Chemo 101

I now have my first chemotherapy session under my belt. There really is a lot of anticipation and build up until you get through it and realize that, hey, maybe this isn't going to be that bad. I checked in the day after my port was installed and was thankful that my doctor was awesome enough to leave tubing attached to the port, so no one had to push on my chest the day after surgery. There still was the removal of all of the protective tape, followed by the comment, "Oops, it's bleeding a little." It was cleaned and then the tubing and port were flushed with saline, to ensure things were working correctly. I later realized how important this is when I saw a fellow patient drenched in clear fluids from their i.v., possibly their chemo meds.

The port, one day after surgery, with tubing attached.

The world's best phlebotomist works at my oncology office. Seriously. Do you know how many times I've had blood drawn in my life and by how many different people? Let's just say enough to qualify me to make that claim. When she drew my blood, twice, I never felt a thing. She is a goddess. She is the one who flushed my tubing out. She also is the one I had told on my initial visit that I wanted to take home my parts after surgery. Now, 3 weeks out from surgery, she remembered me and asked me if my doctor let me take home my parts. I told her no and she was bummed for me. She also told me stories about doctors photographing parts removed for patients and I instantly felt disappointed that my doctor hadn't made that happen for me.  When leaving her office I heard her tell the next patient, "She's an artist. She wanted her parts back after her surgery, for a show in a gallery." I heard them both speaking in excited voices and it made me smile. My reputation at the oncology office was cemented as the crazy, but likeable artist who was going to make art about her cancer.

The world's best phlebotomist in action.

We were ushered back into the chemo lounge, as I like to call it, and were told to help ourselves to any of the snack foods or beverages we wanted. There were chips, crackers, coffee drinks, juice, etc. It was very sweet, but I couldn't eat any of it since it was all processed and mostly had sugar or things I don't allow myself to eat. Luckily, we were prepared with snacks and such and since they told us we would be there for most of the day.

The first time you have chemo they run both Benedryl and steroids into you in order to prevent an allergic reaction. I had been slightly fearful of having a bad reaction because that would then interfere with my healing. I sat in the recliner and watched the bags of fluid drip through the tubing.

Next, the nurse brought out two bags and presented them to me like one would bottles of wine. She explained to me which drugs we were administering, as if she were speaking of the vintage and characteristics of what we were about to enjoy. I enjoyed the process. The drugs were given one at a time and I sat waiting for any sign of a reaction, yet it never happened.  Whew! They bring out a tray with medicine they can administer if you start to have a reaction, so it's sitting next to you the entire time, making you think about what is happening in a more serious light. I am very grateful that there was no reaction and I was able to breeze through both drugs at a decent pace. Apparently, if you have a reaction, they administer drugs and then go back to administering the chemo drugs, just at a slower pace. I was grateful to be able to get done with everything quickly and a couple of hours ahead of schedule.

I had been told by a few people that getting the first chemo treatment would be very anti-climactic. It was. I'm grateful that my body took the meds so well, without complications. I'm grateful that I have energy and am sleeping and eating well right now. The nausea has been kept at bay and I am using a minimal amount of medication right now to counter any side effects. I know that this is an accumulative process and I will most likely hit the wall at some point when enough of the chemo drugs have accumulated in my body. I will probably lose my hair and be tired all of the time. I may lose my appetite and have a strange taste in my mouth all of the time. That's okay. I'm okay with it, I really am.

Every day I hear stories of people who have survived all of the things I'm going through and worse. I also hear stories of folks dealing with far worse circumstances and I cannot complain. In a couple of days I will be back in chemo for my second round and I will keep doing so for 16 more weeks after that. What is this week's silver lining? We are going to meet the giraffes at the zoo the day after I complete chemo. It is a lifelong dream of mine and it's going to happen. I am over the moon happy about this wonderful gift my mother-in-law is making happen for me. Life is good. In this moment, it's all about perspective and gratitude.


*photos by Sam MacKenzie*

Back to the Hospital We Go aka Pre-Chemo Adventures

We have spent the past week reading and preparing for chemo. Part of that was mental preparation and part of it was working with physical realities, such as getting my tattoo before killing off my immune system and getting my port installed. A port is installed in your chest in order to allow techs to simply plug you in, instead of having the start a new i.v. with every visit. This preserves your veins when you are facing a long series of treatments, like I am. It also is easier for all involved.

At first I was not thrilled at the idea of having something implanted in me. It reminded me too much of my father's pacemaker, something that had always creeped me out. Once the doctor's assistant explained how it worked and how easy it would make things for me, I got on board with it. Yesterday I arrived at the hospital at 5:30am in order to have the procedure done. As always, my doctor was awesome and reassured me that it was a very minor surgery in comparison with my hysterectomy. It was going to be a 45 minute procedure and everything was going to over in a jiff.

Checking in at the hospital.

More paperwork.

Before his arrival, I had been prepped and left waiting a little bit too long. I'm still not sure why it took longer than it was supposed to, but it gave me just enough time to let a few negative thoughts creep in. I was lying in the bed, feeling the itch and burn from the anti-bacterial wipes you have to use on your entire body before you put on your gown and they do all of your vitals. I kept feeling the i.v. placed in the top of my hand. It is one of my least favorite sensations, even though I know it is there for my own good and is temporary. I started to think about everything that lies ahead and yes, it started to mess with me.

Getting another i.v.

The previous day I had been through acupuncture, hypnosis (aka guided meditation and positive reinforcement), and had a relaxing massage. I had been feeling relaxed and at peace with everything and all it took was an extra hour or so of waiting in that bed, burning and uncomfortable, to lead me down the path of feeling a little bit melancholy. Fortunately, it didn't hang around long. Sam and I just used the time to talk about how everything was going to be okay and how fortunate we are to be going into this with what we have. The point is, yes, I can write all of the funny and inspirational things I want to, but negative thoughts and feelings will sneak in. I'm not impervious to feeling down or upset. The difference is in being able to redirect yourself. In my mind, it's the only way to make it through obstacles in life without getting caught in a vicious cycle of pity parties and depressing thoughts.

Waiting.

Once they finally came to get me, I was sedated with a drug that they were able to wake me easily from. As with my last surgery, I only remember being rolled down the hallway into the surgical suite and then being told I was being given something to help me relax as they helped me scoot onto the operating table. Boom, I was out. Last time I could see the robotics and was on a molded table, this time it was a simple gurney-like table. I woke up, realizing that it was over, and was wheeled back to my prep room to wake up, instead of spending an hour or so in recovery like last time. It was an odd sensation.

Sam was there and I could really feel the pain. My neck felt as if someone was stabbing my in my jugular. I instantly wanted pain meds. It's funny when you consider last time I'd had a major surgery and only wanted a minor amount of pain meds when things got painful. This was a different kind of pain. I also think it is because the other pain was a lot like typical cramping, which I'd had a lifetime of experience dealing with, while this was a more intense pain that I was not accustomed to feeling. I should also say that I don't do neck pain or headaches well. I admit it.

Sam and I.

The nurse gave me oxycodone and I waited for it to kick in. I lay there hurting and Sam held my hand. At least I knew it was over and things would only get better after that. I was sent home after an hour or so and other than the tape holding everything in place and the pain, I managed to move decently well. I found out that they have to make an incision in your neck in order to feed the line through, and that was what was hurting so badly. I looked in the mirror and sighed. I could see what they'd done and my job was to figure out ways to stay as comfortable as possible.

Can't wait to go home and not be looking at this anymore.

I spent the rest of the day lying in bed, watching Bob's Burgers and dreaming about the pizza we were going to have as a reward for dinner. I had finally gotten over my nausea and food was tasting good again. I wanted to take advantage of it while I could. Everything I've heard/read about chemo tells tales of people losing their sense of taste or having a metallic aftertaste that won't go away. Add to that the very real probability of some serious nausea and stomach upset and you'll understand why I was excited to eat pizza while it would still be delicious and satisfying. And it was.

We had to complete an on-line chemo class and then it was time to get some rest before our 8:30am check in for chemo in the morning. At least the oxycodone, pizza, and knowledge that the surgery was over and I just had to go and sit while they pumped me full of drugs helped me to relax and fall asleep. Two sleep deprived nights in a row would have only led to more negative thoughts and crabbiness. Fortunately, that didn't happen. Sleep was my friend and once again, I found myself being thankful for the little things. I also found myself finding solace in the words of Maya Angelou, a woman I have long admired and who had passed away that same day.

“I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life. I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life." I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one. I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I've learned that I still have a lot to learn. I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” - Maya Angelou

Getting Ready for the Inevitable

After our last visit with my oncologist, we knew we would be preparing to start 18-weeks of chemotherapy. Yes, I did finally pick up the report in the folder and both Sam and I read through it. The good news appears to be that the cells that had spread were the not-as-aggressive variety. In the end, it doesn't matter, we have to kill off what remains and I am finally fine with it. I'm as ready to do this as I can be. As I've said before, my game plan has been to be as prepared as possible for anything and everything that can possibly happen in order to feel okay with moving forward during this process. We did it with my surgery and now we have been doing it with chemo.

We have read about all possible side-affects and have also prepared a nutrition plan to keep me healthy while we kill off the remaining cancer cells. We have healing oils from specific plants and natural remedies for dealing with nausea and appetite issues. This week I am starting acupuncture and cancer hypnosis. A friend is going to work out any kinks in my muscles tomorrow from my post-surgery days of sitting around in order to get me ready for sitting during chemo. We have fundraising efforts happening to help us during this time when I most likely will not be able to go back to work. We have support everywhere we turn and it makes my job of being the patient so much more doable.

 When I found out that I was starting chemo in a week I told the nurse at the oncology clinic that I had wanted to get an inspirational tattoo before starting chemo. She told me to get it done before chemo or I would have to forget about it until chemo was over. This is because we will be killing off my immune system and I won't be able to take any extra risks for infection during that time. I wrote to my friend Kirsten Holliday who works out of Wonderland Tattoo in Portland, Oregon and told her we had a week to make it happen. She is normally booked out 2 months ahead of time and it just happened that she could get me in yesterday morning. I gave her reference photos and trusted her to do the rest.

When I received my cancer diagnosis, I could think of no better inspiration for staying positive and brave than Piglet. Piglet was rescued through Panda Paws Rescue after being used as a bait dog for dog fighting. What that means is that her teeth were filed down, her ears cut off, and she was bound in order to keep her from fighting back. She was used as bait for the aggressive dogs to attack, repeatedly. She had other injuries, including having had part of her lip torn off and a limp from a broken leg that had never healed properly. After experiencing that life one would think that she would be mean, but she isn't. She is a sweet love bug who is an excellent representative for her breed. Piglet was adopted into the perfect home and now lives a sweet life where she is safe and loved and happy. 

I was fortunate enough to spend one afternoon with Piglet while she was at Panda Paws and I instantly loved her. She also was recently diagnosed with 2 cancerous spots, which were successfully removed and she is now cancer-free. I wanted to be able to look at her face with the words "be brave" underneath her during this process. I walked into the tattoo shop and Kirsten showed me the drawing and it was perfect. She had also included healing plants, lavender and evening primrose, for me. I settled in and 3 hours later I had the finished piece I had been dreaming of. I also had the privilege of having a video chat with Piglet and her mom Jeri this morning and was able to show them how it looks today. Seeing her just reinforced the idea that I had followed my heart and she was meant to be my inspiration/spirit animal through all of this. Hopefully they will be venturing up to our area in July and then we will be able to see one another in person. Puppy kisses heal everything, yes?

That is all of the latest news. I'm taking a rare break right now to just sit at a local favorite coffee place with some delicious iced tea while I enjoy 80's alternative music and the breeze outside. It is in these little moments I am content and grateful and happy to be able to experience what I'm experiencing. I also ran into a few friends today, unexpectedly. What a great feeling, to be able to hug them and catch up in person for a few minutes. Those are life's little treasures that we take for granted while rushing around from one thing to the next. I have nothing to do but to slow down and savor each and every one of them. That is a gift. :)

Post-Op Reality and the New Game Plan

I'm currently sitting in the living room at my wife's house. I'm on the sofa and I keep looking across the room to the table where my paperwork from yesterday's oncology visit is sitting. I know what is inside the folder and I really want to pick it up and look closer, but then I really don't feel ready yet. My doctor briefly touched on the findings from my post-op pathology report yesterday. He covered the most important parts and rattled off a few numbers and facts that all come back to the same fact - I have stage 3 endometrial cancer.

Stage 3 means the cancer cells have left their place of origin and gone rogue. As he drew cartoonish diagrams of my anatomy and pointed at things, he told us that cancer cells were found in both of my ovaries and in the lower lymph nodes he sampled. The one bit of good news is that the higher-up lymph nodes and the area near my stomach tested negative, meaning that the cancer has not traveled north yet. Once it starts to do that, it settles into other organs and causes a whole other set of issues to deal with.

I was not prepared to hear the words "stage 3" or for the fact that my doctor is starting my chemo treatments next week, just 3 weeks after my initial surgery. He wants to kill what is left in my body on a molecular level before it has a chance to settle in somewhere else. It has been 24+ hours of an emotional roller coaster, although we are both holding it together and talking our way through everything. I am facing 6 - 3 week cycles of chemo. This means I will be locked into a cycle of weekly visits to my oncologist's office for 18 weeks. I was hoping for a little bit more time to feel well before poisoning myself in order to hopefully save my life. That's the way the cancer cells crumble.

This also means I may not ever get my pre-chemo tattoo that I wanted to help keep me motivated through the process. I learned that it would have to be completed before I start chemo because we will be killing off my immune system and I will not be able to get work done after we get started. So many little depressing things add up, but I'm allowing myself to process it all in the hopes that by this time next week I will be ready for 18 weeks of treatment without any baggage. Maybe a tattoo seems like a low-priority thing at a time like this, but it really does become about the little things.

We are also having to cancel a beach trip I had been looking forward to. Throughout my surgery/recovery I've focused on being strong enough to make that trip before chemo. I'm also giving up a massage coupon that's going to expire and a few other positive things I was looking forward to. I can't mow my lawn or plant my seasonal veggies. I can't do any of the home projects I desperately wanted to work on this summer. Heck, I can't even pick up or move anything because I am still on a lifting restriction right now. These are all things that weigh on me, knowing I can't even have that little bit of my "regular" reality in my life. At the end of the day, focusing on saving my life is what is important. I have to tell myself that 18 weeks of chemo will heal me and allow me to do all of those things and more down the road.

We have managed to find a few light-hearted moments in the midst of taking on all of this overwhelming new information. Sam had put googly eyes on a few things in my hospital room while I was sleeping. The nurses loved it. She drew a mustache on me (with my permission) and posted it on Facebook for our friends. It sparked a support campaign of self-portraits of friends with silly mustaches that made me giddy. My doctor is finally catching on to the fact that we have a sense of humor and are using it to keep things light. He was examining my stomach and the 5 entry wounds that are healing and said it looked great. We told him it was huge and the most beautiful shade of purple after surgery. He said, "You're artists, you probably took photos, right?" I told him not only did we take photos, but I told Sam my stomach looked like a grumpy monster and that she should put googly eyes on it and take photos. Those photos are my favorite thing by far through this whole experience. The doctor laughed and thought that was great.

During my appointment, the doctor also drew a diagram of what "normal" lady parts look like and then drew an example of what my "new" vagina looks like after surgery. To use his exact words, "It now looks like a tube sock, rounded on the end, with stitching". Let's say Sam is making lunch and going through food options for me. She will ask if something "tickles my tube sock", instead of asking if something floats my boat. Sometimes you've just got to embrace the little things and find the humor in whatever life throws at you. Googly-eyes on my swollen, purple belly, drawing a mustache on me while I'm waking up from surgery, and giggling over silly words and imagery - this is how we cope.

I am fortunate enough to have a positive support system that includes friends, family, and community. They make me laugh, listen to me talk, offer to drive me to my appointments and sit with me, and now are offering to do fundraising to help me pay my bills while I can't work as well. I know how rare my situation is and I am appreciative. Please don't think that I am ever feeling sorry for myself or ungrateful for what I have. It's exactly the opposite - those things I just listed are the things that keep me going and will see me through all of this. Most of all, I have a best friend/spouse who gets it, all of it, and is ready to be whatever I need depending on how I'm feeling each day. With her by my side, my support system, and my kick-ass doctor and his team, I'm going to stay positive and do this thing. I mean, really, who could ask for anything more? Maybe tomorrow I will feel strong enough to pick up the report on the table and read through the entire report of the dissection of my lady parts. Just maybe.

And Now For Something Completely Different...

I have been away for a while, working, creating artwork, and dealing with other everyday stuff. All of that came to a halt when I very recently was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. The system has worked for me and they found it early and have been pushing me through quickly in order to heal me.

Tomorrow I am having a complete hyterectomy. I've never had major surgery like that, but I know it will be okay. My oncologist/surgeon is wonderful and I have faith that all will go well. After that, I will be recovering for a while - approximately 8 weeks total. They say some people feel pretty good at 2-3 weeks, others don't. I've just promised myself that I will take it easy and go at my own pace. Overdoing it isn't an option.

There has been talk of chemo around July, and I will know more in the coming weeks. Apparently my body has decided that it's a good idea to not only have one form of cancer cell, but to have a mix with a second, more lethal variety. I've heard from many already about how I shouldn't do chemo and/or radiation and I should try natural remedies. I get it, I do, but according to my doctor, those aggressive cells will be in me even after we remove my lady parts and will resurface and kill me if I don't take measures now.

Believe me, if I had a less aggressive form of cancer, I would try healthier options. As it is, I'm dealing with genetics and this same thing killed my great-grandmother. I don't have cancer because I didn't eat the right things or worked at an asbestos factory. I have a genetic mutation that wants to assassinate me in a slow and painful manner. I am fortunate that it appears that we caught this early. I am going to do what I need to do in order to kill off these cancer cells before they kill me. I will also eat, drink, and take supplements in a way that will support my overall physical well-being before, during, and after these procedures are done.

I have a wife and friends who are already doing research, comparing notes, and want to see me beat this disease. In fact, I have so much positive support from my local community, family, friends, and everyone I speak with, I can't believe it. There has been a constant feeling in my throat lately that makes me feel like any situation or words can bring on tears. Not sad, "oh, poor me" tears, just tears. I do have some fear of the unknown and a glimmer of sadness every once in a while, but I firmly believe it is the overwhelmingly positive response I've received from everyone. The momentum has made me want to survive for myself and everyone else I know. The outpouring of love I've experienced is humbling and reminds me of all of the reasons I have to live.

While being prepped for a ct scan the other day I just found myself crying. No reason, it just happened. The guy inserting my iv thought he was hurting me. I kept saying "no", but he clearly didn't believe me. I cried for 15 minutes after I left and got to my car. There is no identifiable marker, my body just wanted for it to happen. Strange things happen when we are placed under stress and in unfamiliar situations. Try reading blogs and medical pages about an upcoming surgery you're going to have to have and it will mess with you. The cold, hard reality that YOU have to be the one who undergoes procedures and be poked and prodded sets in. It isn't easy, even with the best support system.

I finally feel as ready as I can be for tomorrow's surgery, but yes, I do still think about the unknown factors and worry a bit. I also know what is waiting for me when I wake up and get moving again. People, projects, ideas, and lots of love and support will be there waiting for me. I am so fortunate and I will never take that for granted. I can do this. I will also be blogging here to give updates on what's happening with me in the realm of cancer and everyday life. If you want to join me on the journey, please do. I also love hearing other people's stories, if you want to share.

See you on the other side. xoxo, me

I am an optimist

op·ti·mism  

/ˈäptəˌmizəm/

Noun Hopefulness and confidence about the future or the successful outcome of something. The tendency to expect the best and see the best in all things hopefulness; confidence.  The doctrine of the ultimate triumph of good over evil
I am guilty of being an optimist. Now, I know people like to bash on those of us who try to maintain an optimistic outlook. I've experienced it firsthand. The cynics of the world love to laugh at us, the silly people who think that things can and will work out. I always say things can and will work out, how they are meant to be. If you aren't supposed to get that great new job with benefits that pays you well, there is a reason. Perhaps the company is going to fold in a month. Maybe you were just meant to do something else and didn't get it so you would be open to the path you're supposed to travel on.
I have a cynical wife (yes, we were able to marry in December, yay!) and she at least doesn't roll her eyes at me anymore when I say that. She used to respond with something negative to put my "woo-woo" ways in their place. She calls anyone who is into talking about the universe or "everything happens for a reason" woo-woo. I get it. I am open to certain things in this world and others I am happy to support in others, but just not for myself. If you dig beneath the surface, you will realize that I am an optimist/realist. I do not walk around in some fog of happiness, thinking that the universe will just unfold and give me all of the answers. I know I have to work hard, put myself out there, and then look for the open doors that will lead to new opportunities. As an artist, when people ask me how I got into a gallery, or a show, or anything of that nature it makes me realize how fortunate I am. Most of my connections have come from being in the right place at the right time or meeting someone through someone else. Even with that said, I am not that connected. I'm a small-time player, so to speak. This brings us back to the whole "I know I need to work hard and put myself out there" statement. I have spent my life talking myself out of taking chances. It wasn't until after 40 that I realized that I needed to get out there an do something. I worked constantly on improving my artwork, studied, learned, practiced, tried new things and failed (not just once), and then I settled into who I am and what I am capable of. Even now, I have yet to seriously pursue a larger gallery show. It isn't because I don't think I am worthy or my work isn't up to snuff. It is because that means personally having to put myself out there to schmooze and network and such. That isn't really me. I enjoy people and conversations, but on my terms. Perhaps you understand where I am coming from. If not, it is possible for a person to be a selectively sociable introvert. It is possible to blossom during certain social encounters and wither in others. It is possible to sabotage your own success because you do not want to have to talk with people, even if others don't think of you that way. I have been scoffed by others when I've spoken about my reluctance to enter certain social situations. People see the outgoing side of me and dismiss my claims of being uncomfortable with myself when out in public. Whatever. We are quick to label people and assign them certain criteria that they must adhere to in order to fit into that box. Not me. I do not fit into any box. I believe none of us fit into a box, yet we allow society to force us into one. It is tragic and I think it is the reason why there are so many unhappy people out there. We are not being allowed to fulfill our destiny, to discover who we really are. We are being denied true joy and happiness. So, what does any of this have to do with my being an optimist? Or a realist? It's all related. I could be dismissed as a woo-woo flake by labeling myself an optimist. Believe me, I'm not. I look at life from the perspective of someone who has known what it is like to hit rock bottom. I have had everything taken from me by bad people in an attempt to crush me and I have battled back from it. When I look at my day to day existence, I do not have a hard time being happy with where I am right now. I am grateful for the little things. I know how fortunate I am to have a roof over my head, food to eat, my health, people who genuinely love me, and many opportunities for good experiences in front of me. I am optimistic because I have survived. I have lived to fight another day. Where my life goes is up to me and if my biggest concern is working on getting over my social anxiety that is keeping me from greater success, then I am one lucky duck. Yes, I am poor. Yes, I do not have a lot. But I am wealthy because I am grateful for what I do have. I know what true, unconditional love is. I am living my life on my terms and not accepting what society wants me to think or do or be. To believe that things will work out for the best, that is how I survive each day. It isn't that I don't get depressed or don't sometimes find myself dwelling on the negative in the world, I do. I just give myself time to mourn and recover and then move forward. We cannot conquer the bad forces out there, but we can focus on countering it with good. Mahatma Ghandi said it best, "Be the change you wish to see in the world". I am trying. One act of kindness at a time.

'Til Death Do Us Part

I have been thinking a lot about relationships lately. To be honest, it is not unusual for me to be thinking about people, relationships, behavior, and interactions. Perhaps that has become obvious by now? Lately a lot of my life has been focused on whether or not my sweetie and I will be allowed to marry in December. You see, in Washington state the lawmakers decided to make marriage equality a reality. It was awesome. Then we heard that the opposition would be able to file a referendum to overturn the new law via putting it to a popular vote on the November ballot. Crazy right? All of the major players in a state decide to give equal rights to a group of people, only to find out that haters can take those rights away by investing millions in a smear campaign against that group and raising a big stink.

I want to know how human rights, that have to do with federal and state laws, can be decided by a popular vote. I mean, who decided that was a good idea? Back in the days of segregation the issue of civil rights was never put up for a popular vote. Bigots protested, assassinated people, committed hate crimes left and right, but were never able to vote on the rights of African-Americans. Why is it okay now? Why is it okay to say that lgbtq folks are different? Aren't we all human being sharing this planet? This has made me really examine what is at the core of this movement against us, aka "the haters". There is one clear answer and it really is pretty obvious - fear.

We, humans, fear the unknown. Because of religion and the shame associated with being an lgbtq person in our society, there is not a realistic view of what lgbtq people are like. There are pictures on the news of scantily clad people in pride parades. There are images created in churches, on the internet, and in homes across America, that paint us as pedophiles, perverts, and disease-laden monsters. We have been vilified to the extent that many people live in constant fear of us, thinking we are going to invade the safety of their little lives and touch them or their children in an inappropriate manner. We are coming to "recruit" for our cause and want to steal their children away. Does this sound familiar? It is the same "fear" propaganda they used to blacklist people suspected of being Communists, and against African-Americans back in the days before the Civil Rights movement.

Unfortunately the common tool is religion. It is easy to just tell everyone you fear that God says they are an abomination and that you are "just doing God's will" when you hate and want to oppress those people. And guess what? As soon as those folks judge us, they are going against God's will. How quickly they forget, "Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than this." True Christians love unconditionally and hate no one. It really is that simple. It is sad how many people have been brainwashed to believe the propaganda against us.

The reality is this-

1.We put our pants on one leg at a time, just like the average hetero person.
2. AIDS is more common among heterosexuals than homosexuals.
3. The majority of pedophiles are hetero, white males.
4. Lgbtq people are born, not brainwashed, not recruited.
5. Science is factual and has proven homos are born that way.
6. Jesus never said one thing about sexuality and never condemned lgbtq folks.
7. If we followed everything in Leviticus, in the Bible, heteros would be in BIG trouble for a lot of things. (people need to stop picking and choosing what to follow in the Bible. All or nothing folks!)

Okay, now that I've vented a bit and addressed the issue of "the haters", who don't want for us to get married, I will get back to some positive stuff. I met my sweetie 2 1/2 years ago when I was getting ready for a gallery show. The gallery owner knew her and introduced us. It was a slow courtship, but after 5 months we were officially a couple. I knew I had found the person I had been waiting for my whole life. I can't describe it, we just clicked in a way I had never experienced before.

I will admit that it wasn't immediate fireworks and passion, because we were both nervous and introverted. It built slowly. I wasn't even consciously looking for someone at the time. I was focused on art work and things in my life had been getting more and more positive, and then...bam! There it was. We were in a relationship.

Very quickly we felt like we had known each other for much longer that we had. Our relationship is comfortable, yet exciting. Sweet and cuddly, yet fun and adventurous. We share everything with each other. After so many years with a jealous ex, it has been a revelation. I can write what I want, create what I want, have friends and do things whenever I want. No judgement. No guilt. And we can talk to each other about anything. Again, no judgement, just support. I cannot tell you what a difference it has made in my life. She loves me for who I really am. All of my body issues, insecurities, etc. that I grew up with, she supports me and loves me unconditionally. A revelation.

I really think one of the reasons the divorce rate is so high is because couples don't take time to be together away from all of the distractions of life. We make time for each other. We help each other. If I say I really need a flat head screw driver, she will find one. If I am hungry, she cooks for me. And it is mutual. I would do whatever I could for her. To ease her pain or worry, to make sure she has what she needs. Having been the one who gave and gave in prior relationships with nothing in return, I can see now how big of a difference it makes. We each feel supported and fulfilled. We work on projects together and help each other succeed. There is no ego, bitterness, deceit, or manipulation.

We are both poor artists, but are happy with what we have. Don't get me wrong, we would like to not struggle to pay bills and such, but we don't need expensive dinners, new clothes, fancy gadgets bought on credit, a brand new car, etc. I think it has a lot to do with our level of happiness. Simple things make us happy - growing food, hanging out with our chickens, just sitting around talking or watching a movie. It doesn't take much. I think people get too caught up in the day to day stuff and don't make time to appreciate each other. Why can't people be happy with less? Or with the body they have? I blame television, media outlets, popular culture, Hollywood, the fashion and advertising industries, and anyone who judges others in order to feel superior.

Will it ever change? I predict it will only get worse. Kids today are tuned out and only care about what they are told to like. They only have a limited view of the world as it is and it has all been programmed by big money corporations who don't want them to have minds of their own. On a positive note, they say the younger generations support equality and are against the path that the haters travel down. Somehow, the majority have decided that they are full of it and I am curious to see what will happen in that department. In the meantime, I am remaining very optimistic that I will be "allowed" to marry my sweetie after the November election this year. Washington appears to be on our side and that gives me hope.

I often wonder if those who hate us even know any actual lgbtq people, at least ones that are out of the closet? People tell us that we should be the poster children for the cause because we are so sweet and perfect together. I won't argue, but many minds out there are so closed off it probably wouldn't make a difference. We just need to keep being ourselves, along with all of the other lovely lgbtq folks out there, and just hope that each person we meet will see we are not any of those things I listed previously and stand up for our civil rights. In the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., "I have a dream...", and I do. I want to see love overtake hate, understanding overtake fear, and more unconditional acceptance for all, just the way we are - each and every one of us. I can dream, can't I?