I'm not a huge jewelry wearer, but I absolutely love looking at it.  I think most jewelry classifies as works of art.  I enjoy looking at meanings, etc. behind the use of stones, colors, etc.

I've always found starfish (or sea stars as they are also called) interesting.  The idea of their being able to regenerate arms is quite fascinating.  Their lives continue along an interesting journey, regardless of the current shape of their form.

I found this necklace in Hong Kong and immediately purchased it for its symbolism.  My life is being changed, right before my eyes, along a beautiful journey of healing, rather than a journey of sickness.  A dear friend pointed out to me how healing is what God works in us, rather than the sickness. 

So, while I won't embrace the pink ribbon as a symbol of my journey, I will embrace the starfish!

If you'd like to read a few interesting facts about these creatures, please see:  http://www.kidskonnect.com/subject-index/13-animals/52-starfish.html

These are some members of my 2009 PhD class.  When they heard that I had cancer, they banded together to have a small party for me.  Most of them are graduating this month (one of them still has one year left due to his work schedule).   They presented me with flowers, fruit and milk . . . very standard gifts to teachers in this culture.  We talked, we laughed and we took lots of photos!  They even let me "go bald" as the classroom was quite warm!

The man on the far left is a master's degree graduate in chemistry.  Last summer, he asked for my help in editing a paper for publication.  I have certain requirements to edit papers and he didn't really meet any of them!  The entire process ended up being quite different because it was only a few days before we left for our summer trip to the States.

We spent a very intense day going over that paper line-by-line.  (I usually read the papers ahead of time to get a feel for the content and the English.)  There was much I didn't understand due to the chemistry part, but at least I do have a small science background so it wasn't completely unfamiliar.  At one point during the editing process, the student stopped and did push-ups in the middle of the room so that he could burn some physical energy!  It was hard for him to stay intensely focused in English for such a long period of time

However, we were successful and he submitted the paper to the Journal of Physical Chemistry (an international publication), and it was accepted and published in September 2011.  Because of this prestige, he was offered a job with the Chinese Academy of Sciences (fiercely competitive) here in our city (he's from here). 

He has sent me a couple of emails since then, but yesterday was the first time I've seen him in quite some time.  He spoke words that teachers love to hear:

"Vickie, you changed my life."  His job at the Academy means that he meets with international scientists, most often, using English as the common language.  He has to use English without leaving his home city . . . something he never thought would be necessary.  He said that three years from now he hopes to get his own PhD and that he may have a chance to do so in the United States.  He said that my involvement in his life had such an impact on his direction and focus.

Even now, it makes me a bit emotional to recall the conversation.   Most teachers *do* want to make an impact in their students' lives, but most never really know if they do so.  In this case, I got to hear the words.  To me, it seems that my role in this student's life was a rather small one, but it made a big difference to him.  It's very humbling to be such a memorable part of someone's life.  

Last week, I picked up my new glasses.  They had to make them a bit bigger (stretch the frames) to accommodate my progressive lenses.  Unfortunately, the shop didn't do a great job in that my line of "clear" vision is very small.  I'll head out later on today to talk to them about it.

The frames look a bit big on my face, but perhaps with hair, they'll look smaller!  We'll see.

I have what's called "chemo fuzz."  My hair is growing in, although not as thick as before and not exactly the same color.  Last night, Rachel rubbed her hand over my head and said, "Michael, come quick!  Mommy's head feels like a peach!"

Yup, I have true peach fuzz.  It's soft to the touch.  It's black and white and reddish/blond!  My hair won't truly grow back until post-chemo, but this is a start.  We'll see then as to its true color and whether it will have the same texture or body as before.

Also, if you notice, my bald head is beginning to get a wee bit tanned!  It's no longer as stark a contrast with the color of my face.  I wear a hat whenever I go out here in northwest China as we live at a mile high altitude and the sun can be quite harsh.  However, in Hong Kong, it's just way too hot to wear a hat!  I put a bit of sunscreen on my head and go from there.

I'll post a better picture later.  I got new glasses yesterday and I want you to see them . . . but I just woke up and I'm vain enough to say that I don't look my best right now!  :)

Do you remember the song, "Shot Through the Heart?"  Michael heard it somewhere along the line and the drawing above illustrates his perspective on what it means.  (He also calls his drawing, a "Love Shot.")

Michael is extremely needle phobic.  I'm hoping that he is outgrowing this as he'll have some shots coming up in the next couple of years.  I have literally had to sit on the floor, crossing his arms over his body, crossing my legs over his in order to hold him down for him to get a shot before.  It's not fun for him, nor is it fun for anyone else in the room.  Mentally, he wants to be strong, but emotionally, he can't handle it.  He's had to have general anesthesia for dental work . . . his phobia is that strong.

I, too, absolutely HATE getting poked with needles!  Of course, as an adult, I can't get away with kicking and screaming and throwing a fit to avoid them.  As a cancer patient, there's absolutely no way I can avoid them.

Every time I go to the doctor's office, I get poked.  It may be for a simple blood check (three or four times per chemo cycle), or it may be for the actual chemotherapy and support drugs.  My skin infections have resulted in my being stabbed with needles in order to drain them.  To be honest, I now have a physical reaction to the mere sight of needles . . . my stomach knots up and I can feel a physical ache.  I have olfactory memory . . . the sight of needles triggers the smell of chemicals.  Today, I broke out in a sweat while waiting for the lab technician to prick my finger for my blood check.  I know the pain is very brief, but it doesn't make it any more pleasant.

I *love* Michael's drawing.  He is so supportive of what I'm going through as it helps him address his core terror.  He's not been in the same room with me and he's not seen any of these needles, but he asks me about them almost every time I have something done.  Yes, my stomach clenched to see his picture and that "smell" came up again.  I almost cried, though.  I felt like he truly understood something in a way that no one else does. 

The shots and pokes are good for me.  However, the best shot, indeed, is a "Love Shot."  Best medicine of all.

A new friend of mine in Hong Kong, also with cancer, said to me, "I'm so sorry you're having to go through so much."  The words that almost came out of my mouth were, "God gives us what we can handle."  But you know what?  That's not true.  God gives us what HE can handle through us.

In the grand scheme of things that can go wrong, skin infections seem to be rather minor.  I have other friends with cancer who have to have blood transfusions due to low platelet counts.  I have friends who don't respond well to the anti-nausea meds and vomit uncontrollably for days and weeks on end.  Other friends have white blood cell counts don't return to normal in time for chemo and they have to wait and wait and wait. 

It's not easy, but God WILL deliver me.  That's not to say that He is going to definitely heal me in a physical manner (although, that's what I ask for).  When I say that He will deliver me, it's to say that I trust in Him to remain constant in His love for me.  That's the true deliverance.