. He also represents the Face of Cancer to me. I wish I had gotten a picture of him.

I decided that I would try to get more pictures of people in the waiting rooms when I go. So many stories. So many heartbreaks. And, at the same time, so much joy! The faces of cancer. They are you. They are me. Everyone is impacted by this insidious disease in one way or another - everyone.

Catching Up

Surprise!

So ... I am one of those people who do not go to the doctor. Ever. It just isn't something I'm willing to do. For any reason. 

But, one fateful day in October 2012, I decided it was time to go for a physical. Why? Because I kept getting bigger and bigger and I was just certain that I had thyroid issues. I am very active - I have two wonderful dogs (you'll hear lots more about them!) that I do agility with. I was in class three nights a week and most weekends would find me at agility trials where I not only ran my dogs, but also worked in the rings throughout the day. Nevertheless, my stomach grew and grew and grew and I finally was fed up with it. So, I found a doctor that took my insurance and waited for a new patient appointment to become available.

I chose my doctor based on her name -- Dr. Donna Casey -- because she (1) had a good ranking with Blue Cross-Blue Shield, (2) took my ChampVA insurance, and (3) shared the same name as a friend with whom I worked.  Best decision I have made in a long, long time was making an appointment with Dr. Casey. 

When I arrived at her office at the end of October, she asked some questions and then did an exam. I nearly forgot to mention a knot I had found on my collarbone ... but she had discovered it already anyway. Since I was a former smoker, she had already asked me if I wanted to have lung x-rays. Since I had quit 4-5 years previously, I thought it might be a good idea to see how much damage I had done over the years. After she discovered several knots around my collarbone, she suggested a CT scan might be in order. Her office made an appointment for me to have the scans that same day.

The scans were not clear like I expected them to be. When Dr. Casey called, she said they showed that I have emphysema, which for some reason really didn't bother me much, and that there was some other activity that we needed to look at further. Believe it or not, I was far more concerned with what my thyroid test said - I was still far more concerned about the weight gain than errant cell activity. That changed some when the doctor started talking about having biopsies or a PET scan. I had no earthly idea what a PET scan was, but a little research revealed that a positron emission tomography is a test that is primarily used to diagnose (1) heart disease, (2) dementia, (3) epilepsy, or (4) cancer. 

It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that Dr. Casey was worried that I had some form of cancer. If you can hope for a kind of cancer, I hoped it would be some sort of lymphoma. What I absolutely didn't want it to be was lung cancer - especially since my dad died from lung cancer at only 49 years of age back in the mid-70's. But, we don't always get what we want.

After the PET scan was done and interpreted, Dr. Casey called with the the bad news. I had lung cancer. She had already made me an appointment with an oncologist for the next day. 

It was Dr. Lalan Wilfong at Texas Oncology who got to tell me and my husband Robert that I had stage 4 lung cancer. There was a spot in the left lung, a great deal of involvement of lymph nodes in the lungs, and tumors in the lymph nodes at my collarbone on the right side. It is inoperable. And, there is too much involvement for radiation. Our only option: chemotherapy.

Chemo #1

Things moved quickly once the cancer was diagnosed. It is a fast-moving cancer so the quicker chemo could begin, the quicker we could try to halt its progress. The average lifespan for people with this lung cancer is only 1-1/2 years. I'm only 59 years old and I have a lot of living I still plan to do so I surely do hope to beat those terrible odds. 

I pranced into chemo for the first time - ready to go! Let's get "lit up" and start fighting back against this insidious, but oh-so-silent, disease. It took most of the day by the time we visited with the doctor, got insurance straight, and got the actual chemo. (It may mean something to some people to know which drugs I am getting: carboplatin, pemetrexed, and avastin. The chemo nurse told me they were the latest, the best, and very expensive. I have no idea!) We did a short video of me getting ready to start the chemo. I was going to do a documentary. Maybe I still can via this blog.

My 82-year-old mom and my husband Robert accompanied me to my treatment. Mom sat through the whole thing. Robert doesn't sit well so he comes and goes throughout the experience. The infusion room was an interesting place - there were all ages of people sitting in the chairs getting chemo. Some people had hair; some didn't. Some used ports and others, like me, got their treatments intravenously. Surprisingly, the vast majority of people receiving chemo were women. What's up with that?

It was fairly unremarkable to receive chemo. I didn't feel good or bad during the infusion. I felt just fine when it was over. There is really no need for me to have accompaniment - other than it makes those who sit with you feel better that you're not alone. I'm such a loner that it honestly wouldn't bother me to sit there and play on my tablet or phone or just rest, but that's not how it is going to be.

Pregnant?

Not really, but you would think so based on my appetite since I have started chemo. I don't want soup or bland foods. Oh no!! I want Mexican food or chicken fried steak or roast beef and mashed potatoes. And, whatever it is that my mind gleans on that day, I nearly obsess over it! My poor husband has been such a trouper as we go from one thing to the next, satisfying my latest cravings. Yeah, I'm not losing much weight as I undergo chemo. That belly is still at least as large as it was before. That makes me sad.

Well, the day of chemo and the first day thereafter, I felt just fine. I popped up out of bed on the day after, walked my dogs like I always do and got ready and went to work. I was full of pep and energy until around noon. At that time, fatigue set in. I left the office a little early and came home. I had really hoped to go to agility practice that night, but I was way too tired for that.

I missed the next couple of days at work (Thursday and Friday). I was in bed the entire time. No eating. No drinking. Just sleeping. With my Sheltie, my Barney boy, cuddled right up beside me the entire time. I loved having him lay right up against my body. It was like I could nearly feel the heat of his body pulling cancer out of me. Of course, there's me... Worrying that if his body is pulling the cancer out of me, I sure hope it is not pulling it INTO him! That would never do.

Try as I might, I just couldn't get to agility practice that first week after chemo. I had the desire, but I sure did not have the get-up-and-go needed. But, when I got up on Saturday morning, I was determined to go to class. I did not feel good enough to go, but I got dressed and off we went. Robert went too, in case I couldn't drive home.

It took everything I had to run those courses that day, but Barney and Cotton each got a couple of runs around the agility field. It was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. If you haven't had chemo, there is no way to understand the fatigue that sets in. I could literally barely drag myself and Cotton and Barney to the car after I threw in the towel on practice. 

Robert drove us home. We nearly made it home before I got sick, but he had to pull over and let me throw up. We got home and I had diarrhea. But, after that, I felt good again.

The next couple of weeks went fine. Unless I overdid it at work. Which I was sometimes prone to do. One Friday I so overworked my tired body that I was nearly dead in my tracks. Robert and I went to eat in Rockwall and I could barely make myself eat. Still, I drove home. And fell asleep while waiting on a turn arrow. Thank goodness Robert was in the car with me and could wake me up! I was really only dozing, but it wouldn't have taken much for me to go into a full-fledged sleep right there in the turn lane! That's tired!

Since it was December, a lot of our agility classes were canceled due to the holidays. We managed to make a couple of Saturday DAWG classes and one Thursday class at Dallas Dog Sports. The dogs and I had a blast at all of the classes - I do love agility! And so do they! It is great exercise and such a fun way to play with my beloved dogs. And, the people - you just won't meet finer.

My attitude has remained positive. I am not really afraid. I usually don't feel like it isn't fair that I have cancer. (Who smoked? Me! Not that I think I deserve to be sick, but I guess my attitude is more like, "Why not me?") Sometimes when everyone starts talking about their trial results and I have been too ill or tired to go, I am sad that I didn't get to go play with my dogs and friends, too. The competitive side of me hates to see us fall behind in earning those qualifying scores and titles. But really? If that's all life is, I think I may need to be re-examining my values a bit.

Some Surprises

Being diagnosed with cancer brings some interesting insights into who your friends are. People who you thought were your good friends and that you would have done (and did) a lot for are not necessarily those that are there for you. And, then there are those that you liked but didn't consider close friends who are more than there for you - who are willing to do anything and everything for you. Sort of makes you pause and say a little prayer of gratitude - for the insight and for the wonderful, wonderful friends who are there for you not just when you can do for them, but when you can't. Those who remember you even if you are not physically where they are. Those who understand that it is hard NOT to be able to do the same things as they enjoy when you, too, enjoy it so much. Yep, I'm getting a bit maudlin so I believe we will move on from here!!! Wallowing in self-pity is ugly, no matter who is doing it. I have no patience for it - from myself or anyone else.

I have actually worked at maintaining a bright and cheerful attitude and I don't dwell on being sick or require (or ask) that anyone else feels sorry for me. What I want to is to still be able to laugh and have a great time and for no one to feel uncomfortable around me because I have cancer and I may be dying. 

Truthfully, we're all dying with every breath we take. Some of us may have fewer breaths to take. If that's me - well, I want the breaths I have to count!!!! I want to have fun and enjoy what life has to offer. Otherwise, why bother to go on living? 

On the other hand, I do expect that people show a little respect for my weakened condition. The chemo makes me very susceptible to disease. If you are sick, please do not knowingly share my breathing space. You feel bad when you are fighting an infection or the flu; I could end up in the hospital or worse if I catch it. If you know you are going to be somewhere that I was planning to go, just let me know you are not feeling well, but are going to be wherever. I can and will stay home so that you can keep your plans. 

Off of that soapbox and back to my surprising friends. Some of my friends have just been remarkable and deserve special recognition. It is scary to start recognizing people because inevitably, I will leave someone out and the very last thing I would ever want to do is hurt anyone's feelings. Because I appreciate the friends who have offered to do things and been rebuffed by me and the friends who post little "I'm thinking about you" or "You are in my prayers" comments on Facebook. Those reminders that people care mean all of the world to me. So, so special.

Sally from work just can't do enough. She brings us food, food, food and so much love and concern. Sally and another friend from work, Cindy, are my chemo angels. They bought me a wonderful bag, pjs that I wear every night, socks, lotions, lip creams, the list goes on and on and on. 

My friend Ann too has been there for me. Getting up early to walk with me so I don't have to walk by myself, bringing me good food to eat, willing to do anything and everything. 

Charlene brought me a warm, cozy jacket, socks, a blanket - so many things - even goodies for the dogs - wow! Just so much thoughtfulness. I often wonder if I would be so generous and thoughtful if it was them instead of me. It causes me to really think and reflect on that because I now know personally just how much small gestures mean - even a relatively simple "how are you doing" post on Facebook.

Last but far from least - I just have to recognize Ed and Run as One Agility. I was signed up to do an agility trial but had to cancel because I was just not in good enough shape to go after chemo. Ed took a picture of me and my dogs and had everyone at the trial sign it. Framed it and brought it all the way over to me. It hangs in an honored spot in my house. I hadn't cried much over my diagnosis (then or since), but I certainly did cry when I opened the package. Wow. I'll have to get a picture of it posted here. 

And, then there are my agility friends who will be with me on Sunday, Jan 6, at the Run as One trial. Some of them signed up for the first time ever for a NADAC trial so that they could be there to support Run as One since they supported me and to be there with me. What can you say??? What can I say? It is overwhelming and so very special.

Chemo #2

The three weeks between chemo treatments dragged in some ways but sped by in others. In some ways, you want to keep those chemicals flowing in your body. The cancer is pretty rampant in my body and if the chemo can stop it in its tracks, then lets keep the chemicals there!!! On the other hand, it is just about the time that you start feeling pretty good for a good portion of the day that the time to "get lit up" returns. 

I'd been told that every successive treatment is worse - the impact is cumulative. That makes sense. Each treatment takes you down more and more. Knowing how I felt during the worst times after Chemo #1 surely does not make me look forward to experiencing that again, but on a grander scale. I was upbeat, but not quite so bouncy when I returned to Texas Oncology on December 27 for my second treatment.

I had blood tests and a brief visit with Dr. Wilfong before going back to the infusion room. My blood tests came back great. It is so ironic that I am so extremely healthy except that I have this terrible disease that wants to kill me off sooner rather than later. My blood pressure is fine. My blood sugars are great. The only pills I take are folic acid (for some reason it is needed due to the chemo) and Vitamin D3 pills. I give myself a monthly B-12 shot. My first-ever mammogram came back completely clear; the first pap test in over 10 years was clear ... I am very nearly the picture of health.

I had been monitoring the tumors on my neck and felt like they were smaller. Yeah, so small that I could no longer feel them! But, sometimes hope can play tricks on you so I wasn't counting on the accuracy of my self-exams. 

Great news! Dr. Wilfong couldn't feel those tumors either! In fact, the first chemo treatment shrank them to the point that they cannot be felt. Maybe they are gone altogether. I sure do hope so! Even more, I hope that those masses of tumors in the lymph nodes in my lungs have responded in kind. Now THAT would be the absolute best news I have had in a long, long time.

So, knowing that the chemotherapy is working, I returned to the infusion room with Mom and Robert and lots of other women (and only a few men again). I had a great chemo nurse this time - I wasn't fond of the first one. Neither of them have been all that forthcoming, but at least this one was friendlier and she definitely knew how to get an IV going without hurting you.

My chemo nurse commented on how soft my skin is. I have extremely dry skin and use lots of lotion. If you want some of the best skin cream around, you can make it yourself for a very low price. It works! Go to the local Family Dollar store and buy their brand of baby lotion, Vitamin E cream, and petroleum jelly. Mix it all together and slather it on after showers or whenever. Despite having the petroleum jelly in it, it is not greasy.

After the chemo treatment was complete, Mom, Robert and I went to eat at El Fenix and then Robert and I came on home. As with the first treatment, I felt fine the remainder of the day and was okay on the next day as well. Even on the third day I managed to vacuum all of the downstairs and do a little bit of dusting (not nearly enough). I didn't deep clean by any stretch of the imagination, but the fact that I could clean at all was remarkable to me (especially when you consider how much I hate to clean house). 

But, the end arrived for feeling fine. The next couple of days were terrible. I was so nauseated. The nausea pills didn't work at all so I quit taking them. I didn't want to eat or drink. I could drink ginger ale but nothing else. And it wouldn't necessarily stay down. I stayed on the loveseat with my precious Barney right with me - usually on top of me. 

I felt dehydrated but the thought of drinking anything made me queasy. I could eat on occasion... One friend posted on Facebook how she was going to have tomato soup and grilled cheese - comfort food - that's what I fixed for myself too. Doesn't necessarily sound like food for a queasy stomach, but it tasted good!

I kept a pot right beside me so that I didn't have to try to make it to the bathroom or kitchen. I hate being sick. H-A-T-E it! I start wondering if this is really worth it. Being this sick is just no fun at all. 

And then one day, not so many days later, you wake up and you're back among the living! It feels so good to feel good again!!! You're so glad that you feel good again that your first inclination is to overdo it. Which sets you back ever so slightly. It has been great having chemo during Christmas vacation - I haven't had to worry about calling in sick or anything. On the other hand, I hate that my entire Christmas vacation has been nearly "wasted" with trying to feel better. Sometimes, I guess you just can't make me happy!!! :) I know I am dreading the holidays drawing to an end. But that is not something new. Even when I wasn't sick, I dreaded giving up my free time and returning to work.

So, here is Thursday - one week since I had my last treatment. I feel pretty good, though I did take a long nap today and haven't exerted myself much (at all). I was wishing we had agility class tonight but I don't think we do. I sure do plan to be at class on Saturday. And, on Sunday, Cotton and Barney and I get to go to Terrell to play agility at the Run as One NADAC trial. I am so excited!! I signed up for 7 runs and I sincerely doubt that I'll be up to that many runs. I imagine that I'll be too slow to make time - NADAC times are very fast - but I bet I have a blast. It has been over a month since I have been to a trial. I hope I can do it!

This catches us up. I'm going to try to keep this updated on a fairly regular basis. Even if no one reads it, it will be a great journal for me! I'll try to make it more interesting with more pictures and stuff when I start updating it regularly.