Total darkness

At 5:35 this morning, I jumped out of bed. I remembered this morning, the second — and final — total lunar eclipse of 2014 would be starting soon. Quickly I got dressed, grabbed my camera and headed outside in the dark hoping to get a few good shots of the moon in all it's glory. It was eerily quiet outside. As I looked at the sky overhead, I was amazed with the spectacular view of thousands upon thousands of brilliant stars. The nighttime sky was so beautiful.

I set up my tripod and got two cameras ready. I was going to take photos with both my Nikon and my Canon and compare the two later. I glanced at the moon and saw the eclipse was just beginning. A small sliver of a shadow was covering the left side of the moon. It was hard to get a clear view from my backyard. There are so many tall trees that obstruct the view. If only there was small patch of high ground I could get to for the shot, but there was none.

I sat in my folding camp chair waiting for the eclipse to progress. I felt a little nervous sitting all alone in the dark on my patio. As I waited in the dark. I listened. There was a crunching sound just off to the right of me. Quickly, I turned my head only to see a deer grazing in the woods. The night sounds are so amplified early in the morning and I was jumpy.

The earth's shadow was beginning to slide across the moon now and I stood up to take a few photos. I knew I wasn't going to get the shot I wanted when I looked through the viewfinder because of all the trees. I resigned myself to not taking any photos and chose to just sit down and watch this spectacular event with my eyes. I sat for a long time before the surface of the moon was completely covered and it began to turn a bright, coppery red. This is another blood moon. (It looks red because of all the sunsets and sunrises from the Earth that will reflect onto the lunar surface. During the eclipse, although it's completely in the shadow of Earth, a bit of reddish sunlight still reaches the moon.
The Sun, the Earth and the full moon form a nearly straight line so that the full moon passes through the Earth's shadow, called the umbra.)

Earlier this year, I read a book called "The Four Blood Moons" by Pastor John Hagee. In it, Pastor Hagee talks about Biblical prophecy and how the blood moons correlate with Jewish holidays. It was a very interesting book and gave great insight into the coming days. Pastor Hagee mentions scripture that points to "signs in the sky" that are given by God. As I thought about some of the information I'd read in that book, I wondered about the future.  There have been so many strange things happening in the world this year. The Ebola virus has been spreading like wildfire in many African countries, taking the lives of men, women and children. An Enterovirus has put hundreds of children in hospitals all around the United States. Isis has become the topic of dinnertime conversations while beheadings continue to take place all in the name of the Muslim's Allah. Weather changes have been erratic and unpredictable with droughts, flooding, hurricanes, tornadoes, and earthquakes popping up unexpectedly in various places. Surely we are living in the end times.

The eclipse is complete now and the stillness of the night is overwhelmingly quiet. I wonder if the animals are affected in any way. Do they stand like statues in the dark wondering and waiting? I look around and try to adjust my eyes to the pitch black darkness. I'm glad the eclipse will soon be over. Although it's a beautiful, mysterious thing to watch, it's a little creepy too.

I gather my photographic equipment and go back inside the house. It's a little after 7:00 a.m. now. The eclipse has been over for a little while and the sun is starting to rise. I'm so thankful to see its light on the horizon...the dawning of a new day...but what if the sun didn't come up one day? What if we had to face a day of complete darkness? How would we react? Would crime increase? Would people become paralyzed with fear? I shudder when I think about it.

There's an old saying "it's always darkest before the dawn." Although I'm not sure who gets credit for it, a man by the name of Thomas Fuller appears to be the first person to commit the notion that 'the darkest hour is just before the dawn' to print in his religious travelogue A Pisgah-Sight Of Palestine And The Confines Thereof, 1650. That statement not only refers to the physical realm, it can also refer to the spiritual realm. To me, the statement provides hope. In my circumstance, I have found that when I am going through a very trying or difficult time, I am reminded of the dark...where I can't see what's coming next...where the shadows are eery and scary. But as I pass through the trial, just like an eclipse, I begin to see a glimmer of light...a sliver of hope. Then, before I know it, I've passed completely through the ordeal and I'm coming out on the other side of it. It's just as if I've had a personal eclipse in my life! The darkness doesn't last very long and soon the light will come.

As I wind down my radiation treatments, I am realizing as each day passes that hope is just around the corner. Soon all of this will be over and I can begin to live again. I can't wait for the day that shines bright to get here. I keep holding on and waiting. I know it will come, just as I know the night will turn to day and the cycle will repeat. I'm so grateful I don't have to face a lifetime of darkness...one trial after another with no end in sight. Without hope, there would be nothing to look forward to in life and we have to have hope.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Reckless words

“Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (Proverbs 12:18)

Have you ever said something and immediately wished you hadn't? I've been guilty of that many times in my life. Not only have I said things I wish I hadn't, but I've written things I wish I hadn't. Yesterday was one of those days. Without realizing it, something I'd written in one of my blog posts greatly offended and hurt one of my family members. I was made aware of it later in the day and immediately removed the post. My heart was broken. I'm not in the habit of wounding others with my words. Just knowing that I'd caused someone else pain devastated me. Immediately, I apologized but my words could not be recalled. They were already written and had already been read. Though they were not spoken, they'd done just as much harm as if they had been.

The Bible says that harsh words stir up anger. Although my words had not been harsh, they had been hurtful. Had I intended to cause hurt feelings? No! But had my words inflicted pain? Yes. What was I to do now? The only thing I knew to do, apologize. The Bible says a gentle answer turns away wrath. It was my hope that my apology would be accepted. I'm not sure it has been, but I hope it will be.

I've learned the hard way that words are powerful. They have the power to heal or to destroy. Once spoken, they can never be recalled. I've asked God to set a guard at my lips keeping hurtful words from ever coming out of my mouth and I've asked Him to guide my hand protecting it from writing words that may inadvertently affect someone else in a negative way. 

We are all human and we all make mistakes. I'll admit that I've definitely made my share of them. The Bible tells me that love covers a multitude of sin so I am hoping that the person I've offended will find it in their heart to forgive me and know that I am deeply sorry because I love them. There's nothing that makes Satan happier than to cause dissension in relationships. Wherever he can get a foothold, he will do it. It is our job to realize when he's at work and call him on it.

The Lord knows the intentions of our hearts and He holds us accountable for our actions. We we admit our faults and ask for forgiveness, He forgives us. When we ask others for forgiveness they have the choice to accept our apology or reject it. If they refuse to accept it, then a root of unforgiveness and bitterness begins to grow and damage that could have been stopped early on grows to epic proportions.

You may never consider your words as weapons but they hold great power. Choose them carefully.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

"Set a guard, O Lord, before my mouth; keep watch at the door of my lips. Psalm 141:3"

Strange orders

My visit to the radiation clinic today was unusual in that I was not treated. When I was called back for my session, the therapist looked at my skin and called the doctor in for a consult. The doctor said I couldn't be treated today because my skin was in such bad shape. She told me to get dressed and she'd see me in her office. I wasn't too surprised at her decision. My skin is so burned, broken, and peeling. It's very painful to even move, so I was thankful I won't be receiving radiation today.

In Dr. Santiago's office, she talked to me about the importance of airing my skin to help prevent dryness. She instructed me to sit around without a shirt on for the next 2 days. That's going to be difficult for me because I'm extremely cold natured and I'm very modest. I told her I would be obedient and do as she asked. She also asked about my chest pains and my nausea. She was concerned that I'd dropped 2 pounds over the weekend. I explained that the chest pains are being monitored by my cardiologist and he feels that it's Pericarditis related to the radiation. We can't figure out what the nausea is from unless it's also related to the radiation. She said some people do get nauseated from the accumulation of radiation in their bodies but she wasn't sure if that's what I was experiencing or if I had perhaps caught a stomach virus. I haven't been around anyone who's been ill, so I think it must be related to the radiation too.

After leaving the clinic, I ran by CVS to pick up my prescription for nausea. I also picked up some Advil per the doctor's orders. I think the people in CVS are recognizing me when I come in now because they smile and call me by my first name. I don't know if that's a good thing...

So now I'm home, sitting at my computer with the blinds drawn so none of my neighbors can see I have no shirt on. It's very chilly in the house so I think I'll have to turn on the heat. I need to try and eat something for lunch but I just don't really feel like it. Maybe a bowl of soup will stay down.

I long for the days of good health again. It's amazing how much we take those days for granted until we've lost them. This time last year, I was outside raking leaves and gathering up pine cones. Today I just watch them fall and wish I was able to be out there doing things. My hope is that before the year is over, I'll feel up to doing things again. I keep reminding myself that this won't last forever although right now, it feels like it will never end.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

Recycled

Pieces of broken clay pottery

I've always loved pottery and the uniqueness of each handmade piece. Every trip we make to the North Georgia mountains, I beg my husband to stop at little pottery shops so I can scour the shelves for something special to add to my collection. There's one place in particular that I love to go, the Mark of the Potter, just above Helen, Georgia. In that little shop, there's always a potter's wheel set up in the middle of an upstairs room and if you're lucky, you'll catch the potter just as he or she takes a large lump of wet clay and throws it onto the spinning wheel. I could stand there for hours watching as the potter shapes and molds the clay into something special. As I watch, I always wish I'd taken pottery lessons.

I don't know why pottery captures my heart so, but it does. Maybe the scene from "Ghost" with Demi Moore and Patrick Swazye has something to do with it. In the movie, Demi Moore is an artist who uses pottery as one of her favorite mediums. There's a romantic scene at the potter's wheel where Demi is working on a piece of clay and Patrick, her live in boyfriend, sneaks up behind her and sits with her at the wheel. He places his hands over hers as they guide the clay into shape. Inevitably, Patrick causes the clay form to come off center and it begins to wobble. That's no big problem for a potter though. It's easy enough to just collapse the piece and start again.

As I thought about pottery this morning, I remembered some information an old family friend shared with me as a teen when I was taking a hand throwing class in pottery. Although I would rather have learned to use the potter's wheel, I was thankful to just be learning about pottery in general. Ann Nunemacher, was a dear friend of my mother's and she had agreed to teach a hand throwing class during one summer at a Girl Scout camp. Since I've always been interested in any and every sort of craft you could imagine, I was ecstatic to find out she was going to teach. Ann's trade was graphic design, but she was skilled and knowledgeable in many different art forms. I was thankful she was willing to impart knowledge to a group of giddy school girls.

In our first class, Ann taught us all about the different types of clay. She taught us that the clay contained air bubbles and if a piece of art was made without breaking those bubbles by hand before firing or curing the clay, the piece would become weak and break. In order to break the bubbles, the clay had to be repeatedly thrown against a hard surface. This is how the name for the class was obtained..."hand throwing." It wasn't easy to work with the clay. It was very hard and unpliable. Water had to be added in small amounts at a time and it had to be gently worked into the clay to render it workable. We learned to master the clay by adding just the right amount of water to make it soft enough to work, but not so wet that it wouldn't hold together well. When we had the clay at the perfect consistency, Ann taught us how to use potter's tools to shape and cut designs into the wet clay. We were allowed to be as creative as we dared and if we needed help or guidance, Ann was right there. Since we had no kiln at our Girl Scout camp, our clay pieces had to be air dried and cured. It would take many days in the hot Georgia sun for the pieces to be completely dry.

Some of the girls became impatient in waiting for their art to dry. They would pick up the piece, not heeding Ann's warning, and then shudder in disappointment as their piece fell apart. Instead of sweeping the pieces up and throwing them into the trash, Ann explained that the broken pieces of clay could be crushed and added to the new, wet clay forming an even stronger clay for the next throwing. The ground up, broken pieces were called "grog." The cool, wet clay was called "slump." It amazed me how the broken, normally discarded pieces could enhance the workable clay making it stronger. This concept caused me to think about my life as it is now.

God has allowed me to be broken many times in my life. Just like the clay, He's taken my broken pieces and used them to make me stronger. He has allowed me to be crushed and shattered but not for my own purposes. He's allowed it for His purposes. During my times of brokenness, I have experienced not only a weakened spirit, but a weakened body. Just like a potter's clay vessel, spinning off center on a potter's wheel, what I thought I was intended to be wasn't what I was at all. My image of myself didn't always line up with God's image and more often than not, He would cave in the sides of my wet clay and start all over again...remolding, reshaping, reforming. At each trial and at each instance of suffering, He took the broken pieces and added them back into the "slump," the moldable me, making me stronger not only in my faith, but also in my spirit.

There have been many times when my body was broken. I've suffered many physical ailments, surgeries, and broken bones. There are times when my brokenness hasn't been visible to the human eye...the times when my heart was crushed through disappointments or unmet expectations. In each instance, God has done a restorative work. He's taken the broken pieces of my life and fit them together again making an even stronger, more usable vessel.

I still have "learn wheel throwing" on my bucket list and one day, I know I'll learn that skill and cross it off the list. Until then, I'll keep watching God as He takes the strong, firm, dried pieces of my brokenness and adds them to the soft, weak parts of my life. That process gives me new strength and makes me even more usable for His glory.

Trials and brokenness are never easy, but who am I to tell the Master Potter what I think! I'm so thankful I was able to take Ann's class and learn all about clay and pottery. I'm even more thankful that God has used that knowledge to teach me more about His way of using, molding, and re-sculpting my life from shards of brokenness into a vessel of beauty.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: "Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words." So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. (Jeremiah 18:1-4 RSV)

But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.Isaiah 64:8

You turn things upside down! Shall the potter be regarded as the clay, that the thing made should say of its maker, “He did not make me”; or the thing formed say of him who formed it, “He has no understanding”?Isaiah 29:16

Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? Romans 9:21

Seasons

As I sit at my computer this morning, I look out over my wooded lot and marvel at the change in seasons. The leaves on the trees are turning from a deep shade of green into various hues of oranges, reds, and browns. There is a brisk, cool breeze blowing and an air of anticipation on the wind...I can feel it. Autumn is here! My favorite time of year when the mornings are cool and the nights are scintillating. When fires in the fireplace and cups of hot chocolate are so very near...seasons. "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven... a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;  a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;  a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

This season of my life seems to be a time of change. I'm no longer in the Spring of my life, the time when I would have considered myself young and vibrant...thriving. Neither am I in the Summer of my life, a time when I would be constantly on the move, going and doing. No, I'm in the Autumn of my life. Things that were once green and alive are in the process of changing and dying...like the sloughing off of unneeded and unnecessary layers. The transformation, though painful, hasn't necessarily been a bad thing. In fact, I think it's been rather good.This Autumn of my life has forced me to see things in a different light. Instead of feeling helpless and hopeless, I feel a sense of eagerness at something new on the horizon...just like Sam Cooke's song, "A Change is Gonna Come," I feel a change coming...something will soon be different in me. 

My life has been so rich and so full. For 56 years, I've lived every single day to the fullest. I've made goals and dreamed dreams. I've grown and changed over and over again. First from childhood into adolescence, then from adolescence into a adulthood. I've enjoyed being a wife, a mother, a friend. I've experienced life as it's come full circle...as I've watched grandchildren be born and older family members die. There have been seasons of joy and pain, but one isn't complete without the other. Seasons. Life keeps going. Cancer has helped to change me and is still in the process of refining me even further. I'm no longer the person I once was in the past. I am different now...but in a good way.

As I stand watching leaves swirl around me, dancing on the wind, I wonder if I'll ever dance again. The leaves of my life are changing color one by one. The leaves must change color and fall dead to the ground so the Spring can come again with new life...a time of renewal and growth. To every thing there is a season and a time...this is my time for shedding negativity, for sloughing off unmet expectations, for dropping old hurts, bitterness, and unforgiveness. It's a time to let go. And as I release the parts of my life that are no longer needed, I'll stand bare in the Winter of my life, waiting with great expectation for Spring to come...new life, new leaves, a new season. Cancer, like the season of Autumn, has come for a time but it won't stay forever. It has come to help me remove the dross from my life and prepare me for the Springtime. I can feel a change coming and I know it's going to be a good one. Autumn may be here for a while yet, but Spring is on it's way.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

My feet long to hike again

 Today is a beautiful, rainy Fall day. I love these days when the constant rains usher in the beautiful colors of October and November. The air turns crisp and clean making me feel happy to be alive. This is the time of year that makes me long to be in the mountains where I can hike and camp. I love being outdoors because that's when I feel so full of life. Maybe that's what I'm missing, feeling full of life.

Yesterday, at the radiation clinic, I talked with Dr. Santiago about my recent time spent in Piedmont's emergency room. I could tell by the expression on her face that she was concerned. When I was placed on the table for treatment, the radiation therapists gathered around me. It's hard to answer questions lying on an exam table, totally exposed, while surrounded by women peering down at you. I felt like a bug under a microscope. I wondered what they were thinking as they looked at my naked chest. Did they feel sorry for me? I'm sure my huge, ugly scars screamed out for empathy and compassion...and if they didn't, well surely my massive radiation burns did. After their questions were satisfied, we commenced with radiation treatment number 22.

Later in the afternoon, I went to see the cardiologist. The emergency room doctor suggested I followup with a cardiologist today and since I didn't have one here in Newnan, I had to search the internet for a board certified doctor. I'm very particular about my medical team and it's been challenging to find all new doctors since moving from the Stone Mountain area. After a little digging, I found a highly recommended doctor affiliated with Piedmont Heart.

It's always stressful going to see a new doctor and I try to make it as painless for myself as possible by providing very detailed information to them. I spent the hour before my appointment typing out details of all my medications, past surgeries, emergency contacts, and everything I thought they might need. When I arrived at the office and the standard new patient forms were presented to me, I was happy to be able to only have to write the words "see attached." The nurse and the doctor were impressed that I'd take time to give them everything they needed. I explained that my history of working for medical doctors had given me inside information as to what doctors needed to know. I think the doctor liked that and he enjoyed not having to explain each bit of medical terminology to me as he proceeded to examine and diagnose me.

His immediate diagnosis was Pericarditis, an inflammation to the lining of the Pericardium. Dr. Mitchell felt like it had been caused by the excessive amounts of radiation given to my chest wall. Although he felt sure his diagnosis was on point, he wanted to rule out any other issues and scheduled an Echocardiogram and stress test for the 14th of October. I've had both of these tests in the past and know what to expect. I was thankful that everyone in Dr. Mitchell's office was kind and compassionate. The nurse was as sweet as she could be and made sure to treat me with dignity. The receptionist was attentive and helpful. It makes a huge difference when you know you're not just a number or a statistic.

Perhaps after I complete my radiation treatments and get through all of these tests, I'll be able to start living again. I can't wait to drive up to Cloudland Canyon and do some hiking. I love walking around the upper rim of the canyon and looking down into the sea of endless fall color on the trees. As we journey down into the canyon floor, I love hearing the sound of rushing water from a nearby waterfall. I can't wait to go back again. I hear the canyon calling but it will have to wait just a little while longer...

©bonnie annis all rights reserved

The hits just keep on coming!

Yesterday started out in a weird way for me. I never sleep past 6 a.m., but yesterday, after a fitful night's sleep, drifted into a very sound sleep around 5:00 a.m.I thought I was dreaming and hearing a distant phone ringing, but after the ring increase in volume, I realized it was no dream. I jumped out of bed and looked at the clock. It was 8:30 a.m. On the phone was one of my daughters, who calls every morning to check on me.

The day seemed to go downhill from that wakeup call because later that afternoon, I began to have chest pains. At first, I didn't think anything about them, but when they didn't go away, I began to get worried. It felt like a deep, aching pain right in the center of my chest. I'd never felt that way before so I called the nurse at the radiation clinic and told her what was happening. She asked me to take my blood pressure and give her the results. My blood pressure was 155/91 and my pulse was racing. She told me to call 911.

When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics began working on me. They hooked up a 12 lead EKG and began to run the test. As the strip came out of the machine, one of the paramedics said, "she's throwing PVCS." I wasn't surprised by that term because my cardiologist had mentioned it before at one of my office visits. PVCs are premature ventricular contractions. That means the ventricle beats before it's supposed to beat and throws off the heart rhythm.

I was strapped to a gurney and put in the ambulance where 3 paramedics began working on me. The first thing they did was hook me up to oxygen and then gave me 4 baby aspirin. Next they began trying to find a place to insert an IV line. When you're a breast cancer patient who's had lymph nodes removed, it complicates things. You aren't supposed to have any blood pressures, IVS or needle sticks to your arms because it can exacerbate Lymphedema.

They tried to find a good vein in each of my ankles. Those were too small. So they told me they'd have to use my left arm, the one with the least amount of lymph nodes removed from it. I watched as first one EMT and then the other poked and prodded on me trying to find a vein. Now those IV needles aren't little and it feels like you're having bamboo shoved up underneath your fingernails...in a word, it hurts! They started in my hand and gradually moved up my arm. In total, they tried 6 times in my arm, twice in m ankles. The last EMT told me that if he couldn't get it, they'd wait til the hospital could do it. I asked why an IV was needed and was told if they gave me nitroglycerin, it could make my blood pressure bottom out quickly and the only way they could bring it back up was to pump IV fluids.

I arrived at Piedmont Newnan Hospital around 4:30 p.m. The EMTS transported me from the triage area into a room and the hospital nurse came in and began her assessment. After asking a zillion questions, she hooked me up to oxygen and another 12 lead EKG. Then she came at me with a needle. After 3 attempts, the nurse called in a retired firefighter who specialized in placing IVS. His name was Keith. Keith took his time and looked all over my arm for a suitable place to insert the IV. After about 10 minutes, he had an IV line in and ready, but no fluids were administered. 

The nurse was able to draw blood from the newly inserted IV and began running a Tronipin test. That test is one that looks for cardiac biomarkers. The biomarkers, if elevated, indicate heart attack or other cardiac damage. After she'd completed her test, I was sent to the XRAY department for chest XRAYS. After the films were done, I was taken back to the room to wait.

Apparently, last night was a crazy, unusual night at the hospital. The nurse came in several times to apologize for the long wait. She said they had many PSYCH patients in triage and were short staffed. Along with those patients, she said there were many people who had come in thinking they had EBOLA because of the recently televised case that had popped up in Texas.

I waited for hours. Around 10:00 p.m. they came in to get me for a CT scan with contrast. When I got to the CT room, the nurse there looked at the IV and said it wasn't in the vein deep enough for the contrast to flow through so she refused to administer it and sent me back to the room. After waiting another 15-20 minutes, Keith, the retired firefighter, came back in the room again to remove the first IV and reinsert a new one. He'd almost run out of options because I had been stucked so many times and he couldn't use one of the previously punctured sites. Finally, after twisting my arm around and back, he found a spot on the underneath side of my forearm. It was very painful to have the IV there but I sucked it up and just dealt with the pain. They had to do the CT and they had to have an IV for the contrast. When he was done, Keith contacted the transport department again and I was on my way back to the CT lab.

If you've never had a CT with contrast, let me tell you...it is a weird feeling when the dye goes into your body. You feel an overwhelming warmth, like hot, molten lava flowing through your veins starting at your arm and working its way down your body. The strangest sensation was when it reached my abdomen and then all of a sudden my pelvic area. I wish they had taken the time to explain how I was going to feel because I really thought I'd wet my pants right there on the CT table! The warm liquid gives you that sensation but I didn't know that until after the fact! After the CT I was taken back to the room to wait again.

At 12:00 a.m. the doctor came in and said my XRAYS, CT, BIOMARKERS, and all the blood work looked okay but they needed to run another Tronipin test again. The nurse came in to draw more blood and run the test. At 1:00 a.m. the doctor came in to tell me that they were going to let me go home if I'd promise to follow up with a cardiologist today.

Jamie, my youngest daughter, and I left the hospital at 1:30 a.m. and headed home to try and get a few hours of sleep. We were both exhausted. I tried my best to be quiet and not wake my sleeping husband, but he immediately woke up to get an update. (He'd been with me at the hospital until Jamie arrived and then had to leave so he could get up and go to work at 5:00 this morning.) After I told him what was going on, he turned back over and went to sleep. I lay there for hours trying to relax and calm down enough to go to sleep.

This morning, I woke up around 6:30 a.m. At least I'd gotten a few hours of sleep. Today I'll go to have my radiation treatment done and then I'll head off to the cardiologist for a followup. My arms and ankles are black and blue from poor needle sticks. I hope the cardiologist doesn't think I'm a druggie! I just hope he can figure out what caused the chest pains last night and hopefully help me not to ever go through that again. It's a very scary feeling when your body is doing something you have no control over. I'll keep you posted as I find out more information. Hopefully, this was just another blip on the radar....