And to think I had a bigger crush on Sal Mineo after seeing Exodus.  But then again, I was only seven…

Fourteen years ago, at age 19, my son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. A year after diagnosis, he had his first brain surgery.  Five years later, his second.  In the world of brain tumors, both were considered successful.  After hours each time of tedious “resection” as the neurosurgeons call it, we got our son back, fully in tact.

A miracle to me really.

In the midst of his surgeries, radiation, chemo and recoveries,  he has attended and graduated from college, completed grad school and is now coaching high school basketball, his first love.  He is positive, hopeful and daily provides the true north our family has needed to face and accept his battle.

We are told, but are reluctant to accept, that most brain tumors are not considered curable.  But so far, with careful monitoring, he is beating the odds.

Part of that “careful monitoring” is a brain MRI every three months to look for change in his brain, a recurrence of the tumor. Every ninety days we go, my son and me, to the cancer center. After fifty some times, we have our routine. He goes earlier for his MRI.  I follow an hour or so later and we meet with the doctor.

We sit in a sterile hospital office space, blinds often drawn, a computer reflecting the images of a brain scan. Two screens sit side by side, each holding nine different egg-shaped pictures stacked three to a row like a tic tac toe board. Last time’s scan on the left and the latest on the right.

He sits in a chair and I sit across from him, as we always do.  He yawns, cracks his knuckles.  I attempt small talk. Idle chatter. Anything to distract us from the screen.  I have done this so many times, I have begun to plan ahead of time. Often on the way in the the car, flipping through the radio stations, I am rarely listening.

I am thinking, what should we talk about as we wait?

Today it was the list of items I had noticed he needed in his apartment.  Silly things.  A mop. Kleenex, Windex, a shower curtain liner. This shopping list would be today’s neutral time filler.

I have told my friends these visits are a bit like anticipating the jury’s decision, this month’s verdict. I can never decide what is worse–the waiting or the knowing.

I have become accustomed to the sounds of waiting. The nurses chatter in the hallway. Doors opening and closing. Water running. His chart slipping into the metal holder by the doorway. Cars passing outside. The horns. An occasional siren. The flag slapping against the metal pole that stands at the entrance of the hospital.

It’s all so familiar but never a comfort.

He takes his baseball cap off and scratches his head, back to front and then ear to ear as he often does. The top is bald. They said it would grow back in four to six months after radiation. But it has been over a year now and it has not.  I don’t notice any more.  But I know he does.

I listen for footsteps.  Again, familiar but unwelcome.  We wait for them to stop.  The shadow under the door.  The sound as the doctor lifts the chart from the box.  So many pages.  So many visits.

Always the question of time.

I stare at the screen and wonder if the images are my son’s or the patient before him.  The door opens.  My heart beats faster.  A nurse pokes her head in and says the doctor will be right in.  I look at my son’s face, a mixture of expectancy and relief.

“What about a toilet brush?” I ask.  “Do you have a toilet brush?”

Before he can answer, there is a rustle outside the door.  The knob turns.

“It’s stable,” the doctor says as she enters.   “I just went over it twice with the radiologist.”

I jump up and hug her like a long lost friend, forgetting her white coat, HIPPA laws and hospital decorum.

I know she is happy for us and has come to love my boy.  We are all happy.

We will have a Merry Christmas this year and hope that the New Year brings more moments like this.

I didn’t look as good as I should’ve when I could’ve and now that I want to I can’t.

                                                                                                      –Me

Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.

“Why do you need two?” my husband asked as he stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed another off the counter, rubbing his hair dry.

“Two what,” I replied, leaning into the mirror to swipe mascara through my lashes.

“Two hair dryers, ” he said pointing to the appliances, one white–one black, slung like holsters in the open drawers that flank each end of my dressing table.

 “Because I can’t do that,” I said, pointing my mascara wand in the direction of his nearly dry head.

 “No really, ” he said, seeming oddly curious.

 “I’m trying them both out to find the best one.  You know.  The best.  Fastest, quietest, most portable, lightest–the best.”

 “You and the best. Good thing you only had one blind date the week we met.  I could have been in trouble,” he said, resting his foot on the counter to dry his ankle.

“It makes the big decisions easier if I practice on the small ones,” I replied, dusting my face with my bronzing brush.

 “Like my search for the best doctor for my ‘girl parts’ surgery.  I think I’ve finally decided,” I added, sliding my lips sideways to even my lip gloss.

“Really, which one?” he asked pulling a t-shirt over his head and running his fingers through his hair, hand parting it on the side.

“The guy who said he would just sew my vagina shut,” I said calmly, picking up my round brush and the dryer on the left to smooth my bangs.

He turned and smiled cautiously.  “You’re kidding, right?”

“Yep, but it sure makes ‘I’m going to Neiman Marcus’ a lot less threatening, now doesn’t it,” I said, blowing him an air kiss and walking out of the bedroom.

It is never too late to be what you might have been.

                                                                            –George Eliot

Long before every magazine cover, talk show host and morning news segment highlighted the benefits of healthy eating, I was a “health nut.”  My family, both nuclear and extended, might say more nut than health but slowly they have come to see the truth in my ways. Especially my husband and his opinion of my “morning concoction” as he prefers to call it.

Now, I have been researching to find the bottom line of what is a truly healthy diet, and what is not, for more than three decades. But he is new to this game. He stared at me with a mixture of awe and disbelief, but some curiosity, when I gave up beef in high school. (Yes, I knew him then.  Blind date. Go figure.)

Consequently, I have never had a McDonald’s burger, a dubious claim to fame but perhaps good enough for a guest spot on Letterman?

Anyway, he stuck with me through the Micky D’s drive through late nights of “I’ll have a Big Mac and she wants a cheeseburger, hold the burger,” the tuna spaghetti he choked down the first week of our marriage and countless other fads and enlightened eating cure-alls I pursued such as spirulina salads, liquid protein diets, cabbage soup colon cleanse and brewer’s yeast in my daily orange juice.

After my third child was born, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia which at that time was a sort of catch all label for an auto immune disorder that causes tight, achy muscles accompanied by painful joints.  I was told to exercise more and try anti-inflammatory medications to relieve the pain.

As most of us know, too much Advil or the prescription version anti-inflammatory medications can wreak havoc on your stomach. Knowing digestive issues were part of the reason I gave up beef and began my quest for a healthier diet in the first place, I turned to the natural alternatives to help my inflammation, boost my immune system and improve my over-all well being.

I settled on four staples in my diet that seemed to provide the most benefits with no side effects:

Natural, 100%, no sweetener added, cherry juice:  http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/amazing-antioxidants-tart-cherry-juice. Cherry juice is a natural anti inflammatory and rich in antioxidants.

Bragg raw apple cider vinegar:  http://bragg.com/products/acv.html?gclid=CJTm3azhtqwCFQIDQAodCi49Hg. Vinegar is high in potassium, boosts the immune system, promotes digestion and relieves skin irritations.

Carlson lemon flavored cod liver oil: http://drbenkim.com/codliveroil.html. Cod liver oil is rich in Omega 3’s that are believed to protect against coronary disease, improve eyesight, increase brain function, and boost the immune system. The oil also soothes joint and skin irritations.

Fortified ground flax seed: http://www.healthyflax.com/flax-faq/. Flax is high in fiber, also has Omega 3’s, contains powerful antioxidants and research has shown it can help lower cholesterol.

I started out using them all separately, vinegar in warm water in the morning, cod liver oil at bedtime (grandma did know best!), sprinkled flax seed on cereal and salads and substituted cherry juice for orange juice in the morning. Then as the pace of life got faster and I became lazier about remembering to use them each day, I decided to throw them all in one glass in the AM and down all my wonderful Omega 3’s, antioxidants, anti inflammatories, immune boosters and cholesterol lowerers in one gulp. And it wasn’t so bad.  And I felt better. And as the medical research improved, the brands (I have cited my favorites) became more readily available and my morning concoction was born.

I feel better when I drink it and notice a difference when I don’t. So much so that my husband has jumped on the morning concoction band wagon but substitutes Acai nectar or pomegranate juice for the cherry and adds antioxidant smoothies.

For our test market study of two, most days I am symptom free of any signs of fibromyalgia and my good cholesterol has doubled in the last ten years, so much so that my doctor suspects I have the Methuselah gene. (Remember him? The oldest guy in the Bible?)

But I know it is my concoction. And now my husband does, too.  His eczema he has had on his elbows for as long as he can remember is gone.

Also,  we both look twenty years younger.  Not really. But I am working on that secret elixer next.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flax