Showing posts from September, 2019

A tribute to Grocery Bag Lady

When we moved to our current neighborhood, we slowly got a feel for our surroundings. A certain neighbor sits on his front steps every morning, getting some fresh air. Another neighbor tends to have people over to play basketball on Sunday evenings. Yet another neighbor often sits outside with her dogs, yelling at them as they bark at passers-by. And then there's the lady with the grocery bag. I first noticed Grocery Bag Lady when she walked by our house. Since there are several stores in walking distance, I assumed she was returning home from an errand run. However, the next time I saw her, she was headed in the opposite direction, again carrying a grocery bag. The mystery was deepening. One day I saw Grocery Bag Lady gardening in front of her adorable yellow house – one of my favorite homes in the neighborhood. I was now even more perplexed because, each time I’d seen her, she was further in the neighborhood than her house was, so my errand-running theories simply couldn’t be

A room with a view

We're not where we planned to wake up today, but this sunrise helped immensely. Ramon was admitted to the hospital yesterday after running a fever. They don't believe it's anything serious, but we have to be extra vigilant while his immune system is at its lowest. Ramon's spirits are high, his appetite is hearty (minus the "omelet" he had for breakfast), and he's hoping to get out of here at the first opportunity.

Grief: A hard pill to swallow

Grief is very real. It’s exhausting, it’s sneaky, and it’s unpredictable. And it spans to all areas of loss – actual, perceived, or even anticipated loss. Growing up with cystic fibrosis and an overactive mind, I’ve been in stages of grief throughout my life. I grieve the thought of my own mortality. I grieve the loss of my past reality as my physical limitations change. I grieve the friends I’ve lost to this disease (and others). I also grieve the strangers I’ve lost to this disease. But, most recently, this year I’ve been grieving the loss of the hope I had that change was on the horizon for me. Last fall, I was fortunate to be selected for an exciting clinical trial. This was a first-of-its-kind medication for my genetic mutation, and preliminary data showed that it could and should be life-changing – a drug that would truly transform my world. Within weeks of starting, I was certain (and hoping) that I was on the placebo because I didn’t notice any change. For those 24 weeks, I

Yellow door

Earlier this year, we decided to paint the laundry room door a bright and cheerful yellow. Like most household projects, it ended up becoming way more complicated than originally anticipated. I sanded and scraped so much that my FitBit recognized it as outdoor cycling. Finally, on April 30, we installed the door and realized that it was (and had been) upside down. I texted a photo to a friend, requesting help coming up with a clever reason the door was upside down. We threw out a few ideas, but nothing stuck. 'It will come to me eventually,' I thought. Today I saw little Benny in the doorway and took a photo. I then remembered that the door was upside down, a thought that hadn't crossed my mind in a while. In that moment, I realized that, exactly a week after installing the door, we received Ramon's cancer diagnosis. With that, I present to you the meaning of the door... Yellow represents optimism and joy, but in some instances caution. When something is re

Oh my memoir

Yesterday I finished a four-part memoir writing class. When I saw it was being offered, I thought, 'Well, now's not really a good time,' but I was so wrong. Now was and is the perfect time to do anything that's tugging at your heart. Not only did I learn a lot about writing, but the class also taught me several life takeaways. Y'all ready for this? *cue Jock Jams* When I walked into the first session, I was a little anxious. Upon scanning the room, I saw people of various ages and backgrounds, none of whom appeared to "match" me, but I knew we had one thing in common: an interest in writing our story. However, as the weeks went on and people shared their writings, I realized that I could relate to every single person in the room. It reminded me that, if we dig beyond the surface, we'll unearth connections in [maybe previously] unexpected places. Sometimes our heart perceives things our eyes can't see. We also discussed several different writing