There’s a story in my eye…

I wanted to start this story in the conventional way with the old “Once upon a time” but…it actually took place just a few weeks ago when I went shopping at Sephora.  This fabulous cosmetic toy store is stocked full of everything trendy that one can possibly need in the world of beauty products.  And even more you don’t need!

With a well-stocked shopping bag, I trotted through the mall, laughing with my daughter over how we both purchased the same Shishedo eyelash curler, anxious to get home and experiment with new eye shadows and pencils.  My previous encounters with other name brands have always irritated my eyes.  The hope was that I finally scored a hit with the assortment of goodies clutched in my hand.

Like so many times before, the eye-burn returned and I thought to myself that it was the same problem I’ve experienced with various other cosmetics as I looked in the mirror at my reddened right eye.  And suddenly, there it was.  A tiny lump, on my left, lower eyelid.  Mind you, I’ve never been prone to stys or other eye disorders and this lump didn’t hurt, wasn’t red or all sinister-looking…it was just…there.  Mentally, I made a note to contact Sephora because I felt this was caused by their eye pencil.  Still…I wasn’t really sure that was the culprit.

A little internet research brought up things like a Chalazion which seemed harmless enough until I delved into the dreaded “C” word and.. Basal Cell Carcinoma came across the screen.   Now, I’m far from a hypochondriac and avoid the doctor like a plague because my philosophy is..”if it ain’t broke, it don’t need fixin’!” but.. that little voice in my head, well, it just kept talking until I made an appointment with a specialist.

Two weeks later, after an intensive examination and biopsy, it was confirmed that I indeed have an eyelid cancer, localized, which generally does not metastasize but, still a cancer.   More research brought up how common these eyelid cancers are, most caused by excessive sun exposure.   I’ve been a sun-worshipper since I was a child, spent summers on my father’s sailboat and had my fair share of sunburn, always keeping a watchful eye out for questionable spots on my skin in the years since, thankful that nothing ever looked suspicious.  Never, ever, did I give thought to a cancer making a home in my eyelid.

So now, the next steps.  Phase One, Mohs surgery which treats skin cancer through a highly specialized and precise technique that removes the cancer in stages, one tissue layer at a time.   That takes place tomorrow.  Phase Two is the reconstructive surgery the next day.  Both done on an out-patient basis.  I plan on making the surgeon doing the plastic reconstruction swear that I won’t end up looking like Bruce Jenner.  Allow my sarcasm.  It helps override my apprehension as I write about this. 

And, I plan on sending Sephora a thank-you note.  If their eye pencil hadn’t irritated my eyes, the offending lump might have gone unnoticed for quite some time. 

Next time you see me, I’ll be the one in the big hat and dark glasses, ready to tell everyone about the story in my eye.

 

 

 

 

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Right or wrong…

Unless you communicate, it’s difficult to know how to love another person. 

I posted this as my Facebook status this morning as thoughts were rumbling through my head over various conflicts in my immediate world.  It just seemed to fit.

Sometimes, you have to address an issue with a dedicated sense of resolve, even determination, to face a particular conflict…at least halfway.  To barricade oneself in a corner, fists firmly clenched in a combative stance, well, it’s completely counterproductive.  The end result in any ongoing disagreement is that nobody wins.  Anger turns inwards, it hardens your heart as you cover your pain with an emotional blanket.   Beings that once felt love now can only muster indifference, even regret. 

Forgiving someone means making a conscious decision not to hurt that person in face of any hurt they might have caused.  Deep inside you hope the other person will recognize and feel sorrow for their hurtful behavior so that a few positive steps can help you move away from the pain.  And, the halfway thing?  When there is wrong on both sides, meeting someone in the middle, a compromise, can be instrumental in moving forward from the hurt.

Communicate.

 

 

 

 

 

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense.”

– Jelaluddin Rumi, 13th century Muslim mystic.

 

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A matter of opinion…

We all have those special moments with our children, and grandkids, that are golden; times that bring a smile and rest gently in our memories.

I had the pleasure of going to a play this afternoon with my soon-to-be-14 granddaughter, Emma, who invited me to join her and it was a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  A local youth theater group put on a production of Once On This Island and I don’t know what I enjoyed more, the play or watching Emma’s expressions as each act unfolded.  I leaned over and whispered to her that I felt she should register for the next workshop but Emma giggled, saying “Grandma…I can’t sing!  I’ve heard myself and I sound just awful!” 

No she doesn’t.  Well, only when she sings along to Pierce the Veil but…that’s a story for another time. 

Back to the play…

Two of the talented young people in this performance, Brad Taylor and Dylan Meehan,  recently became an internet sensation when they were voted “Cutest Couple” in our local high school’s yearbook and I was pleased about the validation each received from the student body, faculty and majority of our community.  Even the comments left about this same-sex couple on news articles posted on the web were mostly positive on the boy’s behalf.  Mostly.  As expected from various internet trolls, some statements weren’t worth spending the time to read.  But, that’s what opinions are, personal beliefs, right or wrong, which everyone is entitled to express.

The play ended and Emma went up on stage to congratulate a few friends, including Brad;  I watched the exchange of heartfelt hugs that had all the young people swaying as if they were dancing to a favorite song.  During the ride back home, Emma shared how there had been a discussion at school when the high school yearbook made the news; most students in her 8th grade class spoke supportively and with acceptance.  One..did not.  When the classmate was asked why, they stated that Brad and Dylan’s relationship was not God’s way

Emma felt the attitude of this person was ridiculous and I quickly agreed but had to remind her about those…opinions.  My brilliant grandchild related that she, along with her classmates, simply listened to what this one person had to say, smiled, and chose not to respond or feed into a debate where negativity was sitting by itself at a desk.  Each, in their own way, held onto their positive opinions about gay relationships while respecting those of another. 

The wisdom, and maturity, of an almost 14 year old to gather up support and acceptance for others, standing firm in her beliefs, warmed my heart.  Emma will never be a bully and she certainly won’t back down in face of anyone who seeks to challenge her, on any level.  She is so different from how I was raised and educated.   I often laugh to myself when she asks me to teach her things, knowing that someday soon, I’ll have to tell her that I’ve learned so much more…from her.

And…she can sing.

A little.     

A matter of opinion.    

Mine.

 

 

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