Breast Cancer Awareness

As we close out Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I decided to post some reflections and a personal experience.  At first I was reluctant to share this because I don’t want sympathy, and I don’t want anyone staring at my chest when they run into me (ha ha) but the importance of getting checked regularly and consistently outweighs all modesty.  

This past August I made my annual trek to my favorite trip of the year, Houseboat on Lake Mead.  Sitting shotgun with one of my best buds, Jan, we agreed to cut the trip short so we could return home earlier than usual for more parties and events during the Labor Day weekend. 

Skipping details on how I ended up on a mechanical bull that weekend, I ended up in the emergency room with a miniscule tear to a leg ligament.  The nurse assigned to me fussed a bit as she reviewed my medical history – there was no recent record of a mammogram.   I laughed it off and told her I was too busy and that I was headed to a barbecue, with crutches. 

I remember her raising one eyebrow at me and saying, ‘My screen is flashing.  Get off my screen and go downstairs and get a mammogram.  It will take fifteen minutes.’   Like a little bad ass kid who has to go inside while his friends are still playing outside, I stomped as well as I could and headed down to radiology. 

Thirty minutes later I was home free to run the streets for the rest of the weekend.  So when I received a call several days later requesting another mammogram, it didn’t faze me in the least.  There was no medical history of anyone in my family with breast cancer, and besides, I exercised regularly, drank only bottled water, was very conscious of my intake of certain types of meat and occasionally ate like a vegetarian (my mindset).

A couple of days later I received another call. “Nothing to worry about,” said the nurse on the other line.  “Just a routine biopsy to check out a couple of abnormal cells.  There’s an 85% chance its nothing – probably just calcium buildup.” 

Now I felt just a tinge of nervousness. I arrived at my appointment and for the first time the possibility began to run through my head that I could be diagnosed.  I shook it off, went in for my procedure and went about my business.

So when I received the call a couple of days later that the abnormal cells were cancer cells, I felt sucker punched and stunned.  I also felt ashamed of myself that I was so naïve to think that a clean family history and occasionally vegging out would save me from the C word. 

I was diagnosed with a Stage 0 in situ carcinoma.  That means it was sitting in one place and there was the likelihood that it had not yet spread because it had been detected so early.

Two weeks ago, with a massive amount of prayers circulating (and my direct prayer to God asking for healing) I underwent surgery to remove the cancer cells.  Last week the surgeon informed me that there were no other cancer cells in the surrounding tissue they removed. My prayers and the fervent prayers of the saints were answered.  I may still have to undergo radiation and I’ve got to take meds, but I’m cancer free. I was overwhelmed with the support and love from my daughters, family members and friends and I share this story simply to communicate that it doesn’t matter what your history is, one in ten women are susceptible to breast cancer.

I encourage every female to get regular check-ups.  If you don’t have insurance, Google free mammograms in your area.  Please don’t think that because you are generally healthy, run, jog, ride your bike, ski, white water raft, climb mountains, eat like a vegetarian and have no history that you are not prone.  I mean, you are a super woman, no doubt, but breast cancer does not discriminate.   Get checked out. Annually. Please.

Love,

Robyn

The Lighter Side of Christmas - A 2014 Christmas Story

I was visiting my nine-year old grandson one cold and overcast December Saturday. Delighted to see me, he gave me a warm hug and immediately displayed his newest app on his smart phone - a Santa meter. He held it up to my face and explained, "The Santa meter decides whether you've been naughty or nice." As he pushed the meter activation button, my eyes became wide with anticipation. We both watched as the meter needle swung to the naughty side, bounced and then suddenly became very still. Then the app crashed. He looked at me, confused, and then he cried out, "You broke it!" I smiled and nodded as he ran away. Cuz that's how I roll Santa. The End

Happy Veteran's Day

Happy Veteran's Day! I had the honor of hearing Mike Ehredt speak today. A touching and honorable story. He ran a marathon every day for 81 days and placed a flag at each mile he ran with a war veteran's name attached to the flag. http://youtu.be/GJokaiyJNVA

A 'Whale' of a Proposal

Beautiful Love story of how my new son-in-law proposed to my youngest daughter. "After dating Liz for just a short while, I realized that she was "the one". A year later, the next big question was, how do I propose to her? Then one day, the idea came to me. Last year, Liz and I attempted to go to Shedd Aquarium but due to the long line we decided to leave. So, I decided that would be the perfect setting for the proposal. Furthermore, Liz’s younger sister would be in town for spring break and that would be the perfect cover for my plan! This time, I would buy our tickets online to avoid the crowds. While online, I discovered that Shedd Aquqarium created a very special way to propose. I was delighted with this new idea and the plot thickened. On Friday, April 5, I dropped off the ring to the event coordinator at the aquarium and she placed it in a black waterproof box. On Saturday, Jacil, Liz, and I headed to the aquarium. Liz had no idea what was about to happen. As it turns out, neither did I. About an hour after we arrived, the power in the whole aquarium went out! The employees started telling everyone they had to evacuate the building. As you can imagine my mind was racing. I thought my plans were ruined and more importantly, they still had the ring! However, I kept calm and jumped into action. I went to guest services, explained the situation and they made special arrangements so that we could proceed as planned. Liz didn’t know what was going on. She thought that I was doing all of this because Jacil was in town. After I spoke with a representative, an employee led us downstairs and backstage to get ready for our Beluga whale experience. Guided by a Shedd trainer, we learned all about beluga whales as we waded in the waters of the Grainger Beluga Encounter Habitat. We spent time feeding, and petting the whale. The whale could even play fetch. The trainer threw out a Frisbee and the whale brought it back. Remember that black water proof box from earlier? Well, the trainer then threw that into the water. This time, the whale brought it to Liz! She opened it and was completely surprised by the ring box inside. She said yes, gave me this hug which I thought was going to break my ribs, and then smiled for the camera." Witnessed by 250 guests, Demetrius and Elizabeth (Liz) were happily married in a beautiful wedding ceremony in Riverside, California. They are making their home in Dallas, Texas where Dr. Anderson is opening a chiropractic and wellness office.

Saying Goodbye to 'Uncle'

Though it usually isn’t spoken, allowed, repeated very often and denied if confronted, most people from large families usually have that one favorite aunt or uncle they worshipped and loved just a tad bit more than the others. What was it about that favorite aunt or uncle? Maybe they loved to cook and always had a spread when the family came to visit. It could have been the uncle that always pulled out his wallet and pushed some money into your hand or pocket along with a smile and the comment, ‘get yourself a little something.’ Then there was the relative that always had the no-nonsense advice – and a tall-tale to back it up. I had an uncle like that. He was my father’s oldest brother, and though he had kids who were old enough to be my parents, he played with us so much we thought of him as a big brother. We affectionately and simply called him ‘Uncle’ for as long as I can remember, and I was a teenager before I knew his real first name. I think some of my fondest memories of Uncle were the stories he told. I never knew if he was making them up, or if he was telling the truth, but I was always fascinated, as he was an amazing storyteller. Some of them bordered on the scandalous to a certain degree: “I used to be in love with my father’s brother’s wife. She was only five years older than me,” he confessed one day when I found a newspaper clipping on a history website that dated back to the 1940’s and told a story of her accidental death at the age of 30. Some were over-the-top lies that had us laughing for years after we heard the stories: He was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack once, and there was only one television. Trying to make him smile, I said, ‘Uncle – there is only one TV. If your roommate wants to watch channel 5 and you want to watch channel 7, what are you gonna do?’ He raised his eyebrows and said, “We’re gonna watch channel 7. You know that’s why I got shot, right? I was whipping someone’s ass in a bar because he changed the channel on the TV.” I said, “Uncle, I thought you had a heart attack?” He paused, raised his eyebrows again and laughed. “Oh, yeah, well, after I whipped his behind, I had a heart attack.” Though he didn’t drink, he hung out on the street corners of south Los Angeles along with a variety of colorful characters: winos, gamblers and the neighborhood postman, giving them all a taste of his philosophy on life: “Do what you want to do – and do what makes you happy.” At 82 years old, I could pick up the phone, call him in the middle of the night and we would talk for hours. If I drove out for a visit, we’d go to the cemetery and visit the graves of our ancestors, and I’d really be in for a treat then, because he always had a new story to tell me about one of them, something he had never told me before or something he made up. Last summer one of my best friends and I drove to L.A. for the day and decided to stop by his house and say hi. He immediately began to fuss at us, saying we were too pretty to be running the streets of Los Angeles alone. “Where are your men?” He said. “Do they know you are out here by yourselves?” A humorous Mack Daddy, he called me several times and left messages on my voice mail to tell my girlfriend ‘She Sho Was Pretty – Tell Her I said Hey.” I guess it was the way he said it that makes me smile to this day – a tinge of a southern accent, a soulful drawl, sexy but not creepy. I think it’s so cool to remember someone this way. Uncle passed away in his sleep on February 3, 2014. I had my initial cry, but I also thought about the awesome times we had and the stories he told. I don’t even care whether or not they were true or fictitious. I think I just love the fact that he took the time to make them up, just to make me smile. Good night Uncle Willie Gant. I’ll see you in the morning.

Girls Night Out

Girls night out has escalated in its popularity in recent years, with many industries gleefully capitalizing on the very subject. SUV and mini-van commercials display girlfriends and wives taking the keys from their significant others and piling up the family vehicle amid laughter and music. Cards and invitations can be found in the greeting card section of one's favorite boutique, bookstore or drugstore; clubs beckon, and retail stores sell t-shirts, purses and jewelry all promoting the healthy declaration that every woman periodically requires a night out with her girlfriends. I'd engaged in a few. My crowd enjoys the discounted drinks and huge TV screens strategically placed in the bars, but the Carioke nights were starting to wear thin. I remembered a time when you had to be really drunk to get your nerve up enough to stand in front of others and follow the words on the screen, but lately it seemed as though everyone who got up to sing thought they were auditioning for American Idol, the Voice or prepping for the national anthem at a baseball game. It was getting way too serious. So when one of my ski club road dogs suggested that we plan a girls' night out to celebrate our birthdays, I sort of half-laughed when they suggested we celebrate 'girls night out' in Jamaica. A week later, I received a three-way call on my cell phone. Four women were interested and serious. With credit cards in hands, we called the airlines. At first, I was hesitant. A week with four women on a Caribbean island sounded a little too adventurous for my blood. However, it took only a few minutes of friendly persuasion to convince me that we, the girls, needed a week to ourselves to 'play catch-up' with our lives, and to treat ourselves to some much needed rest and relaxation. When the date rolled around, armed with stuffed suitcases, straw hats, unread books and freshly braided hair, I was on a direct, red-eye flight to Montego Bay. Nine hours later we checked into the Ritz Carlton where we shared two adjoining suites. This was luxurious, but also important on a vacation such as this one. We were going to be sharing bathroom space for seven days and nights. Three bathrooms were absolutely necessary. Our first night there we attended the annual Sum Fest, a Reggae music festival that goes on all night long. About three in the morning, as we were headed back to our hotel, a thief snatched my purse. Along with feeling violated, I began to have regrets about the trip. When we returned to the hotel, I had no desire to leave the sanctuary of the resort, but my girlfriends were there for me. They reminded me that I had not been injured, I still had my passport, and that I should refuse to allow one thug to ruin my trip. They were right. He got away with a few dollars, my credit cards and a nice leather clutch, but I had my health, no broken bones and my girlfriends. A couple of days later, I once again ventured out, got some shopping in and cheerfully returned with a great piece of art, a few sarongs and of course coffee and rum. We scheduled our spa appointments, went sailing, visited a couple of the requisite tourist spots (Dunns River Falls and Margueritaville) and went ATV riding. Some nights after dinner we listened to jazz in the hotel lounge. We discussed love, the challenges of being single (or married),our parents and our children. We asked each other for advice. We got a little nosy and discussed sex habits. We cried a little, but we laughed and giggled more. The biggest concern we encountered each day was what we would wear and where we would eat. We changed clothes three or more times a day and complemented each other on our outfits, shoes and accessories sincerely and without an ounce of envy. Seven days with girlfriends and no tiffs or catty words. We met a couple on the same floor of our hotel who were on vacation from Chicago - he was a barbershop owner and his girlfriend owned a beauty shop. We were sitting in the lounge chatting one evening when he asked, "Okay, so what's really up with you ladies? I mean, are you here to catch? Are you looking for a husband? What's really going on - five beautiful women from California on a mission, right?" We looked at each other and took turns answering him one by one, kindly though, as we were now mellowed by a combination of the mood, the ambiance of the island and the Jamaican sun. One of the ladies summed it up best when she replied, "We are all hard-working professionals. Some of us have children, businesses, spouses, and at home everything is about everyone else. We hardly allow time for ourselves. On the weekends, we are driving our kids to little league or dance classes, cleaning up and committing to volunteer. On Sundays, we go to church. There is no ulterior motive; no desire for an island romance. We're here to relax and be a little selfish." Though I believe at first hesitant to think our hearts were sincere, the couple smiled and nodded, then continued to hang out with us through the remainder of the week. I believe our week was finally summed up best by how we felt when we sat out on the beach late one afternoon. The sun was going down, and the temperature had been about 85 degrees, but with the Caribbean sea breeze teasing our bodies and our hair, it felt like a California Spring. One of my friends brought a portable CD player and we began to listen to some rap music. I think we were all missing home, so we turned it up and began to dance on the beach, each of us in our style and world. And then the tourists began to come. People walking on the beach came to our little circle and began to dance as well. Words did not have to be spoken; I think they simply saw the smiles on our faces, felt the freedom we evoked in our dancing and they joined us. Some didn't even speak English; but I truly believe they saw what we saw - not just the beauty of a Caribbean sunset or crest of the sea dancing against the sand, but the opportunity to be free, to enjoy life, to smile, laugh and giggle and not be judged.

October Book Signings 2013

Book Signings - October 2013. Please Join me on Saturday, October 12th, From 12pm - 2pm. At The Hourglass Art and Wine Gallery 8200 Haven Ave. #103, Rancho Cucamonga, Ca As I celebrate the release of my third novel, Masumi Records. Humorous, candid and inspiring, Masumi Records Weaves a tale of obsession, dedication and sincere Love for the universal language we call music.