The Quiet Life of Violet

1,300 Things to Be Thankful For (week 18)

 

426. Skyping with the love of my whole life (and flashing a boob).  ;D

427. Finding blogs with pretty pictures that the blog owners took themselves.

428. Dance parties in the car.

429. New pack of bobbie pins.

430. Homemade, gluten-free chicken strips


431. Pretty pea-green velvet cushions on Leigh-Ann's couch.

432. The town of Morden, Manitoba.

433. Beautiful patina on vintage door hinges.

434. Plucking out the first few grey hairs.

435. "99 Bottle of Beer on the Wall."

436. Getting tripped up on the freeway when I see the signs --  "Maximum 100" ... that's 100 kilometers per hour, not miles per hour! Gets me every time!

437. Making sugar scrubs for my lips.

438. The cherry chocolate-y brown color of my eyes.

439. "Snap, Crackle & Pop."

440. Giant popcorn bags at the movies.

441. Pretty ponytails on twenty-somethings.

442. This picture I took of myself a few years ago. It makes me realize how much I love my tattoo and my wedding ring.

443. Miniature ponies.

444. Hand-sewn quilts.

445. Pretty boys who speak french.

446. Roadtrips = funny faces and multiple people with bandannas and sunglasses.

447. Holly's business, McKenna Salon & Spa.  The Aveda products were amazing! Ahhhh.

448. Laundry baskets with sweet smelling, freshly folded linens.

449. "This Little Piggy..."

450. Really deep talks with Leigh-Ann. Giggles, God, men, babies, tears & "We gotta go to sleep!"

 

Flashback Fridays: I Got To See The End.

Lost came out in 2004. After my Mother's urging, I started watching it and soon became HOOKED. Like, majorly hooked, but not quite.. "druggy" hooked. Not so hooked that I had a note book and wrote theories and drew doodles with "I <3 Sawyer" ('cause he's a major babe). 

In June of 2005, we found out that my cancer had come back, for the first time since childhood, in my right lung. I remember being in Stanford, the hospital, with my Mother, laying on that terribly plastic hospital bed, freezing and puking, sleeping and feeling like utter crap.

My Mom and I used to watch Lost together. The T.V. was tiny, but there were subtitles, so it was sufficient. If not in the "House of Germs" (Mom's term), we'd watch Lost together in the at home, Tivo-ing if we were too tired to stay up. 

I remember being so sad and feeling so desperate. I remember crying and being so scared for my life. Scared that I would die. That I'd wither away and my life would become this sad, after-school movie story. My soul would ache and I kept secretly praying and begging -- "Please let me live. I want to DO things. I want to buy a  house. I want to have babies.. I.. I... I want to see the end of Lost." In my head, I even came up with the idea to write a letter to the CEO of ABC, asking them to share the ending with me, a poor little dying girl, if it came down to that. I'd promise not to tell anyone and the secrets would go to the grave with me. (I wonder if they would have done it?) Yeah, my state of mind sometimes dipped into this huge jar of negative sauce, but it was warranted. :)

After I got better, I begged Dustin to watch it then he was hooked. We continued to watch it together, episode after episode. I'd talk with my Mom on her lunch breaks about the episodes until she finally got fed up with the confusing storyline and stopped watching. Dustin and I  stopped watching it on TV around the middle of the third season, for some reason, too.

On a whim, we picked up some of the seasons on DVD and decided to have Lost marathons and watched the first through fourth seasons back to back... two or three episode a night. Ha!

I got sick again and then got better again, and last winter, we watched the fifth season (my favorite) together through Netflix.  More date nights, but this time, we made the episodes last. We had to resist the urge to watch more than two episode a night and spread the viewings out over a few weeks. We'd eat artichokes and oven baked cod with our eyes glued to the T.V.. Mounds of vegan mac-and cheese (I wasn't eating cheese at that point) with peas and corn on the cob. Tacos and hot tea and Locke. Pieces of Lost's story were slowly falling into place, new characters were being introduced and still there were so many questions to be answered. Characters found new lovers in old friends, the past and present became interwoven in this massive, meaningful blanket that was Lost. We loved every second of it.

 By the time the last season, the sixth, premiered in February, we were all caught up. Bubby and I watched each fresh episode every week on Hulu together. More artichokes and cuddles and cod.

This past Sunday was the last episode. The end. No more. Fin. So many of my friends talked about how sad they were that it was ending and I was, too. And then, when Dustin and I were watching the second to last episode, it hit me....

I cried the happiest, most thankful tears. A blubbering mess. Dustin looked at me like I was possessed until I explained it to him....

I've made it. 

I'm alive.

I got to see the end.

Flashback Fridays - And Then There Was One

On August 5th, 2005, I had a Pneumonectomy.  My family, both Mother and Father's side, Dustin's family and our friends gathered to see me off into my new life with one less organ. I can't imagine what it was like.. just waiting, in an unfamiliar waiting room, not knowing if your wife/daughter/sister/niece/friend was still living behind those sterile, metal doors.

I remember being in the pre-op room, where they give you an I.V. and then give you some awesome drugs to help calm you down. I remember they made me take my contacts out and it felt so weird to be "getting ready for bed" in the middle of the day. There is a moment before surgery, while you're alone,  just the anesthesiologist wheeling you into the operating room, where life becomes very clear. Those moments are the closest to God that I've ever felt. Like, when you're watching a movie and you know it's the end, but the director drags the scene out for a few seconds. Where everything is quiet. Where the world kind of slows and you KNOW that none of the stupid, everyday stuff matters. That money doesn't matter. That shoes and houses and cars and movies don't matter. That taxes and jobs and vacations don't matter. It's just you, your breath, your heart beats and those last thoughts. That last prayer, the last plead with God is all that really matters.

[And then, She woke up.]