God Winked

Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I drove to the airport to pick up my daughter, my mind racing with a frenetic "To-Do" list for the coming days:

1) Pick up last minute, forgotten items at the grocery store. (I did this about four times.)
2) Go to the bakery to pick up birthday cake.
3) Purchase extra pillows for overnight guests.
4) BUY LIQUOR.
5) Clean the toilets.

Faster than the miles that ticked on the odometer, I added new items to my list:

6) Pick up more candles.
7) Look for the tablecloths.
8) Buy pretty paper plates.

I changed stations on my XM Radio from Fox News Talk, to 60's music. I needed something upbeat, no arguing about the same old political stuff on that day! When I couldn't get into the song that played, I changed stations again, this time to Oprah Radio with Maya Angelou.

I cleared my mind of thoughts just long enough to hear her say, "I thank God for rainy days." She told the story of preparing for a large outdoor party, when suddenly, dark clouds began to form, and a downpour began. But she said she thanked God for that rain, because it gave her the opportunity to be more creative, and it made her thankful for the good friends she had who helped her pull the party together indoors.

Profound, yet so simple. What we count as our blessings is all a matter of perspective.

So, though Wednesday it was sunny and warm, a perfect day to sit outside around the fire pit, Thanksgiving Day had turned bitterly cold and rainy, with sleet and snow later in the afternoon. The weather kept my 22 guests locked up in the house with me as I chopped, stirred, slurped, sipped, and washed, and NOT outside enjoying cool, crisp autumn air near the fire pit scented by burning cedar.

But, it also allowed me to enjoy bits and pieces of everyone's conversation. It kept my sisters and children close by, constantly offering help in the kitchen.

Any time I felt the hustle and bustle of Thanksgiving tightening in my back, I looked outside at the first snowfall of the season, even at the sleeting rain and thought to myself, "Thank God for rainy days." And looking around at the people I loved, I was reminded of all I have to be thankful for.

We really did forget to make the gravy! (And unfortunately, didn't take many pictures, either!)

Change of Heart

I was going to post a Thanksgiving blog today, but I learned a lesson that I thought important to write about, and in the end, it left me thankful.

As with most days, my morning started with sipping a cup of coffee as I flipped through various news channels. One story in particular caught my attention.

David and Susan Axelrod Put Up Fight Against Daughter's Epilepsy

The fact that I was not drawn to change the channel is a surprise in itself, because it was a story that involved David Axelrod, President Obama's senior advisor. Honestly, in the past it has not been unusual for me to flip to another channel or turn the news off completely when he has spoken. With all due respect, all I heard when he spoke was "blah, blah, blah." That will change after today.

The story was about how he and his wife, Susan, have been fighting a 29-year battle with their daughter's epilepsy. Strange, that seeing Mr. Axelrod as a loving father and husband came as a surprise to me, and I found it curious that all those times I watched him speaking on politics and policy I only saw him as another bloviating talking head.

It shouldn't have been such a lesson for me, as it is a subject that I often think about - learning about and respecting each other through open communication. I have even blogged about in the past:
Sister Left, Sister Right
Going Tapeless

I often miss a lot by turning the channel, or turning someone - anyone - "off" when I'm not interested in what they have to say. Perhaps it is a safety mechanism, so that I don't have to deal with that person as a multi-dimensional human being, only as a flat, one-sided person I can more easily disagree with.

But the story on the Axelrod family showed me - or perhaps reinforced to me - that every person is a multi-faceted human being, with unique triumphs and tragedies. If we open our hearts and learn from them, even those of us with differences might get along better.

And wouldn't that be something to be thankful for?

Honor

"All of us can't stay in the [internment] camps until the end of the war. Some of us have to go to the front. Our record on the battlefield will determine when you will return and how you will be treated. I don't know if I'll make it back."

            -- Technical Sergeant Abraham Ohama, Company "F"

            442nd Regimental Combat Team, Killed in Action 10/20/1944

Since beginning work on my novel, Broken Dolls, (see synopsis), I have learned many new things, not only about the history of the internment of Japanese Americans, but also about the history of my own family. I always knew my mother and her family had been forced to sell their belongings before being relocated to Tule Lake Relocation Center. When Tule Lake became a high security segregation camp for those Japanese Americans deemed to be "disloyal," they were moved to Topaz Relocation Camp in Utah.

My Grandparents

My grandparents were from Japan - Issei, first generation. Due to the Naturalization Act of 1790, they were not allowed to become American citizens. However, my mother and her siblings were born in the United States - Nissei, second generation. Therefore, they were citizens of this country when they were relocated to internment camps.

My mother and her mother

What I didn't realize until recently, was that my Uncle Yoshio - my mother's oldest brother - fought in the United States Army while his family was interned in these camps. He was a member of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, composed entirely of Japanese American soldiers.  The 442nd became the most decorated unit in United States military history for its size and length of service.

442nd Regimental Combat Team Website

Even more amazing to me was something I learned just last week from my cousin, Uncle Yoshio's son: his dad, my uncle, my mother's brother, received the Bronze Star.

It's difficult for me to put into words how I feel when I think about these young men fighting - some even sacrificing their lives - for a country that put their families behind barbed wire. But, there were many stories like my uncle's. Many of these young Japanese Americans soldiers must have held the same sentiments Tech. Sgt. Ohama expressed in his words above:

"Our record on the battlefield will determine when you will return and how you will be treated."

This history is not something my mother or her family spoke about much. Perhaps many Japanese Americans are unnecessarily ashamed of this history, or it is too painful a period in their lives to re-live. Perhaps it is the philosophy of gaman - patience, endurance. Or, maybe it is the attitude of shikata ga nai - resigned acceptance.

I am Sansei, third generation. The more I have learned since beginning work on Broken Dolls, the more I realize this is history we should all remember. Most of all, I respect the honor and dignity of those who experienced it.



The Wonderful Years Between Two Yucky Events

It is with some trepidation, intimidation, indecision, embarrassment, and finally resolution, that I post this blog about my colonoscopies. But, after listening to Gayle King speak of her “event” last week, my feeling that we shouldn’t be embarrassed about such an important screening won the battle of “should I or shouldn’t I?”

It’s important, and we all need to get over the “yuck” factor. So, here I go . . . 

Sometime in 2001, after a close relative found he had colon cancer, I reluctantly made the decision to have a colonoscopy. (I was only 43 years old at the time.) Surprisingly, though I had no symptoms of any intestinal problems, the doctor found a couple of polyps. Fortunately, they were benign. However, it is within these polyps that colon cancer develops, so it is important to catch them in their early stages.

Because polyps were found, I had to have another colonoscopy in 2004. Nothing was found in that screening, and I didn’t have to have another one for five years.

I’ll admit, after my “clean bill of health,” I procrastinated going through “the event,” and did not schedule another colonoscopy until 2010 – last week, as a matter of fact. Once again, no polyps.

Okay, there’s no getting around the fact that a colonoscopy is UNPLEASANT, in other words, yucky. But, so is a mammogram or a pap smear. And though I have no experience with it, I suspect certain PSA screenings are no cup of tea either. But all are important screenings to detect cancer in the earliest stages possible.

The day before the screening is by far worse than the screening itself. First you flood your system with a variety of “preps,” as the medical community genteelly calls it. I would say the more graphic description is atomic laxatives. I took three different kinds – one harmless looking pop-sized bottle of a rather pleasant tasting lemon-lime carbonated liquid called Magnesium Citrate.

Hmmm . . . I thought. This isn’t so bad.

Next, I mixed powdered Miralax (238 grams) with 64 oz. of Crystal Light Lemonade, and had to drink an 8 oz. glass every 30 minutes. Initially, that didn’t seem so bad either. Until about the third glass. Between the frequent trips to the . . . well, you know . . . and the pewky sweet and sour taste of the concoction, I never want to taste another Crystal Light Lemonade again. And only five more glasses and umpteen trips to the . . . you know . . . to go.

Somewhere around the sixth glass, I was instructed to take four--yes, FOUR—Dulcolax laxative tablets. And there you have atomic.

This is all not to mention starving yourself the day before – not that you’d want to eat anything as you’re attempting to clean yourself out.

The next morning, feeling drained (literally,) we headed to the clinic at 6:45 a.m. for my procedure at 8:00. What a way to start the day. But, I was happy the whole thing would soon be over with.

The nurse explained to me that I would be given a sedative where I’d remain conscious, but that I wouldn’t remember anything. As I waited to meet the doctor, I scanned the room, wondering what all the pieces of equipment were for. To say the least, I was a little uncomfortable looking at the large flat screen TV in the corner of the room, knowing my innards would soon be flashed on the screen in all its HD glory. I hoped I wouldn’t be too conscious to experience that.

A rather handsome doctor came in, and the first thing I thought was, “How old are you, anyway?” He looked younger than my son.

I glanced back at the big screen TV and suddenly wanted out of there.

When the doctor left, the nurse came in to give me an IV. She told me to turn onto my left side. I remember staring at a poster on the wall, wondering when the words would start to get blurry. That was the last thing I remember before waking in the recovery room with my husband looking over me.

I felt a little queasy at first, certainly not hungry. I came home and slept for a couple of hours, then ate a few soda crackers, then some soup. For a couple of days, I felt a little “gurgly,” and didn’t have my normal appetite back, but after that, felt back to normal.

Not only was I thankful “the event” was over, I was thankful for the negative screening – one time when “negative” is a good thing. I couldn't help reflecting back to my colonoscopy in 2001, and wondered what might have happened to that benign polyp had the doctor not snipped the darn thing.

Here’s a list of the wonderful things that happened in between the two yucky events:

*  My daughter and son both graduated from college.
*  I got married.
*  I have traveled to many places around the world, including China, Japan, India, Turkey, Italy, France, Peru, Greece.
*  I have become an artist.
*  I am about to finish my first novel.
*  I’ve met wonderful new friends.

Had I not had the colonoscopy in 2001, had the doctor not found the polyps, maybe they would have continued to be benign, maybe not. But if not, think of all the good things I might have missed.

I don’t have to have another yucky procedure for another five years. I smile when I think of all the events I’ll experience in that time.

Note: The American Cancer Society recommends the following for screening of colorectal cancer and polyps:

Beginning at age 50, both men and women should follow one of these testing schedules:

Tests that find polyps and cancer:

• Flexible sigmoidoscopy every 5 years*, or
• Colonoscopy every 10 years, or
• Double-contrast barium enema every 5 years*, or
• CT colonography (virtual colonoscopy) every 5 years*

Tests that primarily find cancer:

• Yearly fecal occult blood test (gFOBT)**, or
• Yearly fecal immunochemical test (FIT) every year**, or
• Stool DNA test (sDNA), interval uncertain**

* If the test is positive, a colonoscopy should be done.

** The multiple stool take-home test should be used. One test done by the doctor in the office is not adequate for testing. A colonoscopy should be done if the test is positive.

The tests that are designed to find both early cancer and polyps are preferred if these tests are available to you and you are willing to have one of these more invasive tests. Talk to your doctor about which test is best for you.

The American Cancer Society recommends that some people be screened using a different schedule because of their personal history or family history. Talk with your doctor about your history and what colorectal cancer screening schedule is best for you. For more information on colorectal cancer screening, please call the American Cancer Society and ask for our document, Colorectal Cancer: Early Detection

Information taken from American Cancer Society website.

Recognizing Sacrifice

My father was a career Air Force officer, from approximately 1955 until 1975. I thought Veteran’s Day would be a good day to write about my memories of his time in the service and about being an “Air Force Brat.”

Most of all, I want to honor my father and all veterans.


My parents met in Hawaii, while Dad was stationed as a young Air Force pilot there. Mom was a stewardess with Pan American Airlines. They married, and before long, I entered the picture. Within five years, my arrival was followed by three sisters, and one brother.


Dad often had to be gone for long periods of time—sometimes up to six months or longer. As you might imagine, my mom sometimes had a difficult time raising five kids alone during his trips. I remember how empty the house felt when he was gone, but when he’d arrive home, our family finally seemed “normal” again.

At last, he’d walk in the front door, still wearing his flight suit, a khaki green one-piece zip-up, with zipper pockets all over. The five of us jumped and climbed all over him, and when he hugged and kissed us hello, I still remember how he smelled. I didn’t really know then what the scent was, but it meant he was home, and I loved it. Today, I suspect it was the smell of the cockpit of the C-141 he flew.


Some of my fondest memories are of the surprises he’d hide in those zipper pockets. After our hugs, we’d unzip and search them for our “goodies,” finding little trinkets from foreign places he’d visited. But, I think my favorite surprise was when he hid “Juicy Fruit” gum in his pockets. I always thought those striped pieces of gum looked like the stripes he wore on his uniform.


Throughout my school years, we were transferred to many different bases. I only recall one time when I had to leave in the middle of a school year, so I was lucky. We were stationed in California, Texas, Georgia, Bermuda, California again, Oklahoma, then once again to Travis A.F.B., California, where Dad retired in 1975.


Though I missed my father when he was away, I still remember the pride I felt when I told my friends and teachers he was in the Air Force. He looked handsome in his uniform, and I know I beamed every time he’d arrive to pick me up somewhere dressed in it. I’d watch the huge airplanes he flew in “formation,” in awe that my dad piloted one of those behemoths, and that such a monster-plane could even lift off the ground!


Today, it’s been 35 years since he retired. He rarely flies anymore, though he still trains in flight simulators. I know flight remains a passion in his life. We’ve had many conversations about his years in the Air Force since his retirement and I’ve learned what a sacrifice it was for him to be gone from his family. I know he doesn’t regret his time serving the country, but I also know he still misses the time he was away from us kids.

That’s why today and every day, I appreciate the service and sacrifice of my father, all veterans and current service men and women. And having been an “Air Force Brat,” I also want to thank the families of veterans. For the wives, sons and daughters, of our service men and women, it is also a huge sacrifice.