Thursday, February 28, 2008


At 5 this morning I got a phone call from the Lakota Princess..yes, that's correct...5fuckingam...sigh*...but who cares..she's fine and she's doing very very well..Her chest muscles hurt and it's very painful for her to move her arms..but the best news is ..there is no cancer in her chest muscles and she won't have to have chemo or radiation...I am going to call her Saturday and she how she's doing..will file a report for you here..Soon she will be back with a full head of hair and a bra full of brand new boobs....dang, wonder if they will let me donate some of the fat from my boobs to her..? I have plenty to spare..

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

I Love My Husband & Friends...

What a difference a couple of hours can make. After I wrote my last blog my sister Lee called me and we had a nice long talk, cry. Then Bruce came home with the mail, I had two really cute cards from my Buddha buddy that lifted my spirits and made me smile. Bruce made me a wonderful dinner. And because I am marked with marker for surgery I can't take a shower so Bruce washed my hair. I have long thick curly hair and it's not easy to wash, but this man with his big mechanic hands washed my hair so lovingly I could not feel anything but calm and loved.

I just want to say I am so blessed by all of you. Though I've never met any of all have touched my life and my heart. I love you. I can't express in mere words what your supportive words have done for me. Lifting me to a better place.

I thank I thank you.

Nuclear Medicine Sucks The Big One

So I show up today at nuclear medicine. Hey weren't you here a week or so ago? Yeah I was, but they cancelled my surgery and I have to do this again. the tech says maybe not...a glimmer of hope...did you wash the marker off under your right arm? Yeah it's been almost two weeks.

She goes and talks to the Dr. She comes back yeah we have to do it again. If you hadn't washed away the markings we would've had to only do a booster. So why the fuck didn't someone tell me that? I'm the patient not the doctor. I didn't know.

So I lie down on the table exposed and feeling very emotional. One holds my left hand while the other swabs my right breast with that brown crap. There are five needles lying on the table with pretty blue nuclear medicine in them. She puts the first one in and it burns like wild fire. The other one ask me something and I ever read the comics strip Funky Winkerbean? Yeah. Well he did one about one of his characters having breast cancer Lisa Moore.

She was at her doctors office and the doctor starts with I am sorry there has been a mistake in your labs they got mixed up and ...
Lisa is very compliant and says that's OK where do we go from here? But she really was thinking what the fuck, you guys are the experts...

I said yeah I'm feeling a little bit like that.

Then the third shot goes in , the forth, the fifth. My right breast is on fire and I want to cry in the worst way, the very worst sobbing way and I don't. I refuse. My stubborn Dakota streak kicks in and all I want to fucking do is beat the crap out of someone.

So as I am getting dressed the tech says to me do you want to come back tonight or early tomorrow for two more nuclear shots? Hu? I thought we were done. No you have to have two more. I am thinking... I want to go home. I want to go home and have my life back that is what I want to do. My life before death, before, before all of this cancer hit my daughter and me...but I say I'll come in early tomorrow, at 7:00 am an hour before my surgery to get the boosters.

I get out to my car and it starts to snow. I call Bruce and I cry and cry on the phone. I tell him they should've done this surgery two weeks ago because I was in better condition emotionally then I am now. He agrees with me. The anxiety is causing me to have a meltdown along with my worries about my daughter Amy.

She's being stalked by a mad man. It's been in the Duluth News Tribune all week. Shawn Frederick. Asshole.

This was the latest article on him. The last was my daughter Amy's apartment he was trying to break into. He's left her threatening messages on her answering machine. I sent letters off today to the county and to the reporter of the article. Amy's side needs to be heard so this Shawn person won't get out. He stalked a local news woman so badly that she had to quit her job and leave town. So I am dealing with a lot. And forgive me if I sound whinny.

County wants to commit man in lecture-hall incident

Mark Stodghill

Duluth News Tribune - 02/23/2008

St. Louis County Public Health and Human Services is seeking to commit the 36-year-old Duluth man whose behavior in a University of Minnesota Duluth lecture hall Wednesday led students to call police.
The county alleges that Shawn Patrick Frederick is mentally ill and that serious imminent physical harm will occur to him or others unless he is in a treatment facility. A hearing on the petition is scheduled for Monday before St. Louis County Judicial Officer Gerald Maher.
Frederick is being held at Miller-Dwan Medical Center.
Frederick entered the UMD lecture hall at 9:15 a.m. Wednesday and made some students nervous by moving from seat to seat and eventually sitting in an aisle, staring down the assistant professor teaching the class. When police took him into custody, Frederick was found to be in possession of a wooden stick and a leather whip. He was charged with disorderly conduct, a misdemeanor offense.
According to court records, Frederick had been formally released on Jan. 31 from an 18-month mental health commitment. Because of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996, information regarding Frederick's mental health commitment is protected and unavailable to the public. It's unclear how much time he actually spent in a mental health facility.
Frederick was charged in 2006 with four counts of
second-degree assault with a dangerous weapon but was acquitted because of mental incompetency.
In that case, he was accused of sticking a 9 mm Ruger handgun against a man's forehead and of pointing it at two other men in the Kozy Bar in downtown Duluth. He also was accused of pointing the gun at another man outside the bar. The weapon was not loaded.
A psychologist examined Frederick and determined that the defendant did not know the nature of his acts and was mentally ill at the time of the offense. Frederick, through his attorney, admitted his mental illness, waived a six-month review and agreed to an 18-month commitment to a treatment facility.
On Feb. 9, Frederick was charged with being in possession of a small amount of marijuana. According to the police report in that case, a Duluth woman said that Frederick was at her door and trying to get in. When police responded, Frederick told them that Buddhists were out to get him. During a pat search, an officer found a small jar containing marijuana in Frederick's jacket pocket.

This is his mug shot...shoot to kill I say.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Buddha Love

This is an antique fan Bruce bought me a few years back. He also found the Buddha statue below that matches it.

These are some of my favorite Buddhas. I started collecting them a few years back. Bruce bought me the electric one on Saturday. It was a must have it now sorrta thing.

So tomorrow I go for the nuclear shots and lymph node detection. Then Wed. the big day finally.

Today I dusted all of my Buddhas and I talked to them. I love them. They are all fat and happy. Just look at their smiles. And they have boobs. I love them.

God bless Buddha. Amen.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

So Yeah I Got A Date

Not the kind I would like, romantic with Bruce. But a surgery date. Feb. 27th at 8:30 am.

I'm doing the nuclear medicine 5 shots to the right boob the night before. They will mark the lymp nodes with magic marker and I will go home try to sleep and be back at 8:30 am for surgery.

I just need to get through the next week stress free and illness free.

I need to take a nap right now.

Thursday, February 14, 2008


It's the worst day of the year weather wise but Bruce & I trudge through it to get to the hospital for my surgery. We are in the waiting room and Toni & Sarah show up. Those two girls are in my top three now. They deserve to be there. They kept me laughing and calm. Toni brought me lots of chocolate from her & Joe. Chocolate kisses and peanut M & M's...

We wait and wait. Finally they call my name. I go in get undressed put on the Johhny. The RN gives me a 10 mg Oxy. They whisk me off to nuclear medicine where I have five injections of dye shot into my right breast and they take the xrays they need of the lymph nodes for surgery. They take me back to my cubicle where Bruce & Toni & Sarah keep me company.

The man who puts me to sleep comes in and is in a pissy mood and he whines to the RN he has no room to do his thing and he leaves and his assistant comes in and does his job. I prefer her. She is nicer. I ask her what's wrong with him? The plastic surgeon comes in and writes and draws lines in black permanent sharpie marker all over my chest from my neck down. RN starts an IV. They give me fluids through the IV along with antibiotics.

Then they (the surgical team) decide because I had...had the flu a few days earlier that they would not do the surgery today.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

The only good thing about the whole day was Toni & Sarah. They had to pretend they were my daughters because it was immediate family only. Sarah kept calling me Nancy and so we said she was Bruce's daughter, my step daughter and Toni was my biological daughter from my first marriage and Joe was my son in law. Bruce was Dad and somethings got to be pretty funny. Like when I asked Toni how she broke her nose and she replied your my mother you should know...

Those two girls just don't know how much they mean to me. I love them very much. I want to thank them both for showing up on the worst weather day to be with this old lady. Thank you my adopted daughters.

Thank you Mr. Bruce you are the best!

I got a call from my plastic surgeon we are looking at Feb. 27th to reschedule surgery. And yes I will have to do the nuclear medicine all over again...

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Yeah It's Me

I've been sick, very sick. I got a flu shot but apparently it wasn't the right one for this flu, it was for that other flu that "they" were expecting.

It started last Thursday. I had the chills so bad I wanted to die. By 1:00 am that night I was running 101.3 fever by 3:00 am I was shitting my pants and vomiting. By Friday morning I wanted to die.

"They" say that if you get the flu shot and get the flu it won't be as severe. It won't last as long...I am here to tell you that "they" are dead wrong. It is now the day before my surgery and I am still sick with the flu. Not as bad. The fever has stopped and the runs and vomiting have subsided but the weak queasy feeling is still running strong.

I called my surgeon to let her know about how I was feeling and she said as long as I am not running a fever we are going ahead with surgery Wed. HU? Oh yeah we are still going to do surgery. But I don't feel well. We have waited too long all ready and we are not postponing it. But I feel very queasy and nauseated. That's OK we will give you something for that once you get here. Uh Ok.

Bruce my care giver came home from work early yesterday and lived with his head in the toilet the rest of the day. Seems he came down with this flu. He's supposed to take care of me when I come home, now he is sick. Life is just sortta sucking right now for me.

I had to get my ass up and out of bed to go buy sports bra's for after surgery. "They" want you to bring one to the hospital for afterwards so it will hold you tight So there I am in Walmart, queasy, weak and tired looking for sports bras that open in the front...and because it's Valentines day Thursday all the red and black satin bras and crap are out and I start to cry right there in the underwear section of Walmart because, well just because I 'm sick and I'm tired and I'm emotional. The sales clerk comes up to me, are you all right? No I'm not all right, you see I'm having both of my breasts cut off on Wed. and I need a sports bra for afterwards to help curb the pain so what size do you think I need after these BABIES ARE CUT OFF? What size do you think I should get and snot is coming out of my nose and tears are falling down my face. We have to make room for the swelling and bloody drains so yeah can you help me???

And now it's 4:22 am and I just woke up from a vivid dream I had of Ricki Joy. I haven't dreamed of her in a few years. So I think her spirit came to me in my dream and it was so real. We were outside where I grew up. I grew up way out in the sticks. She was with a few girls her age and they were going swimming and I couldn't get her attention. I was screaming Ricki you can't go swimming because of the catheter sewn to your main artery, and she dove in anyway. When she came out of the water her and her friends were laughing and it was a sunny hot day out. They started to play tag you're it and were running away from me and I was becoming very frustrated in my dream because she wouldn't listen to me and then Amy my other daughter was there holding my arm walking with me, asking me what I was doing? I explained to her about Ricki. She said isn't it wonderful that she's showed don't have to worry about her anymore. That she's in a place where she has friends and she's running and swimming and doing all the things she loves, that she's happy.

And I woke up crying.

So that is how I am on this eve before surgery. That is how I am.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had tried to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you " — here I opened wide the door; —
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" —
Merely this, and nothing more.

Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster so when Hope he would adjure —
Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure —
That sad answer, "Never — nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Let me quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting —
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted — nevermore!