It's Not Easy Being Green

Today marks the 62nd birthday of Kermit the Frog. Hard to believe the little green guy could be a card carrying member of AARP, but he is, or is he? He is not because, unlike us, Kermit has never aged from the time he broke onto the scene in 1955. I grew up with Kermit on Sesame Street, one of the first original characters of that show, and so did my daughters. Kermit was the star in our house daily as my oldest daughter at the age of 2 played a Sesame Street video of a "Greatest Hits Countdown" type of show Muppet Style over and over. Kermit's contribution to the countdown was a song called "Doo Wop Hop" Most afternoons Leah was in the living room hopping right along with Kermit. My earliest memories of Kermit were the Reporter on Sesame Street with standing in Trench Coat and Press Hat, and always opening with "Kermit the Frog here." I was in high school when The Muppet Movie came out, and I knew all the words to Rainbow Connection. I saw it at The Willow Lawn theater, now torn down, and I'm pretty sure I saw it more than once. Kermit was always the straight man, and he played it well. I have always said that Jim Henson, Kermit's creator and his voice, was a genius. I have never watched Kermit or any of the Muppets for that matter, and thought, "That's just a puppet." They have always been real live personalities to me. I used to say I would never want to go to the warehouse or room where they are kept when they are not "performing." It's pretty amazing to think that some green felt with half ping pong balls for eyes can be that real, but he was to me, and still is, and I imagine will be for many years and generations to come. Happy Birthday, Kermit! Thanks for making our lives a little greener!

What a Long Strange Trip It's Been!

Well, it's about that time again. Time to update you on the status of the eviction of Mike Wasowski and his "Cysta." It has now been exactly 4 months since I had my second surgery to try to kick Mike Wasowski to the curb.
Quick Timeline of Events to this point: 
September 2015 - Can't see images in eye test. 1st Doc gives Dx of Macular Degeneration
                              Get second opinion. 2nd Doc discovers NO PERIPHERAL VISION thru Field                                  of Vision test. Suspects Pituitary Tumor affecting Optic Nerves. Referral to 
                              Neurosurgeon.
October 2015 -     MRI
                              Results show huge tumor taking up the space in the Brain called the Cella.                                        Immediate surgery is suggested.
                             I wait 2 weeks until my show closes
October 27, 2015 - Surgery to remove Tumor (Mike Wasowski)
December 31, 2015 - MRI
March 2016 -    Neurosurgeon breaks the news that there is some tumor left.
July 2016     -    MRI
September 2016 - Neurosurgeon tells me a cyst has developed where the tumor used to be. I will                                  need surgery AGAIN
                            2nd Field of Vision test shows cyst is already affecting vision
November 2, 2016 - 2nd surgery to remove leftover tumor and cyst. 
February 2017 - MRI

Which brings us to today. Well, there is good news and, well, not bad news, but not the "Yay! I'm rid of Mike forever!" news I'd hoped for. On February 20th I went to my wonderful Opthalmologist, Dr. Juan Astruc, the man responsible for diagnosing me correctly, and, not to be over dramatic, but for saving my eyesight and maybe my life. Another Field of Vision test, my third. My peripheral vision has returned 100% in both of my eyes. I am thrilled. He was too! You never really realize how much you use your peripheral vision until you lose it. Definitely encouraging news! Which brings me to my next Dr. Visit, Dr. Sahni, my neurosurgeon.
Most of us have lived somewhere for a long period of time, our childhood home or our first home with our spouse. It's hard to leave that to move on. Mike lived in my brain for at least 10 years. You might say he grew up there, and obviously he did not want to leave. Well, this time he's gone, but he left something behind for me to remember him. Truthfully, this memento was left from the very first surgery, but I had forgotten until I spoke with Dr. Sahni this past Tuesday. My daughter reminded me on the way home. Going back to post 1st surgery, there was a tiny bit of the tumor attached to a blood vessel. As you can imagine, that is a delicate situation. You don't just go cutting away next to something that could potentially cause a hemorrhage in your brain. After the 2nd surgery, I went on a prescription drug called Cabergoline. One of the uses for this drug is to suppress the growth of pituitary tumors: A.K.A. Mike Wasowski. Here's the not-so-great news: Mike isn't totally gone, but here's the good news: The memento he left behind hugging my blood vessel is shrinking thanks to my superhero, CABERGOLINE! Envision really buff guy in tights and a cape with a big "C" on his chest. 
So, where does this leave me in my saga with Mike Wasowski? We have not totally parted ways, and in June, I will have yet another MRI. If what's left behind is still shrinking, YAY! If not, or it's grown at all, we may have to go the radiation route, but I'm crossing that bridge when I come to it. For now I'm celebrating my restoration of vision and all the supportive friends and family I have on this wild ride!

What's in a Name?

It's February 1st. February usually means decorating with hearts and cupids for Valentine's Day, or people getting a 3 day weekend when President's day comes. For me, it means something else because every February since 1996 I get to start the month off with a celebration, a birthday celebration. 21 years ago I had my second child, a little girl. I've written many blogs about her before on her birthday and other times. It is no secret to anyone who reads this blog that I am a very proud mama and I love her very much. This post will be a little different. I want to tell you a story. I grew up very close physically and emotionally to my maternal grandparents. They lived 6 doors down the block, and I spent every weekend there and most summers at my Gram and Grampy's house. When I was in 8th grade, we all moved into one house together. We lived in the same house until I moved out when I married in 1982. I was especially close to my Grampy. He was a little bit goofy, and he had this great laugh. He never met a stranger, he could talk to anyone. He loved to sing, and he had a little bit of a temper, but more than anything he was one of the kindest people I've ever known. I can't remember him ever speaking a malicious word against anyone. He would give every one a chance, sometimes 2 or 3. To say that I adored him is an understatement. Sadly, we lost him way too soon, in 1983 when I was 19. It was long before I ever thought of children. When I was pregnant with my second child 13 years later, I decided not to find out what sex the child was. It would be a surprise! I did know, however, that I wanted to somehow honor my grandfather and his love for me. My grandfather's name was Alfred John, neither of which I wanted to use, so I wanted to think of something else. Now, remember, I said he was a little goofy. One of his goofier habits was the fact that he called everyone George, friends and strangers alike. We picked the name Georgia if we had a girl, and we decided we would call her Georgi. That little girl arrived at 8:16 AM on February 1st in 1996. Now, why did I tell you that story about my Grandpa? Because his namesake is so much like him. She has every quality I named above, and if he were alive today, they would be the best of friends. I can't pay my baby a higher compliment than to say she embodies the spirit of her namesake. I know she will continue to do great things, but more than that, she will touch everyone she meets, and their lives will be better for having known her, just like my Grampy!

So Much More Than Music

Thirteen years ago I was single with two daughters, one in 5th grade, one in 2nd, and I was searching for a church. We had been well established in a church when I was with their father, but it just carried too much baggage to stay there after he left. I had tried another church for several years but found as time went on, it really didn't meet my needs or what I thought I wanted for my children, and so I began to search. If you've ever been on a church hunt, you know it feels a little like being Goldilocks. Some are too big. Some are too small. Some are too contemporary. Some are too traditional. It seems you will never find the one that is "just right." In 2003 I was working for a high school, and one of the teachers learned that I was looking for a church. She invited me to come with her and her husband to her church's Christmas Program. She knew I was a singer, and music was important to me. I went with her. We went to a Sunday afternoon performance, and the sanctuary was packed! The program was stellar from the voices, to the orchestra, to the beautifully lit poinsettia tree in the Baptistery that was carefully synced with the stage lighting design. I was so impressed, and you're probably thinking that here I would say that my church hunt had ended. It didn't. My first thought was, "they don't need me here." My search continued, but then one Sunday I decided to go back to the church where I had attended the Christmas program. I wanted to see what their worship service was like. If you've read this blog before, you know that I am a firm believer in signs. That day all my favorite hymns were sung. We were greeted by friendly people, but not smothered, as had happened in other churches. There was one thing that happened at this church that solidified my choice to start attending. After the service, the minister of music approached me to welcome me and invite me to choir. That act alone did not make my decision. He made a point to speak to both of my girls, children. They mattered to him just as much as I did. That told me that he was genuine and sincere. I showed up at choir shortly after that, and we have been at that church ever since then. The church was Derbyshire Baptist, and the man was David Schwoebel. We have been at Derbyshire since 2004, and my girls grew up participating in his music ministry. Notice that I didn't say choir. That's because it isn't just a choir. David has a true ministry at Derbyshire. He makes everyone feel welcome and valued. Valued was something I really needed to feel as a single mom who was struggling to find a place. David is beyond talented as a composer and musician, but it is his skill at relating to people that is humbling to watch. With his talent, he could be like so many others that rule their choir with condescension and an iron hand, but he doesn't. That's not to say that the choir is not disciplined. We are! But it's out of love and loyalty that we serve. He is my minister of music, but more than that, he is my friend. Truthfully, he has been there for my family for support in so many ways. This week he celebrates 20 years of service at Derbyshire. Happy Anniversary, David! Here's to 20 more!

An After Christmas Gift

I first met Duke Lafoon back in 1995. I was doing a little play called Rip Van Winkle at Swift Creek Mill Playhouse. Duke was Rip, and I was a troll. Even back then I knew Duke was mega talented! He just has "it". The big cherry on the top of this sundae is that he is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. He moved to New York long ago, but occasionally, he will return to his roots here in Richmond to play a role. I try never to miss him when he is in Richmond. This was my main reason for asking my daughter could she get us comps to A Christmas Story at Va-Rep, one of her perks as an actor in their touring company. This was the last week, and chances were slim, but we got 2 seats in the balcony. I have never seen the movie, I know, I know, but I haven't, and I wasn't sure what to expect. Here's the other thing... I don't like shows with big kid casts. Usually, there's a little too much "cuteness" for my taste. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a bitch. This show surprised me in a BIG way. If you read this blog at all, or if you know me, I don't hand out praise easily. I never say something I don't mean. THIS SHOW IS FANTASTIC!!!!!! From start to finish it shines. The boy who plays "Ralphie" could step onto Broadway tomorrow without batting an eye, and the kids ensemble are nothing short of phenomenal. Their vocals and dancing and general presence on stage are through the roof fabulous! I was so impressed! The adults in the cast have their moments too, especially in the "Major Award" number with Duke! True to Va-Rep's form, the production values are superior, sets, costumes and lights, all so spectacular. Who could forget the running (literally) gag of the neighborhood dogs. And one more thing.....Susan Sanford YOU ROCK!!!!!! And of course I can't forget to mention Duke. He, once again, did not disappoint! Duke, Richmond is so lucky to have you as one of their beloved sons, and I am even luckier to have you as a friend.
There are only 3 more performances of A Christmas Story. Get a ticket....if you can!

Light in the Dark

December, the month where rushing is the norm, and cramming everything into a very small schedule we find that certain things we intended to do fall by the wayside, victims to time. Case in point, this blog post. I had fully intended to write 1 blog per day in December, my own advent calendar, if you will. As you can see by today's date, December 3rd, I am already 2 days behind. Victim #1: Blog Post Perpetrator: Time. So.....I am changing gears to a more realistic goal, once a week. My idea was to write a post each day up to and including Christmas Day to  thank the people who have made a difference in my life and helped me along in my journey to this point. I have had so many blessings in my life, sometimes disguised as heartache, sometimes blatantly obvious, but all have made me who I am. Disclaimer: There is no way I could write a blog post about every single person who has touched me in some way if I wrote from now until I die, so several of these will be about groups of people.
Post #1: Carla and Spencer Dillard
Carla and Spencer actually both went to high school with me, Spencer, a year older, Carla, a year younger. I knew who they were, but we really didn't run in the same circles. I didn't really get to know them until they joined my church after they were grown and married to each other. My then husband and I were youth group leaders, and Carla and Spencer signed on to co-lead with us. We wanted to re-vamp things, and they were right on board ready to jump in and participate in my sometimes, out there ideas. Carla was my savior, as she is an organizational wizard, and really could reign in my mile a minute, "Oh, we could do this, and this, and Oh, what about this?" We had and amazing group of kids that we all loved and they loved us. We watched them grow into adulthood right in front of our eyes, and I am sure, somehow, contributed to their spiritual upbringing. Those kids could not have had any better spiritual role models than Carla and Spencer. I know, because they were mine.
When my marriage of 15 years blew apart, and I was left to raise a 2 and 5 year old, both of them were right there with me. Carla even watched my youngest as I had to return to work. More than what they physically did for me, they were there for me emotionally. They are both the type of people that you can count on to tell you the truth, no matter what, even if the truth hurts, and that is so important to me. They are both ordained ministers now, and I believe answering their true callings in life. They are truthfully two of the best people I know, and I wanted to tell them that. In this world of lies and deceit, I know I can always turn to either of them and get a straight answer, and the guidance I sorely need to be on the right path. “We're here for a reason. I believe a bit of the reason is to throw little torches out to lead people through the dark.” 
― Whoopi Goldberg 

Thank you, Spencer and Carla, for throwing some of your torches my way!

Not What I Expected

Well, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow will mark a week since round 2 of brain surgery. Before going in last week, I thought, this won't be as bad. At least I know what to expect this time. I got through it before without many issues, this should be the same....right? As my drama teacher used to say when we flippantly assumed something, "WRONG!" Yes, I was going in for the same procedure, a transsphenoidal hypophysectomy, something my nurses must not have known right away while prepping me for surgery last Wednesday morning because they kept talking about someone coming in to do my fiducicials - something used to help in surgery if it were being done cranially. It wasn't, and, thank God, they figured that out. They rolled me down to do a CT, then an MRI before I ever went into surgery. I don't remember much after that. It was probably around 9:30 in the morning when surgery finally began. I probably woke up in recovery around 8pm that night. Yes, if you read anything previous to this, it was MUCH longer. Why?, you may ask. Well, they removed as much of the leftover tumor from last year and drained and removed the cyst that had developed, and closed me up. Then they wheeled me into the MRI room, while still under anesthesia to check to see if anything else was left. There was. Back to the operating room to open me back up and do a little more house cleaning, essentially 2 procedures for the price of 1. So, about 11 hours later, surgery was over. This compared to approximately 5 hours last year. What does that matter?, you might say. I am finding a whole hell of a lot. First of all, my throat hurt terribly from having the intubation tube in it for so long. This made swallowing almost excruciating. Consequently, this made eating extremely difficult. Added to that, just like before, my entire nose and nasal cavity was packed. No breathing through the nose. If you've ever had sinus issues and been all stopped up, you know what it's like trying to eat and breathe at the same time. Sleeping was a whole other issue. The first night I woke up every 10 minutes as breathing through my mouth caused EXTREME dryness. The roof of my mouth also hurt from the intubation tube, so trying to close my mouth and swallow with next to no saliva was a real chore. The next night got a little better. I only woke up every 20 minutes, and by the third day I actually took a nap sitting up for almost an hour. By Saturday I was allowed to come home, but to my disappointment, I still had to keep my nose packed until Monday. I was devastated. Last time, my surgery was on Tuesday, and my packing came out on Friday. I guess it could have had something to do with the fact that they actually rooted around twice in there and had to make sure healing was well on its way. Finally, joy of joys!, yesterday (Monday) my packing came out. You cannot know how happy I was, aside from the fact that it feels like your brain is really coming out through your nose. I CAN BREATHE AGAIN! I am still sleepier than normal, and my throat still hurts, but things are getting better day by day. I will have a follow up visit with my neurosurgeon on November 29th. After that I will have an MRI in mid January to see if everybody is finally OUT. Spoiler Alert: It seems there is some that is attached to a blood vessel, and I may still need Gamma Knife Surgery (pinpointed radiation) to remove that, but we will cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, I am thinking that Mike and his "cysta" are finally gone, and I will continue to heal. Thank you all for your good thoughts, prayers and surrounding me with love and light. I am not out of the woods yet, but I'm in a nice clearing for now.