The wailing, knocking, and clicking of the machine was not as bad as I expected, almost comical in a sense. I imagined the MRI tech on the other side literally setting off alarms and banging a hammer and not really doing anything. Honestly, I felt like I was trying to take some type of demented nap in a construction site, and thankfully the deafening silence was short lived. I’m grateful it was not long, and my initial sense of panic calmed. 25 minutes later and the scan was done. I experienced my first ever breast MRI today. I was thankful for the earplugs too, as I cannot image how loud those noises actually were. So you be wondering if you’ve kept up with my breast cancer journey, why a breast MRI and why now?

Yes, I’ve finished my treatments and now take a daily hormone suppressant. My blood work has been good, and to my knowledge show no signs of recurrence. I think the MRI is a next step in determining if it’s time to remove my port. It’s also precautionary as I have dense breast tissue, and the MRI can produce a better image sometimes than a mammogram.

Honestly, getting a test or scan done can be triggering and even when I need an IV or blood drawn. Thankfully, there’s anxiety medicine that can help with all of that. What comes after the scan is the dreaded wait… the wait to breathe again and know everything is okay. I think it’s normal to have doubt. It’s an easy thing that can creep into your mind as you remember what it was like before with the original diagnosis. Remission is not a conversation for me (because of my age) for at least 5 to 10 years and lord willing when and if I get there, the thought of cancer will never completely diminish.

I think that’s what it means to be a survivor, living with the knowledge of what happened and could happen again. No, I don’t dwell on it. I live most days focused on my job and family without a single thought but when another appointment or scan comes around, the thoughts trickle back.

With those thoughts also come joy in moments to remind you are here and are able to be in the moment you are in.

For now, I’ll just relax and be thankful for having a chance to spend the day with my mom.

I use my dishwasher frequently and am somewhat disappointed when something isn’t dishwasher safe which kind of seems like a rarity these days. When I registered for china when I was getting married one of the things that sold me on my pattern was that yes, it was dishwasher safe.

Now, there is always that one pan that needs a little extra attention that doesn’t make the cut. This particular pan may sit in my sink for (yikes) 2 to 3 business days before I decide to wash it or more times than not, put it in the dishwasher. Recently, I saw something on Facebook about the husband or wife being upset about that particular pan or dish that soaks longer than the rest. If you are reading this, I imagine you have a dish or pan that comes to mind. If I am being honest, it’s any dish that needs extra attention at the moment at my house.

For me, there’s a kind of freedom in relinquishing a dish or pan to the sink to be soaked and not cleaning it immediately. It’s almost a declaration of “yes, I do not have to do this today” kind of mindset. Most of us now work, clean, and raise kids while trying to find a moment to sit and scroll on our phones, binge a series on your streaming service of choice, or just sit. The aforementioned dish releases you from imaginary chains that binds us to housework. We think if only I didn’t have x, y, or z to do today, I could do something I want to do for a change.

Friends, I am here to tell you that you don’t have to do housework every weekend or every day for that matter. I’m not advocating for a dirty home or your home to wind up on hoarders. What I am advocating for is self -care- finding time for you to do something for you. You can’t be the super woman that I know you are sitting on E! Yikes, doing what you want to do comes with a level of guilt- especially for working moms that feel like they don’t spend enough time already with their children. Am I good at this? Not really but I’ve gotten better. It’s only taken me almost 13 years in my marriage, two kids, and a health scare to figure it out.

I spoke with someone on Zoom the other day that I work with through my hospital’s connection to UAB and she said something that inspired me. It was her birthday and she told me she was dedicated this next year of her life to saying yes to things she wanted to do. It is her year of “yes”. I love that concept. What can we do to say yes more to things we love than being determined to have the clean house of the year?

Here’s a start- forget about the dish. Let it soak. Go do what you want to do!

Here it is! Currently, soaking and me not caring!

The other day as I was walking on the back dock into work, something stopped me for a moment, and I looked over to the window into the Cancer Center. I thought about how many times I had sat on the opposite side of that window in the chemo lounge beside my mother getting chemo. Despite the treatment being tough, I enjoyed our Monday morning ritual and spending time with my mom. We would chat for a bit, look at our phones showing each other pictures, and I would gradually drift to sleep from the Benadryl.

I thought I caught a glance of my former self, a toboggan pulled down over a freshly shaven head with sweats and tennis shoes covered by a blanket given in love from friends. The beeps of the machine came to mind and the motley crew that would arrive similar to the regulars at the local bar. The regulars would give a greeting as they prepared for the grueling task of chemo in front of them with no complaints, living angels on earth. The TV in the background with the show Doctors added to the background noise. I remember the dread of having to go to the bathroom because of all the fluids and having to drag the IV pole, an unwanted friend, into the bathroom with me. I mastered the art of holding the pole and undressing. I see some of my favorite nurses moving gracefully from patient to patient with a smile and encouraging word.

It is as though for just a moment the former me saw me too and gave a nod. She smiled a knowing smile that one day she would be where I stood. I politely nodded back with a smile on my face, thankful to have known her but glad to be moving forward. I run my fingers through my hair, almost wavy like, thick to the touch. It feels wonderful. I step into the hospital ready to do a day’s work, God’s work, feeling alive and grateful.

As crazy as it sounds, I am grateful for the time at the Cancer Center. I gained new friends, a new perspective and insight into another world. And if I ever should forget to count my blessings, I’ll peer into the window at the Cancer Center, and I will remember. I will remember.

The French always have a way to make things sound sexier and because I’ve been watching too much of Emily in Paris on Netflix, I decided to make my title sound tres sophisticated. Of course, my French has more of a Southern twang. I digress. I decided to explore a little bit of history of resolutions.

The most interesting historical fact about resolutions I found related to Julius Caesar’s time. According to history.com, Julius Caesar established the beginning of the new year as January circa 46 B.C. The name January comes from the two-faced God Janus. This spirit is said to have lived in doorways and arches. For the Romans, they believed Janus had the ability to look to the past year and ahead into the new year. Romans, in turn, would offer sacrifices to Janus and made promises to the God of good behavior in the new year.

We do something similar as we ring in the New Year. Typically, as the ball or whatever item drops where you celebrate, we sing Au Lang Syne which translates to times long past according to a Google search. We literally welcome the New Year while looking back to days gone by.

I am typically one that loves to make resolutions and lists for that matter. By nature, I am goal-oriented and have been as I can remember-from a planner in school to my favorite day in college-syllabus day (nerd alert!).

This year, however, I find myself with no really goals in mind which is kind of shocking. I keep remembering what a doctor told me when I asked how he was able to focus and not take work home with him. We are all guilty of that, I think. It’s sometimes hard to shut things off quickly- if only it was a light switch when you left work. He said something to me that was so profound yet so simple. He said, “I choose to be present wherever I am- home, work, etc.”

So instead of a lengthy list of resolutions this year, I am choosing to consciously be present wherever I am. It’s not going to be easy as there a number of distractions at both home and work but I am going to do my best. I’ll try to share how it’s going, but if I am in the moment, you may not hear from me.

Happy New Year! May it bring you peace and happiness. Be present.

My career path has provided me a different insight to what holidays look like for in different industries and careers. For years earlier on, I planned a breakfast for kids with Santa at NorthRiver Yacht Club, a prestigious country club. Kids donning their Sunday best anxious to see Santa, and parents anxious to get the best picture possible. Downstairs in the Crystal Room and 1890s room was overflowing with families and a spread fit for a king or in this case princes and princesses. Plates filled with pancakes, hashbrowns, and ketchup smeared- almost like a work of art from a toddler. Squeals and crying alike could be heard across the Yacht Club. Santa could invoke both reactions equally with no guesses on which kid would do what.

Later on, after moving home, I was able to be a part of planning the largest Christmas celebration in our area and State- Christmas on the River. Stressful, yes but seeing the crowds faces during the Day Parade made it all worth the while. Witnessing the ability of a small town to come together to make this event possible is nothing less than remarkable.

Next, there were Christmas parties with the Credit Union with song challenges for new employees and laughter filling the dining room of Choctaw Country Club where all branches would unite. Celebrations of jobs well done and well-deserved recognition served as the night’s agenda.

This year marks my first holiday season in healthcare. Healthcare is a high pace, stressful environment for both employees and families alike. Adding the holidays in the mix makes this even more a challenge. Our employees work long hours, and I know our families and patients are struggling with the fact that the holiday season was not the same as years passed. This career by far has been my most challenging and rewarding. In my short time I have fallen in love with our hospital, employees, and patients. It is my hope that this week, along with the help of employees we can spread joy and holiday spirit for patients and fellow co-workers. My dad instilled in me that the most important thing we can do for others is to share the gifts and talents God has provided us. I feel that every job I have been blessed with has allowed me to be able to do this. However, this time I feel it is even more important to share these things in a healthcare setting. I ask that if you are reading this to stop and pray. Pray for our employees- some will be working on Christmas. Pray for our patients and their families. This time of year, is so special but it is also so hard for so many. Stop and count your blessings.

Thank you, God, for allowing me to help others and share what you’ve given me. It’s not for me to keep. Thank you for your son.
“And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born. She gave birth to her first child, a son. She wrapped in strips of cloth and laid him in a manager, because there was no lodging available for them.”
Luke 2: 6-7

It’s been 5 years since my grandmother gained her wings. From her death, a floodgate of memories, thoughts, and words opened up and this blog was created. I often think of what I would want her to know since her passing. I realize she is watching over me and is well aware but I miss the ability to pick up the phone and hear her voice. I miss being able to sit at her counter in the kitchen and get lost in her stories I have heard numerous times. I loved to watch her face as she told these stories. I had these stories memorized but when she told them, it was though it was the first time I had ever heard them, picking out new details I missed the last 100 times.

My grandmother was born in 1936, the same year as Elvis who she adored. I think they had a lot in common as kids-so poor they didn’t have a pot to piss in. The irony is that her maiden name Baker had once been the name of the county where she grew up. She was in fact a descendant of the Duke of Clanton, now with Chilton as its county name. I wondered why the name changed and read somewhere that the folks in this county didn’t take too kindly to what the Baker men’s political beliefs were; carpetbaggers I believe was the term I read. I digress. I don’t want to be political in my blogs or worry about something that has long since passed. This is more about the woman I knew, loved and adored.

She was the youngest of Auklee and Ola Mae Wright. Her mama died giving birth to Ruby who would have been her younger sister but God needed Ola Mae and baby Ruby. My grandmother was close to her siblings. She could have more fun with them than anyone else on this green Earth. What they didn’t have in money and things, they made up with love. From her stories I learned that being poor didn’t mean you were unhappy. Their love was what kept them going when times got tough and when the only thing she had to eat in a day was an orange peel she found on the playground. This kind of love moves mountains, gives you the ability to walk through fire, and live to tell your stories that live on for generations.

My grandmother was a beauty. I forever have an image in my mind from an old photo of her standing by her house on Strawberry Street with her beehive hair style. Her beauty routine included Ponds cream every night and Jergen’s lotion. I keep both as part of my routine too. I’ve written about it before but strawberry scented Suave was the shampoo I remember most at her house.

She had a green thumb and was a very good seamstress. Oh, how he could cook, but I miss her fried bologna sandwiches the most.

My grandmother was strong and not afraid to speak her mind. She was a true peach-soft exterior with a hard inner core.

Now at 37 I look in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of her from time to time. I have some of her features. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as strong of a woman as she was but I’ll try. I’m thankful God saw it fit for her to be my grandmother and to have her on this Earth as long as we did.

I miss you Maw Maw Faye. We all do. Don’t worry, you continue to live on through your stories, the lessons you taught us, and the love you shared. I love you a bushel and a peck.

I fear what my life will look like when my kids are grown and moved out. So much of my life is spent chasing them, schedules, school, sports. If I’m not doing that I’m working and trying to find a date night for Will and me. What will become of Ashley Coplin when the busiest ceases to exist?

I don’t have a hobby other than this- writing. Will plays golf so I know how he will spend his days. I’m an introvert/extrovert meaning the mood to throw a party comes around once a blue moon. I know what you are thinking. Geesh lady get a life.

And after cancer treatments, the feeling of letting go and living in the moment is slowly fading away and I’m drawn (like earth’s rotation around the sun) to being the same, safe person I’ve always been but why?

I was born into this world already in my 30s because of my old soul. Literally, started my to do lists when I was a few months old.

The extent of being adventurous is summed up by parasailing once, my one tattoo and will add a 2nd because of a dear friend but that is the extent to my mid life crisis/post Cancer.

I fear that I am boring and lack conversational skills beyond potty training and work related topics. What would my epitaph read? Here lies Ashley, always an old soul with the tendency to be very A type. She once let go but then reverted back to the old ways.

As much as I admire my sister (care free, artsy- can literally do anything) and in some ways jealous of her, I could never be that way.

I don’t know the answer except to keep trying. Keep trying to push myself into new experiences and out of my comfort zone. Quiet the anxiety and live in the moment.

Like all of us, I’ve been given one life and I’ve got to make the most of it.

So here’s our challenge fellow moms- we can take care of kids and us too. Self care has to be a priority. Don’t lose yourself in the day to day. Remember that girl… love her too.

It had been a long week. My youngest had not slept well all week. I was looking forward to not setting an alarm for this Saturday morning. Mid-week, Robin, a new work friend mentioned that her church, Christian Chapel was hosting a walk for Breast Cancer Month and said “You should come!” I told her I would think about it, but secretly I was worn out and the walk started at 7 AM meaning I’d have to set an alarm. Before leaving on Friday, Robin once again said “I hope to see you there!” Later that evening, a get a text from another friend, Brandi, asking if I was coming. She was going to walk in my honor but there was no pressure for me to come. I told her I’d see how Anderson slept but again, I thought I just want to stay in bed!

Climbing into bed last night, I knew I would have to go. God has sent not just one messenger but two. He has his reasons and knows the right people to send and at the right time. Sometimes the right time to do something is when you don’t have the energy to do so. That’s when you get the biggest blessing. You see, it’s been a year now since I was first diagnosed and officially joined the Cancer Club. At the event, they asked the “survivors” to get in line first to receive breakfast. I had never thought much about the word until I literally became one. Brandi yelled at me when it was announced, “Ashley get in line; that’s you!” It literally means a person who survives, especially a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died. Lord may I never take this life for granted. What a powerful definition and all I can repeat over and over in my head- after an event in which others have died but I didn’t-I’m alive!

I want to thank Robin and Brandi for pushing me to attend today’s walk. I want to thank Christian Chapel for putting on this special event that I plan to attend for years to come! When I arrived, I realized there were so many people I needed to see in addition to my two friends. One friend (a fellow warrior and survivor) and I discussed the importance of using your diagnosis to help others. I think it’s a responsibility we have to others going through similar situations. That being said, I am here if anyone needs to talk. Please reach out to me.

Looking back at last year, I didn’t know what to expect and all I knew was that I would get through. I proudly now own a button that says “survivor.” May it always be a reminder of what I’ve been through but more importantly what I do now going forward.

With a hint of Fall in the air recently, my mind has been wandering back to
my college days at the University of Alabama in the early 2000’s. Particularly I was remembering our favorite dining and drinking spots. Some still exist while others have sadly gone away. So, here’s my top 5 list of favorite spots while at UA. The order is not significant, just what I can remember.

Nick’s in the Sticks– This establishment is still open but now has a sign. I think part of the appeal back in the day was that there was no sign. You had to remember where it was. Remember, this was a time when Facebook was in its infancy and most people didn’t have GPS systems in their cars (although
they did exist). The drink of choice here was a Nicodemus. I’m not sure all the ingredients but I know it had Rum, 151 and tasted like an adult Hawaiian Punch. The filets were some of the best in town and on a college budget, you could get a filet, salad, and baked potato for $8. There was always a line so we would order our Nicodemus’s and hang in the area in front of the restaurant (it’s small and has very limited seating). The hostess outside greeted you with a puff of her cigarette as she sat on an old wooden stool and barked at us if we went beyond the fenced in area. Inside, there were Christmas lights and Alabama memorabilia from past championships and tributes to Bear Bryant. Remember, this was the Shula era, there were no championships to be won. Going to Nick’s could ease the blow of Brodie Croyle being sacked 6 times by Auburn at home because Nick’s reminded you that championships could be won or maybe it was the Nicodemus that helped ease the pain.

The Waysider– This restaurant is one of my favorite breakfast spots in town. A small, red wooden house on Greensboro Ave is unassuming. The Waysider is where I learned to love grits. Yes, I grew up in the South but never took the time to try grits until a dear friend and pledge sister encouraged me to try them. I was hooked but the biscuits are my favorite there. Like Nick’s, prints adorn the walls of past Alabama victories. Daniel Moore prints are hung in every available wall space. Parking is limited and is around back.

El Rincon– Our go to Mexican restaurant located on University Boulevard is now longer open. I believe 95% of the college population went to El Rincon for their toxic margaritas. I’m not really sure how much tequila were in these drinks but usually you could be one and done if you started your night here.
Mexican food has always been a comfort food for me too. Chips, salsa, queso and margaritas-what more could you ask for?

Paty’s 24 Hour Diner located at the dormitory Paty Hall is no longer in existence but after a night out, it was the go-to for late night breakfast. College kids now have a Waffle House on the strip, but I’d take the 24 Hour Diner over Waffle House any day. Additionally, they took Bama Cash and Dining Dollars as payment so why go anywhere else after too many El Rincon margaritas and Nicodemus’s.

Harry’s Bar– Who doesn’t love a hole in the wall bar? Urban Legend says that the former owner Harry used to play basketball at UA when he is in college. What I knew of old man Harry is that he would bring out tequila shots for the girls. This place had nostalgia written all over it. Alabama county signs were the art of choice for this establishment. I remember being disappointed that there were no Marengo County signs. The drink of choice here was a Crazy Bucket. With a group of friends, you could all pitch in $5 and receive a plastic bucket with cups containing an unknown concoction. I tried to watch the bartender make a crazy bucket one night but loss track. It was everything liquor, beer, and the kitchen sink.

I love thinking about friends and times at the University of Alabama. I’m thankful for the memories. My head hurts thinking about those drinks now and as adult in a time at college where there were no Ubers, I’m thankful for our safety. Although a lot has changed since I first stepped on campus, it was always be one of my favorite times of my life and I will forever say “Roll Tide!”

In the recent years there has a been a lot of attention on rush or the politically correct time “Recruitment” at the University of Alabama. I am thankful when I went through rush 19 years ago, we didn’t have social media or Tik Tok. I’ve written before about how much I really didn’t know or understand about sororities at the University. All I knew is that I wanted to be in one and my friends from high school were rushing.

Particularly, one event sticks out in my mind. It is one of those events that changes the course of your life without you being aware until you are 37 years old looking back and writing a blog. On the night before Bid Day, the penultimate event, “Serious” Night as we called in 2003, was a time of reflection and self-contemplation on what house you really felt at “home.” If I’m being honest, I thought Panhellenic was surely joking. There was no way I’d know in a week’s time if I would know enough about a sorority to think in “serious” terms of a forever home and sisterhood.

Well, Serious Night 19 years ago I met a girl, a sophomore from Enterprise, Alabama at the DZ house on Serious Night. I asked her if we had to talk so seriously. I still wasn’t buying into the algebra equation behind sorority rush: one week = one house=rest of college and life. It seemed hokey like Billy Mays (for the younger generation please google “Oxyclean guy”; God rest his soul) would come down and say “Hey! Billy Mays here! All you have to do is add two scoops of Oxyclean and this is the sorority for you!”

Flash forward and from that not so “serious” talk, I pledged DZ but more importantly I gained a forever friend. Today’s her birthday. I miss her and not a day goes by that I don’t think about her and the blessing she was years ago and is to this day. Lindsay Beth, thank you for being your true, genuine self so many years ago and allowing me to see that real people did exist in sororities. I’ll admit there was some doubt- I mean have you seen the door songs? Stepford wives’ kind of shit but hey I did a door song (somebody had to stand on those chairs, and Lord did not give me the good lucks or talent to be a front row gal but whose knees are hurting how? Ha!) More importantly, past the door songs, ice water teas, etc. there are good people that will be in your wedding, at your baby shower, and that you will love you forever.

As I disclaimer, to my knowledge no sorority girl was hurt in this blog post. If you can’t laugh at yourself, then you are taking life way too seriously. I have no grudges against door songs; I am just not the cheerleader type. This disclaimer is not legally binding but maybe it will save me from some mad comments about my dislike for participating in door songs. I digress. Happy Birthday to the girl whose maiden named will always be pronounced with a growl! I love you!

Ah… the good old days of Zap photos and no one using a straightener.