BLUE has been my theme. Every night for two weeks before my surgery, I swam in my apartment pool. It was meditative and pure therapy. Before and after surgery, I was surrounded by BLUE! Steadily, my lumpectomy surgery date approached. What was I feeling? I wasn’t really sure, but I was amazed that I wasn’t nervous.

I went for a dye injection the day before. I thought I’d be out of there quickly, but it turned out to be a much longer appointment. I spent three hours lying on a hard surface with a camera over me. The technician explained that this would help the surgeon find my lymph nodes more easily the next day. He was so nice, and even put my own music on for me to listen to.

Whenever I was asked about what I do, I effusively shared about how music transformed my life. The radiologist came in and we had a lovely conversation about meditation music afterwards. She told me she played a zither, which I’d never heard of.

The next day, was a blur. I had to leave the house at 5:15 a.m. I still wasn’t nervous and I looked forward to getting it over with. It helped that my good friend, Stacey drove me. I hugged her goodbye and surrendered to the flurry of medical personnel hovering over me. Finally, it was show time and an oxygen mask was placed over my face.

I emerged into the groggy world of post-op. My first awareness was relief that it was over. My son drove me home. I walked slowly from the car and was incredibly grateful to be in the wonderful cocoon of my bedroom.

I spent the rest of that day sleeping off the anesthesia. In the evening I felt euphoric, without any pain whatsoever. Was such a thing possible? I sent out an email update and proudly announced that the worst was over.

The next day, I felt well enough to go with my son and his girlfriend to the supermarket for an outing. I even began planning to record guitar the following morning. I first had to finish editing a lower guitar track I would record with. I stayed up late working on that.

I came home with a drainage tube underneath many bandages. At the end of the tube was a rubber bulb that had to be regularly emptied and measured. It was annoying and I had an appointment scheduled for its removal a week later.

The liquid in it was blue – as was my pee for a few days (TMI!).

The second evening after my surgery wasn’t as easy. Ice and Tylenol seemed to help with the dull ache and cramping on my side, but I was frightened by the intensity of sudden sharp pains.

All the love from my friends and family surrounded me with comfort.

However, occasionally I could feel irritation breaking through, when something triggered me. Pain had lifted my filters.

I was hurt when a good friend canceled on me twice the week before. I had even changed plans to be available for her. I didn’t want her to feel guilty, but when she reached out to check on me, I let her know that I was disappointed we hadn’t gotten together.

She texted me back and said she was available to come right over. Did I want her to visit?

I told her it would be fine, even though it was really painful to get dressed. I pushed through the pain. What a difference this was from the day before when I felt almost normal!

I went with her for a little outing. We sipped some juice and came back to my house. It was my second day and I could take a shower. But first, there were a lot of bandages that needed to come off. I asked her if she could help me.

I moaned and whimpered with the sting of tape pulling off from sensitive areas. How would I have done this myself? Certainly, it wasn’t something I would have asked my son to do. I marveled how being honest and telling her how I felt had made such a difference. If I hadn’t expressed my honest feelings, she might not have come over.

She massaged my shoulders, and after she left I was eager to take a shower.

A small portion of tape still remained where the drainage tube entered my body. I turned on the water, stepped into the shower, and the pain began to intensify. I cupped my aching breast and cried. The grotesque sutures and missing breast tissue was traumatic, but it was the pain that stunned me. I yelped and cried out, and could not muffle it.

After the shower, I collapsed on my bed and the pain slowly ebbed. It was Sunday night. Normally, I played guitar and sang for my live stream on Insight Timer. This was not a Cinderella moment like it was the week before. But I was sure I would be back at it, hopefully, by the following week.

Dreaming of when I can swim again. It would be at least a month.

The next morning, I called the surgeon’s office. A good friend had encouraged me; it made sense to ask if this was normal. I was given an appointment to come in the following day.

Talking to friends of mine that have gone through breast cancer gave me lots of information. One friend particularly remembered the drainage tube as being horribly uncomfortable. She said, “You won’t believe how deep it is inside of you, and when they pull it out, you will feel fine!

I was able to drive myself to the appointment. My surgeon checked everything and told me I would still have to wait two more days for the tube removal. Otherwise, the fluid would build up and require a needle to remove it.

And then he told me he had received pathology results back sooner than expected. “It’s great that you came in,” he said, “because now I don’t have to call you.”

He continued. “Everything is clear. I removed four lymph nodes and they showed no sign of cancer. The lesion was much larger than on film, but you’re stage one and most likely won’t require chemotherapy. In two weeks, you’ll see an oncology doctor to go over your treatment plan.”

The anticipation of waiting for results was over. Tears spilled from my eyes. I bought myself a blended coffee and savored it as I slowly walked to my car.

I was determined to deal with my pain for two more days. Ice was my best friend. I had resisted taking stronger pain meds, but that night I did. I slept away the next day, but woke up to write this post.

I made some adjustments to my thought process. Over and over, I had been telling myself how much I hated that tube.

Now I fondled the tube and spoke to it. I told it that I was thankful it was doing its job to drain my excess fluid.

I had coped with so many challenges over the last few months. I felt acceptance for whatever I would face with this cancer journey. But most notably, I wasn’t afraid.

Ironically, I was editing a vocal for my next arrangement, and the lyric line that stood out was: “It all changed, when I let go of fear.” The song was named “Clear.” All of a sudden, my life became clear!

The spirituality of my music continues to heal me.

I had no doubt that the future held more pain and challenges for me. But I was given a reprieve. It seemed easier to accept whatever would happen, because I have been so blessed already.

There was still so much more music that I wanted to record and finish. When all of this was over, I could still play guitar, I could still speak, and I could still sing.

I was incredibly grateful.

I had lunch with both my brothers two weeks ago. It was unbelievably special to me. It had been three years since we’d last gotten together.

Posted on August 28, 2024 by Judy | 11 Comments

I’VE KEPT MY SMILE THROUGH IT ALL

Posted on August 18, 2024 by Judy

I’m in my happy place when I’m recording music from my bedroom! Link to lyrics, stories and performances: IN THE PAST

It was a quiet Sunday morning and I had just finished recording low guitar for another song. Eventually, I would add three more guitar parts and a vocal. And then after that, my arranger and I would have fun creating further instrumentation.

The week before, I had finalized the arrangement for my song “In the Past.” The lyrics held so much wisdom and the line “I’ve kept my smile” was a great title for this post.

I plan to write more soon about my feelings related to those lyrics.

I hope it won’t be long before my current struggles are “in the past.”

In five days, I will be undergoing surgery to remove a cancerous lesion in my breast.

This photo was taken last year at a butterfly exhibit.
I am that butterfly – tattered, radiant and still flying.

The last time I wrote for my blog, I was chuckling over accidentally flushing a fork down the toilet. I’m so glad I’ve kept my smile – through it all!

Slogging through discomfort and pain is never fun. For twelve years, I I’ve learned to live with chronic dry eye discomfort. But this year, that has improved.

For over seven months, I was on a waiting list for a brow lift. I hoped this procedure would help with my eye pain. Sometimes, I could hardly open my eyes.

Finally, I received a call scheduling my surgery a month later. I met with the plastic surgeon and he explained that my procedure was going to be a “temporal brow lift.” The scars would be on my temples, hidden under my hair.

The surgery went well and I was able to manage with the post-surgical pain. I was elated to realize immediately that I could much more easily open my eyes. The fatigue from my lids resting on my lashes was gone!

This realization kept me upbeat and I decided to completely focus on solving all my other problems.

During a live stream not long after my surgery, I showed off my scars!

I didn’t want this post to be a laundry list of medical issues. But here it comes . . .

Earlier this year, I suffered a horrible allergic reaction to an antibiotic taken for a dental issue. That was only the beginning.

In May, I tore my meniscus while playing tennis.

The pain from this injury was unbearable. I went to Urgent Care when I couldn’t walk. It was incredibly depressing, but eventually I could slowly walk again. I hurt it a second time and went to ER with the hope of finally getting an MRI.

It took well over a month for that to happen. Two orthopedic doctors told me the torn meniscus was the least of my problems. Suddenly, I was told that I had significant arthritis and was looking at a knee replacement in my future.

I was so proud that I was able to come back and play tennis after breaking my ankle five years ago. A mourning process set in about whether I could ever play again after this injury. I prayed for healing every day. Losing my ability to play tennis seemed small compared with using a cane just to get around my apartment.

On top of limping and moaning – I was also dealing with stomach issues. I had a colonoscopy last week and am still waiting for answers.

At first, it seemed small that my mouth had sores. But then the problem continued to worsen. I had terrible pain in my cheeks, because I kept accidentally biting them. Sometimes, it was simply hard to talk because of the pain.

I consulted with an orthodontist and she recommended that I remove my three remaining wisdom teeth. I had held onto them for far too long!

As I planned for the extraction, I received a message that a routine mammogram had a questionable area. I went back for more tests and after that a biopsy appointment was scheduled.

I added the biopsy appointment to my list of things to get through. I wasn’t too worried waiting on results. But then I received a call that I had a cancerous lesion.

Now I was looking at much more to deal with!

There was one Friday, where I had five different medical appointments at the same facility. I found it almost funny and once again, marveled that I was able to manage it all on my own.

I am thankful that I am able to swim in the apartment pool where I live every day.

I jumped on scheduling my wisdom teeth extraction. I wanted it done before embarking on my newest recovery journey through cancer.

My oral surgeon was confident I would do fine. After over a dozen Novocain injections, he started pulling. One, two, three, and it was soon over. I drove home and wasn’t even swollen. I was so proud that I made it through. And after about three weeks, my cheeks began to heal and were no longer raw!

I have been able to deal with everything because I continue to smile. Occasionally, there are tears. I allow them, because I don’t want to deny any of my feelings anymore.

The support from my friends and family has made a huge difference. Since my diagnosis, I’ve had one significant relationship repaired and intimacy restored with several important people in my life.

I treasure messages from my many online friends.

I am thankful for early detection because my prognosis is excellent. My lumpectomy is scheduled for August 23rd and I will learn more about follow-up treatment after that.

Every Sunday, I perform on the app Insight Timer. My one-hour live stream was the highlight of my week. There’s a link to my live sessions on the left side of my blog – it’s free to join.

My audience has appreciated my authenticity.

An Australian friend I correspond with wrote me to say, “Judy, it’s great that you shared your cancer diagnosis and the benefit of finding it early. Perhaps you have encouraged someone to get a mammogram they were putting off!”

I continue to sing every week, even though sometimes I’ve questioned whether I was up to it.

But like Cinderella, for one magical hour I become a princess.

I end this complicated update with a beautiful comment from one of my Insight Timer listeners.

I connected with Judy’s music on a live 2-3 years ago. Hearing her music and witnessing how it moved her through the heaviness of grief at one of her heaviest moments, inspired me.  

Judy’s Sunday sessions were a blessing. I’d show up with myself, listen, and allow whatever was present for me. She confirmed the hope in just allowing and creatively transmuting any pain and confirmed the power of choice.

 She was raw and vulnerable allowing whatever was to simply be – an off note, tears, or just a song. She shared what was present, an honest approach. I love her and hold a great sense of gratitude for her presence. She’s a beautiful woman with a kind and generous heart.

 My journey through that time in my life was less filled with anguish and more with a sense of peace because she was there.

 

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YOU’LL MAKE IT THROUGH

Posted on May 5, 2024 by Judy

Recently, I saw my artwork on a product at an Armenian market in my neighborhood. The illustration was probably purchased through Getty stock where I have a large library of images. Most sales are less than $5.

My first title for this post was: “I’m No Longer Flush.”

When life holds challenges, the best way for me to get through them is with positivity. I especially appreciate laughter and believe that humor is great way to alleviate stress.

Last week, I had my second root canal in one month. (The month before, I was laid up with an allergic reaction to an antibiotic given for an infection from a new crown.)

Even though I knew what I was in for, I was very relaxed. After injecting a lot of Novocain in my mouth, the dentist went out. The assistant came in and asked me if I’d like some music on. I nodded. When she asked me what artist I’d like, I mumbled, “Judy Unger,” and then I added, “That’s me!”

It took her a few minutes, but she finally typed my name correctly. I often hear that my last name is Younger or Hunger. Both of those could fit!

My meditation album showed up on the screen above. There was a lot of irony when my song “Hang On” was playing. I felt so emotional, that I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

Eventually, the dentist came back in. With my mouth sounding like marbles, I told her that the album cover was a painting of mine and I had created the music, also.

She exclaimed, “Wow! You are so talented!”

I responded, “Thank you! I love pursuing my creativity. And that probably explains why I am on Medi-Cal.”

This dentist let out a guffaw, followed by full on laughter. She wiped her eyes and said that artists certainly deserve to be paid more.

If I didn’t have financial assistance for all this dental work, I would certainly need it after all the procedures I’ve had recently.

I currently live in the coop where I grew up. I like to envision my small place as “my castle.” I lived in a relatively giant house in comparison for over 20 years. My current bedroom is smaller than my former walk-in closet. To walk to the kitchen from my former bedroom, meant walking a distance to the stairs and then walking even farther to the kitchen.

But now I am queen of my castle. It’s only 10 steps from my bedroom to the bathroom or kitchen. I love it!

My next challenge happened a few days later during a peaceful evening. I cut up a ripe pineapple and enjoyed forking pieces of it from a bowl near my computer. I stretched and decided to head to the kitchen for a glass of water and to put the bowl and fork in the dishwasher.

I stopped to use the restroom on the way to the kitchen. And that’s when my problem happened. It was like lightning!

I stood up, scooped up the bowl and fork, and flushed. And in an instant, the fork flew off the bowl and disappeared right down the toilet.

I looked into the empty bowl, fully expecting that I could reach in and pull it out.

But it was gone. I shook my head and felt a bit shocked and foolish. I wasn’t sure what to do next.

I sent a text message to my good friend, Stacey, and told her what had happened. She told me she’d check with her husband, Bill and tell me what he said.

Stacey texted back that Bill thought it would be okay, since it went all the way down. I breathed a sigh of relief. And that was that.

That was until the next morning when my younger son (who lives with me), tapped on my door and said, “Mom, there’s a problem with the toilet. It’s not flushing.”

My heart sank. Dare I tell him about my foible? I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, honey. I’ll call a plumber!”

One of my handy friends suggested I try a magnet. I decided if I went fishing in there it might make things worse. I was immensely relieved that a plumber would be coming later that morning. I only had one bathroom and thankfully, there was a community bathroom outside.

When the plumber arrived, I was embarrassed explaining how the fork went down. His eyebrows went up, but he told me he was hopeful he could get it out. The worst case scenario meant an entirely new toilet. I crossed my fingers he could find the fork.

It ended up costing me $350. He removed the entire toilet after he retrieved the fork, and then resealed it.  Ouch! I couldn’t believe how in just a second, I had just watched a wad of money go down that toilet!

The plumber smiled coyly when he held up the fork and said, “Would you like it back?”

Without hesitation I exclaimed, “NO, THANK YOU!”

Before that morning, I had never laughed so much by myself. I must have sounded like an insane woman. It took courage, but later in the day I told my son what had happened.

I texted my friend, Stacey, and let her know that the fork turned out to be a problem. Bill was wrong about that. Stacey said that she and Bill were rolling with laughter.

Bill said, “A fork? I didn’t hear that a fork went down the toilet. I thought you said it was a cork!”

Oh, boy! What a great image. There I was, popping champagne in my bathroom!

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JASON MEANT “HEALER” – PART 2

Posted on April 5, 2024 by Judy

It has been 32 years since my son Jason died. It wasn’t until after his death that I learned his name meant “healer.”

Even though he died a long time ago, there is no escaping the indelible influence he continues to have upon my life. Only this past weekend, I had a remarkable healing experience completely related to him.

A few months ago, I received a Bar Mitzvah invitation for a good friend’s grandson. It was held at the same synagogue I attended as a child – where I was a Bat Mitzvah 51 years earlier. I planned to attend, even though it wasn’t something I was looking forward to.

I know it’s probably best not to write about anything related to religion, however, writing has always been so therapeutic for me. Therefore, I will continue sharing my honest feelings.

For most of my life, I felt spiritually confused and empty. I grew up very disconnected from my religion. Throughout my childhood, I was at that temple four days out of seven. There was Hebrew school, Sunday school, and Junior Congregation. I tuned out everything and tried to ditch whenever I could.

My better memories were when I wasn’t in class and exploring hidden corridors of the temple with fellow classmates. (Except for the time one of my male classmates groped me while going up a ladder in the dark.)

My mother was passionate about religious rituals and I went along for the ride. It wasn’t until I was in my mid-twenties that I changed gears. I insisted my parents attend a therapy session with me. At the time, I was suffering from depression.

With my therapist’s support, I courageously told them I wouldn’t follow their religious rituals or attend services anymore. I finally had my religious independence and it was a huge relief when the meeting was over. Gradually my depression lifted, although I continued to feel guilty about hurting my mother.

Not long after that, my first child Jason was born. He had a serious congenital heart defect and was very sick. My issue with my mother evaporated. I couldn’t have gotten through his illness without both my parents’ love and support.

But when Jason died at the age of five, the disconnect with my religion further widened. The rabbi that officiated at his funeral was one of my former Hebrew school teachers. He also had performed my wedding.

When the funeral was over, he rushed off and I never heard from him again. I’m not sure what I expected, but the disappointment stayed with me. I felt abandoned.

Many friends were surprised that he hadn’t offered me more spiritual guidance. I excused it because I remembered that he and his wife had lost a baby. Perhaps Jason’s death had triggered difficult emotions for him on that day.

As that Bar Mitzvah grew closer, I felt a lot of anxiety. I delved into my feelings hoping I’d find insight into ways that would help me through it.

And then Jason came into the forefront of my thoughts. It was because of his death that I became friends with Susan. The Bar Mitzvah was for her grandson.

Susan didn’t know me; her daughter was in Jason’s preschool class. She mailed me a very touching card about how deeply his funeral had moved her. I had recorded his eulogy the night before on a tape recorder. It included my reciting song lyrics to several of my songs.

When Susan brought a meal over to my home, we connected beautifully and our friendship began. I wrote an early blog post about us. COMPASSION & FRIENDSHIP

My insight was now clear. I was attending this event because I valued my friendship with Susan. I would still be flooded by memories, but I would manage them all.

I did the calligraphy and painting for this memorial picture that hung for many years in the building where Jason attended preschool. I revised the lyrics for my song “Beside Me Always,” which I never imagined I would ever sing again.

Feeling disconnected to my religion of birth usually led to guilt. I had let my mother down. I knew both my parents loved me and were heartbroken over Jason’s death. So much so, that they had purchased an expensive plaque at their synagogue.

With that memory, tears poured down my cheeks. Those tears were very healing. At that moment, I felt warm inside and accepted that my religious choice was just as valid as my parents. I was deeply grateful I had found spirituality later in my life.

My mother and father continued to remember Jason’s anniversaries of the heart long after his death.

I came to the synagogue as late as I could get away with. Instead of being there 3 hours, I was there for one. I didn’t feel all that great. Only a few days earlier, my allergic reaction that lasted two weeks had finally subsided.

The sanctuary had been remodeled, but so much was exactly the same. I was lost in a haze of memories – of singing in the temple choir and getting married on an orange carpet. I remembered how proud my parents were when I sang at my Bat Mitzvah. I silently chuckled with memories of exploring the hidden corridors in the back of that cavernous room.

Susan saw me and I waved. I beamed back at her.

Even with getting there late, the service still felt interminably long. Finally, it was over and people started to stream toward the exits. And that’s when I saw them – the rabbi and his wife. It was well over thirty years since I’d last seen them.

I recognized his wife immediately. She was also one of my Hebrew school teachers. I warmly greeted her and used my maiden name. I said, “Do you remember me – Judy Goodman?”

Her eyes widened and she told me she certainly did. Her first question was to ask me if I still did art. Both of us reminisced for a few minutes. It was then when I realized the old man hunched over a walker next to her was her husband, the rabbi.

She spoke loudly to introduce me to her husband. Because of that, I wondered if he heard her or understood who I was.

He looked up slowly and looked nothing like the man I remembered.

I smiled and bent over to get closer to his ear when I spoke. I told him that he had performed my marriage, and sadly he had officiated at my son, Jason’s funeral.

Then my eyes watered when I said, “I want you to know that Jason continues to influence my life to this day. I sing songs dedicated to him and help comfort other people in grief. He lives on!”

I squeezed both their hands and he nodded. He understood.

As I walked away, I couldn’t believe that I had seen them again on this day after so many years.

Susan was in the lobby talking to friends and I waited for her. Her appreciation for my being there washed over me. She couldn’t believe I had come after being so ill with hives only a few days before

The luncheon that followed was in another building. I helped Susan carry a few things and told her I could lead the way because I knew this temple so well. As we walked, I mentioned that I wanted to show her something in the hallway.

There were hundreds of bronze plaques on the wall, but I vaguely remembered where to look. I pointed to Jason’s name. She hugged me and I felt incredibly inspired at that moment.

The luncheon was noisy. I couldn’t sit at Susan’s table because it was packed, so I found a seat for myself somewhere else. I chatted with a lovely woman, whose elderly father sat next to her. I found out that she had been a longtime temple member and we both attended the same high school.

Her father asked me who my parents were. When I mentioned their names, he fondly told me he remembered them. Just hearing that uplifted my heart.

When it was time for me to leave, I stopped in the hallway once more to look at Jason’s plaque.

I walked across the parking lot and stopped at my car. I looked up at the sky, which I often did when thinking about Jason. He was my angel in the sky, after all.

This had been a day of profound healing. My heart was glowing with forgiveness. I had already forgiven God. My music was a gift bestowed to help me with that.

But on this day, I forgave the Rabbi. I forgave my parents for imposing their beliefs on me. I forgave myself for falling short.

All that was left was love. A healing light swirled around me and carried me home.

This picture is from 2022 where I had lunch with Susan and her husband Barnett for my birthday. The beautiful butterfly was a gift from them.

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