Saturday, November 29, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points #7 (Aneurysm and Allergic Reaction)

* I bet y'all are in festive Thanksgiving mode. I hope each of you had a grateful day with family and friends. I'm sorry I have to bring you some eventful (and not in a good way) news.

* The contrasted CT scan on the 26th was a breeze. However, the after-effects were a nightmare.

* My brother Vince (yes, the one who watched me do a somersault down the stairs when I was eight) and his pup arrived from western North Carolina. Carl and I were happy to see them.

* I had been told to drink plenty of water after my scan to flush out the iodine which was infused into my body.

* It was a gorgeous fall day and we sat outside while I drank water like it was going out of style.

* Suddenly, I was seeing split images of Carl's and Vince's faces. I tried to tell them a story about my cousin, but instead of following my words, Carl asked me to raise my arms above my head and smile. They were convinced I was having a stroke or an allergic reaction to the contrast.

* My head pounded. The pressure was extreme. Yep, it was the worst headache of my life.

* Most allergic reactions from iodine don't wait two hours to attack, but 1 in 85,000 do. I'm one in 85,000.

* The next thing I knew, I was in the Emergency Room at Duke Medical Center.

* The triage nurses agreed with the unprofessional diagnosis of my husband--it was either a stroke or an allergic reaction.

* They wheeled me into the CT scan room and administered the CT scan without using any contrast.

* They discovered I had an aneurysm. (From the Mayo Clinic: An aneurysm is a bulge or ballooning in the wall of a blood vessel. An aneurysm can break open. This is called a rupture. A ruptured aneurysm causes bleeding inside the body. It often leads to death. Some aneurysms cause no symptoms. You might not know you have an aneurysm even if it is large.)

* Since there was no blood leakage, they ruled out stroke.

* I was wheeled into a room with the neurosurgeon and the attending physician.

* The aneurysm brought so much confusion. I kept my eyes closed nearly the whole time and my head down.

* They discussed the options with my husband, saying this might require immediate surgery.

* For some reason, it seemed this all boiled down to whether or not I had shortness of breath. At one point I must have told someone I had shortness of breath. I have no recollection.

* When the attending decided I did not have shortness of breath, I was given masses of intravenous drugs to counteract the allergic reaction.

* Finally, the head pounding subsided; I was able to open my eyes and look at the doctors.

* An additional scan was needed to determine the severity of the aneurysm.

* By this time it was 9 PM. We'd been there since 6 PM.

* The neurosurgen said I was next up for an MRI, and she would formulate a plan. She told Carl and my brother that emergency neurosurgery was most likely off the table, but she needed to see the scan results to be sure.

* I was told I couldn't have anything to eat or drink because I might have to go into surgery.

* The hours passed; Carl sent my brother home to our house. Carl and I waited four hours for my turn in line.

* At last, the MRI was done! The attending said we could go home, but not without a slight fight. One doctor said I had to stay overnight; another told me I could go home after the scan. Carl and I yearned for our bed!

* We were told the neurosurgeon's office would call Monday for a treatment plan for the aneurysm and that we could salvage what was left of Thanksgiving day.

* Turn back the clock to 3:39 PM . . . . . Prior to the allergic reaction and the aneruymsn, thirty minutes after we got home, my oncologist had called to say the CT (the CT that used contrast which I now know I am allergic to) results showed signs of metastatic cancer.

* I listened as she talked, talking notes on paper we use for our grocery lists. There were nine papers of scribbling.

* The oncologist said she'd schedule a PET scan and another biopsy in the next two weeks.

* I'd thought I wouldn't have any CT updates until Monday, so was surprised to hear so soon.

* After I was wheeled out of the ER and secured into our Jeep, Carl and I were home by 3:15 AM. We got three hours of sleep, and had that beautiful turkey ready for the Thanksgiving table that afternoon.

* What a treat to be with family! What a gift to be alive!

* My neck muscles and upper chest muscles are sore. My neck feels like someone is squeezing it. Yet, I feel an improvement from when I first got home two days ago.

* Lesson made very clear----We are all just one breath away from death.

* I ask God to let me clean out my bedroom closet first. No one should have to suffer through it, but me. After all, it's my mess.

***Before posting this, I've asked Carl to make sure everything I've written is clear and correct. Sadly, there are approximately 7 hours of my life where I remember nothing.*** P.S. If this has any misspellings, I'm sure you'll give me a break.***

Monday, November 24, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points #6

* Yesterday I didn't go to the sanctuary I usually attend for Sunday worship.

* I spent the beautiful, cloudless morning at the sanctuary of Daniel's Place, i.e., the cemetery here in Durham, NC.



* Daniel's Place is a calm space to walk, think, contemplate, pray, sing, and write.

* Before leaving the house, Carl provided me with a roll of toilet paper in case I had to make my way into the woods. He knew I'd had two mugs of coffee.



* The grassy lawns of the cemetery are serene, breezy, and filled with stories. Seated on Daniel's terrier blanket, I saw a yellow butterfly (yes, in November!).

* This was my first visit since being diagnosed with breast cancer.

* I had a little chat at the smallest grave marker of Our Darling Boy. "So, looks like I have cancer and you had cancer," I said. "What a thing to have in common!" I brushed a leaf away from where it landed on his name. "Only God knew that your life and death would be instrumental in helping to prepare me for what God has for me now."

* No mother can sit by her son's grave without shedding a few tears after that.

* "I miss you; I love you," I said.

* I did all the talking. Daniel remained quiet; he always does.

* He's joyfully experiencing all the wonder, majesty, and magnitude of Heaven. He told me when he was on Earth, "There are no tears in Heaven."
* I wiped my eyes, and then got moving.

* As I made my way around the loop that circles the cemetery, I thought: This could be the last time I walk here with all of me --- if you know what I mean.

* I'm coming to terms with the reality that I could be having bilateral breast surgery very soon.



I walked 2.8 miles in 36 minutes.

* I still got it! (I used to walk 4 miles a day, but lately I have been slack.)

* There is always traffic from Interstate 40 on the other side of the cemetery. A low din of noise.

* The traffic beckons me, reminding me that there is still life to be lived. You can't stay in the quiet and serene forever.

* Just like that infamous line in Robert Frost's poem, the one I had to memorize in fourth grade --- "I have miles to go before I sleep."

* Ignoring the traffic and the need to get back to my other life, I meandered among the graves and found Solomon's tomb; it's just a few rows up from Daniel's.



* In my memoir, Life at Daniel's Place, I've written about how the scripture verse from 2 Timothy on this stranger's marker ministered to me about life (be it short or long in years) and faith. "I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." I like the way it is tweaked to say "my."

* I want to keep running (or in my case, walking because I am not coordinated enough to run) the race until Jesus tells me it's over and I get to go to my eternal home.

* "It is a glorious day," I spoke into my phone where I often record my thoughts and ideas in Google Docs.

* My phone, which doesn't always understand my English, transcribed my words as "glorious dead."

* This shows me that my phone has a sense of humor.

* And for those curious minds, I made it home in time so the toilet paper was not necessary.



* Thank you to all who are keeping me in prayer for Wednesday's CT Scan at Duke.

* I'm sure I won't find out the results until after Thanksgiving, so this will be my last post until then.

* Happy Thanksgiving to each of you!

Thursday, November 20, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points #5

*The bones in my body are old, but they are clear of cancer!

*I just got the report from Duke concerning yesterday's Full Body Bone Scan. Part of it reads: There are no suspicious foci of increased radiotracer activity to suggest osseous metastatic disease.

* Grateful!

* I knew I had cancer before the mammogram and ultrasound of 10/24. I knew the left armpit housed a rather large lymph node. All my symptons were quite evident.

* But I had no clue if the cancer had matasticized to my bones. When the oncologist wanted to make sure before making a treatment plan, well, we had to make sure.

* For those who are 55 or under, old people's bones and joints creak, groan, and are worn. We've done a lot of living. Fact of life. And, perhaps, one of the trademarks or badges of growing older is a creak, or twinge, or ache, or something from an old injury that lets you know when it's going to rain.

* So I must confess I did think one of the aches could show up as a cancer-ridden rib. I was preparing for that news today.

* "Whatever God has for me, let me receive it." That's been my prayer. It was my prayer this morning before the results came in.

* This acceptance of "whatever" has brought me Philippians 4:7 peace---that God-gifted peace that passes all understanding.

* Next up is the CT Scan on November 26th for the chest, abdomen, and pelvis.

* Then, onto a treatment plan which should start with surgery next month.

* Thanks for reading! And just so you know, I read every one of your comments here.

* Sometimes I am in awe at how compassionate, concerned, and prayerful y'all have been.

* Always I am humbled.
Can You Tell That Harley Is Relieved to Know My Body Scan Results?


Wednesday, November 19, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points #4

Today is Bone Scan Day.

* Bone Scan Day should be captitalized because it is an event, like Independence Day and Thanksgiving, although generally not celebrated.

* I have never had a bone scan before.

* I read they inject you with some stuff; and then scan to take a peek into the skeletal components of your being. All that you hide with skin, muscles, and clothes is exposed while proffesional strangers montitor the scanner.

* But I am not a medical expert, so let me give you a defintion from a source that knows more than I do.

* The Cleveland Clinic defines a bone scan like this: A whole-body bone scan is a nuclear medicine test to check your bones for issues or changes. You receive an injection of a substance called a radiotracer. The radiotracer collects in areas of irregular activity and highlights these areas on an imaging scan. It’s painless and safe for most people.

* Daniel had a bone scan. He was three, newly diagnosed with neuroblastoma.

* While on the table, he created a song.

* The song went like this: "Heaven, Heaven, Heaven is a good place to stay."

* I am sure I will not be that uninhibited to sing amoung professional strangers today.

* Unless, they inject something that rhymes with gum into my veins.

* Otherwise, I will be still and follow the instructions.

* I wonder what my bones, which I like to keep hidden, look like?

* I have never broken a bone, so I am not well-versed in scans or x-rays.

* Nearly six decades ago, during the summer when men walked on the moon, I almost broke a bone.

* If you have a few minutes between thinking about the sides you plan to make for your Thanksgiving meal, please read the tale below.

* I call it The Thirty-Two Dollar Somersault.

~*~*~

The Thirty-Two Dollar Somersault

If you've never broken a bone, there are times when you know you came close. A slip, a fall, a wrong move, many of us have had near-bone-breaking experiences. The first one I had was the summer they put a man on the moon, 1969. I was eight; my brother Vince was five, and we were bored.

Now there was a wide yard at my grandparents' split-level home in Sandston, Virginia where we spent that summer. The yard even had a swingset. There were croquet mallets, balls, wickets, and the whole outdoors. This was back in the day when children were permitted to play outside without supervision.

But instead of heading outside, Vince and I were indoors. Grandma Patsie might have been in the kitchen, adding lima beans to her vegetable soup. My parents and Granddad were in the den, talking about things kids don't understand.

"I can do a somersault down the stairs," I said to Vince as we sat at the top of a set of stairs that led to the living room. I can guarantee I used a prideful tone. I was, and still am, three years older and older sisters are notorious for boasting.

My brother's eyes dared me.

"Yeah, I can do it. I bet you can't." I was not a scaredy cat.

Vince made no attempt to roll down the upstairs landing into the living room.

So it had to be me. Like an Olympian gymnnist, my turn was up. My boast was about to be cemented in reality.

I got into position. Crouched down. (When I googled somersault just now; something no human was capable of doing back in the pre-Doom-Scroll era of 1969, here is the definition that was presented: "An acrobatic stunt in which the body rolls forward or backward in a complete revolution with the knees bent and the feet coming over the head.")

And even though I had never read that definition, that is exactly what I did down the six or eight carpeted stairs at my grandparents' house.

I don't know if I screamed when I landed or cried; most likely both. The adults came running.

I don't recall anything about the car ride to the doctor's, but I do remember this: My wrist was not broken. The bone had popped out from where it belongs. The doctor adjusted the dislocated bone back into place. One or two moves and I was cured.

The doctor smiled, obviously pleased with his work. Then he charged my dad $32.00.

I saw my future-self seated at a desk while patients stood in line so I could tug at their wrists and put them back into place. For thirty-two dollars a pop, I could be rich.

But I didn't take the route of medicine. I avoided anyone in a white coat. I didn't take the route of gymnastics either.

Even though the humilitation of that summer day is embedded in the recesses of my mind, I try to overcome it by thinking, "Well, at least I didn't break a bone."

And up until now, I haven't. Yet.

~*~*~*~

If you have read this far, thank you! I appreciate your support and prayers for Bone Scan Day. I will post again when the results become available. The main question is: Has my breast cancer metastized to the bones or will all be clear and clean?

Verse of the Day (that came into my in-box just now)

1 Thessalonians 5:18

. . . give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

Sunday, November 16, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points #3 (five-second read)

Happy Update about the Bone Scan. In my last posting, the date had not been determined, but now I guess they are eager to accommodate me:

* The NM Bone Scan has been scheduled for Wednesday, November 19th.

* The Body Scan (CT) is still set for November 26th.

See? I told you this would take only 5 seconds to read.

Friday, November 14, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points #2

Life is a series of waiting.

So many of you have reached out and I appreciate each card, email, text message, phone call, and get-together. Thank you! For those who are faithfully praying for me, thank you!

I'm going to update my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment at my blog which is where you are now. For those kind souls who want to know about the latest events on my journey, this is where you'll find them --- in bullet points. No paragraphs of details, just the facts (and perhaps a few tidbits of reflection).

* Yesterday, Carl and I got to spend all day from 9:30 AM till 5:00 PM at the Duke Cancer Center.

* Waiting, waiting. While Carl and I sat in the lobby of the clinic, I opened my newest journal --- my Cancer Journal --- and wrote about how life is a series of waiting.

* After 40 minutes of waiting, we met with the nurse and then the surgeon --- part of my Cancer Team.



* I thought we might sit around a table and drink Earl Grey and eat shortbread, so I dressed for the ocassion in my skirt, sweater, and boots. I'd even sprayed on some perfume.

* Alas! No one warned me that this meet-and-greet would have me in a hosptital gown seated on the plastic exam chair; there had been no need to dress to impress!

* As I sat in one of those flimsy how-are-you-supposed-to-tie-this? gowns, the surgeon discussed surgery and explained the procedure.

* She even drew a diagram of where the two masses/tumors are in my left breast (one is 2.7cm and the other is 2.8cm).

* The next appointment, which took place in the afternoon, was with the radiation oncologist group. The doctors explained radiation, the side effects, and how often it would be done.

* The medical oncologist was the last appointment. She said surgery, radiation, and possible chemo were not on the table until . . .

* What?!

* Due to the pathology report, and what it shows, there's concern over a large and not very elegant lymph node in my armpit.

* As we know, our lymph nodes can carry disease to the rest of our body.

* She said it's pointless to construct a treatment plan with surgery, possible chemo, and radiation before having both a bone and CT body scan to see whether or not the cancer has spread.

* She drew a diagram with the three possible routes my treatment will take depending on the results of the staging scans.

* Mentally exhausted, Carl and I had more questions than answers after our clinic day.

* We went home to our two pups, Harley and Bella, who were wondering why we had been gone so long. Yet, they were happy we had made it home in time to feed them dinner.

* Today, my Duke chart let me know that an appointment for the Body Scan (CT) has been scheduled. It will be on November 26th.

* The Bone Scan has yet to be scheduled.

Nuggets of Blessings

* Each member of the team was caring, and extending empathy to Daniel's short life and death from cancer treatments. The medical oncologist cried and then passed around tissues. As y'all know, my journey is entwined with what I have already been through with my son Daniel who was diagnosed with neuroblastoma when he was three-years-old.

* The setting sun over the Duke Medical Center's parking deck (we had to park on the very top floor where the sun does shine) was warm and calming. The sky glowed with the serenity of peach and orange.

* For the last ten days, the daily Bible verses (from Bible Study Tools) that have entered my in-box have all been about God's peace. So I took the hint and have focused on the peace he provides, a wonderful gift.

Thanks for reading! If you have read this whole post, you deserve a mug of Earl Grey and a buttery piece of shortbread. (No need to wear a hospital gown.)

Saturday, November 8, 2025

My Cancer in Bullet Points

Yes, I have cancer.

Like most authors, I tell stories with detail. Authors write with details, creating visuals for our readers about the color of the house, the intensity of the breeze as it blew the autumn leaves around the front door, and the angry conversation the neighbor held when the branch from a tree snapped and fell into her garden.

The other day Carl, my husband, overheard me talking on the phone with a friend about my recent cancer diagnosis. “Bullet points,” he said to me when I finished the call. “People listen better when you talk in bullet points.” My dear husband was trying to be helpful because he knows I sometimes get too involved in the narrative and forget the main thread.

So . . . Taking his advice, I will tell you about my diagnosis with bullet points.

• I had a mammogram and ultrasound on October 24th.

• I had a biopsy the same day.

• I have breast cancer --- Invasive ductal carcinoma.

• I meet with my care team--- the surgeon, radiation oncologist, and medical oncologist on November 13th.

• I am at peace and prepared for this journey.

• I hope I can be as brave as Daniel was.

• I appreciate your prayers to God for me.

• Pray for an increase in patience, faith, and healing.

I've had many nuggets of blessings so far . . . . Some include:

• The women asked if I wanted music during my biopsy and I chose the Eagles. (The young nurses called it Classic Rock which goes to show how old both the band and I am.) There’s nothing like hearing Joe Walsh belt out Take it to the Limit as the doctor is digging into your skin with a core needle.

• Ice packs are soothing, even when dining out. After Carl and I returned home from that long (mammogram-ultrasound-biopsy) day at the clinic at Duke, we went out to eat because we had a buy-one-entre-get-one-free coupon that was about to expire. The ice packs I was given joined us. Thanks to them, I was able to eat my dinner without any pain.

• In 1996, on the first morning after Daniel’s diagnosis was confirmed, I watched the sun rise over the parking deck at UNC-Hospitals in Chapel Hill, and the words to the hymn (from Lamentations) came to me: "His mercies are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness." The other Sunday, October 26th, Great is Thy Faithfulness was the final hymn at FBC. I managed to sing all the verses with gusto. As the congregation sang, I knew it was no coincidence that hymn was part of the service. It was a reminder that God goes before us to prepare the way.

I appreciate you reading this. I will try to update here every so often.

Sunday, August 31, 2025

Is It Legal to Split Treats in Half? Dogs Want to Know!

We love our pets! They add fun and love to our lives. Creatively, someone came up with what dogs would search for on the internet if they could get their paws to hit the keyboard.

This search history has been making the rounds on the internet and each time I see it, I laugh. My husband printed it out and I have it by my computer. My favorite one is Is It Legal To Split Treats in Half? and perhaps, I like this one because as a two-boxer owner, I do split dog treats in half.



So here's to our dogs and their inquisitive minds!

Sunday, June 1, 2025

Be Like The Duck!

Yesterday morning, a long-time friend of mine and I went to Duke Gardens in Durham. Since I had no clever or fancy thoughts to pen in this June newsletter, I took a bunch of photos. Photos are great because you can always fill space with them. At least I'd make the newsletter look pretty even if I had not much to say.

I got shots of cone flowers, a Japanese lantern, the ponds with koi, and cactus. My friend and I walked along the paths, talking and taking photos. Other garden visitors spread blankets on the grassy slopes, some took photos of their families as they sat on benches and stood by the ponds. The morning was breezy with sunshine, a welcome change from the days of rain we had previously had.

As my friend and I walked, we came to the tree. The tree is an important landmark for me because decades ago, another friend and I went to Duke Gardens with our young children. Daniel and his buddy Caleb saw the tree and were eager to climb it. The lowest branch on the right screams "climb me," doesn't it? We moms told our boys not to climb, and, eventually, the two listened to us.

While the seasonal foliage at the Gardens is beautiful and puts all my attempts to grow flowers in my garden to shame, the tree will always be my favorite part of Duke Gardens. Because of yesterday's excursion, I now have a photo of the tree, and each time I view it, I'll have the memories to make me smile.

When my friend and I parted, refreshed that we had been able to openly talk about life's messy, sorrowful, and fragile components----in the midst of God's sustaining mercy----I went home and looked over the photos I had taken. The pictures of the flowering plants were lovely, but it was the photo of the duck that taught me something I needed to do.

The duck lay silent by the pond; there was no swimming for this bird. He simply basked in the sunlight. Sit a spell, as we say in the South (or in the duck's case, lie down and rest). Relax. Absorb the love God has for you---one of his marvelous creations!

In a world of much confusion and sorrow, the duck teaches us to plop down in the sunlight and be still. Put your worries aside; find the beauty around you, and engage in it. Be like the duck!

Walking in nature (and with a good friend, if you are lucky) is not only healthy, but healing. Capturing scenes from a trek through the lenses of a camera or phone provides beauty to see, memories to hold, and lessons to apply.

Sunday, March 16, 2025

Take a Walk among the Dead

The saying is that nothing is certain but death and taxes.

Benjamin Franklin was the one who gave us this quote when he said, “Our new Constitution is now established, everything seems to promise it will be durable; but, in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.”

We don't like to talk about death. This surprises me because death is something we are all going to experience. Yet, we get fearful when the topic comes up. So we push it aside. When my four-year-old son Daniel died, people were far from engaged when I told them about him.

I didn't want to have a reason to visit the cemetery where Daniel is buried. But over time, that changed. Over the decades, I've grown to see the beauty of the flowers, oaks, birds, and even geese, and experience the peace that is present. There's much to observe about cemeteries. Here are some of the things I've observed.

The cemetery teaches us not only about death, but about life. We realize life is short and unpredictable. How do we choose to live this life?

The cemetery is reality. We will die one day. We don't know the day or time. We've lost loved ones over the years. What have they taught us? How would they want to be remembered?

The cemetery has messages to glean on the tombstones. One of my favorite tombstones is where a man named Solomon is buried. The words inscribed on his stone are from 2 Timothy 4:7: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

The cemetery is sacred. Many who have died there are people of faith and, as the Bible states, they have eternal life. Their bodies or ashes are buried, but they are alive in Heaven with Jesus. When you focus on that, it's enlightening.

The cemetery emphasizes calm and quiet. The dead don't speak. You can walk and even pray at your own pace and be in silence. No one will interupt you.

The cemetery gives inspiration. My family spent much time on the grassy lawns having picnics and tossing the Frisbee. Being there helped me write my grief and loss memoir, Life at Daniel's Place.


Don't be afraid to walk among the dead. Bring your notebook and pen. Stay a while, observe, breathe deeply, and learn.

Friday, January 31, 2025

To Cry is Human

Why Humans Cry

We’re the only species that sheds emotional tears, but much about them remains an enigma.

Read the article at the New York Times

By Dana G. Smith

Nov. 14, 2024

Crying is a quintessential human experience. Claire Danes does it. Kim Kardashian does it. Even Michael Jordan does it. And no matter how long it has been since you last shed a tear, there is no doubt that you’ve done it, too. Other species produce tears, but ours is the only one that scientists believe consistently cries not just to lubricate and protect the eyeballs, but also to express emotion — like after a breakup, at graduation ceremonies and while watching “The Notebook.”

What Kind of Crier Are You?

While they are one of the few things that make us uniquely human, in many ways, emotional tears remain an enigma. Research has revealed that our emotions are even more complicated than neuroscientists once thought; there is no one area of the brain that’s responsible for feelings of sadness or anger, for instance. And scientists have yet to scan people’s brains to see what happens while they are crying. Still, some progress has been made to help us understand human tears — to grasp what they’re made of, why we create them (some of us more than others) and why producing them can help us feel better.

The three types of tears

Practically any creature that has eyeballs produces two sets of tears: basal and reflex. Basal tears keep the eye moist, while reflex tears are meant to protect the eye from irritants like dust.

Humans also shed a third type, fittingly called emotional tears, when they are sad, frustrated, overwhelmed, happy or moved. All three types of tears are structurally similar in that they are primarily made of water, oils, mucus, antibacterial proteins and electrolytes, said Darlene Dartt, a professor of ophthalmology at Harvard Medical School.

You probably rarely, if ever, notice basal tears, which are released in tiny amounts throughout the day. As they evaporate, the temperature on the surface of the eyeballs drops slightly, which signals that the eyes should produce more basal tears to avoid drying out.

Reflex and emotional tears release more liquid, which is why your eyes well up while you’re chopping onions or why tears stream down your face at a funeral. That extra liquid mainly comes from special tear glands located underneath the eyebrows that are regulated by cells in the brainstem. With reflex tears, nerves in the eyes signal to the brainstem that tears are needed to flush out whatever is irritating them. For emotional tears, scientists think that other parts of the brain activate those brainstem cells to turn on the tear glands.


Why we evolved to cry

Lots of animals wail in distress. Experts think that they — and we — evolved to do so in infancy as a means of survival. That’s because the animals that cry vocally, namely mammals and birds, tend to rely on a mother or father. A robin chick’s peeps and a goat kid’s bleats are the baby’s main way to solicit care from a parent when it’s hungry, scared or in pain.

But animals don’t shed emotional tears when they cry. And for the first several weeks of their lives, neither do humans. Instead, similar to other animals, newborn babies produce a heartbreaking (and ear-piercing) bawl. Then, sometime in the first month or two, salty fluid starts to fall from their eyes as well.

It’s a bit of a mystery why we started to produce tears while upset, rather than continuing to cry with dry eyes like sloths or bats do. It’s possible that the act of scrunching up your face to unleash a yowl puts pressure on the eyeballs, stimulating the tear glands, said Ad Vingerhoets, an emeritus professor of clinical psychology at Tilburg University in the Netherlands and one of the foremost experts in human crying. That may be why yawning, laughing and vomiting can lead to tears as well, he added.

Tears may also hold an evolutionary advantage over howls, and as we age, we become more able to cry quietly. While anyone on an airplane can hear an infant wail, only those sitting in the seats near you will see tears roll down your cheeks while you watch the opening sequence of “Up.” In that way, tears can more subtly alert others nearby to someone’s distress without giving the person away to predators that may be lurking, said Lauren Bylsma, an associate professor of psychiatry and psychology at the University of Pittsburgh.

The reasons we cry change as we age

For the first years of our lives, we mostly shed tears related to our own experiences — a busted knee, a bee sting or a dropped ice cream cone. That starts to change as we grow older and become more emotionally and socially developed. We cry less in response to physical pain and more over our emotional connections to other people. “Your world becomes greater, so there are more people who become more important for you,” Dr. Vingerhoets said.

One of the most common reasons for crying is the absence or loss of a loved one, whether we’re homesick as children, heartbroken in adolescence or grieving a death at any age. We cry over the plights of others, too. These empathetic tears may occur because we are imagining ourselves in other people’s shoes, whether they are friends, strangers or even fictional characters. In fact, this is how scientists study crying: They show people a sad clip from a film and see if it turns on the waterworks.

While sadness is the emotion most typically associated with crying, what many tearful experiences have in common is a sense of helplessness or powerlessness. That feeling of powerlessness often accompanies tears of frustration, and it may even explain the tears some people shed when they feel emotionally overwhelmed, whether from joy, anxiety or awe. In fact, Dr. Vingerhoets called helplessness “the core element of crying,” since it harks back to the original evolutionary purpose of tears: needing assistance or support.

Why some people cry more than others

Cliché as it is, the biggest predictor of how often someone cries is gender. Research from around the world has found that women consistently cry more frequently than men.

Much of that difference is likely to be the result of societal pressures and gender norms, experts say. Consider the fact that little boys and girls cry about the same amount, said Jonathan Rottenberg, a professor of psychology at Cornell University. Only over time does a tearful gender gap start to emerge. Part of the reason may be that society largely teaches boys the importance of being tough.

“Boys might inhibit their crying for fear of violating a gender stereotype,” Dr. Rottenberg said.

Hormones may play a role as well. The gender gap in crying tends to emerge during adolescence, when sex hormones kick in, and one hypothesis is that testosterone may suppress tears or that swings in estrogen levels make the crying response more likely. But there is little research on the topic, and one of the few studies that examined the connection between hormones and tears found that, despite commonly held beliefs about premenstrual syndrome, women were not more likely to cry during any particular phase of their cycles.

Certain personality traits appear to influence how much people cry. Highly empathetic people tend to report crying more, as do people who are more neurotic, Dr. Vingerhoets said. Then there are things we do to our bodies that increase the odds — namely, drink alcohol and neglect sleep. Doing either can cause people to cry more easily, most likely because they lower inhibition, making it harder to hold back tears.

The benefits of a good cry

Perhaps the longest-running debate among researchers is why crying often makes people feel better.

One of the largest studies to investigate the concept asked thousands of people from around the world about the last time they shed tears. A little over half reported feeling better afterward, almost 40 percent experienced no difference and 10 percent said they actually felt worse.

Crying, especially when alone, may serve as a sort of self-therapy. “It forces you to think about whatever you’re crying about,” Dr. Bylsma said. “To deal with it cognitively, emotionally, and kind of process whatever that thing is that’s upsetting you.”

People tend to report feeling better if the crying episode was prompted by an issue that could be solved, like a disagreement with a partner, rather than by a situation outside of their control, like the loss of a loved one, Dr. Vingerhoets said.

In social situations, the biggest factor influencing how you feel after crying is how the people around you react. People who receive a supportive response, like a hug or validation of their feelings, tend to feel better, while those whose tears are met with anger or ridicule are more likely to feel worse.

This makes sense, as experts think the primary purpose of the tear, no matter your age, is to communicate distress to others. “It is there to signal to others when help is needed and when someone is feeling separated and not attached to care,” Dr. Rottenberg said.

The lesson: When someone cries around you, show you’re there for that person. The science says it really does help.

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Chocolate Chip Cranberry Bread For Valentine's Day

Chocolate Chip Cranberry Bread

Ingredients:

• For the Dough:

o 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

o 1/2 cup granulated sugar

o 1 packet (2 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast

o 1 teaspoon salt

o 1 cup warm milk (about 110°F)

o 1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted

o 2 large eggs

o 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

o 1/2 cup dried sweet cranberries

• For the Topping:

o 1/4 cup chocolate chips (for sprinkling on top)

o 1/4 cup chopped nuts (optional)

• For the Glaze (optional):

o 1/2 cup powdered sugar

o 2 tablespoons milk

o 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions:

1. In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk together warm milk, melted butter, and eggs until smooth.

2. Gradually add the wet mixture to the dry ingredients, stirring until a soft dough forms. Gently fold in the chocolate chips and dried cranberries.

3. Knead the dough on a floured surface for about 6-8 minutes until smooth. Place it in a greased bowl, cover, and let it rise in a warm place for about 1 hour or until doubled in size.

4. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Punch down the dough and shape it into a loaf. Place it in a greased loaf pan (larger than 9x5) or into two smaller loaf pans. Sprinkle the remaining chocolate chips and nuts on top.

5. Let the dough rise again for about 30 minutes, until it rises above the rim of the pan.

6. Bake for 30-35 minutes or until golden brown and the bread sounds hollow when tapped. Allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes before transferring it to a wire rack.

7. For the optional glaze, mix powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla extract until smooth. Drizzle over the cooled bread.