When Hubby was first diagnosed, we asked about diet and exercise. “That’s like closing the barn door after the horse has gotten out,” said one oncologist (not the oncologist we ended up hiring).
One urologist said, “I heard lycopene is good for prostate cancer, and tomatoes have lycopene, so you might want to eat more tomatoes.”
“Good,” said Hubby out of earshot of the doctor. “I’ll add more tomatoes to my Big Macs and I’ll be just fine.”
Photo credit: Pixabay
My adult children encouraged me to get back into public speaking. But Hubby and I had always told our story together and I was somewhat fearful to present alone. What if no one laughed at the humor?
And then an invitation last week to speak to nursing students. Who laughed in all the right places. (And I may have made a couple of them cry, which wasn’t very nice of me.)
Photo credit: Pixabay
Daughter Summer is losing her playfully-sarcastic edge. Last week I sent her this text: “Today I moved my wedding ring to my right hand.”
Summer: “Wow. Big step.”
I’m not sure who this girl is. The daughter I know would have shot back with something like: “Does this mean I’m getting a new dad?!”
My friend, Mike, emailed a couple of photos of the first hike he did with us, before he was the official hike leader. The photos sent me pouring back through old hiking pictures that represent the hundreds of miles Hubby and I put in together.
My favorite pair of boots were in desperate need of new heels. “You’ve been having fun,” commented the shoe repair guy as he studied the damage.
“I walk with purpose.”
Photo credit: Unsplash
“A lady on a mission with determination,” he responded with a smile.
Why, yes. Yes, that would be me.
Snow falling cold and beautiful. Warm fuzzy scarf wrapped two and three times around my neck. Hot lunch in a fire-lit restaurant with new and old friends.
Noticing blessings and naming them is one of the things that saved me while standing watch as Hubby slipped away, as I stumbled into widowhood.
Thanksgiving lists. Not just for the month of November, I’m thinking. But rather a year-round sport.
I now know everything there is to know about curling, that most fascinating of all Olympic sports.
Four players to a team. The first player bowls the 42-lb marble stone, which glides down a long runway where it can careen off the other players’ stones and send them sprawling (the stones, not the players). The closest stone to the intended goal earns points. While a whole lot of sweeping is going on.
Basically, a combination of bowling, pool, horseshoes, shuffleboard and janitorial services. On ice.
Janitorial services on ice at the new Bend Parks & Rec ice rink
Daughter Summer sent a link to a short video featuring the daughters of Stuart Scott, ESPN announcer and SportsCenter host who died after a lengthy battle with cancer.
today.com
It is a beautifully-made video that ends with these words, in their father’s voice:
When you die, it does not mean you lose to cancer. You beat cancer … by how you live, why you live and the manner in which you live.
My luggage got lost somewhere in Airportland. The return flight from New Jersey was by way of Chicago to Los Angeles to Oregon. I de-planed in Chicago to this v-mail: “Due to delays, you won’t make your connection in LA and so we’ve rescheduled your flight for tomorrow.” What?!
A quick phone call to the airline established a new route home. One seat left. I made the flight. My luggage didn’t.
Pixabay stock photo
In years past, I drafted lists of goals at the beginning of each new year. In several categories. And then Hubby got cancer—which wasn’t on any of my lists—and our main objective was to live as fully as possible while he still had life.
Photo credit: Unsplash
And then my uber-efficiency kicked in and I started reverting these unwritten *live-well* goals back into written lists. In several categories. (A control issue, do you think?)
Copyright © 2026 Marlys Johnson
