Sometimes, I Dream in French

Moon

In my waking life, I am not fluent in any language other than English.

I studied Spanish throughout Middle School and High School. Occasionally, a Spanish word will come to my mind. For instance, during one of my follow-up appointments in Boston, my fiancé and I had dinner at a quiet restaurant. It was so quiet, in fact, that we could hear the conversation unfolding two tables away from us.

Seated at this particular table, were two men discussing culture shock—and how, even though they had grown up in the U.S.—traveling abroad, for an extended period of time, made their home country feel foreign to them. At one point in their conversation, one of the men said that he had never learned the Spanish word for “you’re welcome”.

Somehow, despite the dust of decades and chemo-fog, a light turned on in my brain. De nada. De nada is how you say “you’re welcome” in Spanish.

Lesson here, Dear Readers: be careful what you talk about when in the presence of a writer.

These “light-bulb” moments also occur with French (which I studied in college for a short time). For instance, there have been many days this spring in which I have lamented the loss of my umbrella. There are times, though, that I don’t use/think the word ‘umbrella’; I think, mon parapluie.

Textbook and poems

When Luna refuses to listen to me, I can sometimes capture her attention by speaking in French: Allons mon petit chien! Does she know that this short sentence means, “let’s go my little dog”? No. Absolutely not. Luna’s not bilingual. She does, however, notice the change in my speech, and this prompts her to focus on me, for approximately one second. Luna is sixty-one pounds of stubborn independence, so I count that one second as a victory.

Alderaan, our cat, might understand French. I often tell him: Je t’aime mon petit chat. This phrase is usually greeted with a purr and a head bump.  Realistically, his reaction might not demonstrate an understanding of the language. Maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe it’s just the fact that declarations of love have a particular tone.

I think, Dear Readers, that by using these short phrases on a daily basis, it sets my brain up for dreaming in French. I think that while I’m sleeping, my mind is trying to dig up the words that I wanted to find—and use—during the day. Although, only ever half-understood and half-remembered, my French dreams are usually my best dreams.

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Thank you, Dear Readers, for your presence here today. Please continue to send prayers, love and light. I have made leaps and bounds these past few months, but I still have a long way to go before I am back to “normal”. Whatever “normal” is….

 

With Love and Gratitude,

Laura

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Fierce

I didn’t realize that I was missing, absent, until last week.

It’s been two years since I put make-up on…and, when I did…the reflection I saw in the mirror was not the pale, tired, transplant recipient that I’ve been. Nor was she the fear-ridden cancer patient.

She was me.

Over the years, I have had various opinions regarding cosmetics. At times, I felt that they were toxic, illness-causing. I have felt that they were just another way in which women (and men) are forced to adhere to society’s unrealistic beauty standards.

I have also felt the exact opposite—that make-up can be used to accentuate features, to highlight natural beauty. I have also viewed make-up as an art form; a creative way of expressing one’s individuality.

For the past two years, I have been buried under doctors’ appointments, surgical procedures, fresh scars, and Steri-Strips. I’m still trying to crawl out from underneath that wreckage…and, somehow, sable eyeliner makes me feel fierce, capable.

gray t-shirt

With the right blend of eyeshadows, I can see flecks of green in my eyes. I see trees. Nature. Magic.

tank top

Applying make-up might not be a natural process, like metamorphosis, but it reminds me of the proverb: “Just when the caterpillar thought that the world was over, it became a butterfly”.

Metamorphosis takes time.

And, sometimes, it requires unexpected tools:

cosmetics

Thank you, Dear Readers, for your presence here. Thank you for allowing me to share my feelings and thoughts. Please continue to send prayers, light, and love.

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura

Nineteen Months Post-Transplant

morning fog

The field across the road is covered by mist. It’s the kind of blanket that envelopes the earth so completely, that you can’t see the grass. You can’t see if the neighborhood cats, Sneaky Pete and Tux, are on the prowl. You can’t see if the Wild Turkey Gang has returned (they’re probably distantly related to Boston’s Brookline Turkey Gang) .

The mist hides things—creating a blank canvass, not at all unlike the (almost) blank page that I’m currently looking at. I’m at a stand-still, questioning what I should fill this page with….

Maybe, since I requested prayers, I should tell you how my appointment in Boston went?

It went great!

The white blood cell line that I was worried about, was still elevated. I suspected that it would be. This particular cell line, known as your Eosinophils, usually indicate allergies when elevated in a normal person. In a transplant recipient, it can indicate the presence of Graft Versus Host Disease (GVHD).

I have allergies. I’m allergic to Alderaan (our cat) and I’m allergic to Spring.

However, because I was inexplicably losing weight, there was a possibility that I had GVHD in my GI tract. The only way to confirm this was with an Upper GI Scope—which, I obviously didn’t want.

So, what did I do? I ate ice cream before bed nearly every night.

I put some pounds back on. I’m still not at my fighting weight, but according to my lead transplant doctor, “You look great for being 19 months old”.

My reward for the difficult job of wiping out whole pints of cookie dough ice cream? A decrease in my anti-rejection medication! AND I get to discontinue my prescription Daily-Vite tab (Hello, gummy vitamins. I’ve missed you). I’m also no longer taking Folic Acid (which, ironically, had the highest co-pay). The amount of Magnesium-Oxide that I have to take has been reduced from 400mg three times a day, to once a day.

This is beautiful, wonderful, progress!

Did eating ice cream on a daily basis really instigate these positive changes? No. I believe it was all of the prayers, light and love that you, Dear Readers, surrounded me with. Your presence has had a positive impact on my life—on every life that you come in contact with. Please remember how powerful you truly are.

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura

 

Boots and Camera, Please

spring

As you know, Dear Readers, I had my power port removed last week.

I promised, on Facebook, to write a blog post about it. I wanted to use that post to encourage others to research Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Unfortunately, the more time I put into writing that entry, the more triggered I became.

For me, PTSD has its roots in medical trauma. So, even a “small procedure” such as a port removal, is a big deal. It summons nightmarish memories from both of my cancer experiences and my transplant. While writing about it, I realized that I was walking the fine line between Mental Health Advocacy and Desiderata’s poetic advice, “Be gentle with yourself”.

I chose Desiderata.

I needed a break from the anxiety of it all—some solace—so I put on my boots, grabbed my Nikon, and went outside in search of spring. It wasn’t difficult to find.

We only have a few deciduous trees in our backyard. Currently, they are all heavy with buds and the promise of green leaves.

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Our English Roseum (otherwise known as Rhododendron) is starting to wake up, too.

English Roseum

The shrubs, framing the front porch, are wearing the signs of new growth:

 

new growth

I am not sure if these are Day Lilies or Irises, but they’re certainly trying to reach for the sunlight.

iris or lily

And, then, of course, there are the birds:

robin in the horse shoe pit

Although this photograph—of a cardinal amid the tree buds—was pure luck, his presence was a comfort after such a long week.

cardinal amid the tree buds

Thank you, Dear Readers, for all of your prayers, light, and love. Please continue to send them; I have another follow-up appointment in Boston this week. It is imperative that my white blood cell lines are within normal limits this time.

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura

Easter Wishes

bunny on the sidewalk 2.0

These wishes for a “Happy Easter” are either a day late (if one celebrates Easter Sunday) or right on time for those that celebrate Easter Monday.

Either way, Dear Readers, I hope you were/are able to celebrate Easter in the way that best suits you—whether that was attending an early morning church service and singing hymns (i.e. “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”), or hiding plastic Easter eggs in your backyard for your kids to find. Maybe you and your family celebrate with a delicious Easter dinner.

Or, maybe, the holiday is a time of reflection—to note all of the little ways in which spring has influenced our surroundings—and to ponder renewal, regrowth, resurrection. Maybe it’s finding the first daffodil or crocus brave enough to push through the earth. Maybe it’s sitting on your porch, eating jelly beans, and listening to birdsong.

bunny on the sidewalk

Whatever you chose to do, I hope it filled your heart with joy and excitement for spring. I hope it motivated you to be a good steward today, Earth Day. I hope that that happiness stays with you throughout the week.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for your presence here. Please keep the prayers, love and light coming. I am having my port surgically removed this coming week. Please pray that the procedure goes smoothly, that I heal quickly, and that I don’t remember any of it!

 

Love & Gratitude,

Laura

What Cup are You Drinking From?

We all have our own eccentricities. We have habits that we can’t remember when, or why, they started. In fact, our quirks may be so embedded in our day-to-day lives that we can’t even recognize them anymore.

One of my quirks (which I am aware of only because it involves conscious decision-making) is to pick my coffee cup each morning, not by how much coffee it will hold, but by what it says. For instance, I pick this coffee cup when I need to feel stability, positive energy, and/or need to smile.

LLLmug

“Live. Laugh. Love.” It’s the recipe for happiness. And, who doesn’t want to have a happy day?

morning coffee

You may remember this coffee mug from a previous post. Yes, I drink from this cup when I’m writing—and particularly when characters have some bad karma coming their way. I invest a lot of time and energy into crafting my fictional characters; it hurts to injure and/or kill them. Sometimes, though, the plot requires suffering. As a writer, I do what I have to do.

Similar to some of my characters, and the unfortunate events that befall them, I, too, need healing. It is at this moment, that I reach for this handmade coffee cup:

htp mug 2.0

Made by Healing Touch Pottery, the stone embedded in this cup’s handle is believed to encourage healing. My body, mind, and soul need a lot of that.

And, let’s not forget the mugs that make me giggle:

potter mug

As some of you know, I became a Harry Potter fan later than the rest of my cohort. I was in my late twenties when I finally sat down to read the second book of the series. From there, I couldn’t stop reading. For a time, I read non-stop, until there was nothing left to read. Fortunately, it’s a series that is easy to revisit.

unicorn mug

You may not know this about me, but I have very little confidence. My self-esteem has flat-lined over the past few years. I don’t feel strong or brave, so, having a coffee mug that tells me, “I’m Fucking Magical”, gives me a much-needed boost. It makes me believe that I might accomplish good—or maybe even great things—during my day. It buoys my spirits, energizes me, and makes me feel special.

Of course, there are some mornings, wherein I just need love:

love you mug

This mug helps me on the mornings when I feel as though my tank is empty, as though there’s nothing left of me to give or share. I take a sip of coffee from this cup, and, somehow, I feel loved and capable of sharing love with others.

I believe, Dear Readers, that love—to be cared for deeply by someone or something (i.e. a pet)—is as essential as food and water. So, too, is being kind and caring toward others.

As always, thank you so much for your prayers, love, and light. You have carried me through so much and I am so, so grateful for your presence here.

 

Love & Gratitude,

Laura

Happy Birthday, Luna!

Luna birthday card

I will be honest; I didn’t want a puppy.

I wanted an older dog. I wanted an old soul that was house-trained, had good manners, and was slow-moving. Why? Because, in April of 2018, I was still slow-moving. The tumor in my spine (although radiated into oblivion) and the drop foot that I had developed while in the hospital, had left me unsteady on my feet. I couldn’t imagine taking an energetic pup for a walk.

In this, though, I firmly believe: we’re not always given what we think we want. We’re given what we need.

As is written in the Holy Bible: New International Version, in the book of Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

So, no, a puppy was not part of my plan. She was part of a bigger plan.

I needed a copper-colored puppy.

I needed someone to walk on a regular basis. I needed someone to challenge my pace. I needed a baby to feed and cuddle. I needed Luna.

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Was it all cuddles and neat obedience tricks? Absolutely not. She tested my patience like no one ever has. She chewed up countless shirts and yoga pants (while I was wearing them). She destroyed all of her plush toys—even the ones that claimed to be “indestructible”.

Despite these growing pains, she has become a reliable and comforting presence.

She’s my little guardian—letting me know when there’s a stranger in the yard (i.e. UPS) or strange creatures (i.e. wild turkeys)

She’s my therapy when I’m anxious. One touch of her super-soft fur, and the world feels right again.

She’s my Netflix binge-buddy—curling up beside me on the couch, watching superheroes save the world, documentaries on Vikings, or whatever else I might happen to be obsessed with.

I cannot believe how much—and how fast—she has grown up! Born as a member of a “surprise liter”, on an April 1st that was both Easter and April Fool’s Day, she is truly special. I often wonder, “where has my baby girl gone”? She’s still here, just taller and weighing in at 55-60 pounds. Her bark has changed, too. It’s louder, it’s part howl, and it frightens wild turkeys away.

She has a big, beautiful heart.

Luna by the back door

Happy 1st Birthday, Luna! Daddy and I love you to the moon and back.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for your continued prayers, love and light. Your encouragement sustains me.

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura

And, Still, They Sing

garage in March snow storm

The month of March always seems to surprise us with at least one, mega snow storm. This year might just be the exception to that trend. It was predicted that we would receive an accumulation of 18+ inches of snow on Friday, March 22. At our house, we saw approximately two to three inches.

The snow started falling here, at 7am, covering all traces of spring.

Two days before, the cedars had been alive with the music of returning, spring-time birds. As the rain changed to sleet and then snow, I became worried for them; they had flown home too soon!

birds

My fears were silenced, though, when I stepped outside with Luna, our puppy. The birds were still singing. The large snowflakes weren’t worrying them in the least bit. They continued to trill and whistle promises of warmer temperatures, growing flowers, and new beginnings.

Luna in her chair

This was, clearly, a life lesson.

I don’t sing very often anymore. I used to be a descant (high) soprano…but my vocal cords have changed. I can probably blame chemotherapy and total body radiation for that, but there’s no point in placing blame on past, unchangeable events. Instead, I need to be more like the birds. I need to sing—even if it’s snowing, even if I’m wildly off-key, and even if my voice cracks.

I’m not sure how Seth will feel about this confession, but the best part of our five-hour commute to Boston for transplant check-ups is turning on Pandora, and singing together. It’s so much fun! It does wonders for dispelling pre-appointment jitters. Of course, we have our favorite songs: Tenacious D’s “Tribute”; The Strumbellas’ “Spirits”; and the DREAMERS’, “Sweet Disaster”. These are just a few of the songs that we try to harmonize on. We’re also partial to Broadway musicals and anything featuring Neil Patrick Harris.

It’s a long trip though, and at night, when we’re tired of driving, we shift gears and listen to angrier-sounding music. Need to stay awake somehow, you know?

Shifting gears in this blog post, there is one soul in this house that is quite happy to see snow falling. No joke, our baby girl turns 1 on April 1st.

Luna by the back door

I’m sure Luna would love snow for her birthday, but she may have to settle for canine-friendly cake. Peanut-butter flavored, of course.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for visiting Of Pieridae & Perras today. Your encouragement means the world to me. Please continue to send prayers, love and light. Stay well, keep singing—spring is coming (eventually)!

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura

In Five Years….

If my fiancé is home, and awake, “The Office” is usually on. I’ve watched nearly every season of the television show with him. Occasionally, though, something strikes me as being new or important. Today, it was an episode in which the women of the office attended a meeting regarding gender in the workplace. Although the question was never actually asked (I re-watched the episode 3 times to be certain of this), the women started providing answers to the query, “where do you want to be in 5 years?”.

I’ve heard this question in the past—during job interviews and/or while preparing for job interviews. I’ve never considered applying it to my personal life. My knee-jerk response to the question was, “I want my novel published!” (I shouted that answer, in case you’re wondering.)

My fiancé smiled at this, but then suggested, “What about being alive?”

Although I am frequently haunted by my medical history, I have somehow taken my life—and the fact that I am still alive—for granted. I’m not certain how that happens. If I had to guess, I’d say that I get swept up by various anxieties, day-to-day chores…and forget that our next breath is not guaranteed.

But, yeah, still being alive in 5 years is a good (if not great) goal. Being alive and cancer-free is an even greater goal. Being alive, cancer-free and GVHD-free, is perhaps the greatest goal.

What will I do with this new-found health and appreciation? I’ll visit the ocean, walking out into the water until I am ankle deep in it. I will listen to the roar of the larger waves. I will watch the smaller waves lap the shoreline, forming lace-like patterns atop the sand.

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There’s healing to be found in nature.

I’d also like to wander through the halls of Boldt Castle in Alexandria Bay.

Boldt Castle

And, maybe, while I’m there, I’ll visit the ballroom and take a moment to  feel like a princess. I’d like to watch freighters navigate the St. Lawrence’s wide, wide waters. On the Fourth of July, I’ll like to admire the fireworks, lighting up both the night sky, and the river’s current with flashes of white, blue, and red.

So, Dear Readers, where would you like to be in 5 years?

Thank you, once again, for your prayers, love and light. Your kind words and thoughts have a positive impact. Please, don’t ever doubt that.

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura

A Belated Valentine’s Day Post

I probably should have written about Valentine’s Day as last week’s post…but, the idea didn’t visit me in time. So, here we are now, post-Valentine’s Day, and I would like to write about love.

Love is a subject that I think nearly every artist attempts to define and/or explore through their medium of choice. We paint our interpretations of it. We sing about it. We write about it.

valentine's bouquet 1.0

As children, romantic love is often presented in fairy-tale terms. You know—prince in shining armor, princess trapped in a tower, sort of thing. This particular image of romantic love is repeated in storybooks, TV shows, movies. Why is this important? Because we subconsciously carry this image into adulthood.

I am reminded of this whenever I hear Coldplay and The Chainsmokers’ song, “Something Just Like This”. Please note that I do not own any rights to the following lyrics:

 

I’m not looking for somebody

With some super human gifts

Some superhero

Some fairy-tale bliss

Just something I can turn to

 Somebody I can kiss

I want something just like this.

 

This song, easily found on YouTube, captures so much of how I feel about the subject of love, and how I think it should look. It helps that the song itself has a great beat and the vocals are smooth. It’s incredible.

Even if you haven’t heard this song before, you might be familiar with the adage, “You must love yourself, before you can love someone else”. This adage has always bothered me. I believe that it is absolutely, 100% possible to love someone else, even if you don’t love yourself. As someone that struggles with accepting herself, I had no problem falling in love with a tall, hard-working, ginger.

I think that this adage needs some modification. Perhaps it should be, “You must love yourself, before you can believe that someone else truly loves you.” Whenever I hear someone say, “I love you”, it catches me off-guard. I am not referring solely to romantic love. If a good friend or a relative says those three little words, my mind instantly fills with questions: How can you love me? I’m not perfect. Why would you love me? What can I possibly offer you?

Love is complicated.

valentine's bouquet

Admitting that the emotion is not an easy one to have, or to express, brings me to the ever-popular Biblical verse, 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. As it reads in the New International Version of the Holy Bible:

Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,

it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

 

It’s beautiful, right? That’s probably why I have heard it recited at nearly every wedding ceremony that I’ve attended. When you look closer, though, it’s a tall order—a challenge. Kindness is most likely the easiest part of it; but patience? You know how I feel about that word. “Not easily angered”? Oh, boy, I need to work on that one, too. When I was younger, my father would tease me, calling me, “the little rooster”. I do have a temper, Dear Readers, I’m just skilled at hiding it.

valentine's bouquet 2.1

What I appreciate most about 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, is the last verse: “It [love] always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Yes, THAT is love. It’s not meant to be one day of the year. Love shouldn’t wax and wane like the moon; if it’s real, it should be ever-present. It should be durable; weathering life’s storms with hope. It should, and can, persevere.

Love is rescheduling an appointment in Boston because there’s foul weather along the usual route. Love is knowing that risking a car accident is simply not worth it. Don’t worry; I’m feeling well (knock loudly on wood, please) and will see my transplant team in March. During the time between today and that new appointment, I will continue tapering my anti-rejection medication. I’ll be 18-months old in March, which means I’ll be receiving six vaccines. Yeah, I know, ouch.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for your continued prayers, love and light. You have made this journey possible.

 

With Love & Gratitude,

Laura