Ninth Page

Entry Forty One


Unlucky – Better Known as the Family Curse

April 18, 2018

Not complaining, mind you, just stating facts, as they are and have been as far back as I can remember my family line going – which is about as far back as my grandparents. I am guessing there are those of you reading this who can identify with “The Family Curse” as it might apply to your family.


The standing in line at the grocery or department store – or any line, for that matter; curse.

I will carefully select the line that appears to have the least number of people in it and looks to be moving along at a good pace. Inevitably, something will happen so that I will end up being the last to get to the register, after about everyone else who was in a line has checked out and left.


The, We have been forgotten and become invisible at this restaurant; curse.

More times than you would think freaky, we have been ushered to a table, given menus to peruse, then left alone, waiting for the waiter to return and take our order.

Like red-headed stepchildren, it seems the restaurant staff have put us in the magically hidden seating area of the restaurant, and we no longer exist. Thus was the case for the following outing…


I recall the time when my family had made “way-in-advance,” somewhat pricey, reservations for a fine dining river boat excursion on the American River in Sacramento, California.

We boarded the boat, late that afternoon, quite excited by the promise of a marvelous meal, a gorgeous view of the American River as it cruised from one point to another; giving the passengers up-close views of fishing boats, party boats, people picnicking and fishing along the riverbanks, the local wildlife found on the water and amid the rushes on the banks of the waterway.


Come dinner time, we were seated at our table, as waiters brought the most delectable dishes to those seated at tables around us. Mouthwatering! The smells so tantalizing as to cause one’s stomach to rumble in anticipation.


And as the light of day outside went from late-afternoon, to early evening dusk – we sat, stone like, as a simmering disillusionment began to percolate through our good moods, as we belatedly realized – we had been forgotten.

Yes, given our family history; our family curse – we should have moved faster to discern and remedy the situation, but we didn’t.

By the time we motioned a waiter over to discuss what had happened, we were advised they would try to scrape together meals for us from the left-overs in the kitchen – NO LIE!


After eating our most disappointing meal in an empty restaurant aboard ship, we were able to step out onto the deck and observe the river at night.

As the boat was docking, we were gifted an unexpected and delightful fireworks display that was stunning over the water of the river. Though not a feature of our cruise package, it turned into the best part of the evening. The fireworks were being shot off after the game at the ball park just south of us.

Oh, hey! I forgot to mention; we did get a “family portrait” of us that the staff had taken of every guest of the cruise just before they boarded the boat. Plus, we got a small wineglass, as our souvenir. Oh, boy!


If you have been reading my blog, you already know what kind of good fortune I have at doctor’s offices and such. No need to address them here. Suffice it to say, such is my family curse. 😬

Entry Forty Two


April 18, 2018

When I worked, I had to check the obituaries daily to see if I had lost any clients. I did this for decades. Whether it is habit, or curiosity – as I’m getting to that age where those folks listed in the obituaries are more likely to be former coworkers, friends, or neighbors. Sad, but true!


Anyway, every time I read so-and-so “passed away peacefully,” it rankles! What do they mean by this? Was the person drugged, by hospice medications, to the point that they were unconscious? Does it mean the individual was so far into their disease or other medical condition, that they were unaware what was happening to them when they died?


Or does it mean that they were conscious and aware, lucid and able to communicate that they were in a place of peace; a state of serenity and tranquility – accepting of their state of mind and body? If it is the latter – I am “good” with knowing they passed away peacefully.


Another term that I find irksome is: He/she died of natural causes. At the age of 40? At the age of 35? At the age of 50? Yes, if a person has a congenital condition, this would be an honest application of that term. But I often think it is a way to skirt the true cause of death…

Just how my mind kinda veers off, at times, at a quirky angle and then questions: Why?


:: ~ ~ ~ :: * * * :: ~ ~ ~ ::


:: ~ ~ ~ :: * * * :: ~ ~ ~ ::

I got my MRI results today. No brain cancer. YAY! Happy, happy!
Now, I guess you’ll just have to understand if you catch me singing, “If I only had a brain!” Or at least a brain not affected by cancer drugs foremost, stress, fear, worry, depression, other medications, the reality of my situation, and other medical diagnoses (e.g. Sjogren’s, Fibromyalgia, Hypoparathyroidism)


Entry Forty Three

April 21, 2018

I’ve been thinking… It is easier to be in a negative mindset than to labor to pull yourself up, into a positive space – “drawing up into your world zone.” The thing about the easier way is that it will eat away at you; just as cancer can do to your body – being a defeatist will erode your mind and emotions and eventually it will reflect in your physical well being and health – infusing it with pessimism and failure.

I’ve been pondering this, because, I’ve put up my shields and find myself dwelling in a fatalistic zone. And the thing about subsisting in this despondent, hopeless realm is that the bleak orientation increases exponentially, feeding upon itself, and burying any hope, joy, or inspiration; making overcoming this “dead domain” near impossible. Eventually, your eyes see only murkiness and shadows; while your heart harbors only despair and defeat. What is left is a ghost of who you are, shambling along; lost and beaten, in constant pain and ruination.

Wow, the Easy Way is wicked and corrupt. Like a premature death, it hoodwinks its victim and entombs their spirit-soul in a cloak of darkness.

Do you know how EASY it would be to snap, and totally lose my sanity? And at that point I feel my sanity would be irretrievable. Do you know how CLOSE I have come to it, or how often? The easy way is the worst way…

So, instead of dropping down into that nether world of confusion and gloom, I elect to choose the Hard Way; to fight to envelope myself in the light and fill my world with prospect, peace, and understanding. Doing so will imbue my world in beauty and strength – strength to lift into my world zone, all that is good and right and a godsend. My spirit-soul will thrive and grow in revelation and promise. The Creator will be with me and He shall direct my way.

“The tragedy of life is not death, but what we let die inside of us while we live.” –Norman Cousins

Entry Forty Four

April 21, 2018


Fireflies, to me, are magic. We don’t get them here in California, which seems criminal to me. I was able to see them when I would visit relatives back east. I’d have to say, the highlight of each visit was being able to witness the fireflies emerge in the early dusk, over the green grassy meadows and twinkling in the trees and shrubs. There is nothing else like them!


Nature’s Tiny Lantern Lights

Amid indigo layers of twilight,

stars wink brightly in to sight.

Verdant grasses, cool and plush,

quiet footfalls; in the glen–a hush.

The sultry night enfolds me,

in a summery embrace.

It sighs and whispers at my ear,

Look upon the lea, find the magic that is near.

From the ground they slowly rise,

the dusk-enchanted fireflies.

Night’s escorts putting on a show,

flashing pulses of yellow-green they glow.

These tiny creatures of twilight,

are the Earth’s heartbeat, given form.

They that herald each summer night,

carried on the breath of dreams,

are in fleeting beauty borne.

The color of sunlight on new winter rye,

is captured in nature’s tiny lantern lights.

And a smiling part inside me, soaring . . .

. . . floats with them, in their flight.

© K. Pippig

:: ~ ~ ~ :: * * * :: ~ ~ ~ ::


Magic in the Touch

How I savor summer nights,

and evenings in spring

when days grow longer,

and the dusk doth bring,

like jewels capering

on a spider’s silken string,

tiny lanterns gliding

on invisible wings.

How seeming right, I realize,

the color of their light.

How like a precious gemstone,

the sweet, familiar sight.

There surely is no mistaking,

that their golden-verdant glow,

is like the gorgeous hue

of the August peridot!

And should by happy circumstance,

I’m allowed to join them in their dance,

I’ll lift my outstretched hands high

and if one of them doth alight

I’ll cup it tenderly and draw it nigh.

I’ll laugh and smile, dip and twirl

When breathless, I shall pause

to gaze up at the stars a’whirl

and offer my silent applause.

If then my tiny visitor decides

the time has come to depart

to join its twinkling kindred

a’dancing in the dark . . .

I’ll bid goodbye

and give my thanks

all with a happy sigh,

for the magic in the touch

. . . of the gentle firefly.

© K. Pippig

:: ~ ~ ~ :: * * * :: ~ ~ ~ ::



Yesterday, my oncologist renewed the prescription drug that my primary physician had earlier removed from my medication arsenal. That is a huge relief and the weight of having to “deal” with the absence of that drug has been lifted. In addition: Yesterday, my oncologist prescribed a drug that may help some with my forgetfulness and brain fog. I’m open to trying it; if it doesn’t work, fine. If it does help some, I’m delighted.


Entry Forty Five

April, 25, 2018

Today I went in for my second IV Fluid Infusion. The doctor ordered a total of eight. I have had two now and the staff at the Infusion Center was gracious enough to schedule the remaining six appointments weekly, on Thursdays, in the afternoon.

I have found since taking the cancer drugs I began in January, I sweat very little; I have no oil to my skin anymore; and my skin is very dry. Consequently, I am experiencing problems with my bowels (constipation and and resulting diarrhea from meds I take to counter the constipation,) dizziness, weakness, headaches, and other symptoms of dehydration. Thus, the reason my oncologist wishes me to have regular IV Fluid Infusions.

I clocked my session today. They got me in about 25 minutes after my arrival and got everything set up for the infusion. Once they got the bag going, it took about an hour.

:: ~ ~ ~ :: * * * :: ~ ~ ~ ::

The following haiku represents the many phases of the “new me” living my “new norm.”

Wind rushing past me
Wet sadness blows from my face
Driving past my past

Now, onto some haiku I wrote when I was first getting chemo, after my first diagnosis. I HATED getting the chemo. I could taste is as soon as it was put into my vein. I could smell it on my skin. Taste it on my tongue. I ended up experiencing spontaneous bleeding of my gums and nose while at work. My hair quickly began falling out and literally leaving a circle of hair around my desk chair. When I was in my car with the windows rolled down and a good breeze circulating through the car, my hair would blow off my head, swirl around me, before being blown out the windows or onto the car’s floor and seats.

I dreaded going to my chemo sessions, which I had arranged to get after work; or at least close to the time I’d get off from work, so as not to interfere with my daily work hours. On the days I was to go into the cancer center, dread would build up in me and it was all I could do to make myself go. I was a mess, and just about the time I knew I could not go through with it, I would get a delivery of daisies in a vase of water with a card from my mom.  Or a vase of colorful flowers would be hand delivered to me by my mother, with a note of encouragement.

I would cry and smile each time she did this, but it gave me the courage to go into the center and get my chemo. Often, my mother offered to accompany me. I usually begged her not to go, as I would often wait two hours before the oncologist would see me and then it was a while to get the chemo – too long a wait, and really no reason for her to have to spend her time just sitting around. Often, I could not keep her from following me in her car, and being there for me.

Even now, after taking my cancer pills, I can smell it on my skin and in my urine. I can taste it on my tongue. A reminder that I am not the me I was before my diagnosis.


Bruised brow, lids heavy
with tears, white-shot veins burn hot
stab the pupil… dread


Daisies with gold hearts
White pot, yellow bow, a card
Thinking of you… love



Red ribbon tied ’round
Vase of flowers and water
Balm, for pain dreaded


Sometime I will write of the radiation I received after my second diagnosis, but not now, for this is enough darkness to pour over for one day; for you and for me.

Tenth Page

4 thoughts on “Ninth Page”

  1. Listening to you tell your story, I don’t think our family can compare. But this will allow me to share a story with you that we will always remember. It was the early 1970’s and we had two children a toddler and an infant. In our paternal wisdom we decided to take them to downtown Chicago to attend the Ringling Brothers circus which was being held at the Medinah Temple in Chicago. One of our friends was a member of the Shriners and we had front row seats.
    In order to make this as pleasant as possible we did not want to hunt for a parking space or walk for blocks from a parking lot, so we decided to parked in a large parking garage directly across the street from the temple. It was pricey but we knew we would be getting out late, therefore we thought it a good idea.
    The show was wonderful, we left arrived back at the garage turned in our receipt and waited for them to bring our car to street level. We waited and waited and waited, the crowds started to thin out but we were still in the same place. I commented to Sheila, “wouldn’t it be funny if we were the last ones left and they could not find our car” Well my crystal ball must have been very clear because that is just what happened. Two hours of waiting later we finally had our car brought down.
    I certainly hope that you have received word from your Doctors by the time you read this and that positive steps are being made in your treatment. God is light and we look for God to lead us out of the darkness and into his warm healing light.

    All our love and prayers,
    Sheila & Bob

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, my gosh! That you had to wait two hours until they brought your car to you is like a nightmare! Like something I’d go through. LOL! At least the circus show was great and enjoyed by your family. I’ve been to the Ringling Brothers circus twice, I think. One of those times, I paid for front row seats, not wanting to miss a thing and have the best advantage of seeing it all! Well, at the beginning of the show, as they paraded all the animals and performers around the arena, right next to the front row folks – the tiger cages came within view, paused in front of me, and as I watched, one of the tigers circled round in his cage, then stopped still and, with his rear end facing me, let loose a long, hot stream of pee! It was the stinkiest smelling pee a person could imagine. And I had to wear that and smell that for the rest of the show! True story 😣 Another example of – The Family Curse. 🤣

      Liked by 1 person

  2. About three years ago, I slipped on a sheet of ice and broke my wrist. I thought my worst possible scenario might be that I would never be able to fiddle properly again. God gave me strength during my healing. I refused to take pain medications, because I wanted to be in touch with my physical pain. Miraculously, I healed and God gave my left pinkie more strength than ever to reach the higher notes on the fiddle. Kathy your heath issues are major hurdles, but somehow God will give you the strength to visualize your body repairing.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: