Tell It Like It Is. PLEASE.

I really appreciate doctors. I do. I appreciate all the time they've spent learning about the human body, the history of medicine, every possible thing that could be wrong with us, and how to treat it. I appreciate everything technicians and nurses learn and do as well. I couldn't complain about anything.
Well, maybe one thing.


Last week I had myself a little health scare. Lovely symptoms that sounded an awful lot like uterine cancer. I'm sure by now you know I'm the type of person who handles news like that calmly. Collectedly. And with what could probably be described as a massive "body-attack." The whole me was shaking like a leaf and generally having an emotional seizure. But I kept it largely inside. I have kids. The minute I rocked their little worlds by saying I might have a health issue, all of their eyes went round like dinner plates, their mouths became tiny  o's, they stopped blinking, and I realized I was going to have to be Captain Positive.


Which would have been a lot easier if my medical side-kicks had been a bit more cooperative. I'll tell you what I mean.


I'm lying on the exam table (GUY ALERT: I'M GOING TO SAY THINGS LIKE "PELVIC" AND "ULTRASOUND." YOU MAY WANT TO AVERT YOUR EYES AND COMMENCE DOING  MANLY THINGS LIKE BULL RIDING) for the pelvic ultrasound (SKEET SHOOTING, BEAR HUNTING), when the technician starts saying things like, "Oh my. Hmmm. I can't quite tell . . . well that's interesting. Sure are a lot of them."


"Wait. Them? What them? A lot of what thems?"
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't say anything. See that sign?" (Points to sign by door which says "Our Technicians Are not Allowed To Say Anything To you Because You Might Sue Us If They Get It Wrong. The Radiologist Will Read Your Results and Relay Them To Your Doctor By The Next Equinox. So Stop Asking.")
"Oh. Okaaaay. But I wouldn't sue. That's not what I'm like."
"Hmmm. I'd better measure that."
"What?! Measure WHAT?"
"And that's hardly there at all. Unusual."
"WHAT'S UNUSUAL?"
"Sign."(Pointing)


And finally at the end of it all: "Well, that's it. Our radiologist will wait four days to tell your doctor what he finds, then after your doctor has finished golfing he'll call you. Probably. You can gather your things. Don't forget your adrenal glands. They've rolled under the table there. Bye."


Then there's the wait. Four days, including a weekend during which I must spend the entire time smiling like a lunatic to reassure my children, while on the inside I am picking out the flowers for my funeral and deciding which hors d'oeuvres to start with after the eulogy.


Monday rolls around and I never hear from the doctor. So I call. And the conversation goes like this:


"Hello. This is Janiel Miller. I'm calling for the results of my pelvic ultrasound (BOWIE KNIFE. THE HURT LOCKER)"
"Oh I'm sorry Mrs. Miller. The doctor isn't in today. You'll have to call back tomorrow."
"Oh. Okay. Can you tell me anything?"
"Well, it looks like you have multiple subserosal fibroid growths located on the myometrium, and we can't rule out the possibility of leiomyosarcoma, but on the other hand many of these can be benign. Okay? We'll have the doctor call you."
"Wait! I didn't understand that."
*Nurse emits sigh then repeats entire paragraph word for word.* "So, we'll have the doctor call you, okay?"
"Um, no. It's not okay. I know that was in English and everything but I have no idea what you just said."
*Speaking slowly like I am a four year-old alien with learning disabilities* "We'll evaluate your particular symptoms against these results and let you know. Goodbye now."


Oh, well. That was so much better.


Needless to say by the next morning my smile was fixed, my eyes glassy, my kids were looking at me nervously as I waved them off to school, and I had moved on to the post-funeral luncheon menu.


So imagine my shock when I finally got a call that afternoon and a perky nurse announced: "Well, Mrs. Miller. The doctor says that your uterus (BRAZILLIAN STREET FIGHTING) looks fantastic! The endometrial lining (HOCKEY) looks terrific, and those pesky little fibroids are nothing to worry about and will probably disappear during menopause (PORSCHE 911 PLUS A CAMERO). Have a nice day!"


Well YOU HAVE A FREAKING NICE DAY TOO, LADY!  Me? I'm going to go fall face-first into a vat of pineapple-coconut frozen yogurt and day-dream about being the medical profession's broker. The next time the economy tanks and they want to know how their money is doing? I'll just smile, say "Oh my. How strange." Then I'll point to a sign on my wall.


Sheesh.

I totally tripped while at the symphony

This weekend I attended the symphony. Most people enjoy a night out on the town with zero issues. Me? Well, not so much. Oh, I dressed up in my sequin gown with a lacy fascinator. You know the fancy smancy hats that guests wore at the Royal wedding. The only difference is I bought mine half off from a drunk guy at the mall.

Anyway, back to my embarrassing moment. The glass door to the Symphony Hall is opened and I stroll in gracefully. Granted in my head I am thinking repeatedly, "Don't trip. Don't trip. Don't trip," and sure enough, what do I do? I trip and not just some teeter of your feet and then catch your balance. Oh, no, when I trip, I make sure to make my presence known. And when your 6'2 and collapsing to the floor it's quite a spectacle.

All I remember is placing my hand on the railing to walk up the large stair case, I stepped on my gown and that's when trouble ensued. I collapsed on the stairs. No joke, my body was as straight as a surf board. My date is trying not to laugh but seriously, I look absolutely ridiculous. I pull myself up quickly and laugh heartedly.

An old woman clutches her son's hand said, "You all right, Dearie?"

All I can do is smooth out my gown and say, "And to think, that was one of my more graceful falls."

Yep, tripping is practically my super hero power. I'm down for the count and before someone even notices what happened I am back up and ready for an adventure.

Someday's are going to be a mash up of utter beauty and horrid moments but I am learning that those moments rejuvenate the mind.

Ps- this story reminded me of the time that I tripped at a boutique while shopping with Janiel and Maegan. I knocked over some display in the process. I wonder if they remember that day. Anyways, that's a story for another day.

Ways to improve your discipline

Athletes are known for their discipline. Every thought they have when in training is centered around one idea-how will this affect me in the morning.

You are no different from an athlete when you pursue your dream. The idea of discipline sounds overwhelming but did you know that there is one way to strengthen your discipline? Watch you posture.

I know, I was baffled when I read this idea in Success magazine. Your mind is something that needs to be exercised daily. The act of constantly checking your posture strengthens your mental muscles. In the words of Success magazine, "You're paying attention to yourself, giving yourself something to watch out for and regulate."

Another way athletes manage their discipline is to have a short term memory. You can't focus on the moments that you failed. Learn from the mistakes and then keep going full steam ahead.

You're dream is right around the corner and it's waiting for you. Keep working hard hard, my friends.

Stay positive no matter what

According to Tennis magazine, "Recovery takes longer than you expect. Progress isn't linear, it accelerates and stalls."

Recovery is something we all go through, some of us recover from injuries and heartache. Others recover from the scarring that life can bring. No matter who are, you have faced something freaky. Can I just say you are incredible? Everything you face strengthens your resolve.

Progress means opening your eyes and figuring out what you really need. It's the ability to carry on with patience and confidence. To progress means that you encourage yourself. You stay positive, no matter what obstacle is ahead of you. Remember this dream of yours is going to change lives.

In-Laws and Dork Dogs And What It All Means

Note: If you are a relative of mine on my husband's side, please avert your eyes. Maybe find something else to read. And remember, I love you.


So. My husband's family has a problem with dogs. The family home was a farm, which meant there were always ten batrillion canines running around. And for as long as I have known these lovely people, every. single. one. of the dogs. has had brain-damage.


Oh, not technically. Like, not on paper. No veterinarian has ever handed my in-laws a piece of paper that said, "This dog is clinically brainless." But I tell you, that piece of paper has been there in spirit.


For example: the hub's fam had a dog that used to run headlong into walls and hit with such force that it would change directions. On purpose. This is, in fact, how the dog turned corners. The same dog would get so excited when it barked that it would begin choking: "Bark! Bark! Bar--cough, choke--ark! Bark! Bark!--gag, cough, choke--" etc.


Then there was the little beastie that, every time it stood up from lying next to you, left body parts behind. Not. Kidding. Ew.


There was the Pomeranian who thought my shoe laces were possessed and attacked them venomously every time I was near. The Spaniel that decided my husband was the alpha-male and peed on his shoes every time we came to visit. And the ginormoid Dalmatian that knocked furniture, cars, and often my mother-in-law over with its tail.


The best part of it all is this: my mo-in-law now owns a Shelty. It's a little thing that used to be a show dog and has demonstrated tremendous air-headedness on many occasions (enough that my oldest son once said to me, "What do you expect, mom? She's a model.") (Bwa! Points for wittiness!) Little doggie generally gets in the way, barks her guts out, runs and hides from strangers, and does nothing to protect her owner.


This drives MIL crazy. She complains. Wishes her dog were better. And generally has given me the feeling that she does not like this animal.


So here is the best part (yeah, all that stuff before wasn't it. This is it): The other night during a storm my mother-in-law's little doglette got out of the yard. It was 45 minutes before my MIL noticed her missing. I expected some eye-rolling. Maybe some snarky commenting. But apparently I know nothing about dogs and dog-owners. Because for all of her kvetching about the little pet, my mother-in-law turned out to be attached to the thing. She was very distressed. Rallied the troops. Family spent over an hour driving around in the dark looking for the dear creature. There were dangerous roads and the dog could have been anywhere, or even no longer anywhere at all.


Finally, after much searching, Tia was found trembling in a stranger's driveway. My mother-in-law got the little fur ball to come with her and soon had her snug and safe at home. Then she called and shakily told me the story and how grateful she was that she had found her little friend.


And frankly, I was too. Turns out little dog-face means a lot to that good woman. It brings to mind the saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." And more serious, the idea that we don't really appreciate what we have until it's gone.


So, maybe here's what I'm taking from this: When something frustrates or annoys us, maybe it's a sign that we should look a little closer at it. See if we can find some good. If we succeed, how much better life will be. If we don't--if we can't find anything redeeming at all in whatever it is--at least we'll know. And we can move on to something better.


I like that.


But I'm not getting a dog.

Kerri Strug and determination

I've been reading a biography on Kerri Strug, the gymnast that landed her vault with one leg and led the US Olympic team to gold. She states, "Just when you believe your dreams have been shattered, everything can come together and you are vaulted into a world where dreams come true."

I believe Miss Strug is right. The moment you think everything revolving around your dream is lost is the moment where your dream will come together. The road blocks are there not to discourage you but to make you work even harder.

My friends, you have a beautiful future ahead of your self. Stop for a minute and see just how remarkable you are- I mean, you have continued on when most people would have given up. I say you deserve a treat, go nab some ice cream or whatever makes you smile and then get back to work. I believe in you.