Third Act With Pattie

Tag: cancer humor

  • My Idea of the Perfect Date!

    For me, today—October 2, 2025—was the perfect date.

    The sun was warm but the breeze carried just enough autumn chill to keep the leaves dancing off the trees. It was one of those days where you can breathe deeper, walk slower, and not feel guilty about either.

    I woke up with a song in my head—sorry, no romance here—it was Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah. My dad used to sing that to me when I was little, and this morning it felt exactly right: My oh my, what a wonderful day.

    Here’s the kicker: no part of my body hurt. That alone could’ve made it the perfect day. But then—bonus points—I was gifted the most relaxing massage. Afterwards I got time with my precious granddaughter, the kind that fills your heart without draining your energy.

    Later, I drove peacefully to the lake, with my girl Sassy, watching leaves twirl and tumble in their autumn dance. At one point I stopped at a store and, without shame, practically Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah‘d from the car to the store and back again. Sassy was likely mortified.

    By late afternoon, I had time to sit outside. I even took a nap out there, wrapped up in the perfect mix of warmth and breeze. And now, as I watch the sun slide down the sky, I can say it again: today was the perfect date.

    It wasn’t too hot. It wasn’t too cold. I didn’t need a light jacket.
    And best of all—I didn’t think about cancer all damn day.

    I want to take a moment to acknowledge something important. The movie Song of the South and its song Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah have not stood the test of time, and I understand the hurt it can represent. That film came out long before I was born, but my connection to the song is personal—I loved it because my Daddy used to sing it to me when I was little. That memory still brings me joy.

    I never want to cause offense, so please accept my apology if my reference to the song was upsetting in any way. 💚

  • Self Care This Morning

    Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

    There is no blog post today because, at this very minute, I’m enjoying the most relaxing massage — a gift from a very dear friend.

    After listening to my heart, I realized I need more of this: more quiet moments, more relaxing adventures, and more time with dear friends who remind me to pause. 💚

  • October is my birthday MONTH

  • Sassy Walks V3

    Three for Three

    This morning, Mom was in the kitchen acting all kinds of crazy — singing, dancing, twirling around like humans do when they think they’re having “fun.” I knew right away: if she had that much energy, she was definitely ready for a walk.

    I tried to wrangle her immediately, but then came the eggs. Eggs are my weakness. She always shares a bite, so of course I had to wait it out.

    Next distraction? That computer. She muttered to herself for a full hour before prancing off to the printer like it was Christmas morning. Perfect ambush spot. I trapped her at the doorway of “her” room (aka the Cave of Crap) and pushed her straight toward the front door. She knew what I meant. Leash on, drizzle outside, painfully slow loop around the yard — but hey, we did it.

    After that, she needed a nap. I stretched out right beside her, on guard. When she stirred, I pounced — ears up, eyes locked, leash ready. Yard loop number two.

    Later, I noticed her clutching the railing after just two steps. Okay, Wonder Dog knows when to call it. I let her rest. No toys, no snack raids. I just waited. And waited. Through 50 phone calls (ugh, she never shuts up).

    Finally, the blankets rustled. My moment. I unleashed the Sad Dog Eyes™. A tiny whine. Boom — success. Yard loop number three.

    Three walks in one day. Who’s the best motivator, protector, and leash-wielding life coach? Me. They don’t call me Sassy the Wonder Dog for nothing.

    Mom was wiped out but still managed to hand over a big treat. Score for both of us. Tomorrow? Road walk. I’ve got plans.

    Sassy Ready And Waiting

  • Hearing Your Heart

    Today, a friend I haven’t seen in a long while reached out. She didn’t know my cancer was back. She didn’t know I was in treatment again. She just said, “I would love to hear your heart.”

    That line stopped me cold.
    Not “let’s catch up.” Not “tell me what’s been going on.”
    She wanted to hear my heart.

    And that got me thinking: what kind of peace, what kind of love does a person carry when they care less about your circumstances and more about your heart?

    Do I even listen to mine?
    Sure, when it comes to the big-ticket items—marriage, kids, family, love. Those are the moments when you’re “supposed” to listen to your heart.

    But do I listen to it daily?
    When I wake up bone-tired.
    When the chemo wall hits and knocks me flat.
    When Sassy drags me down the driveway like a reluctant sled dog.
    Do I stop and check in?

    Truth: most days, my head is way louder than my heart. My head is bossy. It says:

    • Take the meds.
    • Keep walking.
    • Don’t puke in public.
    • Try to be funny about this so people aren’t uncomfortable.

    Meanwhile, my heart whispers. And I ignore it. Because sometimes, my heart says stuff I don’t want to hear—like “rest” when I’d rather power through, or “cry” when I’d rather throw up a sarcastic one-liner. Or, “it’s ok to be mad about this” when I don’t want to think about that.

    But my friend’s words have been simmering all day.
    Maybe what she really offered me was permission.
    Permission to pause. Permission to tune in. Permission to let my heart speak, even if it doesn’t have the right words, even if it stutters.

    So I asked myself: what does my heart say right now?

    And here’s the messy, beautiful, unfinished truth:

    • I’m still here, even if this is not what I planned to do this year.
    • I’m still fighting, and will not stop.
    • I still love, and need to show myself a little more of that.
    • I still have stories to tell.

    That’s my heart.
    Maybe small. Maybe quiet. Maybe shaky.
    But it’s still beating. And today, someone wanted to hear it.