Support for LateToSchool

[latetoschool]

<p>Simply amazing stories here…I am not sure which one of the many is the most interesting…</p>

<p>I too am thrilled for Atkinson…obviously he did not allow any negative perceptions or stigmas to slow him down…</p>

[epistrophy]

<p>and another</p>

<p>

“Running Carries Airman Through Chemo Treatments”</p>

<p>Air Force Master Sgt. Michael Mann finished 27th out of 1738 runners who completed the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach, Va., March 19.</p>

<p>Even so, it was a milestone for Mann. He ran the race six months to the day after he completed chemotherapy treatment for lung cancer.</p>

<p>Mann made the run in two hours, 54 minutes and 26 seconds. His personal record is little under two and a half hours, when he finished fourth in the 2003 version of the same event.</p>

<p>“Now I have a baseline to work from, to get back to where I was before,” Mann said.</p>

<p>Mann is the non-commissioned officer in charge of administration and manpower at U.S. Joint Forces Command’s Joint Warfighting Center here. He balances the time demands that come with being a single father, having a military career and working on a college degree.</p>

<p>Time plays a big role in his life. He tells people, "I really didn’t have time for this illness.”</p>

<p>Mann became concerned about his health in late 2004 when his time in the 5K started to slip.</p>

<p>“I ran in the Armed Forces Marathon Championships for the Air Force in October 2004 and never really seemed to recover,” Mann said. “Things would get a little better, then they’d get worse. The main problem was I was tired most of the time.</p>

<p>“I had a really bad race and ran the slowest I’d run in 13 years. I decided it was time to go to the hospital and find out what was going on.”</p>

<p>His doctor found a spot on his lung and decided to run further tests. When the spot also showed up on a CAT scan, Mann’s doctor referred him to a specialist to get a biopsy.</p>

<p>“I asked him what was the worst it could be, and he said cancer,” Mann said. “I told him I never drink. I’ve never smoked. I run almost a hundred miles a week. I said there was no way I had cancer.”</p>

<p>Even though he was ill, Mann came in 12th in last year’s Shamrock Marathon, finishing the race in two hours, 47 minutes and 36 seconds. He’d run the same course 11 and a half minutes faster and finished seventh in 2004.</p>

<p>“I was already signed up,” Mann said. “I ran well, considering I didn’t know I was sick, but nothing like what I hoped to run.”</p>

<p>After that race he saw a thoracic surgeon at Naval Medical Center Portsmouth who immediately said it looked like cancer when he saw Mann’s test results. Mann began looking for other reasons to explain the spot and avoid major surgery.</p>

<p>“I asked him what else we could do?” Mann said. “They tried the biopsy, but didn’t get any tissue. The doctor told me the only thing left was to cut me open and see what it was. I asked him how much running I would miss, and he said a minimum of two weeks. I told him I had a race on June 4 and one July 4, and I could fit him in on June 6. He did my surgery on June 7.”</p>

<p>The surgeon removed the lower lobe of Mann’s right lung. Tests showed Mann had a non-small cell type lung cancer, which, according to the American Cancer Society, accounts for 87 percent of all lung cancer cases. Lymph nodes in the lobe above the one removed proved to be suspect, leading his surgeon to recommend chemotherapy.</p>

<p>Mann was back on the road in 22 days.</p>

<p>“I got to run for two and a half weeks and then it was time to start chemotherapy,” he said. “I never got sick through chemo, I think mainly because of my health level going in. But I did get tired and lost all my hair, including my eyebrows.</p>

<p>“I was able to run through chemo, because that was key for me. The doctor didn’t tell me I couldn’t run, so I aimed for six miles a day. I drove him nuts. He told me he didn’t usually have patients who try to run 50 miles a week during chemotherapy.”</p>

<p>“I had four treatments, spaced three weeks apart. I’d have a treatment on Monday, and then I’d run on Tuesday and Wednesday and take the rest of that week off. Chemo destroys bone marrow, so my knees would ache. But by the following Monday, I could run every day for two straight weeks before it was time for treatment again.”</p>

<p>Mann’s dedication to running and his refusal to accept limits to his training were sometimes difficult for his doctors to understand.</p>

<p>“My oncologist said it would take minimum of six months for my body to recover from chemo,” Mann said. “I’m sure that meant I was supposed to wait until that point before I actually started training for something like a marathon, but I told him I thought he was talking about an average person. I figured six weeks would be fine for me. He just hung his head.”</p>

<p>Mann returned to his normal routine after finishing his treatment and now runs nine miles a day during the week, with at least one 16-mile run on weekends. He’s currently in remission, but still goes in for blood work every three months. Fifteen percent of lung cancer patients survive five years. Mann said his oncologist gives him much better odds based on his physical condition and catching his illness early – more like a 75 percent.</p>

<p>“ The fifteen percent statistic is a little skewed because lung cancer diagnosis is usually so late,” Mann said. “By the time you’re showing symptoms, you’re in the later stages. You don’t have any nerves in your lungs that would tell you something is happening there. If I hadn’t gotten sick and my times hadn’t slowed down, it could have been much more advanced by now. It might have been too late to do anything.</p>

<p>“I tell people that it was by the grace of God. He knew what would get my attention, so he made me run slow!” Mann said. “I never went to the hospital unless it was affecting my running. Running is my identity. People know me as a runner.</p>

<p>“When I was in chemo, people would ask me, ‘Why don’t you take a rest?’ but that’s not what people expect me to do. They expect me to be running! It’s the one thing in my life that when I do it, I don’t feel like anything else can bother me. It’s all in my hands. Everything is on me.</p>

<p>“My main goal now is to be as good or better a runner than I was, even though my surgeon said I won’t be the same runner. I’m out to prove him wrong.”

</p>

<p>[U.S&lt;/a&gt;. Air Force Master Sgt. Michael Mann - DefendAmerica News Article](<a href=“http://www.defendamerica.mil/profiles/mar2006/pr032106dg2.html]U.S”>http://www.defendamerica.mil/profiles/mar2006/pr032106dg2.html)</p>

[epistrophy]

<p>and another</p>

<p>

“SURVIVE & thrive: ONE STROKE AT A TIME”</p>

<p>Nine months after lung cancer surgery, author P.H. Mullen has returned to swimming and is growing a little bit stronger each day.</p>

<p>“Survive and Thrive.” It’s an apt name for this new regular column, which focuses on people who have endured serious setbacks and used our great sport of swimming to survive…to adapt…and to thrive.</p>

<p>We’ll talk about everyday people-folks like you and me-celebrating life and their passion for churning through blue water.</p>

<p>Life is funny. The things you often think matter most-your best times, the size of your retirement portfolio, the prestige of your job or address-don’t matter a bit. They’re just ornaments giving your life color.</p>

<p>What matters is how fully you live in the face of stiff challenges…how well you rise to setbacks…how willing you are to adapt to changing realities.</p>

<p>In this column, you’ll read about swimmers such as South African Natalie Du Toit, a 20-year-old who lost her left leg below the knee in a scooter A accident in 2001 and who last autumn competed in-are you ready to comprehend this?-the 2004 Short Course World Championships in Indianapolis.</p>

<p>Now that’s thriving!</p>

<p>You’ll read about septuagenarian Masters relearning butterfly after suffering paralyzing strokes.</p>

<p>And heart-attack patients winning Masters nationals.</p>

<p>And tough-as-steel kids making weekly workouts in the face of significant illnesses.</p>

<p>Does this sound like anyone you know? Someone swimming in the next lane? If so, let us know.</p>

<p>We want to hear it.</p>

<p>STARTING PERSONAL</p>

<p>With this issue, we’ll start personal. Last spring, my doctor called with some test results.</p>

<p>She said, “Sit down.”</p>

<p>I laughed and said, “Relax, except for this weird cough I feel fantastic.”</p>

<p>It was true. That morning I had swum a 4,500-meter workout at my beloved Santa Clara Swim Club in California, partly leading the fastest lane. My intervals were nearly the same as they’d been in college 15 years earlier. I’d recently run my first marathon. Fitness and me: we walked hand-in-hand. I was 35 years old with two baby girls.</p>

<p>My doctor repeated, “Sit down.” I did. In a roundabout way it came out: I had lung cancer.</p>

<p>The world fell away And it kept falling.</p>

<p>You cannot know what a privilege it is to get up early in the morning and swim several thousand yards with your muscles burning until the day you take your seat in the waiting room of a cancer ward.</p>

<p>Today it’s nine months later. Surprise, I’m not dead.</p>

<p>That’s a remarkable statement because lung cancer wants to take you out. It spreads through your body and by the time you realize its existence, it’s often too late. In the “Swim Meet of Life,” it’s like being DQed on deck before the race starts.</p>

<p>But my tumor-an iceberg-shaped creature the size of a ping pong ball was a neuroendocrine, a rare slowgrower. They saw it; they caught it.</p>

<p>They entered through my back, a surgery called a thoracotomy, and they chopped out the whole area, leaving inside me too many staples to count. Tests say I’m clean. For now, it looks like I wasn’t DQed after all.</p>

<p>WONDERFUL PROBLEMS</p>

<p>What happens when they remove half your lung?</p>

<p>Here are two crazy facts you’ll only read here:</p>

<ul>
<li><p>First, you’ll never be fully balanced in the water again, as your body wants to bob on the side with the healthy lung that holds most of the air.</p></li>
<li><p>Second, you’ll have trouble swimming in a crowded lane without getting seasick because your chest is now a half-packed suitcase. Waves slosh your insides around.</p></li>
</ul>

<p>These are wonderful problems to have. They say I’m living.</p>

<p>I was told to prepare for a non-athletic life post-surgery The night before they cut me, I drove to the pool. In the dark, I swam a single 50-meter butterfly and got out. All I wanted: one last feeling of that beautiful, fluid motion. I kissed the water goodbye.</p>

<p>Then afterward, it was determined the tumor had apparently not spread. I got through the ICU, the morphine drips, the repeatedly collapsing lung. I went back to the pool. I said, “I’ll never swim any of my times again. Do I care?”</p>

<p>Day one, I managed two strokes. I saw stars and gasped for breath. I did a little more every day After two months, I could do a mile.</p>

<p>Three months after that, I was watching the Olympics on TV. Michael Phelps swam 17 races. In the same order, I swam them also, stopping as I needed on the walls.</p>

<p>Michael set the world record in the 400 meter IM in 4:08. It took me 8:30, waaay slower than it used to. But it’s a time I’m darn proud of.</p>

<p>It’s no longer about the time. It’s no longer about winning or losing. (Really, was it ever?)</p>

<p>It’s about taking one stroke after the other. It’s about growing a little bit stronger each day.

</p>

<p>[SURVIVE</a> & thrive: ONE STROKE AT A TIME | Swimming World and Junior Swimmer | Find Articles at BNET.com](<a href=“http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa3883/is_200503/ai_n13248508]SURVIVE”>http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa3883/is_200503/ai_n13248508)</p>

[latetoschool]

<p>Epistrophy, thank you for that. This is indeed about growing a little stronger each day, if possible. Amazing what the combnation of wbr and chemotherapy simultaneously will do to a person. </p>

<p>I saw my primary oncologist yesterday and got essentially the same report as last week; lungs sound as if they’re clear. I don’t feel like myself, but, still feel better than last week, etc. My daughter tells me in terms of how I look I have greatly improved; she said a few weeks ago I looked “sickly” and now seem to be much better. </p>

<p>I do have new instructions - take vitamins, which I have never done. Blood counts have been coming back normal but vitamins apparently protect against some of the categories from dropping (???). I also learned that Gatorade is a better option than water, so, I have starting drinking that, as well. </p>

<p>I keep reminding myself that most people in my situation, with my diagnosis and treatment scenario are in bed 24/7, too sick to care for themselves. I have the priviledge of going to work every day; I can travel, drive, eat, care for myself, and even go shopping for 10 hours a day, followed by a movies, dinner, etc. I am very, very lucky and very thankful for this. I am also thankful to leave the doctor’s office with instructions to take vitamins vs. perscriptions for drugs. </p>

<p>It is seriously intensely helpful to read these stories of very athletic people who end up with lung cancer, and, even though most of them have surgical options, it helps to be reminded (even if it seems repetitious) that it is possible to fight this battle, win, and maybe even recover some of one’s prior level of physical fitness.</p>

[ADad]

<p>

A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.

</p>

<p>–Mohandas Gandhi</p>

[churchmusicmom]

<p>

I’m convinced that the whole world is better when we, as individuals, capture and savor each moment as the gift that it is, embrace the challenge or joy of it, and thereby transform it with the magic of creative possibility. Life, for the most part, is what we make it. We have been given a responsibility to live it fully, joyfully, completely, and richly, in whatever span of time God grants us on this earth.

</p>

<p>–Luci Swindoll as quoted in the book Cultivating Contentment</p>

<p>I read this and immediately thought of you, LTS!</p>

[latetoschool]

<p>You know, I really need some help cultivating some contentment right now. This is the story of Letting Go, Part II, and, it really, really hurts. </p>

<p>Some weeks ago, I came to know that my daughter does not belong in Washington. It wasn’t that she was unhappy or anything - in fact, she didn’t utter one word of complaint, ever. It was more that when her young man called her, the rapport between them was as it is between the very, very happy and long married: frick and frack, they can finish each other’s sentences, etc. They have been dating exclusively for 18 months and still they talk/text 20 times a day, and, when he came up with a house to rent, four bedrooms, I supported her desire to take one of those bedrooms: it was the right thing to do, not just because of the relationship with him (which seems to be headed towards permanancy though the “m” word hasn’t been spoken aloud yet - but even if it never does, they are best friends), but also her career opportunities, and mostly because she has the absolute right to move forward with her life, and to get out in the world, and do, and be. She should never be handcuffed to an ill parent, and while if I asked her to stay with me and see me through this, she would (that was her intention in coming here) and she would do so with the same positive, productive attitude that she brings to everything else, I just simply felt it was wrong on so many levels to ask her to do so. And when it came about that the young man is now awarded val of his major, graduating summa, that sealed it for me; when he called last night and said he has decided to pursue his Ph.D. that sealed it even more. Plus she just simply “fits” in Miami. It is a place where she has wonderful opportunities, and a very large circle of incredibly supportive friends. </p>

<p>So this afternoon I put her - and our now cancer-free cat - on a plane back to Miami. I vowed I will not cry and I will not permit myself to cave to sadness. I spent the entire Metro ride from DCA back to my office struggling not to cry; so far I have succeeded. </p>

<p>But it’s hard. For many weeks now my daughter has given me simply amazing support. She has taken me to every single doctor’s appointment, taken care of my groceries, cooking, dry cleaning - you name it - she took care of it. All I have had to do is do my work, which for me, is pure joy. But it isn’t even the material support - example, if with the disc situation I complained that it was difficult to walk too fast, she would respond with something like “what a gift it is to be able to walk”; etc., every single statement I might have made that was less than 100% positive would be countered by some very emphatically positive statement from her. (I know it’s tempting to say “the apple doesn’t fall far”, but, the reality is she was just simply born this way - always seeing the positive, the possibilities, the glass half full. I have just been the custodian, the diaper changer, tuition payer, etc.)</p>

<p>And even beyond that, just the pure joy and pleasure of her company added so much to every day. And on top of that, I will miss our cat, too…but, he loves her; he sleeps with her and pretty much is glued to her side, so, it didn’t make sense to keep him with me. </p>

<p>We do have plans; she comes back in June for an appointment I have; I can go to Miami any time outside of medical events; we have something scheduled just about every month for the next several months. But you can imagine the “what ifs” that some into my head, uninvited, and so…</p>

<p>I am trying to take a page out of her book…I think if I can focus on my work tonight, and through the rest of the week, this will all soon feel o.k. again.</p>

[SBmom]

<p>LTS, maybe cry a few tears of joy-- that you have such a beautiful relationship with your daughter, one that is a true gift to both of you.</p>

[calmom]

<p>LTS…there’s no way to help with the “missing your daughter” problem, but is it possible for you to adopt another kitty? (I know that brings with it some issues in terms of planning for cat-care when you need to travel… but I am sure you can line up a cat-sitter for those times)</p>

[epistrophy]

<p>and another (in Massachusetts)</p>

<p>

“Senior center takes part in Relay For Life”</p>

<p>Pat Baker of Marshfield had been taking care of her husband, who was on a feeding tube and oxygen 24 hours a day, before he died of cancer.</p>

<p>It wasn’t long after, in April 2007, that Baker felt a lump in her breast. She had a mammogram and a sonogram, and looked at the photos. It was a lump with little jagged edges, the kind of unevenness cancerous growths have. She went to the Breast Care Center in Weymouth where doctors recommended eight treatments of chemotherapy, a radical mastectomy and 33 treatments of radiation.</p>

<p>She had a breast MRI, a CT scan, which uses X-rays; and a bone scan. Afterward, when she met with an oncologist, he had more news for her. No cancer was spreading to her bones, but the CT scan revealed a grapefruit-size tumor on her right ovary.</p>

<p>“When I got in my car to go home, I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, pray or swear,” Baker said. “So I did all three. I now had to get back on Route 3 during rush hour and try to remain calm.”</p>

<p>Baker survived, and not just the cancer. Like the two other Marshfield women she met with last week at the council on aging to discuss surviving cancer — breast cancer survivor Marilyn McQuade and lung cancer survivor Mary Lou Shutt — Baker is optimistic about life.</p>

<p>“One doctor said, ‘Your husband had cancer, your daughter had cancer, you have cancer. Why are you still smiling?’ I said, ‘What’s the alternative?’” Baker said.</p>

<p>Throughout her treatment, Baker administered shots of Neupogen, which helps with chemotherapy, to herself.</p>

<p>“It affects how you look at life in general. I’m so thankful everything came out OK,” said Shutt.</p>

<p>“This has a positive outlook, and I think that’s significant,” said Joan Wineman, a member of the planning committee for the Relay for Life team at the senior center. “I feel edified.”</p>

<p>Marshfield is hosting Relay for Life for the fifth time this year, said Karen Campbell, who is a volunteer for the event. The relay consists of teams of volunteers from Marshfield, Duxbury, Pembroke and Hanover, and each team camps out overnight and walks around the track in relay form to raise money. Last year there were around 60 teams, with an average of 15 people on a team.</p>

<p>“You’ll have teams that will raise up to $30,000,” said Campbell.</p>

<p>This year’s event will be Friday, June 20, and Saturday, June 21, at Marshfield High School. All proceeds go to the American Cancer Society.</p>

<p>Baker, McQuade and Shutt, who met for the first time despite being regulars at the senior center, spent an afternoon discussing what it was like to find out they had cancer — they agreed it was like getting hit by a truck —the intricacies of their treatments, the fatigue of chemo, losing hair and the embarrassment of friends who bristled at the question, “How are you?”</p>

<p>“Friends look at you funny sometime,” Shutt said.</p>

<p>“I have friends I e-mail in other parts of country, and I e-mailed people a newsletter. People don’t want to talk to you face to face and ask you questions,” Baker said.</p>

<p>Two very close friends of McQuade’s didn’t understand what she was going through until they saw her, and were shocked.</p>

<p>“They said, ‘You were bald, and we couldn’t believe it,’” McQuade said.</p>

<p>Shutt was diagnosed in December of 2006 with lung cancer, and was operated on in February 2007. She was going to doctors for emphysema, and was eventually diagnosed after being sent to a pulmonary specialist. McQuade was at an annual mammogram, had to get a needle biopsy, and said she went blank when she got the results; she asked her daughter whether positive was good or bad, and couldn’t even think. She is currently being monitored in three-month intervals.</p>

<p>Shutt comes to the senior center for drama classes, McQuade for exercise, and Baker to help out with data entry and teach a creative writing class. </p>

<p>Their individual experiences didn’t seem to yield much in the way of advice, but Shutt said she’d tell others to hang in and hope for the best. Baker said to ask as many questions as possible.

</p>

<p>[Senior</a> center takes part in Relay For Life - Marshfield, MA - Marshfield Mariner](<a href=“http://www.wickedlocal.com/marshfield/news/x647000250/Senior-center-takes-part-in-Relay-For-Life]Senior”>http://www.wickedlocal.com/marshfield/news/x647000250/Senior-center-takes-part-in-Relay-For-Life)</p>

<p>and another (in Michigan)</p>

<p>

“Relay For Life draws 600 plus”</p>

<p>The American Cancer Society Relay For Life was a 24-hour experience that took place on May 3-4 at the Dearborn Ford Community & Performing Arts Center, where survivors, their families, and those who have been touched by cancer were able to come together in an effort to celebrate survivors, remember those lost to cancer, and to fight back against the disease.</p>

<p>The first day began with the singing of the National Anthem by Erica Green and included many interesting activities from boxcar derbies, fashion shows, face paintings and balloon making, to Tug O’ War, yoga classes, and ice carving demonstrations.</p>

<p>For survivors, the relay was more than just an opportunity to fight back. In fact, the relay not only provided the community with activities, food, and fun, but also created a source of strength and hope.</p>

<p>**“The reason I do the relay is to spread the word to people that it is important to stay in tune to your body. There are many people, no matter what age, who can become diagnosed with cancer,” said 33-year-old Carrie Noble.</p>

<p>With 48 teams and 604 registered participants, there were many competitions and activities taking place.</p>

<p>Noble, a survivor of both breast and lung cancer is one of 10 members of “Team Hope.” Their theme, “laughter is the best medicine,” shows that each of their experiences makes it easier to support each other.**</p>

<p>Even with two small children, Noble is able to keep her hope. Through the love of her children, she finds strength and courage to move forward.</p>

<p>“My 8-year-old son did not understand too much in 2005 when I first found out I had cancer, but when it spread to my lungs I had to tell my son the worse-case scenario — that it was possible for me to die,” Noble said.</p>

<p>“There was a lot of emotion, but I was pregnant when I was diagnosed and that was the biggest thing for me.”</p>

<p>“I was terrified that my children were not going to have a mother. My biggest fear is that my children will one day have to grow up without me,” Noble added. “My children are the reason I continue to fight. I want them to see that you can’t fold under pressure.”</p>

<p>The event ended with a hot breakfast served by Cornerstone Christian Church, a closing ceremony thanking the survivors, participants, sponsors, companies, and organizations, and the final lap, where all participants walked together.</p>

<p>Last year, the American Cancer Society raised $119,000 by the end of relay season.</p>

<p>“This year, we raised $117,400. The goal was set for $135,000. Although we didn’t achieve that goal as of yet, we are still asking for donations,” said American Cancer Society Event Chair, Debbie Malyn. "Hopefully we can pull through and meet our goal by the end of the relay season this year.</p>

<p>“This was a very amazing event. It was very cool to see the community come together for both a celebration of life and a fight for a good cause.”

</p>

<p>[Relay</a> For Life draws 600 plus 05/07/08](<a href=“http://www.pressandguide.com/stories/050708/loc_20080507006.shtml]Relay”>http://www.pressandguide.com/stories/050708/loc_20080507006.shtml)</p>

[binx]

<p>I see my S about twice a year. I miss him terribly. I am not sick, and I don’t “need” him in any way. I just enjoy being with him. We talk for an hour or more every Saturday. I saw him 4 times when I was in DC in April - 3 meals and a ride to the airport. Probably won’t see him again till Christmas. (Maybe Thanksgiving, if we’re lucky.) It was wonderful to see him so happy, so comfortable in his own skin, so settled in DC. I raised him to be productive and independent, so I cannot cry foul now that it has happened. But I still miss him.</p>

<p>I know how you feel. I have a husband and a cat. And two other children (also far from home, who will likely never live with us again.) But I still miss my first-born.</p>

<p>Your pride in your D, and your love for her, shows in every single post. Reminds me of the saying about roots and wings. You’ve done a heck of a job giving her roots, and a fine job with the wings as well. In between visits with her, you can concentrate on getting well!</p>

[F.O.LTS]

<p>

taken care of my groceries, cooking, dry cleaning - you name it - she took care of it. All I have had to do is do my work, which for me, is pure joy.

</p>

<p>Even if you weren’t fighting a battle against cancer, the Letting Go moments would have been painful but…what’s the saying about having the shoulders to carry the burden? You are doing it. You must have the shoulders.</p>

<p>Practical suggestion: advertise for and hire a young housekeeper/PA to attend to all of those day to day needs. A full-time housekeeper/PA is a wonderful blessing to have, with or without cancer. If anything, it might make a great summer job for a young IR student.</p>

[aibarr]

<p><em>hugs and more hugs</em>.</p>

[bethievt]

<p>Another vote for a housekeeper. You should be able to find someone you feel comfortable with. It won’t be your daughter, but you will have the added joy of knowing you have sent your D off to the life you want her to have.</p>

[paying3tuitions]

<p>What a bittersweet departure. How well you have done raising her! It’s generous of you to let her push forward to become herself, whatever that means for her. I’m very glad you know the man in her life and approve so fully of him. He’d better continue to treat her right or we’ll be right on him. Does he realize he has all these nosey cyber in-laws (even without the “m” word)? </p>

<p>All the best to them and you. “Them and you” must be odd to read, but in a way you’ve just enlarged the circle of people who care about you by one young man.</p>

[shelley14]

<p>I think this means that your remarkable daughter sees that you are well on your way to a remarkable recovery! And, you have brought her up well - to be independent which can bring its own pain to us moms!</p>

[NYMomof2]

<p>You did the right thing sending her to Miami, LTS. And she did the right thing, insisting on being with you for the past few months. I’m sure that the bond between you has only grown stronger as a result of sharing the past few months. You have every right to be sad - shed those tears!</p>

<p>And take those vitamins - and I will put in another plug for fish oil supplements. There is a great deal of research emerging about the benefits of these supplements for many conditions.</p>

[Karen_Colleges]

<p>LTS- I want to be like you when I grow up.
That is, I want my relationships with my kids to be like yours. </p>

<p>Thanks for sharing.</p>

[mafool]

<p>LTS: I am a believer in the cathartic benefit of a good cry. We were given the ability and the urge to cry for a reason. It is not weakness to cry for joy, to cry for pain, to cry for sadness, or any combination of reasons. It serves a purpose.</p>

<p>The trick is to cry, wipe our eyes, and then carry on. (To be repeated as needed!)</p>

<p>Blessings to you , your wonderful daughter, and her young man.</p>

[churchmusicmom]

<p>I remember my very wise father telling me that, in essence, the entire process of raising a child consists of letting them go a little bit more each and every day, starting with their birth. That is, if you do the job right!</p>

<p>And you obviously have done an absolutely outstanding job with your daughter. I do sympathize with your missing her…I know I miss mine terribly! Small consolation, I know, but you have many, many friends here and I know you have many IRL. And I second the idea of a housekeeper/assistant. You definitely should focus on the joy of your work!</p>

<p>As always, many prayers…</p>