catstir [kat - stur] noun:
Code word for the other "C" word that rhymes with "dancer"
"If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know."
I have heard various renditions of this phrase numerous times over the past month.
What else do you say to someone in my predicament?
So far, only ONE person has been able to say, "I know what you're going through" because her father died from Parkinson's disease while she was battling breast catstir.
On top of all this, I've got husband issues, and insurance issues, compounded with my usual insecurities and idiosyncrasies.
I'm a bit of a mess, don't you think? Are you afraid to stand too close, or share your drink?
(Why am I getting so Dr. Seussy? Does catstir make you Seussy?)
There is this BIZARRE rumor out there that I am not capable of allowing people IN. That I am incapable of allowing others to help me. This is so not true and I can prove it.
I'd like to introduce you to my core, support group. These people have the inside scoop. These people surround me with unconditional love and compassion...
Bull and Dust Bunny
Jesse and Julie
All the OE's
All the ladies on the Breast Cancer Org site.
Fellow Bloggers who won't allow me to hide
Sandy Girl and Sweet Sue
Fox, Turtle, Lion
"My friend Bev"
The waiters at Pasta Vera
Rodney the meter man (he's got double insurance!)
Kevin the masseuse (who doesn't understand a word of english AND has great hands)
Arjune, the bartender at McDuffs, who refuses to let me feel sorry for myself (hell, he won't even buy me a drink!).
Toss in Mark, Mary, and my mother, and it's a lovely bunch of coconuts!
All of you are healing and helping me in profound ways. And even more outstanding, none of you are second guessing me, or preaching to me.
But today, I'm focused on the people who have never met me, yet have gone out of their way to help me.
Phyllis, in the pathology department, who on the "QT," broke hospital policy and handed over my biopsy slides so that I could deliver them quickly to my third opinion.
Wander, who comforts me with his stories. He reaches out, regularly, expecting nothing in return.
And finally, the sweetest help of all came from an unknown child in Miss Mary's religious education class. She explained to all of them that Jackson's grandmother was sick, and instructed them to make me a card. This is my favorite:
My Pray to you!
Do not try to run up the hill.
you are ill
I'm writing you this letter
I hope you get better
So... for those of you who want to know what you can do to help, I have your answer. You can make me a card! I always insisted my children make their cards. I continue this tradition with my grandson, Jackson. Why should you be any different.
Hand made cards can be sent to:
58 East Elm Street
Greenwich, CT 06830