Surgery, My Life Wisdom, and Love

Kandi & Rob

March 31st is the big surgery date in Cleveland to have the cancerous kidney removed. The specialists told us before with the spiraling blood disorder that surgery wouldn't be an option, or at least not a safe one. Then the cancer growth in my kidney more than doubled in size in less than 3 months and starting tearing my immune system apart, flaring up more underlying health issues. Surgery is now the only option to remove the kidney and growth. Chemo is off the table and not an option for this type of tumor, let alone my spiraling immune system. Unfortunately, not all of my preliminary testing went as planned and we’re not in the clear yet. They found some concerns with my heart. Actually, the doctor asked me if I had flat lined since my last test. Ummm.... Not that I’m aware of! 🤷‍♀️😎 

The surgery, especially with my health and where the growth is, is extremely risky. While I’m highly anticipating to get this removed in hopes of feeling better, Rob and I are both terrified at the possibilities of them finding more, or me not coming out of this. Yes, this a realistic and hefty concern with my heart, blood, and other health issues.

There will be a team of specialists assisting throughout the surgery and after to keep an eye on my immune disorders, blood clotting, heart, etc.  We’ve had trouble with me metabolizing anesthesia too quickly in the past and I have woke up during the middle of surgery. This was when I was much younger and a lot healthier.  They are still seeking an anesthesiologist that feels comfortable or confident enough with my reactions and medical responses.  

There are major risks for anyone with this surgery, including death. With my current health, the risks are heavily multiplied.  However, we are now between a rock and a hard place and surgery is the last resort.  It’s now the only remaining option to potentially prolong my life and hopefully reduce some of the underlying issues. Unfortunately, this surgery does nothing to benefit the pancreatic disease and the genetic blood disorders.  This is a battle that we will continue to fight for the rest of my life.

My birthday is April 3rd. I’ll be 41. I’m grateful. The doctors told me I’d never make it to 40, and here I am. Not necessarily as active, mobile, and healthy as I would like. But nonetheless, I’m here, making memories, spending time with those I love and continuing to build my legacy. 

If surgery goes perfectly, I will be home the day before, or of my birthday and then have about 6-8 weeks of extensive recovery. There’s a buttload of concerns from the doctors and us about the recovery, but first we just have to make it through the surgery and we will go from there. Palliative care should be coming back into play for some of the recovery. Hopefully. 

Our insurance company contacted us about home care, and if we’re lucky I might qualify.  Right now our insurance isn’t the best , especially since it recently changed.  We’re both trying not to panic at the amount of specialists, tests, procedures, and extensive bills piling up (even after insurance pays). It should not be this expensive to be sick. No one should have to go into debt like this.  It’s bad enough your battling for your life, and then you watch statement after statement roll in. We keep losing the kitchen table and counter with the stacks of medical bills that look more like a waterfall.  I try not to focus on the spiraling medical debt that adds up to more than a nice house.

As for recovery, they are telling me I won’t be up and around for a while. Nor will I be at the hot rod shop or able to work for a month or two.  I’m dreading this. Rob was able to take leave from work to assist in my recovery. I’m doing everything I can to not over stress about the finances, our insurance that has changed, the astronomical costs (even with so-so insurance), all the traveling expenses, etc. The amount of stress that’s not even part of the surgery feels astronomical. The doctor actually told me I had, “circumstantial anxiety”. Well, duh! I can’t imagine why?! LOL No clue! 

As you can image, my brain is a whirlwind right now. Much like my health. We never thought on top of the current battles we’ve been dealing with this.  All the pain I had in my lower back, turned out to be cancer of the kidney. Listen to your body. If something feels off demand testing. Demand an MRI. Don’t let anybody tell you you don’t know how you feel. 

I’m going to get emotional with many of you here for a moment. As I mentioned before, this is very high risk. I didn’t even qualify for a port in my body to make weekly infusions easier, because it was too risky for clotting. So you can imagine with the surgery, it’s scary as hell. I don’t have a fear of dying. Death itself doesn’t scare me or the possibility of what is or isn’t after. Not living, not loving, and not being able to experience everything I can fit in into the short life, is what scares me. The one thing that is guaranteed for every single one of us no matter what, is that we will die one day. That is the balance of life. I’m fully aware of this. I still feel I have so much love to give.  I’ve learned that you can have all the money in the world, and all the cool things to pass on to those you love. But years from now the money will diminish, the cool things will be sold off to people that they don’t have sentimental value to. The one thing we truly leave are our memories and foot prints in the hearts of others that we have impacted while we were here on earth. Those memories, and stories, are passed down from generation to generation. That’s how we truly live on. Our soul stays alive in the hearts of those that loved us. To be remembered and have your stories shared for generations after you’re gone from this earth is truly the highest honor.

My advice, or wisdom, may sound cheesy to some. But it’s what I can offer you. I’ve learned that this world around us is so much bigger than we’ve ever dreamed. I’ve watched so many of us keep ourselves in a bubble or a shell out of fear for things that are different, or maybe outside of the norm.  Throughout my life I’ve read and been brought up through a variety of religions and faith. Some of the lessons have been beautiful, while others have strayed me away through their judgments and self righteousness.  I have learned that labels and what you believe don’t make you into the person you think you are. The love you give others, the tolerance and acceptance of those that believe, act, and look different is what makes you a good human. I’ve learned that we need to love our neighbors (all of them), despite the differences.  I’ve learned to look out the window and not just see the cars passing by. But to reflect on the angles the sun is shining, how the shadows are moving, the way the blades of grass are blowing, the sound of the leaves rustling from the trees, the way the wind caresses the cheek and kisses my face.  I listen to the birds, watch the squirrels, and I try to sit and take it all in. Every moment, every breath, I try to take in the beauty that’s all around us in an abundance.  Be part of that beauty. Be part of a greater picture, a higher self, a kind and loving human being that can set political, religious, and racial diversions aside. How you treat others, despite their beliefs, views, orientation, etc, is a reflection of yourself. I have friends and acquaintances from all walks of life, from all around the globe, from all sorts of religions and faiths. I wish more people would embrace the diversity of the world. To learn from one another, to understand each other, our paths, our past, to accept, to love, is what is truly important as a human being. 

A light hearted human being doesn’t allow the lines of borders, religion, or politics to divide us or breed hate. We are the teachers of now and tomorrow. Perhaps my time here will leave a few imprints in some of your lives.  

We have so much love to give, 

Kandi

March 21st, 2021

I Wanted To Die Today

How do you not give up on yourself when it feels as though everyone has given up on you?

Today was ugly. The ugliest, and I made it that way. The past few months we’ve had hydration and infusion treatments that worked until my veins collapsed, been diagnosed with kidney cancer on top of the thrombosis blood disorder that’s spiraling, on top of pancreatic disease, on top of autoimmune, on top of, on top of.... yeah. The specialists keep growing, just like the bills.

Today was so ugly. I made it ugly. I’m tired, at my wits end, and honestly, I don’t want to do this any longer. I can’t tell you how badly I want to give up. Everything hurts. It sounds generic, but it’s the truest way to describe it. Everything... fucking... hurts. 

Today, I almost through myself into moving traffic. I wanted someone to hit me. I wanted to die today. I’ve been dealt a lot in my life, good, bad, indifferent. Today, the love I have for my family and my friends couldn’t pull me back. I wanted to die. I made my husband look directly into my broken eyes as I repeated to him how I no longer wished to live. I kept repeating it to myself. Why? Because I can no longer handle this burden. 

It sounds selfish to many that someone would want their life to end, and perhaps it is. Perhaps it’s just as selfish of those that want to keep you here, despite your own suffering.  Some claim morals, religion, damnation. Me, I’m just tired. 

I’ve given up on me. Most everyone around me has given up on me.  How could I not finally break down  and apart? I have two choices, medicate with pharmaceuticals and be fully bed ridden, an opiate addict, and spend my final months or years a vegetable with no feelings, numb, no life, etc.... or... Push myself everyday as I’ve been. Pained beyond measure, gaining resentment, growing more and more exhausted by the day, mad at the world and a broken system, and constantly living in fear that I’m a burden to my husband. That one day he’ll also melt down and finally just say fuck it that he’s had enough. Because I’ve certainly had enough of me. Currently, and maybe for the first time ever in my life, I despise myself. I hate me today, and the behavior that has spewed out of me like a fire consuming everything in it’s path.  I hate everything about me today. 

Do I check into a mental hospital so I can be numbed on pharmaceuticals? The counselor seems to think all of this is completely normal for a terminally ill patient. Normal? Let me tell you, wishing death upon yourself doesn’t feel normal. Wanting to jump in traffic to end your pain, doesn’t feel normal. Feeling alone in a room full of people, doesn’t feel normal. Writing and scraping notes that apologize for not being able to go on, isn’t fucking normal. Knowing the love others have for you can’t save you, no, that’s not normal. 

I don’t want the anti-depressants when the only reason I’m depressed is because I’m in constant pain and dying. I don’t want the anti anxiety meds when all they do is make me sleep the entire day away. I don’t want to miss life, I want to live it! And yet I wanted to today was die and hopefully be free. 

Fuck cancer. Fuck auto immune diseases, fuck pancreatic disorders, and fuck those that profit off of the pain and suffering of others. I’m tired, boss. I’m tired of all the ugly.  I’m even tired of myself.

I. Just. Want. Peace. 

Feeding A Hungry Soul

The past few days my soul has been screaming. It’s hungry. Starving! Famished for creativity.  I love to create. It doesn’t matter weather it’s a homemade dish from scratch in the kitchen, old world artisan breads, crosshatch ink drawings, pinstriping and painting, or even the visualization and mind set to create videos for the hot rod shop, or thinking of different and complex paint schemes and car builds. I crave the need to create. My soul wasn’t going to allow me peace, until I listened and allowed the art to flow and release.

Tonight I listened. I grabbed a few snacks, cranked the music up, and grabbed my pens and some paper. I knew what was coming, so I grabbed some Kleenex too.

Often when I crosshatch my little Skullie drawings or create some macabre art with my pens, I include an original poem with them. It’s part of the process. When I’m drawing and releasing, my mind is finally focused on just this and the words that want to flow with it.

Normally my mind is in a constant state of multiple thoughts. A monologue of creativities with commentary voices of every scenario, everything I’m doing, and random babbling. At any given time my brain is in a thousand different locations, hosting hundreds of subconscious conversations and decisions or ideas that are fluttering about. Sometimes they even have fun little accents.

At times, I am able to shut it all completely out and focus on what’s right in front of me. That only happens for me when I’m making tantric love to my husband, and the entire world ceases to exist outside our bedroom walls.  Rarely, and usually when my mental health is hitting bottom, I’m able to lose myself entirely into a piece of part. I forget how badly my mind needs that release of the chaos. Just for a bit i get to see what’s right in front of me.

I feel the urge to create all the time, but I find myself feeling guilty if I choose to give it my attention.  I understand how an artist or writer can get lost or wrapped up in their work for days, weeks, or months. It’s easy to see how they forget to exist outside their creative bubble. You can dive deep into your art and creations to forget the ugliness of the world. Why would you want to come back from that? Perhaps that’s why I choose to stop and step away from the world when it’s my last mental resort. I can’t focus on anything else and the world I see around me is crumbling, so I must loose myself, create, and release.

Once I’ve managed to put a piece of my soul on paper or a canvas of sorts, I feel like I can breathe a little bit better. The world around me is still noisy and chaotic, but I can manage instead of drowning in it.

I think I need to dedicate a little more ‘me’ time. Time to myself that I can create, and where I don’t feel guilty stepping away from house or work duties. Rob and I had spoke about making the basement my zen area. An area where I could escape, do yoga, listen to music, paint, draw, and just escape the world if I needed to. I think I’m ready for that.

His Love

Not a single soul had ever understood her the way he did.

His gaze would dance across her face even in her darkest moments.

His caress the only comfort when her world was ending.

His arms the saving grace she needed to lose herself in.

He loved her, despite her many flaws.

He loved her, despite her being broken.

He loved her for who she was and always had been.

He only wished she would see herself as he saw her.

©️ Kandi Blaze 2020

Surviving and Yet Another Medical Specialist

Surviving. That is usually my response when someone sees me out and about and asks how I’m doing. It’s the best answer I can give. I’m surviving the moment.

Yesterday I had a few good hours and was able to take my classic truck around a few blocks while I enjoyed the streaming beams of warm sunlight.

The day originally stated off with a scheduled MRI of my brain. I’d been rather nervous about this as I’ve been experiencing some questionable and concerning issues. My speech has been slurred a bit, I often stumble over what’s in my brain and trying to come out my mouth... I can picture it but can’t recall the words or how to form them.  My memory, including some cognitive skills were struggling way beyond that of a normal brain fog. To top it off, I recently began getting headaches on my left side, and seeing changes in light and my vision. I kept telling myself that it was just malnutrition.  There was enough concern the doctor felt an MRI scan of my brain with and without contrast should be ordered. We were told in 48 hours we could expect the results back.

Less than four hours later the results were in. Abnormal. What?! Can I please just have one thing come back and say that it’s ok? Nothing was found! She’s in the clear! Of course not. Abnormal. Ha! Story of my life.

“There are multiple small foci of hyperintensity on T2 axial imaging. Image 14 of series 5, in the left subcortical white matter, which are nonspecific and could represent a small focus of demyelinating or post inflammatory reaction.” 

 The good news? I don’t have any massive tumors and I don’t have an aneurysm! The bad news? The scan didn’t come back in the clear. You always want a brain scan to come back clear of any abnormalities.  There are signs and concerns and they just happen to be on the left side. So what does this mean? It means I now have another specialist to add to our growling lists of doctors, specialists, and specialists for the specialists. We are in the process of getting the appointment set up with a neurologist in Mansfield. Finally! Something closer to home. That unto its self feels like a small victory.

Thankfully yesterday was a little fuller of life, as today I’m confined to the house, but mostly the bedroom. I made it to the bathroom once and ended up doubled over on the floor due to the excruciating pain the pancreas has me in today. I can’t even put it into words. Today i can’t even muster the energy to cry because my body is too physically exhausted from the continued state of it fighting itself.  Odd moans that I can’t control mumble, muster, and sometimes bellow out.

Days like today, pharmaceuticals are not the answer. You’re too miserable to deal with the spiraling side effects that overall worsen the experience. As terrible as the pain is, and it is inhuman, it reminds me I am still alive. I’m still here, clenching on to hope that with my rare case, some how, some way, a panel of specialists will figure a way at a better the quality of my life. My case is incredibly hard with my past and current medical battles. When you have specialists from all around that have gathered to discuss your particular case and medical history, and they are still baffled as to how you’re still alive, that speaks in volumes.

They are trying. We are trying, but pancreatic disease in all forms is still such an unknown, let alone with my oddities of medical battles and extensive history with the heart, lungs, autoimmune, past cancers, surgeries, and everything in between. I honesty don’t know why the hell I am still here. I hope there is a grander plan than this, for me, and those around me watching me die.

I’m incredibly tired of just surviving.  I miss the hummingbird I used to be. So full of energy, life, and never letting anything stand in my way. A constant go, go, go. I had battled before, and I have lost greatly. It taught me to embrace every moment life offered and to celebrate it with passion, enthusiasm, and love.

I would give almost anything to have that chance at living life again.

Kandi Blaze McCrea
02/04/2020

An Elaborate Dance with Death

“Today my Soul Remembered You”
Drawing by Kandi McCrea - color by Barbara Barnes

There’s the good days, and no matter how good they are, how happy you feel, how decent your body maneuvers that particular day, how many smiles overflow your face, the bad will come. You try desperately to prepare yourself for it. You know the excessive shaking, attacks of a-fib, the not being able to leave the bathroom or bedroom for hours on end with your stomach and pancreas, the continuous surges of inhuman pain the consume your very state of existence are coming. You can only hope you got your reserves up, because if not, this could be it.  It, the pain, the emotions, the everything, and it’s no longer just confined to a particular area.  Your terminal state of degrading health hits you like a head on collision agains a cement wall. You’re pretty sure a crash test dummy has experienced less pain.  Despite that, your brain tricks you into thinking they, the next round, can’t truly be as bad as the last time, let alone worse. You can’t possibly spiral out of control worse than the last time. Then it comes. Bam! Crash! Surprise! Here I am! The crippling moments and days of autoimmune pain, combined with your pancreatic disease, your heart crap, and now your in-home  breathing treatments from your COPD, just to list a few.

But wait!  Like any good salesman, there’s more! So much more. I want to go into details about all of it.  Every fucking millimeter of my body and what it’s doing. My brain wants to analyze it, even if we know the answers. I feel like I have to continuously vocalize every moment of what I’m going through and be descriptive about it, and I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism, or because I’ve been in relationships in past that undermined my health and pain. What I feel like it’s doing though is dragging everyone down with me. Who wants to hear you constantly complain about every movement, every breath, and why it hurts, and why you’re sad, depressed, and overwhelmed about it? They can already look at you, see you’re unhealthy, and know you’re dying. Every new, little, or preexisting ailment that comes I feel I must speak and be vocal with. I look at my spouse and though he’s full of compassion, I know he’s mad. He’s mad at the situation, mad that he can’t fix me. Mad at the accumulation of ongoing expenses that will still roll in long after I’m gone.  The dying wife he’s watching wither away into nothing has to be incredibly hard on him. I’m sure he misses the smiles, because I know I do.  Sometimes when I find myself going on and on complaining, I just look at him and wonder if thinking or hoping I’d just shut the fuck up already. It’s what I think to myself sometimes. I get tired of it, because I’m living with this every second of every day. I don’t get a break from not dying. I don’t get to take a day or moment off of knowing if this is my last day. But the pain.... that’s what I’m never truly free from. The emotional and physical pain are beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, and those that know me, know I have battled greatly and lost deeply. I assure you, I have experienced pain.  We’ve tried all outlets with pain, and some days, no matter how strong the pharmaceuticals and natural pain meds, it’s not enough to take away the physical, and then those damn demons start dancing around in your head.

Today I don’t know how to push through besides this. This right here. Expressing myself. Today, the writing is literally saving me because the demons have grown dark enough that I can’t see past the current physical and emotional barriers.  My brain can sometimes be my best friend with the creativity, continuous thoughts on creating, visualizing, dreaming, and all the things that come with being an artistic soul. Then, there are these days. Days that I hate me. I hate this disease, what it’s done to my life, my physical body, my health. There are days when I’m so sick I can’t physically function and then it happens. My brain is no longer my friend, it becomes my worst enemy on a self destructive path. I’m already an over analyzer and micromanager, so when the darkness consumes, my brain continues the patterns of extreme details, but unto everything that’s detrimental and unhealthy.  The feeling of being a burden sets in. The harsh realities of your future, or lack of, come crashing down. 

I usually and finally cave to the physical and mental exhaustion and the spiraling of emotions set in.  At this point in time I’m usually too weak to do much of anything besides be in the bed, alone, with my thoughts.The 92 pounds that I currently am struggles to get into a comfortable position in an old bed. I doubt there will be a new bed before I’m gone. It’s something I’d give almost anything for, but I’m watching the medical bills and current state. I really don’t want to die in the bed that my husband and his ex wife used to sleep in, but that’s where I spend much of my time. Yeah... things no one else thinks about, but when I’m in this state, that’s the level of details that my mind spirals around. 

I have so much planned for this year. I couldn’t give in and plan 2020 by staying in bed, dying, with no hope. Fuck me! I’m not going out like that! That’s why I push so hard, despite everyone’s orders. I don’t want to go out this way! As much as I want to push myself to the limits, and I do, I also find this completely opposite feeling when I’ve reached the level of today. In bed, afib and tachycardia going crazy with their spiraling effects, in-home medical breathing treatments and I still can’t breathe, the rheumatoid and osteoarthritis making it extremely difficult to move. I feel the skipped beats thumping in my throat and chest, the blood pressure crashing, head throbbing, and I’m tired. So incredibly tired of fighting and pushing today. 

The darkness is here and the full of life pin up rolls over in bed, knowing she can’t give up, not for herself, but for others that aren’t ready. Days like today, I am ready. I am beyond ready to be free of this.  Days like today I don’t feel strong, I don’t feel brave. I feel like a coward because when I roll over I pray to my ancestors for this to be my last breaths of life.  I pray they will end the suffering because I am not strong enough to keep pushing like everyone thinks I am. The sicker I get the more I understand why there are countries and medical professionals that believe in assisted suicides for terminal patients. Some say that would be weak. No. No, sir, that’s the bravest battle they overcame and they left this world with dignity. 

When you reach the level I have, your perspective often changes. Much of what I have felt throughout my life is coming full circle. Every day I am faced with new challenges. The biggest challenge is pushing yourself. Not giving up on yourself sounds so much easier than it really is. Sometimes I have multiple episodes in the same day of the ups and downs. I’ve got this! Even though I’m dying, I’ve got this and I’m going to die with grace and beauty. Today, I don’t have this. I don’t even have a spec of it. Yet some how, some way, I will manage to pull myself together enough to make it through until that is no longer an option. I can’t give up. I can’t give in, and I have to keep planning as though my life will be long and full. That’s not easy, but I have to do it for me. If I cancel the events, cancel the racing, cancel the emcee work, then I’ve already given up on myself.  That’s why I push, even when I can’t see past the next five minutes.

Today I write to make it through. I don’t write this for you, I don’t write for likes and reviews. I write for me, so I may pass the time in hopes that this release will eat some of the darkness away. 

If you are following my blog and health, thank you. I know it’s not easy to read, it’s very raw. I can not sugarcoat death. Death is not prejudice. Within the same moment I have watched my newborn son take his vey first breath of life and within minutes or less, he took his last. There is no such thing as being spared because you’re young or lead a life of purity. When it’s you’re time, Death comes for you. Some how, I have walked the line with Death before and now we dance. It’s becoming quite the ballroom for our elaborate dance. 

Xoxo,

Kandi 

My Cage (poetry)

Kandi Blaze - Image by Frazees Photo Stash 

“My Cage”

I often wonder what it is I am hiding from? Why I allow copious amounts of fear to consume me. With death I have become far too logical and comfortable for most to bare listening. I find conversations about our mortality to be rather delightful. The more I think about my demise, the fuller I feel to life and living it.

What am I running from? The tingles in the base of my skull turn to my pores excreting sweat, as my heart skips beats and pounds rapidly. I can feel each beat thumping in the pit of my stomach and in the sockets of my eyes. It’s eating me alive.

Everyday the feeling haunts me, it rears it’s rage. A feeling of failure keeps me locked up in my own cage.

©️ Kandi Blaze

Image and design by Frazees photo stash - Jason Frazee. I absolutely love working with Jason, and this set was exceptionally interesting and artistic. The set is an artfully done nude series of images to reflect the soul, the rawness, and maturity of life.  We did a few different styles that day and several of the images I felt compelled to write a short and expressive story or poem with.
Thank you for being a fan of my page and following my adventures in life. I hope you enjoy these images and some of my writings.
Xoxo,
Kandi

It’s Just Me... (poetry)

Kandi Blaze - image by Frazees Photo Stash

“It’s ok,” she whispered, as she invited me in, “you’ve been here before.”

I don’t recall this place, but her presence was hauntingly familiar. Confused and weary whether her intentions were benevolent or malevolent. Why do I feel so strongly to follow her? Why is the pain in my very soul of existence pulling me towards her?

I’m climbing. I can do this. Keep going. I just have to.... I just have to reach my hand out and touch her.

I’m screaming, “Why?! What is happening?”

I can’t catch my breath... It’s getting darker. My voice races, “Where are we going?! Please?? Why are you doing this?”

“To whom,” her eerily voice whispered in the darkness.

My eyes finally adjusting to a light coming from the corner and I look around. There is no one here but me. It’s just me.

©️ Kandi Blaze

This is part of an artfully done nude set I did with Frazees photo stash - Jason Frazee. I absolutely love collaborating with him and his wife, as they push and break the boundaries with their art and photography.

What An Honor It Would Be To See 40!

After a long day and cuddles with the grandson, I thought I would go through some photo albums on my computer and internet files. You see, my 40th birthday is coming up. Something I was told in my mid to late 20’s I’d never see.  There was a while that was true, and then we found the cause of my illness and were able to treat according.

Concerts! Left to Right: Kandi Blaze, Ivy Electric,
Chevy Cheyenne, and my beautiful daughter, Destiny. 

In my 30s I gained hope. My life was changing, my child was mostly grown, I wasn’t the same woman, but I remembered the girl I once was.  I wasn’t so sick all the time, actually I looked pretty healthy, despite the immune issues. I had nice curves, healthily cheeks, and was full of so much life. I was a hummingbird. Go, go, go! Couldn’t keep me down, because id been there. I had to live every minute. I needed to experience life. Soon I remarried and was incredibly blessed to be married to my hero that always tries to save me. I was now a grandma to the worlds cutest and orneriest boy, and for some reason he reminded me of my dad. 40 was going to happen! I was going to reach a mile marker that I once thought would never be achievable. Life was truly fantastic.

April 3rd, 2020, I am to be 40 years young. An age most dread, look at as old, or the downhill of it all.  A little less than 3 months away. I want nothing more than to be able to celebrate this day. This monumental moment in my life that I never expected to see, and I know isn’t a full guarantee. It’s never felt so incredible close and yet there are times we not sure it’s truly reachable. 40 has such grace, pause, and maturity if you’ve learned that life isn’t full of mistakes, but lessons learned and not worth repeating. 

1998: My father Ken Cooper (1942-2009), my Grandmother
Mabel Cooper (1911-2006) Kandi Cooper (that would be me),
and my daughter, Destiny. 

Tonight, as I went through those photos, originally planning to create a quick birthday video with pics and clips, I began seeing the healthier vessel I had been, seeing the people over the years I’ve connected with, loved ones, lost friendship, smiles and hugs from those no longer living in this realm with us. I couldn’t hold back the tears. I wanted to be happy for so many connections. So many beautiful faces and smiles I’ve shared with so many of you. I am humbled at many of the relations I’ve had. Sad and sometimes angry at the loss of friendships. I grieve for the dead, but there is comfort in reuniting our souls.

I also realized I’m the only one that knows where all these images are, what music is my favorite and expresses my personality and life. The tears fell incredibly hard when I watched Rob and I shove cupcakes in each other’s faces at our wedding. I laughed and reminisced at the video clip of us shop ladies being in a Dodge drift thrill ride. These were the clips and images I wanted to share with people I made memories with while I was alive! As hard as it will be, I plan on creating a beautiful memorial video of those clips,  images, and memories with so many incredible people over the years. And no one needs to scramble and sit for hours or days and decide what images I would have liked. Here’s that damned double edge sword again. This is hard, but with rare opportunities like this to express art, share memories, and leave one last footprint at my final goodbye, it just seems right for me.

Wow! To be 40. What an honor that will be to hopefully see.

Kandi
01/21/2020

Don’t stop believing in love

2020 is going to be an interesting one for us! Lots of good with the bad, but I need the good and events to weigh out the bad. I am beyond thankful to the places and people not giving up on me. You are my spark of light in the darkness and I won’t let you down, but please know not everyday is easy, just as not every day is super dark. It’s a rollercoaster some days, but when I have events to go to, people that drop in, or shoot you a message to ask how you are, that’s priceless. I feel the love and I thank you for it.

I’ve been called brave, strong, a faker, an attention seeker. I am none of these. I am simply human, living with and dealing with a chronic and terminal illness, but please don’t give up on me. I still hear hateful rumors. I can’t stop people from believing what they want. Perhaps it makes them feel better if it doesn’t exist. Perhaps they can justify their actions and words by telling themselves it’s all for attention. Oh, how I wish this was true. You have no idea how badly I wish this wasn’t happening. You have no idea how badly it hurts to ‘prove’ you’re sick to those that once called you friend or family, and even when you show them over and over, they roll their eyes and delete you out of their life.

And yet, people can be so incredibly kind and compassionate. We are capable of so much love as human beings. So much love to give. It’s truly limitless and in an abundance all around us. I’m trying my hardest to spread the love I still have, because I feel like I have a plethora of it to give. Love. It doesn’t cost a thing.

I’m going to post this image from my family doctors office today. This isn’t from my explosion of specialists, this isn’t my Encyclopedia of a medical file... This is just a brief and quick rundown/print off of a few things... life changing, altering things. Don’t be sad. Be proactive! Fight for the cures with me! Love those that are dying! You think it’s hard on you? It’s harder on them.

Also, those are my feet today. 😂 Biscuits exploding with edema becasue my heart is having some fits and battling with circulation. No, it’s not made up. Nope, not in my head. I’m standing up for myself. I’m not going to allow the nay sayers and haters to put me down further than I already am. No, I’m going to do what I always do and push like a mo-fo! I’m booking my calendar up for the season. Yes, I’ll be on stage and a guest at events, even if I’m dying and under 100 pounds, and you know what, that’s freaking amazing! Ahhhhmazing! Don’t stop believing in yourself.

Just because others want to see you fail, doesn’t mean you stop pushing and give up. You fight even harder, harder than you’ve ever fought in your life. You’re fighting for love. Don’t stop believing in love. ❤️

Kandi

Multiplex of Specialists

I was supposed to see yet another specialist in the afternoon that’s nearly an hour and a half from home, but they scheduled for the wrong doctor. This particular one is a special-special gastroenterologist, that my oncologist referred us to.  We’re told they are supposed to be doing or discussing some form of genetic testing to see if there’s a link between my diseased pancreas and cystic fibrosis, which runs on both sides of my family.

Specialists. I despise that word. I’ve seen more specialists in the past 6 months than most see in a lifetime. Seriously. I’ve dealt with a variety of specialists before since I have a variety of immune issues and spiraling health from it.

Let’s start with my Cardiologist, that’s my heart doctor.  I see him because I deal with Afib and tachycardia. My heart likes to go out of sync, have crazy out of rhythm patterns, take long pauses, and other silly stuff. This tends to cause a sudden change in blood pressure, and a blood pressure crash, resulting in lack of oxygen, headaches, dizziness, slurred speech, and sometimes passing out. The normal medicine, beta blockers, are a no-go for me with my already insanely low BP that 3 out of 4 cardiovascular specialists have said a big NO for me on any meds for the heart with my health history and immune system.

I visit my Pulmonologist most frequently, as of now. That’s my lung doctor. Surprise! All that trouble I was having breathing and excess phlegm was diagnosed as COPD and asthma. No, that’s not fun at all.   Years in a body shop, diesel exposures as a kid, and about 18 years of my life smoking. I’m paying for it dearly, but thanks to a routine powder inhalant, an emergency inhaler, and natural breathing remedies, it’s semi-manageable, except the hacking at night. That’s annoying.  I promise you though, breathing is not overrated.

Oncologists aren’t a lot of fun either. Those are your doctors that deal with cancer. Cancer? Yeah, I’ve had both cervical and ovarian cancers at age 19, followed by a massive surgery and total hysterectomy. I was 6 months pregnant and miscarried right before I found out. I currently see another oncologist for the pancreas. Yes, the pancreas. It’s a dick. Well, at least it looks like one. Mine is extra special, just like me! Years ago my gallbladder was removed because it was in apathy, full of stones, and covered in some form of sludge like fluids. The gallbladder leads to your pancreas. My pancreas started off having acute pancreatitis, then chronic pancreatic flair ups, and now it’s diseased, calcifying, and no longer allowing me to absorb proper nutrients, breakdown enzymes, etc.... in term, all my doses of vitamin D and potassium for my heart weren’t getting absorbed. Hmm... There’s a pattern here. Eventually, if I make it long enough, it will become cancerous and be my demise.

Gastroenterologist is most definitely on the list with all my diagnosed stomach issues... Not only did I have the cancers prior but 6 years of C-diff went undetected and undiagnosed, until it wasn’t and I was almost dead.  One of the longest cases that survived though! It’s not really bragging rights.  Turns out you shouldn’t be given test antibiotics when your daughter has chicken pox and you’ve never had them yourself.  Years of my life we’re lost to big pharmaceutical companies and 28 different prescriptions, most were prescribed double and triple doses since they had deemed me ‘terminal’.  Now we are back at an extreme specialists that focuses on the pancreas aspect of gastrointestinal disorders.

Rheumatologist for the auto immune. I get one super power and my body attacks itself for fun.   How? What kind? Well... that’s what we get to find out! Supposedly all these years I’ve been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Disease, an immune disease that affects so much more than just the joints. Last rheumatologist I saw was in Dublin, OH over a decade ago, and medicine has come a little further in this department, but unfortunately not nearly as much as those of us suffering would like to see. I have an appointment in less than a week with a new Rheumatologist.

Ugggghhh! That a lot of Igst’s.

Weighted in at 94 pounds the other day at the regular doctors office. Don’t forget about the family practician! We frequent that, emergency room visits, and tons of blood work.  There is talk of some form of home health care and assistance so I can at least stay hydrated. They have talked about a possible pic line so hydration would be easier and maybe we could try some form of vitamins through the line.

To be honest, more than anything right now I just want some comfort. I want to sleep without feeling like the bed is a thousand fists with knuckles pushing and puncturing my boney body. Every night I lie down it feels like the start of a horror movie with the pain, sweats, and lots of heavy and vivid dreaming when I do fall asleep. Even on a cloud my knees protrude out enough that against myself causes pain and strain, and my arms across my ribs feel like anvils ready to crash through.

I just want to feel human again and subside the multiplex of specialists. I’m surviving, because it’s the only choice I have. ❤️

Kandi
1/12/2020

Sparks of Light in the Darkness

Sparks of light in the darkness are what keep you pushing. Those little glimmers of hope, or something to grab on to when you can’t see or don’t know if you’re going to make it. Events, races, possibilities of what could still be achieved, building my empire, helping and inspiring others; those are my sparks of light in the darkness.

Life is a continuous rollercoaster of events. It’s an ever flowing river of emotions with curves, bends, narrowing streams, and large falls. What keeps us pushing through the falls, the dark tunnels, and the bends we can’t see beyond? Those little sparks of light, and a hell of a lot of hope. That’s what pushes us forward. It’s fear that leaves us behind, makes us repeat the insanity, or perhaps we find a comfortable spot along the journey, and we stay a little too long while the flow keeps pushing. Life doesn’t stop around you. You’re here for the ride, so you might as well jump on and enjoy it the best you can.

Let’s get back to those sparks of light. The little things each day that make you smile, that bring you a speck of happiness, a spark of light in the darkest hour. It’s the things we all thing of most, our spouse, kids, grandkids, etc. Your sparks are personal and individual to each of us.  For me, my surroundings of hot rods, and those that understand and accept my obsessive car life. It’s my upcoming events, future adventures, and the outings with people that I get to share my story with and help inspire.

A spark can even be an event that I’m on the calendar to host or emcee, but perhaps they cancelled because of my health. Bummer! Double edge sword for both of us. These events push me, because I love the audience, the microphone, talking to lovely people, and when you lose that, the spark dims and disappears. That event you kept pushing for because you love it, the people, the place, the everything, it no longer needs or wants you, and the world goes on. Your light is literally dimming, and you lose that spark that was shining in the darkness. I really think this is one of my biggest fears, losing my identity, my sparks of light. I’m not ready for this part.

I need those little sparks of light.... I’ve been so sick. So sick that sometimes we don’t know of it’s going to be more than a few days or a few weeks. Then we have a few days where I pop back a little, i manage, function for a week with videos, work, events, and then one of the flair ups begin again. We know I don’t have more than a few years, if that.  We get that. But if we can get those reserves up enough here and there in the mean time, and not get super sick with the flu or a bad bug, I will indeed have a couple more years. However, the flair ups can last until I’m gone...this one hasn’t stopped, they dont know if it will, and if it doesn’t or I don’t get enough reserves when the next one hits, that will be my demise. Now you see why I need those little sparks of light.

Racing! Yes, drag racing is one of my sparks. Not just to be at the track, to race down the quarter or eight mile, like my father and his father did. Banging through the manual gears in our big block Chevy, feeling the torque pull me back in the seat, watching the metal flake glisten under the track lights. Yes, drag racing is one of my sparks. That’s my drive, my spark! I’m racing the Nova! The Atomic Fireball will have me behind the wheel at Dragway 42. That is where I got my spark of life and that I where I will finally throw some horsepower and lay some rubber!

Sparks of light make me feel alive. They give me hope, purpose, meaning. Sparks can even be people. What a beautiful soul someone must have if they are a spark to another.  ❤️❤️

Kandi

01/03/2020

And So I Write....

When you read, it’s the job of the writer to give you heavy descriptive words so you can paint the image in your head, or understand the perspective that’s being portrayed to you. As a writer and artist, you have the ability to over or under exaggerate your story. You also have the ability to leave certain parts out that you don’t want to share.

Humble. I want to handle this every day in the most humble of ways. That’s so much easier said than being done.  It’s easy for me to sit here with my fingers clicking keys, and tell you how humbling I’m handling this. I could flat out lie to you and make it out like I’m the classiest person in the world with dying, but I’m not. I’m far from it, but I’m trying.

I lost my shit the other day. I spiraled completely out of control, and I don’t even recall all of it. I simply remember being incredibly frustrated that I’m constantly trying to remember where I put something or what I’m doing. This goes above your normal forgetfulness. At times I forget how to place the ponytail holder in my hair after I’ve brushed it. It’s a common dexterity that should be familiar to me, yet I stand there with my hair in one hand,  band in another, tears swelling up in my eyes because I can’t recall how to twist, bend, and attach this stupid thing to my hair to hold it back. I despise being aware of it. The next time it’s all familiar and there isn’t a struggle,  it you never know time to time when it’s going to change.

I’m pretty sure I lost it the other day over keys. Yes, keys that I had been looking for and had in a specific place. I couldn’t find them and had just been looking for all my other ‘misplaced’ items that were right in front of me a bit ago. After ten minutes or more of searching I found out my husband had taken them to start and warm up the truck. I should have been so happy that he is incredibly kind and thoughtful. But no, I lost my shit. I just spiraled because I had spent so much time in sheer frustration looking for these keys, feeling like I’m loosing my mind, that I just lost it physically and emotionally and the meltdown began. I kicked boxes, I screamed, I ended up on the floor, covered in sweat while screaming, sobbing, and bawling.  I was likely snotting and salivating all over myself. All the while shaking, and I just kept repeating like a crazy person, “I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to to this anymore!” Because I don’t. I fucking hate not feeling human, being in so much physical and emotional pain that the only resort is to finally cave to the pharmaceutical opiates. Then I’m a zombie. A medicated, disconnected zombie.

Frustrating is accurate. The mind games my body plays on me. It’s like being drunk and hungover but without any of the fun parts. I only get the memory loss, disorientation, and hellacious hangovers, but none of the great memories or fun regrets in the process.

I feel alone more than I should. I have the most compassionate husband the world could offer, and he’s a full-time career firefighter. I spend a lot of time alone. I love and adore what he does, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. It does however make it complicated at times when I’m so incredibly sick and he can’t leave a 24 hour shift. It’s something I will never blame him for, and at times, I love the quite house.

Through the past year, many of my friends have abandoned us. We walked away from car clubs and several events, for many reasons, but one of the main ones was hearing ‘friends’ or in most cases, catty women, accuse you of faking your health or doing it for attention. Yeah, I’m just seeking attention (inserts eye roll).  That actually happened, and I truly hope the people that chose to not only think that, but take it upon themselves to try to tell and convince others, I truly hope they don’t show up at my memorial to mourn my parting. Maybe that’s not humble of me, but it’s real, it’s hurtful, and I’ve experienced it first hand.

I’ve closed a lot of doors in my life and I use to reopen them. The last year or so, Ive found it incredibly hard, and often too scary to open new doors to allow new relationships. I've grown older, seen the actions of grown men and women that put partying in front of being real with the people that need them in their worst hour. I’m doing my best not to be a bitter person from it. I’m doing what I can to remain humble, despite the actions, words, and messages from others that I have received, asking me not to be part of local events or car shows, because of my non-traditional beliefs, or because i have gay and transgender friends. Yes, I have literally been asked not to attend a local and particular car show that claims to be traditional with their rods and customs. I was literally told I was not welcome to support their show with funds, exposure, or attending. I’m being judged for who I am and because I am compassionate with all walks of life. So in some ways, I suppose I am bitter because the friends and family that said they would be there for you through it all, abandoned us when we needed them most. At the first sign of truly being sick, we were told we were broadcasting it too much as seeking attention.   I’m not sorry we choose to step back from those that think it’s funny or acceptable to make fun of others health and life. We lost the zero fucks attitude, because when you have that attitude towards life and others, you lose your compassion and humanity and the rest of the world sees it.

I know I’m going to do this mostly alone. When Rob is at work, I no longer have anyone to call that can rush right over, or that can come to the store or parking lot when my heart has decided to go into afib. It’s just him. My small and scattered family doesn’t live close, and in the end friends visit less because it becomes hard for them to see you dying. It’s a burden they can no longer bare, so you do it alone. I have my Dalmatian, my loyal, loving, and always by my side, spotted girl.

And so I write...

Kandi
01/02/2020

A Humble Experience of Love, Life & Death

I believe this is the first of my memoirs of what it’s like to live with the chronic and now terminal state of this pancreas disease, calcification, a-fib, blah, blah, blah.  So many labels and specialist, that to spew it all out in one sentence turns into a paragraph with an extended amount of commas.

My blog will continue my adventures of cars, events, and exciting things, but to it I will now add a huge piece of my life, the ending. While that might sound a little depressing, and it is, it’s also a rare and beautiful opportunity that I’ve been given as someone that is incredibly expressive. There is sadness, but much beauty too as I grow closer to returning to my celestial home with my ancestors.

We live each day, planning for the future, keeping commitments, and pushing for tomorrow, even if we know it’s not guaranteed. While we hope i still have a couple years left, we have had some scares, and we know that those years, as much as we hope we get them, are not fully guaranteed in my current state.

I want to die gracefully. I want my death and how I choose to handle it to be a humble experience for myself and those around me. Yes, I’m mad. It’s unfair. I’m young, I’m so many things, and now there’s things I’ll never got to be, and that’s ok. I could be angry at the world. Mad at Gods, the ancestral energy, chi flow, the universe. But I’m not.  This is the cycle of life, the process that begins the moment we take our very first breath of life as we exit the womb.

 I have a rare opportunity that not everyone gets. I get to make the memories, and say the goodbyes. There is much I can plan for and lift the load off my spouse when it’s time for my ashes to be spread. Sad, yes, as it’s one of the most beautiful and cruel love stories for those that have witnessed it. A firefighter that saves lives falls for the women of his dreams, a car building, drag racing, hot rod chick. Girl gets sick, guy marries girl to try to save her. Girl gets sicker and can’t be saved. The hero in the story can’t save the love of his life. She got her knight in shining armor, but it was turnout gear and a fire helmet. The story is beautiful and the two were written in the stars to be together.   That’s the short version of our story, minus some burnouts, racing, and trips to the lake.  Maybe in another life we’ll meet once again.  It’s my hope.

Dec. 30th, 2019 - Sz 0 jeans falling off.

Currently I am well under 100 pounds, my size 0 jeans slide down and fall off with any weight in a pocket. I wish it was as easy as simply eating more or taking vitamins. Unfortunately we’ve reached a state that my body no longer wants to absorb nutrients, vitamins, supplements, etc. Dehydration and malnutrition are familiar battles, and the ER visits for routine maintenance will/are becoming more frequent. I took this image today.  This what this auto immune and disease that’s calcifying my pancreas looks like. I hide it well with copious amounts of makeup and clothing, but on but this is the reality of what it’s like to be terminally ill.

Some of my upcoming posts may be sad, some may be informative and educational, others may be of experiences of what it feels like walking between two worlds when the veil is thin. These experiences are often beautiful, and are what allows me to have a comfort in knowing where I’m going is simply home. I’m a soul, a form of energy, having a human experience in this dimension.

Thank you, for being part of my journey. I look forward to seeing so many of you this year at the upcoming events, and please know I am open to all the hugs. Let us make memories and leave foot prints in the hearts of those we love.

 Kandi

The Answers We Awaited but Never Wanted

I’m sure many of you have noticed by now that there has been some significant weight loss to my already petite frame. Most of you already know I have battled most of my life with an immune system that likes to attack my body in every way humanly possible, and in some ways that seem humanly impossible.   I’ve battled cancers before, being in a wheelchair for several years of my life, and things we won’t even post on here.  We’ve been dealing with a lot of issues over the past year with my heart and cardiologist appointments, with my stomach, trips to the pulmonologist for my lungs, and so many issues with my pancreas.

Over the course of the last several months we have worked with every type of specialist that you can imagine, and even waited almost a month so my case with my pancreas could go in front of an entire board of the best specialists from all over. Currently my oncologist is now teaming up with a special pancreatic gastrointestinologist. I went from having and being in the hospital with acute pancreatitis flareups from my immune system, to chronic pancreatitis flareups, to every single day of my life now is a constant state of chronic pancreatic disease and the pain levels are absolutely inhuman. My pancreas is diseased,  and completely abnormal, and is now hardening, and not soft and pliable like it should be normally.  This makes for even the normal digestion or gas bubbles to be excruciating, and sometimes not even possible.  You don’t wanna know or experience what “not possible” means. I promise you!

Please, before you comment with recommendations or remedies, know that we have been traveling all over and seeing doctors and specialist and have tried everything that you can possibly imagine. Even the most extreme surgery of removing the pancreas completely and putting me in a constant state of diabetes with an insulin pump is not an option for me. My immune system at this state will not allow me to go under for surgery nor will I recover, and with already having my gallbladder removed, multiple stomach issues and long-term effects from the cancers, I will surely die on the table or in recovery. That is something multiple specialists have agreed upon. They cannot remove part or all of my pancreas, my pancreas will not heal, I cannot live without my pancreas, but it is not working right either. It is no longer allowing me to fully absorb my vitamins and nutrients, and the simple act of eating more than a couple bites is like playing a game of Russian roulette. You never know the outcome, but chances are it’s not going to be pretty, and you’re going to regret those few bites that you actually managed to get down. 

This Unfortunately has a ripple effect on my body. Because I’m not getting all the nutrients I need and vitamins, I am losing weight, when I haven’t ate right and keep fluids in or down, my heart will have more PVCs/PCA, a fib, tachycardia, etc.  The weight loss is wreaking havoc on the rheumatoid arthritis, which is where the auto immune issues stem from. I know, right? I get a superpower and my superpower is that my body gets to attack itself. LOL 

So, you’re probably asking yourself what’s the next step? To be honest with you I haven’t even filled you in on all the shitty aspects of it. That’s enough for now, and that’s all I can really deal with emotionally at the moment. My life is going to be a forever battle with this, and it will most definitely be shortened. Lucky for me I have an incredibly supportive husband, who has more compassion and one of his hands than most people I know combined.

I can’t take the idea or thought of not pushing myself every day, I’m going to continue to be the face of my hot rod shop, and getting up on stage with beautiful pin ups to emcee.  None of that will change (to a degree), but you will see it in my face and in my weight, that I am not as whole as I would like to be.  It’s taken quite the toll on my brain, and some days I just can’t quite grasp everything with the pain brain as we like to call it, but I have an amazing team and together we do it at the shop. At home I have Rob, and I honestly don’t think I could or would be able to do this without him.

I have only kept a very small handful of people in the full loop this whole time after doctor visit, after specialist visit, after CAT scans, after all the crazy shit we’ve been dealing with and doing. Unfortunately we still have a very long road to go, and a lot of things to accept, and more to expect with long term.  I haven’t mentioned anything on health in quite a while because I was blatantly accused of faking it, being sick for “attention”, and all sorts of stupid stuff from people that were supposed to be our family and friends. We have since removed ourself from those people/groups, because life is too short to deal with the drama and bullshit that other people want to say about you or accuse you of. Simply put, life is too short for the petty actions of others.  For this, my success, my happiness and my struggles, I am hated by many, and I choose to not allow it to affect us anymore. 

Thank you all for being part of our life, and following my Facebook posts, the hot Rod shop, and all those crazy fun adventures that we take. I’m always telling you guys that all we leave behind are foot prints and memories in the lives of others, and I’m telling you right now that is extremely true. When you feel your mortality, the only regrets you really have or things that you didn’t do because you thought you would have more time. The things that you would assume that you would regret, are more like life lessons and mistakes. The regrets are the moments that you didn’t take that you should have.

Stay humble, love hard.

Kandi

The Swamp of Sadness

Image by Frazees Photo Stash

The Swamp of Sadness 

As a little girl I bawled for hours when I realized Artax, the horse in the movie, “The Neverending Story” drowned in the mud because the deadly Swamp of Sadness had consumed him. He couldn’t see beyond it. Artax simply wasn’t strong enough. 

Atreyu, a young boy, and the main character of the movie, saw what was happening to his beloved horse, but despite his love, his pleas, and cries for Artax to keep going, the horse couldn’t see past the darkness that was consuming him. Deeper and deeper Artax would sink and fight, until he didn’t have any fight left in him. Atreyu couldn’t understand why Artax inevitably would give up. The boy pleaded and even shamed the horse for letting himself give in to his demise. 

Artax didn’t give up because he was physically tired of fighting his way out. The Swamp of Sadness ate his beauty and innocence, until he could no longer see hope and he was forever lost to the darkness that swallowed him up. Not even his best friend could pull him out or save him. 

To this day, the movie remains one of my all time favorites. The scene in the Swamp of Sadness was a heavy scar to carry as an extremely empathetic child. Even now I can’t watch the movie without bawling when Artax decides to give in to the sadness. As I grow older and deal with some of my own medical battles, the deaths of close friends and family, I often understand the scene and realize how deep and truly sad an experience must have been for the writer of the story. 

I believe we have our days and experiences where we’re Atreyu, and we conquer our quests, keep pushing despite our losses, and refuse to allow the darkness to creep in. Then there are days or moments, where we are in the Swamp of Sadness. Many fighting with their all, but continue to sink further and further, until engulfed in darkness.  I hope I never experience the personal hell like Artax must have felt when all hope was lost and he allowed himself to be consumed by the deadly Swamp of Sadness.  

Kandi Blaze McCrea 

Summer is for cars, ladies, and concerts!

It’s been far too long since I’ve published a new post. Life has been incredibly busy, but so is everyone’s.

image by SnS Fine Art

Let’s start off with the Cleveland Piston Powered Auto Rama that took place in March. Hell to the yes, it was amazing! For the last several years I volunteered my time at the Dragway 42 booth to promote the upcoming season, the new track, several events, and my hot rod shop. This year I little to no time to stay at the booth, as I was pulled in a thousand directions for emcee work during the Pin Up contest, interviews, photo shoots, and gear head conversations. This was the first year I didn’t get to see all the vehicles, but regardless, I saw an amazing amount of machinery, met some new faces, found some familiar ones, and in general, had an incredible time. Looking forward to doing it again in 2020!! 

April came around and held my 39 birthday. Wow! I’ve been told for over a decade now that I’d be lucky to see 40, and more than once I’ve been told that I would never see 40 years old with my past health battles. All I can tell you is this, as it reaches closer, I hope to not only prove anything is possible, but to also plan an epic 40th birthday. I don’t know that my dream of a Route 66 trip is actually going to happen for my 40th, but I’m going to keep dreaming that one day it will in fact happen. 

April was also the grand opening at the new location for the hot rod shop. What a roller coaster of emotions, expenses, and stress. We are in. We are up and running, and we are finally getting the work out. Some badass work as that! It felt like Corvette central for a while. Our reputation on custom fiberglass fabrication and repairs got out, and before you knew it, over half the vehicles in our shop were Corvettes. 

May brought my first low riders/hoppers show in Pontiac, MI. The Majestics Westside Detroit memorial day picnic was incredible!   The paint jobs, hydraulic systems, metal flake, culture, art, incredible paint jobs, and attention to detail blew me away! Not to mention one of the best sound systems I’ve ever heard in my life!  Several of us loved it so much that we marked on our calendar for next year! 

We also brought a new apprentice to the hot rod shop in May. At the end of the month we welcomed Emily ‘Mopar’ Mobley to our team. She’s currently under probation and has a few weeks to go until that ends. She has a year long apprenticeship, and if all goes well, she’ll become a permanent team member.

June was a busy month finishing up a couple of the classic rides since the shop was now up and functioning. ‘Chevy’ Cheyenne Johnson received a promotion and became the assistant shop foreman at Kandi’s.  

Later that month, myself and all of the ‘Kandi Girls’ visited Sugarcreek, OH for the Fabulous 50s Fling Cruise In in the downtown. We stayed at the Berlin Resort in Berlin, OH, one of my favorite places to stay when I frequently visit the area. Morgan (Ivy Electric), brought her mermaid tail with her for the adventure and I shot some video of her swimming in the beautiful salt water pool the hotel offers.  One little girl, maybe six years of age, walked in and saw Morgan swimming under water. She was all giggles and smiles, and she too loved mermaids so much that her bathing suit was made to look like a mermaid. The expression upon her face watching Morgan was priceless. 

July has been insane. I can’t seem to get the days straight, and sometimes they mold together. Events, emcee work, car shows, drag racing, grand babies, heavy metal festivals, and on it seems go. The month is almost over and i can’t even recall the start. 

One of the most memorable moments from this month was the InkCarceration Festival at the Ohio State Reformatory in Mansfield, OH this year. Not only do I love the MRPS for so many reasons... it’s beautiful and macabre for starters. Now it hosts one of the most amazing 3 day music festivals, featuring bands like: Godsmack, Shinedown, Seether, 5 Finger Death Punch, and many great others. We had VIP passes so I could get in the shade or head into air conditioning if needed, and boy did I need to a couple times! We reached mid to high 90’s during the event. 

We also lost half our body weight working our asses off in the hot rod shop during the sweltering heat. Ok, we didn’t lose much weight, more like our endurance and mojo. The 1969 Corvette was finished up with her custom Monza red paint job and fiberglass fabrication and repairs. She’s beautiful and the team did another great job! Now we’re on to the next rotisserie restoration. 

As the last week of July approaches, we prepare for our first Indiana adventure, and the following week we head to Gratiot, MI, then Lapeer, MI for some testing in the Nova, and Pontiac, MI for Tom Bailey’s Woodward Pre-Party, and Roadkill Nights.... oh how August is going to be even busier!! I don’t know if I’m excited or scared.