Fuck Cancer

Leche GaGa aka Stephanie Jordan

Two Friends, in the same week have died from cancer.  I wrote about Terry, who died on August 23rd. Stephanie Jordan died today.  

 I never met Stephanie in person, but knew her online/ Facebook as a sister La Leche League Leader.  We were both moderators on a Facebook parenting group until she was not able to continue.

She was an amazing, high energy woman. She loved skating in roller derby.   Her roller derby name was "Leche Ga Ga".

She had fought breast cancer and had shared her journey with the world.  She had double mastectomies and reconstruction surgery and was very open about it all.

When she was better, her husband got ill and just over a year ago he died of cancer (don't know what type).    And, her breast cancer came back.  It metastasized to her spine,  brain and vital organs.  Stephanie went through rounds of chemotherapy but ultimately it became clear that she would not recover.

Several years ago, when my head was shaved for brain surgery, a fellow La Leche League Leader sent me a hat that was made from La Leche League print fabric.  When Stephanie lost/ shaved her hair, I sent the hat on to her.

She made the world a better place and her absence is a great loss.  But I am glad I was lucky enough to be gifted with her friendship.

Rest in Peace Sweet Stephanie.

Stephanie in the LLL hat

Me in the LLL hat

Goodbye dear friend, Terry

Terry Stafford is someone I have been aware of for what seems like forever.  She wrote two books for children about being a nursing toddler.   I have both books and read them to my children over and over for years.

I first met Terry in an elevator in Kansas City, in 1983. We were attending a La Leche League International Conference.  I knew about Terry's wonderful illustrations.  At the time I was thinking ab out writing a book about traveling with babies and children.  I had hoped I could get Terry to be my illustrator  The book never happened and so Terry did not illustrate it.

In the 90s the world of the internet exploded.  We were living in Australia, and I was thrilled that I could connect with my family and friends all over the world by email.  Small groups were forming, and I joined an online group of La Leche Leaders.  Some of us were more interested in menopause and aging parents than we were in  potty training and discipline.  We formed a small group of a little over 40 of us and we called ourselves "Power Surge".  Terry was a member of this group.   

For 25 years we have continued to be a close group of women.  We have shared sadness, successes, marriages, divorces, births of grandchildren and deaths.

Terry has always been a huge part of "PS".  Most if not all of us have met her in person, and we all knew her in our little group.

Terry shared her whole illness, diagnosis and decline with us.  With the pandemic it has been impossible for any of us to travel to help care for Terry.

And now she is gone.  This was on her Facebook page on August 23, 2021

" I'm deeply saddened to let everyone know that Terry passed away today, Monday August 23, at Lady Minto hospital on her beloved Salt Spring Island. She went peacefully and surrounded by people who loved her, with her husband Harvey and dear friends Dona and Meg at her side. "

Memories of Afghanistan

 Written August 7, 2002

>
> I lived in Afghanistan as a young child.  My father worked at the US Embassy
> in Kabul.  My mother loved it there.  Most of her Afghan friends escaped
> years ago.   Before her stroke, my mom and step dad used to go to fund
> raising events for Afghan refugees.  What a terribly dirt poor country
> Afghanistan has always been.   We were in Kabul when they put in the first
> traffic light.  The Afghans would stand watching, and wave at the cars to
> stop or go when the light changed.    When our servant's wife had twin
> babies, my mother found a doctor and took him into the mountain village to
> help only to find that the babies had died.  My father bought bikes for our
> servants and taught them how to ride them.   I started school in there and
> was a Brownie there.   My mom was a Cub Scout Leader for my brother's troop
> there.   My sister was a teenager and I remember the dances at our house
> with her friends.   We went skiing in the winter.  We swam in the summer at
> the International Club.  My mom played tennis and went horse back riding
> there.    My dad took pictures of the turbaned barber who used to come to
> the embassy and cut the men's'  hair right there.   My dad took so many
> pictures.  I recall the scent of the beautiful bearded irises in our yard
> and the rose bushes.   We had a big weeping willow tree in our yard.   One
> Christmas a friend (who was an Afghan prince) brought us a big, freshly cut
> fir tree to use as our Christmas tree.  He had strapped it to the roof of
> his car and drove in the night with his headlights off so he wouldn't get in
> trouble.   I am not sure what the laws were then, or what trouble he risked.
>  He wa
> s a friend.
>
> When I hear the names Kabul, Quandahar, Peshawar (Pakistan), I cannot
> believe that I have been on that soil.  I remember going to the open air
> market with my dad and buying pomegranates and naan –the flat bread that is
> baked in dirt ovens, and I remember my first taste of honeydew melon.  For a
> long time after we returned from Kabul all of my drawings had the high
> Himalayan mountains in the background.   The country was stark, but the
> mountains, I can remember, large, and beautiful and they were everywhere
> around us.

My brother Dale in Afghan clothes

Me in an Afghan dress

My sister, Carol, was in the Girl Scouts in Kabul

Borrowed from Facebook

 

waiting for something?

 I feel like I am waiting.  For something.  I don't know what.  I keep thinking "when I have more energy" and "when my knees work better" and other stuff like that.

I fantasize about traveling and having a ton of energy to walk and hike and not get tired, or sore.

I am losing weight (a difficult topic for me) and hope that will help with my energy.  Hauling around extra weight is exhausting.   I hope that after I recover from my upcoming knee surgery I will be able to be more mobile.

All I feel like I do these days is sit and knit and watch TV.  Work jig saw puzzles a bit too.  I look at my sewing/ craft room in the basement and I think of all the things I want to do.  There are so many things I want to do that I get overwhelmed and don't do anything.

I think that partly I don't do much is that it doesn't feel like it is completely mine.  We have had visits by the various of our kids and they like to use that space.    I don't like to go bother them when they are probably looking for a nice place to hang out.    Funny, I only just realized this:  my sewing room in Reston was just that.  A sewing room.  Nobody ever used it as a get away or a bedroom.  There were no bed in there.  It was entirely my space.  Here we live in the huge house, but I don't have a space that really feels like mine and mine alone.  Nick has his study, which is great.  I am glad he has that.   Hmmm, that's got me thinking.

Back to knitting!

Arlington Cemetery

 We went to a memorial service at Arlington Cemetery this morning.  Our friend David had served in the US Marine Corps.   There  was a chapel service first followed by a service near where David's ashes were placed.

This was my fifth funeral service that I have attended there.  We thought about stopping to say "hi" to my father- who is also inurned there but decided to just come home instead.

Arlington Cemetery is an amazing place.  So many graves.  So much history.    My three youngest kids were there for my father's service. I would like to take Courtney and Morgan there sometime.  I imagine  the fact that my father is there is an abstraction to them.   None of the kids really knew my father very well.  I am sure they didn't feel very close to him.   They have heard about how goofy my dad could be and how mean and scary he could be.

What they don't know is that I used to sit in my dad's lap a lot.  I would comb his hair and help him polish his shoes.  I held his hand when we walked together. I called him "Daddy" and still refer to him that way.

Nick's parents are gone. My parents are gone.  Our friend, David's kids are now without a father.

 Sometimes I feel like I am a string on a kite flying freely in the sky.  But I would rather feel anchored to the earth.

This is the pass that allows me to get into Arlington Cemetery to visit my dad