Ticks & Mosquitos~

I had many great fabulous things happen to me in the last few years.

Lee Ann Womack smiled ear to ear to me as I intensely watched her perform as I was in the front with my family. I went back to how I was raised in daily spirituality. We found the cottage that seemed to be waiting for us. Our daughter makes us more proud with each passing year. I feel blessed.

Then as you Lymies know, every time I think my Lyme is gone, poof! There’s that wishful subconscious thinking, I realize how significantly different I would feel if it weren’t for Lyme. I’ve had it for 19 years now and told once chronic, there’s no cure.

The medical community is genuinely baffled what to do once there’s no bullseye rash, and months have gone by as we victims are being told lies all because most doctors simply can’t bring themselves to say, “Oh I’m so sorry you know what I don’t want your insurance money and waste your time, I don’t know how to fix you!”

That won’t happen.

19 year illness veteran here.

You’ll leave with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Anxiety, or Multiple Sclerosis.

I’m not one to complain but if you had this long lived infection all from not catching it in time to get to antibiotics, you’d be pretty ticked off too. No pun intended.

Everything in the article I posted in the last blog is what happens with Lyme disease. If chronic it’s like going to gamble, you don’t know how your day will pan out. My LLMD that treated a famous athlete for Lyme in Hermitage, Pennsylvania as well had blatantly stated, “Hospitals do not know how to properly test for Lyme”.

That’s an understatement.

I was so scared of multiple sclerosis that Hermitage, PA appointment was the first time I broke down in tears to a medical professional.

As my husband asked if I was alright the Lyme doctor simply let me cry, which I needed, and said “she’s in shock, she’s relieved”.

My years of being told and treated with steroid shots that I had MS while having a real time brain damaging relapse in Lyme disease will never leave my memory, Alzheimer’s or not. I’ll always remember what it feels like for the medical community to grab a straw and shove you in a folder. I’m sure they are overwhelmed with their calendar but they need to remember empathy, and that we are counting on them for repairs and the cold hard truth.

I wasn’t having it. I knew they were mistaken. You can think the same way. Human beings do make mistakes regardless of title. Don’t give up, fight for yourself.

All illnesses and sickness is scarring for the patient. We assume we’re in good hands, especially if you go to the best. I’m here to tell ya if you were diagnosed with MS and you have no disability, I’m not the only person I know of in my shoes. It’s becoming a common theme in the exact regions of the world that carry the highest cases of Lyme disease.

I can vouch for being proud to know couple badasses with a good heart that walk carrying MS, and I know of people with Lyme that are disabled but we are all damaged permanently in one way or another with these two combative diseases that look so similar to the medical community.

Many towns are afraid of Lyme disease as well. I’ve lived many places and all of them took a defensive stance to my medical record to swiftly say “you didn’t get that here!” Every single time I replied “you’re right, I got it in West Virginia”.

If you have to travel to find help, you have to figure it out. You have no choice because even if you don’t cure yourself you can put your body at ease.

Since I’m a chronic Lyme carrier I read and researched non stop to make my life more peaceful.

*Here are the steps I’ve taken –

*Drank colloidal silver for intense detox. Tablespoon held under tongue 1 minute/daily for 6 – 12 months. Gallon of water immediately afterwards.

I was told years later I must have killed 1 strain from this. (I have the 4 markers for Lyme in my bloodstream).

!This is dangerous attempt to be done carefully to not kill yourself accidentally! It will also enforce herxing – brace yourself – Jarisch-Herxheimer reaction is an adverse response to toxins released by bacteria killed by treatment. You’ll feel like you have a severe flu or you got hit by a bus, but others experience even worse.

*Low Dose Naltrexone (standing results to positivity to one w/Lyme) 3 mg or 4 mg

*Baths in highest temp as possible for 30 min per day;

• 1/2 lb Himalayan Crystal salt

• 1 lb Epsom salt

• 1/2 cup Baking Soda

• 1/2 cup Hydrogen Peroxide

• 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar


*No meat whatsoever

*Magnesium Spray on skin

*Splenda only, if you consume sugar your heart will go into high palpitations from the Lyme. Remember: Lyme LOVES sugar.

(My heart has been professionally tested, it’s healthy).

If you fight Lyme you’re fighting a non stop infection. Fight back with every avenue you have. I took the above protocol, counted my blessings, and rested / relaxed my body when I am symptomatic.

Doctors really are a few and far between entity on Lyme disease. So you have to relax your body in every way possible that works.

If any Lyme sufferers need a doctors list in your state that prescribes LDN, I’ve attached the comment button. I don’t approve commentary for privacy issues but I will happily provide the list or help you in any way I am able.


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Chronic Lyme Disease Share:


Only we who have it in our blood will understand. Pass it on, support helps the fight.

More coming up…


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What I would write to my mom if she were here to read it since I know it would make her laugh and smile…

Mom.. I forgive you for always picking me up at the many Elks, and other Jamborees when I was relishing in my Urban Cowboy moment with Dad and Uncle Mike playing music, all because you said “it was dusk and I was too young.”

Mom.. I forgive you that you reminded me how you’d happily take Drew off my hands if I didn’t stop college and stop my car salesman job after giving birth to her because we were ‘blessed enough for me to be home with her.’

Mom.. I forgive you for telling dad he “should’ve killed the spider with his purse.”

Mom.. I forgive you for making me the first girl in shop class with the boys because you demanded it to the principal, after putting Ms. Goslin in her place for how she spoke to me.

Mom.. I forgive you for being appalled I didn’t have earrings and lipstick on when I checked into the hospital to give birth, as you held my hand.

Mom.. I forgive you that you didn’t want me in music because of the lonely lifestyle, so you suggested auditioning for SNL instead.

Mom.. I forgive you for calling me ‘your pumpkin’ my entire life because you pushed out this 10 pound baby naturally.

Mom.. I forgive you for being supportive, paying for a huge wedding, and giving me the option to marry the love of my life, even up to the point when I panicked in my wedding gown.

Mom.. I forgive you that as I relished in holding my newborn Drewbabe in the hospital you said “She’s absolutely beautiful, well..this is the first day. You’ll live in fear from this day on until the day you’re gone.”

Mom.. I forgive you that I have yet to find you wrong on anything and everything you taught me.

Mom .. thank you for always forgiving me.

Mom, thank you for allowing me to mimic you on how to be a wonderful mother, always speaking and living 100% honest. Most of all, for loving me unconditionally.

mom’s favorites, for mom❤️

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Heat Wiser~

*I can’t imagine life without Donna Summer and Lee Ann Womack-2 originals.~All of the above actually~

So. All the Multiple Sclerosis, brain lesions, tracheal tumors talk aside, my cancer wrapped all the way up my neck leaving me hypothyroid until the next life while never having a thyroid disease.

I remember one of the first things I read while in recovery from surgery and radiation. The woman had written “you will never believe how little endocrinologists know on how to medicate a woman without a thyroid.”

I thought, great of course. Then as with most common thyroid clueless women I found out just how important it all is to a woman’s livelihood.

Regulating our hearts, playing a role in moods, body temp, all the way up to your mental health. Down to being able to think of the name of that building where you get mail? Hair falling out, or water retention.

It’s actually a plethora of overwhelming symptoms to list.

If you ever need to learn about it along with the education of your lifetime, read the book STOP THIS THYROID MADNESS by Janie A. Bowthorpe.

My madness was knowing all of the science to the intricate bloodwork and readings due to being well read in my moments of fear and living the fact I was not being medicated correctly since my surgery.

The formula that does the imperative role to a woman feeling level and well needs to be approved by a doctor that understands the things I don’t.

Many others and I walked around for years, thyroid-less and under medicated while getting unwillingly used to it.

A woman can walk around fairly medicated with a portion of their thyroid. A man’s thyroid doesn’t perform the important list that a thyroid does for a woman.

That frustration women in my shoes will always inevitably come to a crossroads. We have no thyroid at all, and the pill is our ticket to stay alive. We know if we don’t take the medication, we will slip into a coma within 7 days, and yet when under medicated we will desire rebellion feeling helpless and no one to turn to that will say I can fix how you feel.

I met that doctor today. My friend and referring physician cared enough for me to get me into see an endocrinologist in high demand who was an obvious genius that sat down to literally tell me how I was feeling, all from my bloodwork. Along with giving me an in-depth neck ultrasound while telling me she plans to give lectures to other doctors on how imperative and fragile this is for a woman especially.

The doctor also impressed and intrigued me with her opinion to the root cause to my cancer, toxins in the air with smoking being a precursor.

I’ve been told stress, since I had never worked in a radioactive plant. The details to her views felt right to my intuitive self.

To add to her mentionable, honorable credentials she did a rotation as a fellow at my beloved Sloan Kettering.

I was so under medicated with Armour Thyroid I was told to double the amount. I’m so taken back and thankful, honored and filled with plans.

I can’t recommend it enough, don’t ever settle when you know your health isn’t right. You can fire a doctor; you can choose the city to your cancer center while still loving where you live.

Our ability to handle life’s challenges is a testimony to our steadfast character.

This your life. Protect it.

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My moms favorite singer & song.

Our younger sister Courtney arrived later.💕

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Your Surroundings~


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I may not bring it up but I always felt grateful for any discussions regarding my 13 year old Illnesses that still affect me to this day. Trust the fact that I miss being one of the people lost on medical issues, all from not living it. I also feel loved when someone talks to me about it so as private as I am, it’s consistently taken away with positive feelings.

I will only offer my own information in writing or to my family that lives with me but I’ll continue to answer letters to what I do know.
I want to help just as I looked for that help years ago.

Although, living with an invisible illness (Lyme carrier/flare ups) and trauma to my brain with actual MRI pictures of my 7 inactive brain lesions and one large black hole directly over my hippocampus, also stops me from verbally replying my truth and or fighting till the tail end to not go to a doctor appointment or even a ER when needed.
That’s how you know someone is being honest over their illness.
If they fight the appointments, schedules, emergency situations, and/or are vague with questions. They’re simply beat down, worn out, exhausted with all the fighting to stay alive, live normal, and feel well.

I don’t know how many people have pictures of their brain as adults or realize that migraines, falling, car wrecks-none of it can cause my type of brain damage. Others like me get the following, when you’re scared out of your mind in the beginning you’ll scour the medical planet looking for a minor, less frightening reason.

Unfortunately for me, the only possible medical reasons are Lyme disease, Multiple Sclerosis, Alzheimer’s, and Cancer.
I never have to this day been given an answer to which one is the cause to my pictures of my brain MRI.
I’ve been diagnosed with all 3 diseases (Lyme, MS, Cancer).

I’m the type of person that has needed answers to everything since I could walk.

Due to the above here’s what is exceptionally appreciated and beautiful, this changed me in a way that is positive progress.
I gave up on getting an answer to every baffling obstacle in life.
Now I accept I always won’t get one and I really don’t give a shit if I don’t.
Now my philosophy is structured and strict to reflect my truth. If it’s meant to be, it will.
I feel that last sentence in every facet of my being.

The chip that must fall, the what comes up must come down is this,
my dear friends and family that think I’m simply aging, or tired, having normal wear and tear, or natural mileage we all share, are forgetting my damage is in the prefrontal cortex which permanently damaged my hippocampus which is behind my eye and is where short term memory is stored.
I face a smorgasbord of undesirable outcomes.
I feel it worsening as the 3 neurologists said it would as well.

What’s supposed to happen, will.

However today I woke up; I can walk, talk, see, hear, laugh, listen to music, write, hold my daughters hand, kiss my husband, puff on my electronic cig, sleep, the weather is beautiful.
I can only pray I have many more.
Whatever you face, solely face it one day at a time.
Sounds corny doesn’t it? I am 100% serious.

“You’re in serious trouble. I can’t believe your doing this well”. – Johns Hopkins neurologist to me in the thick of misdiagnosis, cancer not yet found.

Posted in cancer, Lyme Disease Discovery, Multiple Sclerosis, Trachea tumor, Uncategorized | Tagged ,

Ten Fingers Ten Toes~

Be careful not to break your hand, forearm, or radius you’ll deeply regret it. 

I’m impressed how quickly our bones heal in middle age, and yet it’s one of the longest ordeals I’ve ever experienced. The latter is obviously my frustration from appointments, X-rays and arm wraps for the hand that is dominant and comes in the handiest.  It’s a foreign feeling to have felt my plate move once in awhile as well.

What is most perplexing is how often I’ve broken limbs growing up on a farm, and from a long era in my life where I went skiing every weekend, and yet none of those fractures gave me as much physical pain as this time.

I still threw away the pain pills and pretty damn proud I do it every single time they’ve been given to me.

If I can help in any way, my secrets to fighting any of your particular pain or feeling uncomfortably are; ice packs, heating pad, iced chamomile tea without sugar, L-Theanine, clonazepam, (no interaction), hot baths with epsom salt, and Magnesium Taurate with your daily choice in tequila.


INTERESTING FACT: see the bunched up skin on my right hand fingers? That’s how swollen that hand has been for way too LONG.

*left hand wrap is in preparation for minor inpatient surgery to remove ganglion cyst.

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Medical Mumbo Jumbo~

From the moment this health nightmare started at the young age of 31, I’ve always relied on two consistent drugs; clonazepam and low dose naltrexone. Two in which play individual pivotal roles in my personal daily survival.

Low Dose Naltrexone is controversial to this day and any and every time I start answering honestly to prevent a reaction from a medicinal interaction I’m then questioned on it, “Why do you take 3.5 mg of compounded medication that isn’t FDA approved for a disease?”

As with most of the medical community, it’s text book only to treat.

Never fails.

“Because I was told by 2 neurologists that I carry MS and Lyme disease and various verifiable research confirms the prevention of further damage due to it.” – Oh..and MS scares the shit out of me.

I wrap it up with, “I know what it feels like to not take it, I’ll never stop.”

Moral of the story, don’t let peeps regardless of title, talk you out of what helps the shell in which you reside.

I’ve taken the research on LDN to three medical doctors and the woman out of three genuinely thanked me for the education behind the evidence while reading the literature in my presence. 

Clonazepam oh clonazepam, it all started back when my two missed diseases had myself in such a sick state to so casually accept any medication at all for anxiety.

Sloan Kettering told me “Any person with an ignored tumor will have severe anxiety”. So I accepted the unwanted but much needed meds, for many years.

Valium and Xanax were readily at my disposal. Luckily for me I hate Xanax, while also knowing and can live with the fact that I love Valium.

Meaning I know not to take it..

With lorazepam I slipped into mini comas from being not of this earth.

Many paths with doctors later, a kind nurse asked what I thought of Lorazepam, after I told her she said,“You shouldn’t feel like that start taking this it’s called clonazepam..”

It literally saved my life.

So pain pills I won’t touch, I choose pain. As for every day necessities when ill these two can’t be more helpful.

Sure I cringe when I see Stevie Nicks say, “I’ll kill that doctor if I ever see him”, regarding her clonazepam addiction. Yes, I gulp wine when I read how your body can go into a seizure from withdrawal of clonazepam, but I feel safer when many a medical journal states the importance of a person with brain lesions and especially the black hole in ones brain is to benefit from clonazepam and the onset of dementia. I’d rather be safe than sorry, I’m no gambler.

My mom used to brainwash us kids on the dangers of drugs then call herself a junkie for relying on cigarettes, my upbringing makes me feel weak to count on these two medications but without them, questionable to the quality of life.

This survivor don’t mind these couple monkeys hanging around.

Great news! Sloan Kettering gave me 3 months off until I have to check in! (And they agreed, no need to panic). Sweet relief!


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My Right Arm~


I have a piece of advice if you’re interested, stick with your cancer center when surviving such a monster.

Once put into a survivorship program some of us have to continue seeing other doctors due to location practicality but stick to your cancer center.

I did the right thing moving to where we are happy, healthy and comfortable, then checked in for my doctor red flagging my name. To the doctor it was an immediate alert with something suspicious at my carotid artery. I trust this man obviously since he found my cancer, but Sloan Kettering were who did my treatments and surgery. I’m notoriously loyal to who does me right.

As I await Sloan Kettering getting my cat scan video and blood work, I broke my hand simply dancing backwards while walking on uneven concrete to give my daughter a giggle.

Perfectly practical, right?

Growing up on a farm should usually guarantee you to know not to fly midair and land on your dominant hand but as my mom and Bobby always said “you take it to the limit every time”.

I’m seriously drugged up, and I’m told I’ll beg for my pills tomorrow. I’m one of those paranoid pill poppers, I’ll pass every chance I get. Haven’t take one yet.

Although I’m such a professional patient with being misdiagnosed for years then surviving cancer and Lyme disease, I do everything they say with a smile on my face, I’m genuinely annoyed my health is a constant. I’m ready for one sonofabitchin’ year without a hospital check in.

Constants – the things in life you know will always be there, no doubts.

The exceptional medical care when the scariest person to me (the anesthesiologist) turns out to be a new friend. I know instantly when I connect with a person. After a long talk she teased me for being a lightweight, I replied “not for long”.

The best of the best is in my daughter, as she will not let the house go a day without fixing it as I would and my medications are picked up, I always see my mom in her. Reliable, charitable and compassionate all rolled into one strong one.

I feel luckiest Bobby was home for this event. As soon as we finished unpacking from the move they lost the person that does literally everything. Bobby and paperwork are not friends for one but a comical one. I’m feeling thankful.

My fingers are straight again! I’m feeling thankful my surgery was so enjoyable for a pain in the ass klutzy accident and that my family and friends were 100% there and cared.Now you just saw what’s in my gratitude journal tonight. 😉

There wasn’t a night, except disco dancing, that Bobby didn’t have this played for me.

Every time it comes on we turn to each other, just as we always have, my right arm.

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~Obsessive Compulsively~

Being blessed with two seasoned doctors to continue watching me after our move following some recent blood work, I’ve discovered my name is ‘red flagged’ to my genius doctor that originally found my cancer in my trachea.

I’ll tell ya, I can get orderly and obsessive compulsive about cleaning, writing and music but after far too many years of misdiagnoses the last thing this cancer and Lyme survivor wanted to believe is, I have to get on it with enduring exhausting cancer testing and a day of blood panels all over again.

And here I swore I’d never walk into a hospital again.

It’s during my birthday week after Christmas as well, and that seems like my mom is still making sure I get a birthday present. 

My entire life I’ve lived with an anxiety disorder and OCD. My family will tell you I only have anxiety and I’m just one of those cleanaholics, but I assure you what you could witness all to prove my consistent need with order most certainly entails OCD. Thankfully I’m not the type that needs to turn the doorknob ten times before I walk out but I do match the medical criteria…

  • Extreme devotion to work that impairs social and family activities~I devote my daily routine every morning to have my house spic and span with laundry finished, car included, before I head out the door. If I have to do it the night before due to an early morning, I will before bed.
  • Excessive fixation with lists, rules and minor details~I am religious in staying strict with myself with bills, paperwork, files, and numerous clerical work as I access and review. Making a cd is tedious work for me not only due to the music discovery, but I will spend literal days devoted to only the sound. I grow so sick of studying the layout, I don’t listen to it again after the finished product.
  • Perfectionism that interferes with finishing tasks~I have 5 really interesting well written novels, that have been started over from scratch many times. *I am my own worst critic.
  • Rigid adherence to moral and ethical codes~Although I have always been open minded for others and easy going, I am old school and tend to stick to it.
  • Unwillingness to assign tasks unless others perform them exactly as asked~I won’t ask for help in anything, my mom or daughter are the only peeps that could do my lists and I would be okay with. A cleaning service that is hired could never live up to my expectations. I would find what they missed, every time.
  • Hoarding behaviors~I’m known to declutter and give quality items away. However, after my moms’ death, I kept every single item of hers down to the heart wrenching efforts of keeping her meaningless papers that lingered inside her desk. My older sister saved me with coming to my house, and verbally forced me to load truck after truck to Goodwill. Each drive I hauled felt like another chunk of flesh being ripped off my body, while also freeing me from the unhealthy hoarding and painful reminders that was born in me all due to significant loss. I also have countless record albums all the way from age 7 due to my obsessive compulsive love for music.

Anyway, as dear friends and family were immediately concerned, inquiring me with questions about my upcoming cancer testing I felt grateful for all the love and emotional intelligence that surrounds me as I floated into the realization my medical team is not in my music city, my childhood goal. Now being a flight or 8 hour drive away, it may be time to force myself to keep still, and make where almost took my life the location that takes precedence. NYC did the treatments to repair me but this particular doctor in the south saved my life, and he is still watching out for me.

Ever since my misdiagnosis to MS my daily regimen has been a different kind of survival. I don’t bore people with it, I keep it to myself, but as we all do I actually see my living the health fight of survival from the moment my eyes open until my chores are finished, til closing my eyes every night. 

As Bobby talks about his passion for the ocean again, and our daughter longs for the town she’s known from age 3 my compulsion lingers to what makes sense.

I don’t make resolutions but maybe it’s time this gypsy does just that. #noregrets


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Social In Real Life~

To each its own. 

For as long as I can remember in my history, that has always been my mantra.

I am the product of my beloved parents and proud to be a part of them, along with all the things that come with it. Take no offense but since I am also the type that does not need people, although being a people pleaser, I feel disappointed in myself all to let down a few friends with leaving the social media in which I did take part.

However, you will never find me following what others are doing, or copying a persons own individuality, so I will do one of the things I love most and sign on this ole’ web to write how I feel on my part in social media. (CREATIVE BLOGGING NOT INCLUDED)*.*

If my blog followers knew the list of peeps I proudly admit to loving and all too happy to proclaim to see every day, I would joyfully share the names, and if you knew them you would love them as well.

Instead, I will share what Royalty of Rock goddesses Stevie Nicks and Chrissie Hynde, financial genius Priscilla Presley, favorite journalist Liz Hayes, an unique top author Carrie Fisher and many others I admire quote since there is no way I could not agree more, “I don’t want to live my life on a computer”.

When you think of friendship do you think of quantity or quality? I’m one of the ones that think of the latter. I appreciate greatly the friends who give me just that. I give what I get/trust and check on them consistently. 

I personally have always been drawn to and cared for, and will work myself ragged for the ones who inquire to how you are feeling, want to reply when you reach out a reply for a crowd of one, ask how your latest surgery went, the type that look at a duo as the reality. It takes two.

I would rather meet you in person, catch up on the phone, or hit the road together for a trip, as opposed to seeing a picture of you or read your reshaped views on politics. I don’t want who I care for in ink, I look for the real thing in every person.

Call me collect, mail a card by USPS, pack a bag, you and I both lost many deep loves to the next life, do you think any future travelers will be saying on their deathbed “Hey remember on August 12, 2007 what Franks post read?” 

Memories in our aging minds and hearts someday will leave a much deeper mark in our souls as opposed to how many likes you received on your latest post. As everything that is robotic, that’s forgotten in seconds. 

Real living is short, see you in Cali. 😉

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Gypsy Landing~

All of us have a story where we planned to go when we were children. What we wanted to be, where we wanted to live. Then as we grew up we may have woke up elsewhere. I remember every time I impressed my mom, she meant so much to me and was always my idol so to enlighten someone of her caliber at any time, was a reward in itself. During one of our many long talks on life, I recall making her feel deeply moved, and impressed with my comment, “I believe we can also miss our destiny with choices”.

My husband has worried about my choices through our entire 32 year old marriage. Yes, even up until this day.

The fact is from the time I could walk I swore I would become a musical artist. Then realizing not soon after, my ultimate goal as a music producer, the ideal part of the music spectrum to me. I worked at it from a very young age. I did many talent shows, leads in chorus concerts every school year, I sang in my dads popular band, wrote songs along with my harmonica, was chosen most talented in jr. high, and was even listed in Tiger Beat Magazine.

Anyone who knew me, knew of my pursuit, and where I planned to live since my dad had names / connections in Nashville. All the while and still do, creating my own compilation of music on cassette tapes/cd’s with hours of original research preceding the development. Music was all I thought about from the time I could walk. Literally.

My mom thought I was musically talented but also thought it was a sad, lonely life to become a musician, so she consistently thought of other things to deter me from the music world. Many times mentioning I was comical enough and such a good impersonator, she encouraged me to audition for SNL, while getting serious a couple times to suggest I join her beloved NAVY, since she always said I was, “tough and strong”. To me, nothing felt right except for music.

All the while I was taking my latest song I wrote to my talented dad who could play any instrument in which he was self taught, and had a long resume of performing with well known big names, to help me put layouts to my words and my music ideas. This went on until I met my future husband just by following a request by a friend to help her on a blind double date. I’ve never regretted going to that blind date meeting but I’ll never forget my dad saying, “I thought you were going to Nashville, kid?”, when he was told of my desire to marry Bobby. It was one of those times where the words left me as disappointed as he was, all the while I was feeling madly in love. 

As my dad believed in my plan, it was a thought that was on my mind consistently, until I held my baby for the first time. As I asked to hold her on the night on the Thanksgiving I gave birth, her eyes and innocent fragility was the first time I didn’t see myself as a music producer anymore.

As much as Bobby and I have enjoyed living in the north and the south both, it never once entered our thoughts to end up where I always swore I would from the beginning stages of my life. I affiliated it with a different world of work. From the beginning, for rich or in poor, we stuck together. 

Living as a cancer and Lyme survivor, while others may joke I am a gypsy (and I laugh along), what really matters is what I know. Which is; I have made the right choices by living near my mom until the end, raising our daughter in one beautiful area for 16 years of her life for her to have her own roots, and now at this stage of my journey this survivor may not chase the music scene but bestowed upon the rest of my days at my original destination, with the love of my life beside me.



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Needless Needles~

Lukas Nelson (Willies son) with Stefani Germanotta (Lady Gaga)

When a friend asked about Thyroid disease I was once again put in the position to remind a loved one I never had thyroid cancer or a thyroid disease.

Although I wanted to help her I just read random surgery details for a thyroidectomy, and it was EVERYTHING that DID NOT happen to me.

I felt annoyed but it only lasted a minute.

It only annoys me to look back, and remember that people are on the lookout for help online. Not fables.

I’m sure it was different because my cancer started at my trachea but if people assume cancer in your neck causes the result of a needle to be stuck in ones arm and it ‘burns a little’, they’re dumber than I thought.

It’s not that easy.

*First thing to remember, ONLY READ MEDICAL JOURNALS and doctors notes. Never Google. Hit the Library.

*Second lesson: blood work does not find cancer. I have scars on my arms to this day from blood work to years of misdiagnoses. The repetitive blood work never picked up on tumors in my neck. Following my gut instinct, a skilled doctor, and a biopsy found the cancer.

Sloan Kettering confirmed to me, blood work does not locate cancer.

If you find you have cancer in your neck naturally you will want to know your stage of cancer, but it won’t be read until the surgeon opens you up.

The oncologist can estimate your stage or if it has spread, through tests beforehand, but nothing is final until you go through with the surgery, when it comes to neck cancer.

I was blessed to have gone to a cancer hospital that does not believe in over treatment. After watching my parents and husbands’ parents suffer, I walked in prepared to turn down the poisonous chemo or radiation.

I did inevitably have to endure radiation treatments, since they have advanced.

Your mind will want to overthink, the internet will blatantly lie to you, and yet the 4-5 hour surgery will be the guru to answer your questions.

So I can’t help you if you have a thyroid disorder or disease but I can promise you this, when it comes to cancer, I never thought I would get to where I am today. I did, and with whatever you may face you can too.

Positivity is the key to any obstacle.

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Since I could walk he was and is my source when I need a smile.

Another first Elvis did — first satellite concert ever played across the globe. Aloha From Hawaii concert..

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Ms. America~

I meet people every day that I like, then I come across a kindred spirit where we are supposed to meet and I am fortunate to like.

One of the signs to how I genuinely appreciate a huge tumor being found and removed from my neck, I stay consistently open to meeting the unique and interesting which roam around me. Recently as I gazed at my long nails in amazement and delight that I finally have my own long nails, I watched my old favorite sport in which I played every Saturday with my best friend from my youth, Tennis. 

An endearing woman, with kindness radiating from her soul and a thirst for a comrade, asked if I played. As our conversation continued, within minutes I was listening about her loss of husband to cancer. Even though I have experienced life stories being shared with me on the first meeting since a small child with strangers, this circumstance was as if a higher power wanted me to value a little more the second chance I was granted, and bring this person into my life.

My husband and daughter tell me I never want too much attention and work to avoid it, but I would not only never avoid someone needing a shoulder to lean on, it’s in my nature, I am also drawn to the needy and rare in life.

It could be the writer in me, the empath or the magnet I feel to help and heal. My mom always begged me to not let the world harden me, so I don’t dare allow it.

Cancer has changed me in many ways; my wild ways have tamed, my boundaries are built higher to avoid stress, I guide my body daily with as many healthy tactics I can discover, all the while using less of my mouth and more of my ears, for others.

This woman was full of fun loving antidotes, as she did so well with bravery and the loss of her first child at the tender age of 4. Meanwhile, we spoke to the other we discovered all of the things she felt she needed to share with me. While she hired me for a writing job, I wanted to do something in kind in return for her. 

As the world grows more violent and volatile, I am on an enjoyable yet tedious exploration for souls who live for human kindness and peace. Not the type that can take from you, but the ones that make yours and their day brighter by existing in their very own shell. 

That is what being here is all about.

Thank you Ms. America. 🙂

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Rock ‘n Roll Royalty~


The phone rang on that day of August 16, 1977. It was my beloved mom “pumpkin?” She knew I was probably doing what I really was doing which was crying my eyes out that my other idol, Elvis was announced to be dead. 

As I held the phone to my ear I dragged the 120 foot long telephone cord from the kitchen to my bedroom to tear off my posters in anger that they were implying him of dying from drugs. I was angry he left us.

It really is a shame the man never met me. I know many fans think the same way, but it really is a shame. I am positive he would have seen the true love I have for him not only as an entertainer, but as a person. Wishful thinking maybe?

All who know me say I would have passed out and missed it. Possibly.

I do know this.. True music fans will tell you they know what he did for music in 1954. In fact, it’s a big sign to me if someone disagrees. You don’t have to love him, like him or even listen to him. However if you don’t know what he did for music, the brunt of angst he endured for blues, rock n roll and country, along with the doors he pushed open for black musicians, then you don’t know music like you think you do. 

To again celebrate living through my illness, and the legacy of Elvis Presley, he will be on my mind as I take an upcoming trip to Nashville and the Tennessee mountains. Those hills sure can sing a story that will forever live in each and every one of us.


1957-the first moonwalk in dance

Every time I enjoy a new creation in blues or rock n roll, I think of him. I think of how my parents consistently made the comment, “We would never see something like him again.” What he did for all of us, others can attempt to emulate but all know, the originals can never be replaced. 

Just as the first with everything else in rock, Elvis did the first UNPLUGGED.


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For Another~

Just as my Genesis blog shared with you, I found inspiration once again. I don’t know where this desire came from. It could be my dads creative artistic genes in me, my personality that screams aquarian, or the fact that I have been a writer for as long as I can recall. I always have lived for inspiration, originality, and unique deliveries to thoughts and learning, but I’m also a criminal justice junkie. I’m not the type to watch tv, although I do follow certain cases that leave us all with questions. I found myself at that moment once again as I cried my compassionate heart out.

I was watching the Dateline case of Laci Peterson. The story we all know. One of those in which we all witnessed cruelty, loss, and of those rare types where you can’t find an enemy. The kindest of kind being unfairly and selfishly taken too soon.

Now, I know every time I take part in reading or watching details on the case I am going to genuinely suffer with listening to Laci’s mom, Sharon Rocha. I can relate to how she feels; her devotion, and her love. I am a mother as well.

Like a solider walking off a battlefield without limbs telling of the details, Sharon is a warrior. Mrs. Rocha is that beaten lamb. I watched her nervous hands rub together, and her eyes dart around in fear to trust not even her own, she has endured, survived what all mothers fear the most. 

My intuition was telling me for years since my surgery and recovery, I am meant to take part in some sort of selflessness. I had to have survived what I did for a reason. No, I don’t think everything happens for a reason but when it comes to life and death, there is usually a pivotal moment for why it transpired. My dads exact words on his death bed in the hospital besides, “Please get me a weed Dondu” (a cigarette), was “People are supposed to become better from watching death and suffering”.

Anyway, it could not be writing I told myself, even with all the compliments I am truly touched to receive,  I am my own worst critic. We all carry some scar buried deep from childhood to form us into the adult we turn out to be. Even though my mom praised every one of us, I do carry a beaten bat that questions every piece of art I attempt.

I pondered the incontrovertible doubt with finishing my book or any book, I continued to make money writing in the most simple way I knew. Real estate, and tourism. The work provided some light to that literal black hole in my brain while my soul still filled with the desire to perpetuate, save, or assist someone who is in need. Sharon Rocha has done that for me. She woke me up so to speak, and I understood every single word as if I was inside her as a Siamese twin. Sharon was speaking of the hope she always carried in finding her Laci, “I brought her into this world, I should be able to feel when she left it” she shared. The day that beautiful young girl washed up with her son, Sharon said she was hiding in her house because she could feel it. That day was the day.

Motherhood is the most powerful I have personally ever witnessed in my lifetime thus far. I remember once when my younger sister was in California as a teenager, my mom fell to her knees knowing with every fiber of her being something was happening to her. An hour later, she said “It’s okay, she’s safe”. I was bewildered beyond comprehension. My mom always said “Someday when you are mature you will have that ability with your child too”, yet I still believed her witch blood line was where it originated.  Now when I question my daughters safety, I listen to myself. If I don’t feel that panic, I know she is safe. No, I’m not a witch and neither was my mom. I am now mindful as that adult she once couldn’t wait to see but missed out on, that my mom was an empath and a mother. As am I.

My daily wish until the day I pass will be to look in my moms eyes, talk with her. Now as I still travel this earth I will continue to cherish every moment I can hold my daughters hand and pray it will end the way it is supposed to end, with myself passing on to the next life first.

Even though I have always been a children’s rights advocate in marches and writing senators, I am now a proud volunteer and writer for Missing & Exploited Children Organization hoping to be of some help, all the while embracing allegiance in print and spirit Sharon Rocha and every mother who continues to find the strength to walk in her shoes. 

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” – Matthew 5:4

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Today is a new day for me, in more ways than one. 

After we had a stop in our hometown for a handful of months, we restarted our lives back in the area where we feel our best. Going back to our work, our lifestyle and health regime. It wasn’t easy since I had such a good time with a couple friends and reigniting the closeness with a couple siblings. All rewarding, along with the additional feeling of experiencing what can’t be replaced, family. As well as  having family in a dear friends world.

After a 32 year marriage, we bought a home for the first time. At first thinking we were building a future of real estate and family nearby for our daughter in the event of our impending deaths, which had then spiraled into an investment. One that was way too extravagant and everything we found the expensive, vagabond way to be what we did not want. The most stressful part of living in the north was approaching getting rid of a highly competitive piece of property, as my younger sister prepared to get married.

There truly is a torturous tug of war to deal with a family of your own and moving very far, all the while wanting to be there for someone you have grown up with and is important to you. It gave an all new imperative meaning to the term ‘there’s a difference between wanting to and being able to’. Even though I warned her if her wedding date was changed, I wouldn’t be able to go, that is indeed what happened. It literally broke my heart. 

I haven’t seen my youngest sister since my dad’s funeral in 2001, as we each traveled our own beaten path, but I love her the same as I did when we ran by each others side as children. It was one of the hardest things I had to endure to not attend. I imagined my mom telling me on her death bed that I was to always be there for my sister since I never judged her decisions. My mom’s words are to this day my bible. As I reached out to her on the morning of her big day I was standing at my mom’s deathbed listening to those words while feeling joy for my sister’s excitement. While I floated in a dark cloud for days over the impossible chance to arrive, as she was understanding and loving about my not being able to make it, a dark monster from my past that blatantly admits to living in severe jealousy regarding my life, poked at this hurt bear. My sister was the only one who mattered and yet the toxicity of my past reared it’s ugly head all to achieve some sort of sick fulfillment since she lives an empty demented hole of a facade.

I have discovered with age, cancer at my trachea, wrapped around my vocal cords all the way to my thyroid, while enduring menopause we all find out who truly counts, what sincerely matters. Unfortunately for me, I have had a heavy load of outsiders that know nothing about me continually follow my trail. Don’t get me wrong, many from my past I welcome. The ones who beat me up to feel better about themselves or make assumptions about me without asking questions to get the truth are the ones I am fighting to rid myself free from.  What some of these old friends don’t realize is I was still speaking to them due to my loyalty from our past, my compassion for the unhappiness they lived. Nothing more. A couple of them came to me only because I was there for them. It wasn’t because they felt any loyalty, devotion, or respect. It was because I listened, I gave feedback. They had that one person to take their dysfunctional side. 

I have finally approached a side of myself my mom never wanted me to divulge. Bitterness for the selfish.

I actually asked a close friend recently “is it me that these people from my past are being extracted?”, She eloquently yet firmly shared with me that what was happening should have happened long ago. I am not accustomed to such treatment since I have grown past this group. It was an eye opening moment for me. I am not without friendships, I am without judgmental burden.

My sister and I will always love each other and be in touch. Growing into adulthood, and approaching ones 50’s has been a series of adventures and celebrations while a rocky road of epiphanies. While also proudly walking away. 

(Thank you, cancer.)

The moment you feel like you have to prove your worth to someone is the moment to absolutely and utterly walk away.

We are stars wrapped in skin.  The light you are looking for has always been within.

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Tell of the Time~

As we all tend to do with forgetting our blessings, while I made a grumble about the things I deal with since the surgery from cancer my sweet daughter that is now becoming quite the replica of my mom, sternly told me, “Mama, the doctor said you were six months away from suffocating in your sleep from that tumor. I remember! I just don’t like to remember. That’s why you should be glad you did the surgery.”

It immediately shut me up, woke me up, slapped me while calling me silly.
Just like my mom, she made me think. I honestly had apparently blocked out of my mind that I was told of that close call, and it took me back where I should have never left.

Ever since I walked around sick for ten long years traveling to that first visit into Sloan Kettering, and especially after the surgery and recovery, I have worked hard daily to be healthy, positive, and happy for the small things. I’m right on schedule. Those two years they told me it would take to become accustomed did in fact take two years.

Doctors have told me I would most likely be overweight, and yet I lost 20 pounds, the right way in the last few months. I’m told I have lost the one thing a woman needs to control her moods, I feel content pretty much every day. My cancer team tells me I have only three years in before I’m considered a cancer survivor but I have the faith and hope to get me to the end. Even if it takes five more years.

So let me complain a little, will ya kid?

In all seriousness, while you may not hear me refer to my sickness as a gift, it did definitely reiterate what my mom taught me in how I would know myself better than ever in my 40’s.

We all can make a list on where we fall short when such tragedies drop into our laps since every single human being that have a conscience anyway, will inevitably dissect themselves. Mine was evidently the lack of memory from early menopause that the surgery put me into, (whoops!) Or it’s all the enlightenment I have gained in which made me a better person.

Luckily, I am here to have discovered each year should make us better, not bitter. That is the end result goal. It was most certainly what I was taught anyway.

The entire experience woke me up to the damage I used to permit into my life, thinking I was being loyal and loving, while in actuality sacrificing myself all to have the company I was accustomed to, or to avoid rocking the boat. Those last four words are exactly where my charming political side comes from, not because I am being someone I am not. I don’t fear discord or confrontation, I just have enough of a mixture of both of my parents in me where to me, life is more enjoyable with simply laughing, creating, exploring, being honest. I have no interest to repair a person’s conflict resolution skills. If someone in my life cannot bring themselves to accept responsibility for their end, I would rather let them go rather then convince them.  It’s not my place.

The entire experience woke me to stop being religiously appropriate withholding my love and belief for God. I’ve always believed. I’ve always prayed. Ever since I was a child, many prayers have been answered, when I was begging for answers to the need the answer always arrived. I’m a true Christian in which empowers me; I won’t judge your beliefs, race, sexuality, while shoving my own beliefs down your throat. I was not brainwashed. I don’t believe it’s a lack of intellect. I don’t consider being a Christian joining a cult. It’s my personal belief in that particular higher power that some others have, while some others don’t. The latter is one of the many reasons why I can appreciate diversity.

The entire experience awakened me to the act of over indulgence. Unfortunately, a fact my mom told me many years ago was once again proven to me to be true.
“Regardless of how many good things you do in life, people will never forget you for your mistakes.” Or as a good friend added, “regardless of how many good things you do, you will be remembered for that one mistake.”
Another favorite true quote of my moms; “You can be the most beautiful person in the world, but you will look ugly while drunk.”

Got the t-shirt to all of the above, many a dresser full, actually.

So this isn’t about my not letting go or looking for pity. Anyone who truly knows me can tell you I despise both. However, if I can be a friendly reminder to the ones who read this or the ones who ask questions, believe this about my journey:

I plant and care for beautiful flowers daily now where before I forgot to keep them alive. Approaching ones mortality will give you an innate sense in a need to keep all other living things in a thriving mode.

Regardless of my events in a day, I care about my bird houses being full of seed so they can eat.

I live being busy and productive, as opposed to only busy.

I won’t buy cigarettes, even though I did for 24 years.

I won’t eat anything with hydrogenated oils or aspartame.

I’m choosey with meats. (Grass fed only).

I won’t touch liquor where before, it was all I socialized with.

After withholding tears most of my life, I learned crying and mourning over any loss, would cleanse me. When I needed to let go, I did.

I found the answer to my 20’s, the gratitude in the quick era of my 30’s, while finding myself in my 40’s.

I now know who took advantage of me and whom truly care about me, while the same goes for my end of relationships.

I refuse to go backwards in life. I will not tolerate repeats of any kind.

I still suffer with Lyme symptoms, aftermath of having deadly cancer at my trachea, brutal insomnia, chronic pain, as I continue to walk, work, and thinking positive.

As I worked my writing job, took care of my family and my health, I happily tucked myself in to a recluse of desired quiet privacy, and studied everything and anything I ever questioned in my life.

I exercise, smile, and sing more than ever before.

I discovered your child can have more wisdom, and listening skills than yourself, and I am confident enough to admit to it.


Simplicity. I’ve finally arrived to where I live what I have always craved. No, cancer wasn’t a gift, it was soul searching therapy that brought me to the other side of light.

Writing while listening to music works the logical side of your brain, to give your emotional side a break.

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Mothers Day Wish~


As another year hits, I see many gifts I would love to take to my mom for Mothers Day. More importantly, how hugging her and talking with her would make me feel and fix any problem I have.

I miss my mom and my dad every day, always talk about funny stories of them, and say a prayer in a moment of silence. Although none of those things will ever change the fact I lost my best friend, my idol, my therapist, my mother. She will forever live in me.

Listening to Willie Nelson I think of how much mom admired him. The only country artist she enjoyed country music from. One year she was looking for a genuine Willie concert t-shirt of a particular year. The loopholes I jumped through, the bids I placed to find it was all worth the look on her face.
I wish I could have another chance to find something she wanted.

The inevitable loss of my mom was a dreaded lingering spirit hanging over my shoulder my entire life, and now I am living it. Any and all who know and love me always knew it was my greatest fear. I am here.

Time makes no difference when the person was that important.

I know her well enough that she would tell me I’m doing a good job. I am a good mother, and not a ball of depression for others. I relive the happy times, and when I need to cry or mourn I keep it to myself. Just the way she taught me how she did it.

At the end of her life I asked her, as I was overwhelmed with weakness, “Mom how will I get through you not being here?” I was sincere in needing to know what to do. Her green eyes looked into my green eyes to matter of factly state, “It’s a part of life. You lose me, Drew loses you. You have to get through it, pumpkin.” That was just like her thinking of others. I feel selfish now to think of that question, her being on her death bed, giving me coping advice. I’d give anything for her to know me as the adult woman I am now. Closer to 50, unselfish, private, just as she so eloquently lived and taught me to turn into someday.

If you are one of the blessed to be my age and still have your mom; get up early, let the sunshine hit your face, fill your car with whatever she would love, and go look into her eyes. I promise you, the day will come where the latter will be what you miss the most.

What’ll I do
With just a photograph
To tell my troubles to?
When I’m alone
With only dreams of you
That won’t come true
What’ll I do?

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Prison Break~

I hit my fifth year this month.

If you have read this blog from THE BEGINNING then you know, this an important time. From what I feared the most, the devastating effects from Multiple Sclerosis.

Odd, isn’t it? I feared MS more than any other health crisis. I had fear for my family more than myself when the jeopardy came to cancer forming as close as a third of an inch away from shutting off my trachea. I know that sounds ridiculous, but no two people are the same with MS. One can live with sensory symptoms only, the other can literally fall apart the first year. 


In my personal story, it was guessed to be brain cancer, then I was originally diagnosed as probable Relapsing Remitting Multiple Sclerosis. Yes, the following doctor stated I was a classic case of Lyme disease. Then Sloan Kettering stated the brain lesions could be from misdiagnosed cancer. My common sense knew what two neurologists endured with studying the brain, so I held on to the original neurologist’s quote, “If you don’t have any disability in the next five years, you never will.” I researched that fact and the Mayo Clinic confirmed. 

It’s felt that most people experience the severest disabilities of MS within five years of diagnosis. After that point, their disabilities don’t continue to worsen significantly. Therefore, if no additional disabilities appear within the first five years, then they are unlikely to occur in the future. But nobody can predict what will happen to any one person and so many things can have an influence on that. It’s been proven over these short years that doing all of the “right things” will increase your odds of a better outcome. http://my-ms.org/ms_prognosis.htm

Just as life famously throws roadblocks at us, I never did get a concrete answer. Although, I did have that cancer which was blocking my trachea and wrapped up around my thyroid, removed. I went on with life while everyone thought I lucked out, and in the back of my mind I counted the months to hit my fifth year mark for the parole board and probable RRMS.

I was lucky enough to meet people with MS. They were walking, talking, laughing, with eyesight, and that monkey hanging on their back, just like me. 

To this day when I look in the mirror I know how destructive I have been with my body in my short life. I marked those days off to five years as though I was on a maximum penalty prison sentence.

As my husband lived in denial, my very mature daughter is the only one who knew I lived with an inner countdown. While she doesn’t believe I carry MS, she is beyond compassionate, empathetic and positive as always.

During this time two publishers and an internist doctor have pushed me to finish my manuscript to tell my story, along with the vital things I have never even shared on this blog. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel as though I would be fair to the many people who live with MS, cancer, and lyme without an ending. I want to help, not hurt.

What I have never shared with anyone is the fact I live with many symptoms of MS. Yes, MS and Lyme are almost identical. The symptoms I still carry could be the positive blood test from Lyme as well, but just as most in the medical struggles have learnt as they were cheated at this card game, you can be bitten by a lyme infected tick and it will ALWAYS show up in your blood. I grew up on a farm. There are a great deal of debates with Lyme in the medical community due to insurance regulations, as well as a lack of knowledge on how to treat chronic Lyme.

I have always listened to my instinct, and when I do, I am never steered wrong. I’ve paid close attention to my body this past five years. To be blunt, and more importantly with myself, I have some form of something. Whether that’s benign, sensory only, around the corner from destruction, or the aftereffects of cancer, I have something. And that’s exactly why I play it safe and continue taking LDN. Only people who live with me know I take that pill religiously. LDN – the low dose naltrexone I detailed in this blog. Not FDA approved but a common, effective tool in the fight against this mysterious disease. It’s a proven fight against Lyme as well. Some doctors believe in it’s ability, while some demand to know how I obtained it. I also know the LDN makes a difference since I have experienced what it feels like to run out of the pill.

Even though myself and my family enjoyed living in the south for many reasons; The school our daughter wanted, the beach, the consistent sunshine, (sun, a factor in fighting MS), and the doctor that found my cancer right away, my job, away from the stress, gossip, and falsehoods we were accustomed to from our hometown. I had one more personal reason; fall apart in private. I expected it to happen. I wasn’t so sure I would hit the five year mark free from disability. Due to that blessing, I have taken my gift seriously and taken care of myself.

This blog is about my acceptance and to not discourage the reader to not listen to your doctor. There are misdiagnoses in this world, my cancer was missed repeatedly, but not all doctors have to be discredited. The sensory symptoms, fatigue, double vision, memory issues, migraines among other things, that I may not have every day, but still carry, aren’t from the cancer they removed. Not from the early menopause my surgery put me into, just my luck of the draw in life, or due to having 7 inactive brain lesions. The symptom list is the same as listed on having brain lesions in ones brain. Then again, possibly, I carry all three?

I may never know and I quit caring to know.

I will continue making plans with my family. Laughing so hard it hurts my ribs. Exercising to stay in shape. Relish in my hired writing assignments. Eating as mimimal as possible. Feel gratitude towards real relationships and those who are astonished by how healthy I’m told I look. 

Even though I live with continued trips to NYC for tests until I ironically hit my five years to be considered a cancer survivor, and my dear friends have empathy for the fact that I can’t ever be insured since I had cancer. As they say to me, “That’s awful, I am so sorry. It’s as though they know how you will die.” It’s ok, I still have no idea. There’s two other high possibilities.

I lost my mom on December 22nd. I think of her as I type this with my sensory symptoms,  knowing she was never wrong. She repeatedly warned me, begged me to be good to my body, to treat it like a growing plant. Now I not only know I screwed up in more ways than ten by not listening to her, I also know at one time I walked around with lyme, had the close call of life and death cancer ripped out, as I continue to wish the RRMS the best. Isn’t that what every obstacle in life boils down to anyway? 




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Okay, I am completely aware that the people who follow this blog and especially the ones who personally know me will spit on their computer screen with laughter when they read this, but you may just reconsider the possibility of what I am about to share.

The common person may not know this, but in the Rock n’ Roll world, it is an inside passing comment on how to escape the industry and make yourself more money is ‘to do what Elvis did; fake your death.’ Yeah, yeah you’re thinking, ‘Oh my god she is so obsessed with that man she thinks he’s alive!’ I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t necessarily think Elvis is living, but I do question, when up late at night and tired of writing jobs, to delve deeper into the research that he more than likely finally escaped, and since I’m an Elvis connoisseur I pray to god he had done just that.

Let’s be honest. People from the 1950’s will tell you there was an enormous amount of pressure on Elvis Presley, which was expected from him until his ah hem, cough, death.

When he first came out, Perry Como and Frank Sinatra ruled the charts. Yes, black musicians were doing the blues, and Elvis loved the blues along with choir music, but actual rock didn’t get started until the ‘white guy that sounded black’ hit the scene. Elvis was never a songwriter, but all of his songs were chosen and performed in the way they were by his suggestion.

Eventually the Elvis hysteria was so out of hand, he was banned, accused of being satanic, beating his mother, a sexual deviant, a bad influence to the rise in juvenile delinquency. In those clean years one can imagine how shocking his performing, and sexual suggestions portrayed him to others. Of course, all lies about this spiritual man.

The controversy then grew to where his records were being smashed, the parents wanted him away from the eyes of the youth. He was being filmed from the waist up, his concerts were lined with police officers, ready to arrest him for simply dancing. All the while, his influence caused John Lennon to start a band with his buddies so “they could meet Elvis someday.” One influential example of far too many to list.

Finally in 1977, times were bad for him. This is all verified by close friends, his nurse, and family. Don’t worry, I don’t give a shit what the Memphis Mafia has to say since they sold him out for a book deal back then, and one of the things that inevitably led to his depression. Elvis was addicted to uppers and downers to meet his 350 day year concert schedule, his loser manager had a gambling problem, and took 50% of Elvis’ earnings for his addiction. Elvis kept him from his legacy of old school loyalty. Same goes for his bodyguards, staff of men Elvis ran with, known as Memphis Mafia. Elvis saw them as family, best friends, karate comrades. After Elvis gave them not only a job, a house, many cars and security for themselves and their families, once the so called friends were offered a book deal to sell Elvis out, they took it.

The book was released after Priscilla left Elvis for his karate companion, Mike Stone. It was a crushing, life changing time for him.

As for Priscilla, I won’t defend Elvis because I have immense respect for her. That woman has always shown the highest form of love, respect and class regarding Elvis, even though he publicly cheated on her through their entire marriage. Nevertheless, Elvis grew into a deep depression.

As Elvis grew more quiet, it is reported he repeatedly made the comment, “I am so sick of being Elvis Presley”, as he became more fascinated with his love of Numerology. The compulsion with numerology can in fact make one become reliant on it. I have done it myself. I wouldn’t say I am at the level he was with it, but I do take to heart what my numbers tell me. Numerology will in fact teach you a great deal about yourself. Everything will ring eerily true. It’s not hocus pocus, it’s not a cult. It’s a science with numbers of your life. Here’s the spooky part, when I learned Elvis’ numbers had his numerology advising him to give up selfish possessions and live his life for another in August of ’77 some of the compelling evidence made much more sense.

*Elvis lived in torment with survivors guilt from losing his twin brother, Jesse Garon. It was a lifetime spiritual quest for him to understand why his twin died, and he was given such an extreme life to uphold.
*Elvis had a grueling time with surviving the loss of his mother. All who knew him said he never recovered or came to any peace with it.
*Elvis canceled a tour, for the first time in his career, a week before his ‘death’.
*Elvis Presley is the only known autopsy with missing pictures, tissue, and organs. (The recent AUTOPSY program regarding Elvis used medical records from his history.)
*The blood type listed on the short two page autopsy papers is different from the blood type Baptist Memorial listed as Elvis’ blood type for a liver test from 1974.
*Elvis’ favorite books, jewelry, and pictures of his mother disappeared.
*Life insurance policies on Elvis were never cashed.
*Elvis Aron Presley, his middle name is misspelled on his gravestone. (AARON is not how it was spelled on his birth certificate, marriage certificate, RCA contract, ARMY records, drivers license.) Legally, that’s not his gravestone.
*The picture of Elvis in his casket was a replica of him at the age of 25, while his death certificate read 170 pounds. Elvis was an obese 250 pounds in the end from depression, and 42 years old, not his youthful 170 pound 25 year old self, as displayed in that casket.FullSizeRender-11
*Every passing person in his quickly handled funeral made the comment his corpse looked like a wax dummy of him with a pudge nose, arched brows and smooth hands, which he had none of the latter.
*Fifteen men struggled to carry this supposed 170 pound shell while there was mention of the cool air coming from the coffin. (Air conditioning keeps wax in place.) Linda Thompson, one of only three women he lived with even made the quote, “It’s amazing what they can do with wax nowadays.”

It is well known that Elvis left everything, including Graceland, to his divorced wife Priscilla, in his will. His pig greedy manager Tom Parker and best friend, Joe Esposito, and Priscilla who would have her daughters security in place, helped him escape the curse of fame. The disloyalty of who traveled with him, depression, drug addiction, and being imprisoned in his own home.

Think about it? Colonel Parker, his manager, continued raking in the money off of Elvis until that trash carnie croaked. He was all for it. RCA recently made the statement, “Elvis has yet to be beat in record sales”. The man stopped recording in 1977! Priscilla never said a bad word about him while she and Lisa Marie prepared Graceland for the fans. It is the number one visited rock n roll destination while Elvis Presley Enterprises make a mint to this day. (One of the reasons I’m against buying all of the Elvis junk. I admire you Priscilla, but you’re rich enough.) Joe loved Elvis for who Elvis was, not what he could do for him.

SO… there’s one picture that is supposed to be Elvis from 2001. It came from a doctor that prescribed him pain meds for arthritis. This working physician, wants no interviews or money, and doesn’t want to sue anyone. However, he owns jewelry that the log listed as missing in 1977. And in a book he wrote, supposedly with Elvis’ blessing, which took me very long to obtain, holds letters “Elvis” wrote the doctor about living with guilt to leave his fans or anyone who loved him for him, heartbroken. As insane as all of this was to me, I have studied Elvis’ handwriting since I was a little girl. The letters are identical to his handwriting, and when tested by three handwriting specialists, one formerly with the FBI, all three agree they consider it an identical match. I also know Elvis had a peculiar collar bone that stood out, a broken pinky finger, many details that match this elderly gentleman WHO IS HOLDING LISA MARIE PRESLEY’S SON??!!!

Come on, does this add up?

If this were a scam wouldn’t there be pictures of the elderly man looking at a guitar, staring off into the sunset pondering life, sitting by a lit fire with a numerology novel? Nope. Just this one picture. Now the doctor won’t talk about it. The book is off the shelves, (I found mine in a Goodwill in Colorado Springs.) And the only person who can prove us wrong with her DNA? Lisa Marie. She tells every asking person to ‘fuck off.’

If it’s a facade, I agree with her. My apologies, Lisa. If she and Priscilla don’t want to mess up the payroll, I say alive or dead, he earned the right to rest in peace.

Long live Rock n’ Roll.




“Elvis is the best ever, the most original. He started the ball rolling for us all. He
deserves the recognition.”~ Jim Morrison

“Describe Elvis Presley? He was the greatest who ever was, is or ever will be.”
~ Chuck Berry

“Without Elvis none of us could have made it.” ~Buddy Holly


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