I guess after the healing inside my body, the way I look has been just as difficult to accept. I hated the way people stared at me after I lost my hair. The indention in my head also bothered me a lot. I know it is never going to go away, and the child in me wanted to fill it in with Silly Putty. I felt like the monster in "The Goonies" until Steve changed that for me in the blink of an eye. Without even asking, he put his finger in the indention on my head and said to me, "God put His hand on you and said, 'this is my Patsy" That one statement changed the way I thought about my "look" and took all of the hurt about it away. He helped me see that I am truly one of God's special children!

My Mountain Has a Name

By Patsy Wilder Brown

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Patsy Wilder Brown
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-1355-1

Chapter One

An excursion or adventure can be planned or unexpected. Usually when it is planned, it goes a little better. I definitely didn't sign up for mine voluntarily, but it has been an important journey with many lessons learned. This is my true story; a tale of unbelievable experiences that I never dreamed would ever happen to me.

Each morning as I sit watching the sun rise above the trees and the day starts to come alive, I think of my life and the wonderful ride it has been so far. I know that usually life is what you make it, but there are times that your life takes unexpected turns, and you must adjust to those changes. It is when you encounter the mountain that is too high, and your energy to climb it bottoms out that things really get interesting.

Yep, I did hit that mountain head-on and for the first time in my life, it was an obstacle I could not get over or around. I came to this realization as I lie on the ground examining new mysterious scrapes and bruises on my body; my days had become less than ordinary, so I knew that I probably needed to re-direct my planning. The first step I had to figure out was how to get the healing process started. One thing I knew; I could not continue to lie around and watch the wounds multiply. I had to form a plan and fast. Even though I had decided to take action, I saw "my" mountain looming before me as a frightening obstacle.

I thought through my predicament, and then started my plan of action ... at least that's what I thought I was doing at the time. I began looking for a path to go up or around the mountain feeling I could solve this problem, but as hard as I looked, I could not find it. I kept searching for the path, or even the start of a trail until I was exhausted, and all I could do was lie still and rest because a beginning point was nowhere in sight. All I could think was, how did this happen? My life was on track to finally be able to do some things. I had a job that I loved and was making good money. We could finally afford to buy some extra things and go places. For the first time in many years, we did not have to account for where every penny went, so I had to do something in order not to lose this place in life.

I decided to start my ascent without a path or a trail ... but with no luck. I kept sliding back down and being injured more in the process. As I lie at the bottom, all I could do was wonder how was I going to climb over this mountain and still be able to maintain the things I had with no losses. I had responsibilities that must be met, so I thought I had no choice. Since going over the mountain had already proven to be impossible, around was the next logical choice, but for each step I took, I fell back three. This was also proving to be the wrong choice for my dilemma.

I decided then that my only option was to seek help. Finally, I could see hope to get over my mountain. My help had a plan ... a path, so we began together. We started making some progress, but once we got to even the first foothold, I fell back down and was left at the bottom again. So, I looked for new help and am told that the problem would be solved, and we definitely would get over the mountain; however, not without some permanent health problems that could be controlled. No problem, I was on-board for my pain to be gone and was excited. We started making a dent in the mountain, and the pain was not so intense and then wouldn't you know it, I fell back to the ground and lie there again ... alone.

After two falls back to the ground, my pain was almost unbearable, and I decided to try one more time for help. I thought about it and finally, I knew where to turn. I was told to trust, and we would conquer the mountain, and I would be on the other side. Yep, I was skeptical, but what choice did I have at this point? I knew I must do something because my injuries were getting worse and harder to control.

So, I scooted over to the base of my mountain one more time and thus, my journey began for the third time! We made it to the first foothold with little or no effort because I was being carried and glad of it. After several days of climbing up and then going around, we finally reached the top. What I saw below scared me to death, but at that point I had no choice ... I had to continue. My mountain now had a name ... "CANCER!" I was assured that I would not be left alone, but it was going to be a hard descent. I knew I was ready for the pain to stop, but not sure about the things that I was going to lose in the process. I thought the climb up and around was difficult; I had no idea how hard the trip down would be.

My life began playing out in my mind like a reel on a movie projector. It started with my brother Jim and I who are only eleven months apart (with Jim being the oldest). We could get into all sorts of things. What one of us could not think to do, the other could. We did everything together, and ... we knew no fear. Ok, let me clarify here, I knew no fear because I could not see well, but it would seem Jim did know fear, so he always wanted me to do things first because his eyesight was perfect, and I think he knew what was coming.

It was very unusual for Mom to leave us alone outside and the one time she did, we took advantage of it. Our mom is pretty short; we had almost gotten taller than her by the time we were five or six years old. Our "height" made us feel bigger than we were making us think we didn't need to listen to her. So with our intelligence, on our day of outside freedom, we decided to climb up a tree and transfer ourselves over to the top of the garage. Once we successfully made it to the garage, we looked down and Jim decided we should jump. The ground looked very close to me, of course, because of my limited eyesight; however, I realized my mistake when I hit the ground. I could not yell and warn Jim not to jump because I was not breathing. This was not a problem since he decided when he saw my condition that he would climb back down the way he got up. Finally, I was able to get some air into my lungs and knew that I had learned a lesson at a very young age ... next time get him to go first, and if he refuses, then don't do it!

I was a clumsy kid always running into things and falling down. For example, our bathroom was a straight shot from the living room and even though I would line the door up as my target destination, I would miss it every time and hit the wall. Mom and Daddy decided they should have my eyes checked. As my parents took a closer look at me, it appeared that my left eye was resting over against my nose. The doctor told them I had a "lazy" eye, and my good eye should be patched in order to strengthen the weaker one. Now, on top of having to manage with my weak eye doing all of the work, I also looked like a miniature pirate with a head full of curls. By the time I was seven years old, it was obvious that the patch was doing no good, so surgery was the next step.

I remember Daddy telling me that if I was a big girl and did not cry that he would get me the bride doll that I so desperately wanted. When he carried me to the operating room doors where the nurses took me from him, I remember screaming and crying for him despite my commitment to be brave. The neat thing was that when I woke up in my room, there sat my bride doll ... all I could think was that Daddy did not hear my screams for him.

Mom always made me feel so special even after my sister Beth was born. I was ten years old at the time, and I loved...