It's Been Awhile...

Yes, I'm still around...and yes I still write.  My writing for the last...well, almost ten months has been sporadic to say the least and of the personal or LJ variety.  It's a cycle folks...my creativity has always been at its highest when I am at my lowest.  Sad but true.

As an update to the last post...the MRI guided biopsy went very well...much better than the first time.  Yes, The Emperor Ass Hat was at his best...they couldn't even find him at the hospital and he was an hour or so late.  But he and I understand each other now.  He knows I'm not putting up with it and I will call him on it.  Aftercare was very different this time...I have no idea if that had anything to do with me or the dozens of other women who probably went home and bled for 24 hours straight after having the same procedure.  In any case, it went well, and I heard the words I wanted to hear, "It's benign."

Six months later, time for the follow-up MRI.  Guess what?  Yep.  Again.  This time, thank God, they were able to find the spot on an ultrasound so I was able to have an ultrasound guided biopsy instead of another dreaded MRI.  And you're never going to guess who did the biopsy!!!  Yep...The Emperor Ass Hat.  Again...we have danced so many times I'm able to lead.  And again, "It's benign."

Did I mention that the week before I had the ultrasound guided biopsy I also had an area removed from my left arm?  That was to make sure they got everything that was left of a "funny freckle".  Typical Mel Results, "Well...it's not cancer.  But there is far too much cellular activity and if we leave it alone it could become cancerous."

I continue to take my roadtrips at least four times a year.  I just did one on Tuesday of this week as a matter of fact.  And as I look at the calendar I can see that next Wednesday is the TWO year anniversary of my very first one.

Claire graduated preschool to the strains of "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts while Mama held Hopie and sobbed into her hair.

Hope finished second grade with flying colors after a major hiccup near the end of the year.  Her beloved teacher...undoubtedly in my eyes sent from God especially for her...had to retire in February for medical reasons.  It was devastating for all involved.  The teacher they hired to take over, while I'm sure she is more than competent, was nothing like the original in any respect.  It was like starting the year all over again.  I don't know how the rest of the kids handled it but it took Hope a good long time to completely switch gears.  I thank God she got through it and it's over.

We took a long overdue trip to Walt Disney World at the end of May and spent ten days soaking up everything that Uncle Walt and The Imagineers have to offer.  It was far too crowded...and far too hot...but it's DISNEY for crying out loud!  How can you NOT enjoy yourself?  One of many cherished memories from that trip centers around an impromptu stop at The Voyage Of The Little Mermaid.  It is a combination live action/animated show put on at Disney's Hollywood Studios.  We were all far too hot and tired of walking.  We walked past the theater, I checked the wait time which was 10 minutes...thinking seats and air conditioning...and I said, "Let's stop here."  As we were going through the turnstiles, a cast member stopped us and asked the girls if they would like to help her welcome everyone to the show.  She took their names and then placed us up front and told us to wait for her...she'd be back.  Shortly before the doors opened she reappeared with personalized certificates for each girl, thanking them for their help, and signed by both Ariel and Prince Eric.  She got out her microphone, introduced my girls, then placed the mic between them.  Hope said, "Welcome to The Little Mermaid!" and grinned from ear to ear.  Claire...did nothing.  The crowd applauded...Mama cried.  I think I may have forgotten to mention that Vivien, the cast member who chose the girls to help her...was Chinese.  ")

Now....I've just reread this post...and it's missing the Mel trademark.  I can just hear Carolina saying, "But Mel...where is your heart?"

Oh...it's still here too.  It is broken and battered and flawed to a fault.  But it's still here.  You'll hear more about that in the next post in a few days.  I know...you can't believe it.  Shut up.

Six Months Again? Already?

Well...I guess it wouldn't be Breast Cancer Awareness Month without my body jumping on the bandwagon now would it?

One mammogram, one breast MRI, one ultrasound, and one surgeon's appointment later...I need another MRI guided biopsy. Whatever was found on the MRI in October of 2009 is now significantly larger. Yes, it's still tiny, but the thought of something totally foreign, growing unchecked inside my breast and described as being "significantly larger" tends to bother me. After the MRI I had to have an ultrasound to see if the mass could be located. Nope...it can't be detected via ultrasound. You just know what kind of day it's going to be when you're waiting for the ultrasound tech to show up, look over at the screen and see your name alongside the words "Type: Breast ~ Category: Small Parts". ::sigh::

I knew something was up when the tech returned and told me the radiologist wanted to talk to me. I've never been escorted to the inner sanctum before. He was a nice guy...firm handshake...spoke to me in plain English...remained positive yet honest. He basically told me they can't find it...I've had one test too many...they were recommending an MRI guided biopsy and throwing it back to my surgeon. It would be up to the two of us to decide if we went any farther. As I was leaving he yelled, "Keep the faith kid!" I've been holding onto that for the last few weeks. That meant something.

My surgeon isn't any happier about this than I am. But as she always says, "If we wait...and it is something...nope...you've got two little girls depending on you. We're not going to mess around." Sooo...back to the...ummm..."person" who does these procedures. He, apparently is the only human in this area and I'm stuck with him...again. And as with the other times I've had a procedure scheduled with him, shortly after it is confirmed, he decides to go on vacation and it has to be rescheduled. Hey, put my life on hold again! I freakin' LOVE it!

The procedure was scheduled for yesterday...and the day after it was scheduled I got the call saying we'd have to push it back, he was going on vacation. I made two calls after that...one to The Spousal Unit, and one to Amy at my surgeon's office. Both of them thought I was kidding. It took me almost five solid minutes to convince Amy I wasn't joking around. But you have to laugh right? Because the alternative just isn't acceptable! So...something that was sooo important, that was recommended by two different physicians, that was scheduled for less than a week away from seeing my surgeon...has now been pushed back to mid-November. Ain't nobody happy...save for the guy on vacation. I'll spare you the cute little name I have for him...oh the hell I will. I've dubbed him The Emperor Ass Hat. If you'd like to read about my other exploits with him check out this post.

Now...as God has pointed out sooo many times in my life...and seems to really enjoy doing as of late...He has shown me that this timing thing of His can also be a blessing. Remember how He told me earlier this year to "wait"? And the only concrete thing He's given me is, "Can you wait three years?" Remember how I'm SICK TO DEATH of waiting? Read on...

The other night I was sitting on Claire’s bed. She was fixing my hair. It felt so good…and she was just jabbering away about what she was going to do next and I had this…body memory…of just aching for her. Not knowing where she was…if she was being well taken care of…if she was even born yet. Wondering if I would ever have a chance to hold her…remembering getting in the shower each and every night and saying to myself, “One day closer to Claire.” He said something to the effect of, “See what I can do?” And then my heart damn near stopped when I realized that the whole process for Claire took close to…three years.

Ok…the whole Emperor Ass Hat rescheduling thing? As much as I hate to admit it, that has turned into a blessing as well. I was sick as a dog last weekend…didn’t even get out of bed Sunday. I’m still not 100% but I’m not flat on my back anymore either. Wednesday afternoon I got a call from Hope's school...she had been coughing so hard she threw up. Two weeks ago we received word that there were several confirmed cases of whooping cough in the system and one of the signs was, yeah...you guessed it. Scared me senseless…bless her heart. I picked her up, brought her home, cleaned her up and then we went straight to the doctor. No whooping cough...but she does have strep. I've never been so thrilled to hear a diagnosis of strep before in my life. She’s been home for the last couple of days. If the biopsy hadn't been rescheduled? I would've been at the hospital yesterday…with nobody to take care of her. He pointed that out to me last night as well…not in a snotty way…because let’s face it, if He had, I would’ve completely shut down. So…I get it…I do. Three years…still don’t like it…still don’t want to do it…still don’t know what I’m waiting for…but I’ll try my best.

The way it's scheduled now I'll get to enjoy my birthday and the good Lord willing I should be up and around for Thanksgiving as well.

Another thing that was bothering me was I had decided for the first time in probably fifteen years, to dress up for Halloween. I had the best time putting together my costume...and then the biopsy was scheduled for, you guessed it, the day our little town has Trick or Treat. So there's another plus for the new date, eh? I got to enjoy Trick or Treat with my girls and show off World's Coolest Pair of Shoes...EVER!

Still fighting...still smiling...still being Mel!

Yep...Mel Results

Yeah...that's me right before my MRI Monday.  Nobody can rock a pair of scrub pants and two hospital gowns like Mel can.  The awesomely amazing boa was made for me by a friend who thought it might just cheer me up.  She was right.  Thanks Carol...and I told you I was going to wear it to my MRI.  Oh and folks?  You are noticing its color...right?

The MRI went well.  I had my two favorite girls.  They always make me smile...makes things go sooo much easier!  This time, while I was hanging upside down, with my boobs in a box, and my arms over my head, I decided to change my usual musical selection.  I've always chosen classical in the past.  This time?  Country.  I've been listening to so much Rascal Flatts lately...their words...their music...their harmonies are speaking to my heart.  Well...the first song that came shooting through my headphones before the Giant Magnetic Donut of Doom started clanging madly was...yep...Rascal Flatts.

The Health & Wellness Center has upgraded their machine...I believe at least twice since I've become a frequent flyer.  GOD BLESS THEM!!!  What used to take 45 minutes to an hour is now done in just under 30 minutes.  Once I was done there I ran a few errands.  The fact that the sun was shining and that I had been told I could stay out all day helped my mood immensely.  I did go home for lunch, let everyone know I was alive, and then took off again.  What wild and crazy things did I do?  I ended up at Lowe's...buying curtains and the hardware that goes with them...for Hope's room.  Remember my year long project...purging, organizing, and finishing?  I think the only thing I have left to do in Hope's room is buy a storage box for a few of her baby clothes I'm saving, and hang some pictures on her walls.  Claire's room is not far behind!

Sooo...results.  Well, they give you the standard, "Your results will be looked at by the radiologist today and that report will be sent to your surgeon.  You'll probably hear from them in about a week."  I think what really happens is that the radiologist looks at the scan, carves the results onto a stone tablet in sanskrit, straps it to the back of a turtle, (an elderly turtle) and points said turtle in the direction of my surgeon's office.

I really wasn't expecting to hear anything this week.  Occasionally, if I'm lucky, Amy will call me on the Thursday after the MRI...but it's usually the next Monday.  Well, she called me today.  Nothing has changed...and I have to have another MRI in six months.  So...one every other year...one every six months for two years...whatever it takes.  I am relieved...but I am also incredibly angry.  I am a woman who likes, no, needs to know why.  God seems to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure lately in just leaving me hanging...without answers...for anything.  And maybe...just maybe...that's what's bothering me the most...the fact that I may never have any answers...about anything.

I've been blessed to have a young woman in my life for...well...a very long time.  I was her first and second grade teacher but she's the one doing the educating now.  She is going through a somewhat similar situation and I was talking to her this morning right after I got my results.  Here is some of what this wise beyond her years young lady had to say:

"Well that is good news in a way...at least I think so. And yes, it does suck because then it's another 6 months and it starts all over again. It's a constant reminder and pain in the ass..and it's always there!

I've realized that the answers NEVER come quick. It's such a slowwwww process and it eats you up, it really does. Mentally and physically...it's terrible!

and you're right, nothing does make sense.

Like someone amazing tells me all the time..."there is something amazing waiting at the end of this"...and I definitely believe that and you should too. It's definitely hard to believe it sometimes because of everything we have gone through but I'm praying that it's true. And even though I'm a little upset with God right now about everything...I know he's doing it for a reason, a GOOD reason."

Don't you just hate it when someone actually pays attention to you and then throws your words right back at you?  ::sigh::  Lisa...I love you...don't you ever forget it.  I'm going to try my hardest to believe that there is something amazing waiting for me at the end of this.  I don't know why it's so easy for me to think and feel and know that that is true for everyone I've said it to, and yet not for myself.

So there you have it friends...as promised...Mel Results.

Later y'all,

Mel Results

Yeah...I like it.  I'm sure it will offend some.  I do apologize...but again...I like it.  It puts into words exactly how I feel about the evil, foul collections of atypical cells that invade millions upon millions upon millions each and every year.  It displays fight...and heart...and spirit.  When I was browsing for an image for this post I found countless t-shirts emblazoned with this sweet little saying...and yes...even caps...for those who have temporarily lost their hair to chemo.  I pray I never need one of those caps, but if I do?  You can damn well be sure I'll wear it with pride.

Yes, I'm angry.  I'm angry about a lot of things.  But mostly I'm angry that I have to face my own mortality at least once every six months.  Yes, I am beyond grateful for the advances medical technology has made over the last few decades.  Shoot...I'm beyond grateful for the advances that have been made just since I started having to deal with this.  I know what the alternative entails...but it doesn't mean that that makes it any easier.

My surgeon is an amazing woman.  Even when my ticking time boobs are at their scariest, she is always calm...and normal...and never...ever...mentions the "C" word unless she is holding absolute proof.  I see her every six months and occasionally I'll have two visits in a row with nothing to report.  She'll look at me and smile and say, "If we can have one more like this, we can go to once a year visits!"  I smile...let hope grow...God laughs.  It hasn't happened yet...and this has been going on since well before Hope came home.  I found a lump right before we went to China.  I remember looking at Dr. Van Fossen and saying, "I don't care what you find.  Nothing is stopping me from getting on that airplane."  She smiled at me and said, "Even if we do find something, it can wait until you get back from China with that precious daughter of yours."

The MRI's are the part I suppose I dread the most at this point.  Not because they are scary or painful or anything like that.  They've improved so much that I can just about sleep through them now.  No, the MRI's bring uncertainty...more tests...and giant medical bills.  When she first suggested I have one it was as a kind of baseline.  She wanted me to have one every other year.  Again...hasn't happened yet.  I've yet to have an MRI where they don't find "something".  My first one?  Not only did it find something in my breast, but it also found something on my liver.  Another MRI, two ultrasounds, and two CT scans later, proved that the something on my liver was just a collection of simple cysts...but whatever was in my breast needed to come out.  I was scheduled for an ultrasound guided biopsy.  The nurse explained that the radiologist would use the ultrasound to find the lump and then remove it.  So there I laid on the table, head to the side, draped for the procedure and in walked the radiologist.  He looked at the ultrasound and said, "You know what?  Sometimes a simple cyst doesn't look like a simple cyst.  I'm going to stick a needle in it and try to aspirate it.  If that doesn't work, then we'll do the biopsy."  I remember staring at the sprinkler system while I was being numbed...and I could hear Hope's little voice in my head...singing "The Old Rugged Cross" just as plain as day.  I told him that if it was just a simple cyst?  I was going to kiss him and then do cartwheels down the hall.  He said he couldn't wait.  It was just a simple cyst.

The next MRI...found something...this time in my right breast.  Dr. V has always called my left breast, "the busy breast".  Well...I guess the right side was feeling left out or something.  Did I mention that all of this came after being on Tamoxifen for a full course of five years?  And yes, yes, YES I would take it again in a heartbeat.  I'm already a prime candidate for Evista as soon as I'm able to take it.  So...more ultrasounds...mammograms...did I mention that I have a yearly mammogram...and after each one of those I either have to have an ultrasound or another MRI scheduled?  And let's not forget the other two surgical biopsies.  Ok, so something on the right side.  More ultrasounds...the ultrasound can't find it.  Need another MRI.  Still there...bigger.  Now it's time for an MRI guided biopsy.  Yeah...laying upside down with your boobs in a box underneath you with your arms above your head...scan...pull you out...mark it...push you into the machine...scan...pull you out...adjust...back in the machine...scan...pull you out...numb...cut...all underneath you...insert your own cow/udder joke here.  He then inserted a metal clip next to the spot that would show up on all future tests to show if whatever this thing was would grow back in the same spot.  Oh yes, then I had to go have a mammogram immediately following this surgery to make sure the clip was in place.  Yes...surgery...blood...mammogram.  You get the idea.  Well...I don't have a whole lot of nice things to say about the radiologist that did this procedure.  The wonderful lady who did the mammogram had to change my dressing...and it hadn't even been thirty minutes yet.  Later that day I was sitting on the couch and realized I had a steady trickle of blood down my side.  It eventually stopped...and then?  It got infected.  Yep...you've never known true joy until your boob is infected.  Sooo...start a course of antibiotics for that.  I get the results back...all is well...that was a Friday.  On Monday?  Dr. V calls me and tells me she just got a report from the radiologist.  He didn't feel like he got enough of it for a decent biopsy.  Let's do it again.  She explained that she was just about as happy with him as I was at this point but he's the only one in this area that does the MRI guided procedures.  So we had to schedule it far enough into the future to be clear from any infection.  Three to four days before it was scheduled?  I get a call...the radiologist is going on vacation...we have to reschedule...to a time when Garry had to be out of town for work?  Yeah...special.  It was finally worked out...it was similar to what he did the first time...but this time instead of taking a biopsy he inserted a tiny needle into the area to be biopsied.  I was then wheeled to the OR where Dr. V was waiting for me and where she surgically removed the area and the clip he had placed there earlier.

There have been lots of cysts aspirated in the office either when I go for my six month check-ups or if I find one during my monthly BSE that is new or bothers me.  And no, I'm not having any genetic testing done.  Why?  Is it going to make me any more vigilant than what I am now?  Good Lord no!  I'd hate to see what being any more vigilant would entail!

So, a year ago...time for another MRI.  Yep...something in the right breast.  This time?  Let's check it again in six months.  Okaaaaay.  Six months ago?  Hmmm...that something is gone...but there is a new something...other somethings have gotten smaller...one something has grown.  If the something that has grown shows more growth?  Surgery.  Another one is six months.  ::sigh::

Last Friday was my six month surgeon's visit.  I knew she was going to find something...because I found it earlier this month.  She said she wasn't going to do anything about it until after the MRI because it would show up on the MRI as trauma.  So...MRI is scheduled for next Monday.  Depending on what it shows for this new something, we'll either leave it alone or she'll do a needle biopsy in the office.  And I refuse to think any farther ahead than that at this point.  As for what the MRI will show dealing with the old somethings?  Again...not a clue...all I know is that surgery is staring me in the face, yet again.

I've told you I love my surgeon...I also love my med tech, Amy.  That is one girl I always want on my side.  She takes no crap...and she loves me.  She looked at me last week and said, "Look at you!  My GOD you look GOOD!  WHAT have you been doing?"  This is the girl who will call me just to talk...nothing about work or boobs or cancer...just because, in her words, "I always feel better after I talk to you."  So we're sitting there after my appointment and she's holding my folder which is easily 5-6 inches thick.  She says, "You just...it's just...it's always..."  I knew what she was trying to say.  I said, "Amy?  This is my normal.  I don't like it, I can't change it...this is just my normal.  This is what He's given me.  Some days it doesn't bother me at all...and others it's more than I can take."

So there you go...Mel Results.  That's what I've started calling my test results.  The results are never what I prayed for...never what I wanted...but they are not a death sentence either.

You know what?  Screw those little caps...I've always wanted to shave my head...right?

Be blessed y'all...until the next Mel Results...

I've held it together for this long...and right now I feel like a shell of what I should be...no...more like a dried husk.

I won't bore you with all of the details but about six months ago I had a pretty scary health moment. Over a period of 2-3 months I had three ultrasounds, an MRI, a CT scan, and an ultrasound guided biopsy. Praise God on high everything turned out just fine!

Recently I went in for my six month follow-up MRI. Again...they found "something". I had to have an ultrasound and they couldn't find the "something" on it. So now I have to have an MRI guided biopsy. I can only imagine that's an "in the machine...out of the machine...in the machine...out of the machine" procedure. I also had my 6 month follow-up CT scan yesterday...no results yet...and frankly I'm glad. I don't WANT any more results.

God has held me up and kept me strong during all of this. I know it's Him because strong is really not a word I would ever use to describe myself. I had a doctor tell me recently, "I'm sorry this ruined your Easter." WHAT? I said, "This didn't ruin my Easter! You can't ruin Easter!" And you know what is even more amazing to me that I said that? The fact that I BELIEVE it! How can you ruin God's promise of everlasting life?! He looked at me like I was nuts...whatever! His loss!

I've been no stranger to health scares for the last 5-6 years. They used to petrify me and render me absolutely useless. Now I can actually function and find myself FORGETTING about them most of the time. I have decided I will NOT live my life from crisis to crisis. I'm going to enjoy each and every day of life that God grants me.

Now, what is TRULY bothering me? Humphrey. Here is this gorgeous creature that God has placed in my care for the last ten years. The week Garry left for China Humphrey presented with a lump on his foot which turned out to be cancer. The toe was removed...it spread to his lymph nodes. He went through two different types of chemo...nothing. He had one big whompin' surgery on the 6th to remove one big whompin' lymph node. He came home the 9th...looking like Franken-Kitty with a huge scar and a lot of shaved areas...but he was still Humphrey. As the days went by he became more and more listless...ate less and less...finally stopped eating all together. We took him in yesterday and they gave him some fluids and some appetite stimulants. He was much happier...ate a little bit...but still not Humphrey. He went back to the hospital today where they are keeping him for 24 hours on an IV to completely rehydrate him. If he doesn't start eating on his own, they'll syringe-feed him. Sounds horrible...it isn't...they did that with Garth once and he bounced back just fine. So why am I so worried? They did an ultrasound and a biopsy of his liver today. There are cells present that don't belong there. They could be the start of fatty liver disease...or they could be the lymphoma that has spread. The sample was sent out to the lab and we'll know for sure tomorrow. At this point we are all praying for fatty liver disease because even though it is horrible it can be turned around. If it is lymphoma...well...the chemo doesn't work.

What do I *want* to do? I want to go outside, stand in the middle of the street, scream at the top of my lungs and throw rocks at cars. I want to toss every single thing off of my desk and slam it into the wall. I want to take a sledge hammer to the side of my house. What *will* I do? I'll continue to pray on Humphrey's behalf. I'll continue to believe that God knows what He is doing even though I can't fathom why we'd be going through this with yet another kitty in such a short time span. And of course, I'll cry. You know...I haven't until today...and they just won't stop.

Well, the phone just rang with my CT scan results. Praise God, everything is fine and I do NOT have to have any further follow-up having to do with that part of the problem. Which, strangely, makes me feel worse. Again, I can handle *my* scares...it's the ones where ANY of my kids are concerned that simply tear me up. I called Garry and gave him the good news...and then sobbed. He said, "It's ok to get good news. You don't have to feel guilty about YOU getting a good report. Your report and Humphrey's report are mutually exclusive events." I *know* he's right...but at this point in time, that doesn't make me feel any better.

So I guess while we're waiting for his results and while he's in the hospital I can go back to sleeping in my bed. Yes, I was sleeping on the bathroom floor with Humphrey. He had to be confined so he wouldn't pull his surgical staples out jumping, climbing stairs etc. I wanted to be with him every minute I could. If you think I'm nuts, there's nothing I can do to change your mind! He's my child and has been since God sent him to me all of those years ago. Deal with it!

Hope stayed home from preschool today. She's coming down with something. I was almost grateful. This morning was filled with chicken noodle soup, applesauce, Tylenol, and Vicks. It was almost a blessing having a patient who could TELL me what was wrong.

In her short life she has lost two of the only four kitties she has ever known...and believe me...she's worried about Humphrey too. Yesterday she said, "Mama? Is Humphrey going to be all right?" I told her the only truth I know..."I don't know. We just have to trust his doctors and keep praying."

She sees me going into hospitals and doctors' offices and she gets very nervous. "Daddy? Is Mama coming home?" I've told her over and over and over that good forever mamas and daddies always come home. I'm afraid Satan uses that line over and over in my head as I go through my medical tests. I am more afraid of leaving my two girls without a mother...again...than I am of what might be wrong with me. Then there is the logical portion of my brain...roughly the size of a pea...no surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm not exactly known for my logic...I'm more about the emotion. The logical portion of my brain keeps reminding me...you know...you've been lucky so many times...the odds are against you on this one...eventually you're going to get bad news.

So that's what's going on here! I don't tell you this for sympathy or kudos or prayers...I tell you because I needed to get it OUT of me...and blogging is cheaper than therapy!

For those of you who don't know Humphrey's story I will post it below. This version appeared at my now defunct website; Prayer, Praise & Peace! Take care y'all...until next time...

Angels Don't Necessarily Have To Be Human---by Mel and Barb

This is my very favorite personal angel experience. A lot of joy has come out of so much pain. Be forewarned...this one is a long one and has been known to bring tears!

My husband Garry and I have been making yearly pilgrimages to Williamsburg, Virginia for close to eight years now. At one point we were going up to 2 or 3 times a year. During our September of '96 trip we ran into a giant black ball of fur, purrs, and love named Humphrey. I fell madly in love with Humphrey and after spending close to ten days with him I sobbed when I had to leave him. Had he been a stray, he would have come home with us, but he belonged to the gents in the Harness and Saddlemaker's Shop. He was not only their friend, he was their mascot!

While we were driving home in the pitch black we were listening to the radio and the song called "Angels Among Us" by Alabama came on. I turned my head to the passenger window and started weeping, thinking about Humphrey, but never said a word or made a sound. Being the wonderful husband that he is, Garry reached over, touched my leg and said, "I think Humphrey was an angel sent down to you too."

When he suggested that we head back down in April of '97, I was ecstatic! I'd get to see Humphrey all that much sooner! As soon as we arrived in Colonial Williamsburg we made a bee-line for the garden behind The Cole Shop, the historical trade building where the harness and saddlemakers work. We searched and searched but couldn't find Humphrey anywhere. When we went into the shop and asked where he was, we were told that he had died the day before. We felt so horrible! The next few days we just kind of wandered around in a fog, and I felt like a real moron for reminding the poor guys that their buddy was gone!

When I got home I typed out the following letter and mailed it off to them:

April 21, 1997

Dear Gentlemen,

Words can not adequately express the sadness that I felt upon learning of the death of your wonderful cat, Humphrey. The grief that I felt was overwhelming...I can't even imagine what you must be going through. Had I known the answer, I most likely wouldn't have asked where he was when we visited the shop last week.

I had dubbed Humphrey my "surrogate cat" when I first met him in September of 1996. My husband and I had made our yearly two week trip to Williamsburg and I was missing my own pet terribly. Around dusk on one of our first nights there, we were exploring the garden behind The Cole Shop looking for a squirrel or some other sort of soft, furry creature to annoy when we were startled by a streak of black leaping from amongst the flowers. I said, "How did you know that I needed to see a kitty?" To which that streak of black replied, "Riouw!" This was our first encounter with dear Humphrey. He immediately walked over to me and looked up as if to say, "Well? Aren't you going to pet me?" I sat down on the steps of the laundry and as if he'd known me all of his life, pounced upon my lap, tags jingling! He settled in like he was right at home and that spot was where we met almost nightly for close to ten days. So many people would come through and ask if he were mine...I always responded the same, "No, he's everybody's cat." I have a feeling that Humphrey's reputation is known far and wide.

Humphrey was a fellow who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to demand it. He demanded to be loved and had no problem expressing his appreciation for it! He was possibly the kindest soul, feline or otherwise, that I have ever encountered. Humphrey was an exceptional feline, but I don't need to tell you that. I can only imagine that God needed a good lap cat and there was only one choice. I can just see the old boy nipping at His flowing robes for attention...can't you?

A donation will be made in Humphrey's name to a no kill shelter in our area. And if a stray massive ball of black fur ever wanders into our back yard we've already got a name picked out.

Again, I offer our sincere sympathy. When you hang his collar up at the shop, give the tags a jingle for me. Colonial Williamsburg has truly lost one of its best ambassadors.

Sincerely,
Garry and Melissa

I had all but forgotten about that letter when the following letter arrived inside a beautiful sympathy card:

9 May 1997

Dear Melissa and Garry,

I don't quite know where to begin to thank you for your condolences about Humphrey. Before I started writing to you I read again your letter and my tears are back. Your letter is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. All of us who loved Humpty passed around copies of the letter, and all of us cried together. You expressed so lovingly what we could not put into words. My first thought when I was told he was gone was why? I'm angry, very angry with God. And then, later on the 17th of April, I thanked God for letting me know and love Humpty for even the short time I knew him. I used to go down on my lunch break every day to sit and snuggle with him. Sometimes he'd be visiting his friend across the street and I would have to miss him. But I can't tell you how many times Humpty got me smiling again.

Did you notice he had little, tiny, golden spots on the top of his head? Those were his "angel kisses"--now I know he is on a heavenly lap just as you said.

Eric, the Englishman at The Harness Shop, took Humpty home and buried him under a white azalea bush. That is the only bush that is ablaze with blooms according to Eric.

I've enclosed the "obit" I had put in the CWF news. Plus two pictures of happier times. (That's me with my boy)

Thank you both so much for caring to write. Your words and thoughts touched us deeply.

Barbara

Greenhow Store
Colonial Williamsburg

You can't imagine how touched I was to receive the card, letter, pictures and obit of my surrogate kitty. On the back of one of the pictures, Barbara had written, "Humphrey, The Angel Kitty.

But wait! There's more!!!

In June of 1997, we went to Petsmart to get some food for our rather large and very spoiled cat Garth who was six at the time. As usual, I ended up cooing at all of the animals that they had up for adoption. There was a cage of little black and white kittens and I was petting them and talking to them and basically doing my own thing. All of them were rubbing all over me except one who was in the back of the cage sleeping. I don't know why I did this, but I said, "Humphrey? Is that you?" The little sleeping one stood up, yawned, walked up to the cage door, and kissed my face. Under his chin was a white spot that was exactly the size of a white azalea bloom. Yes, I started to cry again and he came home with us.

Things weren't all that rosy for quite awhile after that. He was very sick for almost his entire first year of life. Our vets told us that they were really kind of surprised that he lived through it. It's really just been in the last six months or so that Garth has finally decided that he likes him and we've had him for three years now! We, of course, named him Humphrey and as near as our vets can determine, he was born the same week that Humphrey Sr. died.

When we went back to Williamsburg in September of '97 I was determined to meet Barbara and thank her for her kindness. We stopped in The Greenhow Store several times a day for an entire week before I spotted someone that "kind of" looked like the pictures she had sent. When I walked up to the counter she didn't look like she was having a very good day. She was rolling her eyes and letting out these huge sighs! When I finally mustered up enough courage to approach her I kind of whispered, "Are you Barbara?" She said, "Who wants to know?!"

Ok...I'm really scared now! I said, "I'm Melissa. You sent me the sympathy card for Humphrey." Her whole demeanor changed dramatically! She almost jumped over the counter trying to get to me! She grabbed hold of my hands and wouldn't let go! The first thing she asked me was, "Have you met Ralph?"

"Umm...no," I replied. "But I did meet Murphy!" (Murphy is the new ball of black fur that now resides at The Saddler's!)

She said, "You've got to meet Ralph and see what he did!" She grabbed me and off the three of us went down the street in search of Ralph. (We never did find him!)

We stopped at The Shoemaker's Shop and were introduced to Donna, who had first rescued Humphrey and brought him to The Saddler's. She told me that she had a copy of my letter framed at her house. Then she took us down to meet Eric, who was Humphrey's Dad. He wasn't in the shop, but he was in the building behind the shop that used to be the laundry, now it's like their break room and off limits to the public. She banged on the door and in we went!

She introduced Garry and I to him as "the author's of THE letter". She then showed us what Ralph had done and I REALLY started to weep. Ralph had taken two pictures of Humphrey, a copy of his obit, and my letter, and had them professionally matted and framed. It now hangs in the break room.

One last "angelic" moment before this story ends. I had taken pictures of my Humphrey to show Barb and when she looked at them she was speechless. She then produced pictures of her cat Dinger who was born at the exact same time as our Humphrey; was abandoned exactly like my Humphrey; and they are absolutely identical. My chin actually dropped. If I didn't know better I would have sworn that she was showing me pictures of my very own cat!

In closing, Barb and I have been through a lot together AND separately since then. I love her dearly and she is truly one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. My life is so much better with her in it! I love you Barb...and your kitties too! = )

---Copyright 1997, 2000 Barb and Mel

The song "Angels Among Us" can be found on the player at the bottom of the page. Treat yourself to a listen.