If you aren’t from East Tennessee, chances are you have no idea about hot slaw. It is a household staple in my area and once you have it, you can never go back. It hits all the marks- savory, sweet, salty, tangy. Star-vue Drive In had a famous hot slaw recipe back in the day and our entire town tries to replicate it.
Try it on a hamburger, hot dog, bbq sandwich or as a side dish.
My version is simple- cabbage, mayo, mustard, hot pepper, sugar. And it gets even better after it has set in the fridge overnight. Even though this version is simple, there are some controversial ingredients. Mayonnaise conversations in the south can turn into a fight in a heartbeat. Just use your favorite. Pepper conversations usually end in “watch this”, again- use your favorite.
If you find you have cleaned up the entire kitchen and the slaw still isn’t hot enough, I have been known to throw in ground cayenne. It always works in a pinch.
I also like to make 2 or 3 batches and give some away to friends.
Simple, easy, spicy, sweet- hits all the right notes. The hardest task is shredding the cabbage.
Ingredients
1 head of cabbage, shredded
1-2 cups mayo
1/4 cup mustard
1/4 to 1/2 cup sugar (splenda works well also)
5-7 jarred hot peppers- Mezzetta’s Pickled Hot Chili Peppers works well or you could use 1-2 fresh jalapenos.
Directions
1. Shred the cabbage. You can use a use a food processor or a hand grater.
2. If using a food processor, after you remove the shredded cabbage, throw in your peppers and the remaining ingredients and let it spin for a minute or two. If not, dice the peppers and add the remaining ingredients to the bowl.
Make this recipe your own- use as many peppers as you like. Remember as it sits, it does draw additional heat from the peppers. If you like your slaw sweeter, add more sugar. Experiment!
A quick trip to the local Farmers’ Market Saturday morning resulted in some beautiful pickling cucumbers. My entire family loves cucumbers and we use them in salads, veggie bowls and plain with salt or everything bagel seasoning and our favorite is quick pickles.
I grew up canning with my Memaw Young and we never purchased pickles, we canned them ourselves each summer-dill and bread and butter pickles. A quick pickle is one of my favorites and they disappear fast at my house.
It was hard to write the recipe, because depending on my mood, the recipe changes constantly. I am fond of vinegar and currently have 6 or 7 different kinds sitting beside my stove. I love the balance that vinegar gives to so many dishes.
This recipe is the just the basic standard. I encourage you to experiment and make this recipe your own.
This simple quick pickle requires no cooking and no preserving. It is perfect with a hamburger, BBQ or as a snack. They will last up to two months in the fridge. My gang can finish off a jar in a day or two.
Ingredients
2-3 cucumbers
2 garlic cloves smashed
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup rice vinegar
1.5 tsp kosher salt
1 tbsp sugar
Directions
1. Slice the cucumbers. I like to slice them on the thinner side.
2. In a quart jar, layer the cucumbers to the top and stuff in the garlic cloves.
3. In a separate container, mix the water, vinegar, salt and sugar until dissolved. Pour over the cucumbers in the jar and refrigerate.
Make this recipe your own by adding in red chili flakes, cayenne peppers, dill, onions or additional sugar for a sweeter pickle. Experiment with different types of vinegar.
A fresh, light side dish or appetizer perfect for late summer when tomatoes are abundant at the farmers market.
Ingredients
2 pounds vine-ripened tomatoes (different colors/varieties make a spectacular plate)
2 cloves garlic minced
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
3 tbsp red wine vinegar
handful of chopped fresh basil
Directions
1. On a plate or platter, slice the tomatoes. You can do a whole slice or cut the slices into halves or quarters.
2. In a jar, combine oil, vinegar and garlic. Put the lid on and shake until well mixed and pour over the tomatoes.
3. Sprinkle the chopped basil over the tomatoes and add salt and pepper to taste.
Let marinate for at least 30 minutes before serving.
Make this recipe your own by adding in other vegetables such as cucumbers, jalapenos, etc.
In May 2019, I found a lump in my right breast. I had missed two years of mammograms. I called my friend at my gynecologist office and she rushed me right in. That was the beginning of a 7 month battle I will never forget. I was diagnosed with stage 3 triple negative breast cancer with 3 nodes involved. I was 49 years old. The growth rate was 87% and since it was so high, the cancer needed to be removed immediately before treatment. I opted for a double mastectomy with no reconstruction. Triple negative breast cancer is treated with old school chemo drugs unaffectionately known as The Red Devil. Eight chemo treatments and 27 radiation treatments later I was considered NED-no evidence of disease.
I decided to share my journey on social media in hopes that others that had put off mammograms would understand just how important they are. My social media posts became therapy for me and it also created cheerleaders and prayer warriors, which is something we all need in the fight against cancer.
I also decided to bare my bald head. Many thought this was a symbol of a fierce fighter, however it was really because the chemo put me into menopause and it was 100 degrees outside and I couldn’t stand anything on my head. I wasn’t worried about the hair. I was worried about living. I wasn’t ready to go and I wasn’t going to give up.
Triple negative breast cancer has a high reoccurrence rate and the odds are much better than they use to be but they still aren’t the best. I have permanent residual effects from the chemo which include neuropathy, lymphedema and the inability to remember anything of any importance. And of course, every time a new ailment pops up, my mind immediately goes to a dark place.
I consider myself to be lucky and I know that may sound strange. I have been given a gift, the gift of living another day. When I was first diagnosed I kept a list of things I was thankful for. I found I had taken so many things for granted in my day to day life. Going thru this journey has been a blessing for me, it has reminded me of what is important- my family, my friends and it has also reminded me to stop trying to rush through life and just get through the day. I am much wiser with time spent and I am much wiser as to what I use my energy on.
My family support has been my rock. My husband who is a true, loving partner in every sense of the word, my daughter who stood bravely at my side, my boys who are always there for me and my mom, who went to every treatment with me.
There are certain big milestones in this journey, the first one is just getting through the treatments, the second one is coming up on Saturday, May 21, 2022- it is my 3 year cancerversary, and it is also the date of the Bradley County Relay for Life. At the three year mark there is a significant reduction in the risk the cancer will return. This is something I have been looking forward to for a long time.
I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe as we get older we discover things are never random. God puts people in the right places and at just the right time. At every turn, I found God had put people in my life to help me with this journey.
Last year, I developed a website: www.christygoza.com. With healthcare privacy laws, it is difficult for medical professionals to pass your name along to someone and with this type of cancer it is difficult to find survivors for information. This website has no affiliated or sponsored links. It is just an account of my journey, for other survivors to read and share. I have had an excellent response to the site and will continue to update it as long as there are people out there looking for information.
I have made so many friends on my journey and my journey isn’t over. I’m a member of the club now, a club I never thought I would never be a part of, at least this soon in life. I’m an advocate of mammograms/screening. I’m an advocate of living.
Politics is a peculiar bird. It takes a special kind of person to want to be nominated or win the popular vote. You must have very thick skin and one thing I know for sure- I am not this person. I can promise you, if I ran for an office and I found out someone didn’t vote for me, I would have an overwhelming need to drive to that person’s house and ask them why they didn’t like me. I would take it very personally.
My grandfather, Melvin Young, loved politics. He was a diehard republican who every once in a while, according to Sam Cannon, would get himself into trouble on election days. He was fierce, loyal and a force to be reckoned with and if you didn’t see things his way, he would take matters into his own hands. I believe I got my love for politics from Papaw Young- not the fighting side, but the love side. I love the process, the fundamental basis of the people getting a choice, the mathematics and sometimes the surprise ending. It is like a good novel in many ways. The beginning is always interesting and informative, the ending is usually unknown until the last few pages and the middle can be boring, dramatic, messy or downright nasty.
So often I find myself cringing from the words and actions of those running for office. You can tell a lot about someone by how they run their race and I love and admire a good, clean race. One where opponents never mention the other’s name and they declare what they can and will do when in office. They follow the unwritten, common sense etiquette rules of running for office- present themselves in an upstanding and kind manner and humbly ask for your vote. There are all types of candidates on the national, state and local level. I find myself always remembering the upstanding ones- whether they win or lose. Political legacy is important and being remembered as a fierce, enthusiastic, respectable and kind candidate is a hard job that unfortunately is achieved by fewer and fewer candidates these days.
I read an article recently that said “cursing is a reflection of a weak mindâ€. I took those words very personally, as I can insert some spicy words into my vocabulary quite regularly. I think the same can be said for mudslinging. I’m praying we can all work hard on our weak minds- me, especially.
My Memaw’s china…as a little girl I was allowed to touch it with one finger…as I got older I was allowed to take it from the china cabinet piece by piece and dust it. It was her most prized possession and probably the most expensive thing she owned.
My Uncle Jim sent her the set when he was serving his country in Vietnam. She saved it for a special occasion that never came. I eventually inherited this beautiful, unused china.
I had never owned nice dishes and was terrified of breaking one. I kept them hidden in a cabinet, all alone and seldom touched. I had the pleasure of entertaining by nephew Rett, who was two years old at the time, and he accidently found the cabinet where I had stashed the unused china. Needless to say, when I found Rett and the china, he was having a grand time, throwing himself a little tea party and one of the tea cups were shattered. As I sat there looking at what was before me on the ceramic tile I couldn’t help but think about my Memaw. About how much she would have loved to witness her great grandchild having a tea party with her most treasured dishes. And how she would have gently set the cracked cup aside and kissed him on the forehead and redirected him elsewhere.
My sister was horrified by the accident and in an effort to replace the broken teacup, she found an exceptional deal on the internet of on eight place settings which I received very soon after. What my sister did not know, was that Rett had given me a gift. The gift of knowing the importance of using the china, enjoying it, embracing it.
I made a vow to use the china. Every time I pull out the china, I get teary eyed with fond memories of Memaw and wishing I could share a meal with her just one more time-on the china. My thought for this day- pull out the china. The special time is now. The days you get to spend with those you love the most are the best of days. Live in the moment. And enjoy every second of It.
What is a tribe? It is a group of people that can include family, friends or people with similar likes and/or experiences. They are willing to extend grace, love and forgiveness, even when they may not agree. A tribe may be life long or it may expire. Whatever the case, they are invaluable and comforting.
At 51 years of age, I have some very special tribes. Of course I have my family, a friend group that started out as lovers of wine and downtown Cleveland and a group of ride or die friends that try to at least meet up on Friday nights for dinner.
These three tribes have kept me going for years. But something very interesting happened when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2019- my tribes grew. And it was a wonderful thing.
The Triple Negative FaceBook Support Group: This group of fabulous ladies have lifted me when I was down and kept me company in the wee hours of the morning when sleep would not come. I still enjoy going into the group to answer questions for newcomers. Breast cancer is a hard road riddled with anxiety that can be eased with information. I will never forget those that helped me and it’s just the right thing to do to pay it forward. If you are having issues, whether it be physical, mental or social, I guarantee there is a Facebook support group. Find your people.
Tennessee Oncology Nurses, Cleveland, TN Office: While you may think they aren’t your tribe, I want to assure you that for 18 very longs weeks they were. Every other week I sat in the treatment room for hours observing them with cancer patients, many terminal. While they were double gloved, double masked and double clothed to protect themselves from what was being put into my veins, they shared helpful hints, careful instructions and love and kindness. They helped me ice my hands, feet and mouth during treatments and answered all the random questions I had and also tended to my precious mom that came with me. They handed out lap quilts, quilted by ladies in the community for cancer survivors, to keep us warm. The treatment room could be heavy, there is a lot going on in there. But there is also hope and it resides in the heart of each one of those special nurses. They helped me get through 18 hard weeks with love, kindness and sincerity- and that my friends, is a tribe. The day I rang the bell was the day I had to give them up to someone else that took my seat.
YMCA LiveStrong Group: I have done some crazy things in my time, but joining a fitness group while going through chemo may be at the top of the list. However, it was one of my favorite things during my journey. The YMCA LiveStrong program is for cancer survivors. The program focuses on building your strength back and is a great way to socialize with other survivors. I was the youngest in my group of approximately 15-18 survivors and the only one going through treatment at the time. This group met twice a week and we would do activities, pray together and workout. The group consisted of a wide array of people: young, old, in shape, out of shape, healthy, not so healthy. But we had one goal- to improve. I looked forward to these sessions so much. Everyone was so encouraging. And our fearless leader, Dina, was our biggest cheerleader. Everyone worked at their own pace and we helped each other. I met a very special lady in the group, Pat. After several conversations I discovered she had actually quilted the lap quilt given to me at Tennessee Oncology. A survivor herself, she loved to quilt and had found a way to give back.
While not tribes, there are a couple of organizations I am a part of that deserve an honorable mention.
The MaryEllen Locher Foundation: This is a remarkable organization that awards scholarships to children of breast cancer survivors. I have known about and attended fundraising events for the foundation for over 14 years. In 2019, I attended an annual fundraising event and was surprised with my daughter being awarded one of those scholarships. I cannot put into words how thankful and grateful my family and I were and still are for that scholarship. Cancer can take a toll physically, mentally and financially. This eased a big worry and allowed me to concentrate on recovery. My daughter, Logan, will be graduating in December 2021 from Middle Tennessee State University. We were surprised with an email recently from the director that they were awarding Logan additional scholarship money for that semester. The MaryEllen Locher Foundation touched our lives when we needed it most and for that, I am forever grateful. And for the wonderful group of friends that nominated Logan. I will always support the MaryEllen Locher Foundation’s fundraising efforts and their mission.
Bradley County Relay for Life: I can’t recall the year I got involved in Bradley County Relay For Life. It was a long, long time ago, at least 15 years. Money raised by Relay For Life funds research for the American Cancer Society. There is a committed, local group of people that literally work year round raising funds in our area. They are passionate about finding a cure for cancer. Great strides in cancer research have been made in the last few years and that needs to continue.
No matter where you are in life, you are never to old or too far gone to benefit from a tribe. And if you can’t find one, create one. Your life will be better for it.
Volley For A Cure, MaryEllen Locher Scholarship AwardLogan Griffith rising to accept the MELF Scholarship
I cherish my friends. I think it is because I never had many in school. I mean, really good friends. I had a couple. I was always careful who I confided in and kept people at a distance in many ways. When I was younger I always felt intimidated or in competition with other girls. It has only been later in life that I learned the true blessings of friendship and how to be a good friend to others. I am so thankful to have a strong network of friends through my cancer journey.
While going through chemo for triple negative breast cancer in 2019, I had a lot of time to think about my friendships. A life changing event can really show you exactly who your friends are and who will stand by you. Here are some categories I developed just for fun one day when I was recouping (I had a lot of time on my hands).
Ride or Die Friends: They will be with you every single step of the way. If you sound disheartened on the phone, they will bust up into your house and snap you out of it in seconds. When you are too sick to get out of bed, they will stand in your kitchen and keep your mom and husband company with tears in their eyes. They text you day and night and don’t even care if you respond. They are your people, your family.
Really Good Friends: They call, they drop by from time to time. They let you know you are loved and being prayed for. They have your best interest at heart at all times. You know they will be there for you and are just a call away.
Friends: Many fall in this category. They will text you a couple of times, put you on their church prayer list and tell you they love you. And they do.
Almost Friends: They are social media friends. They respond to your posts and may even whisper a prayer for you. You don’t really know them well, but the name is familiar and you know of them.
Lost Friends: You thought they were really good friends, but they weren’t there when it mattered. It was too much for them.
Friendships can be hard and they require work. Cancer can be too much for some people. The reality of this can be extremely hurtful, especially when you are already down and out from the treatments. There will always be people you thought would be there for you that are not. It’s the reality of things. And that’s okay. That’s on them, not you. It took me a long time to come to peace with this. Actually I’m not certain I am at total peace with it, but I have vowed to not let it consume me. The bright side-it has made me a better friend.
When you have cancer, the last thing anyone wants to talk to you about is dying. But the fact is this: you are going to die. It might not be today. It might not be from cancer. But there is a 100% chance that it is going to happen.
I have always had an admiration for scary movies and scary books. As a teen, I recall several times I would have my head deeply in the pages of a Stephen King novel and my mom would simply walk into the room and I would scream. Terrified that something from those pages was going to come out and kill me. The fear of death.
As a young adult, my first time living alone, I can remember calling dad at 3am, I hear something in the attic. Something is trying to get in the house. And dad came right over. It was a squirrel. I know he got tired of those calls, and I was trying to be a grown up, so at night when the wind would blow the limbs against the windows I would tell myself It can’t be my time to go, because I’m scared. Growing up in church, I had heard many sermons about dying and how God removes that fear when it is your time to go. So in my mind, being scared was a good thing. As long as I was scared, I wasn’t going anywhere.
Before cancer, most days I was just going through the motions of life. Work, dinner, sleep, repeat. But something happened when I was diagnosed. I really wanted to live. Not go through the motions, but really live. A real desire to wake up and see the sunrise, to see the sunset, and to cherish and live all the moments in between. To tell my people how much I love them. To see the kids flourish and start their own families. And I was afraid. Afraid I wouldn’t get to do that. Afraid of leaving too soon. Afraid of being sick, of being a burden, of dying.
From the very first day of my diagnosis, I was afraid of dying. I remember celebrating in my heart every time I survived or completed something that could have been life threatening. When I came out of surgery, the first thing in my head was- I made it! After each chemo treatment- I made it! Those days I was able to go to work- I made it!
I had a lot of time to talk to God. I was growing in my spirituality and I was learning. I would find him in odd places and at odd times. I knew I needed him and I knew he could help me. I just really had to let the world go and talk to him. And I learned how to do that.
The chemo assigned to my triple negative breast cancer was brutal. Eight treatments total. Something happened after my 6th treatment. I was tired. I was weak. Mom was coming over Monday through Friday and sitting with me while Jay was at work. She was a lifesaver. She did this for 20 weeks. Logan was doing good and was away at college, the boys both had careers and were exceling, Jay was busy at work and squeezing in some rounds of golf when he could. Mom was doing good, she had really kicked herself into overdrive to help me. And I was so tired. I realized one day that although I didn’t want to die, I wasn’t afraid anymore. And for the first time in my life I could understand why people give up the fight. I never told anyone about those feelings, mainly because I didn’t want anyone to worry or pity me. But I was really at peace with it.
We had planned a family beach trip to take place a couple of months after my treatments. I began to focus on that trip and visualize the beach, the smell, the wind, the sand. Something to look forward to. I needed that. Something positive to obtain, a goal.
I kept celebrating after each accomplishment…chemo #7 and finally chemo #8, then 26 rounds of radiation. And then, on December 26, 2019, I was done. Surgery and treatments completed. I know that I stared death in the eye during my treatment journey. And I know I won. This round went to me. I may not always be so lucky, but I celebrate the win.
A couple of months later, I was at the beach, Perdido Key, Florida- one of my happy places. With my fat, round, steroid face and my stubbles of hair growing back, my swollen feet and hands distorted with chemo induced neuropathy, and my beautiful family at my side.
On the ride home my mom began texting me about toilet paper shortages and something about a pandemic. By the time we unloaded the car, the country was beginning to unravel. And guess what? I survived that, too.
My God is a god of love, understanding, inclusion, and compassion. My God has always been there for me, he has never forsaken me. I know him well. I want to make sure you get that before you read the next part-spirituality can be complicated. I’m not much for socialized religion. I am certain my past experiences have formed that opinion.
I was raised Southern Baptist in what I would consider a strict church. My mom once received a handwritten letter from a church elder because she allowed me to wear culottes (70’s lingo for a long skort) to summer bible school- I was 7. Many in the church I grew up in didn’t believe in dancing or mixed swimming. I’m just going to leave those words here and let you think about that for a minute.
There was one big rule at my home growing up. You live at home, you go to church on Sundays with the family. No excuses, no exceptions. And you might have to go on Sunday nights and Wednesday nights too, just depending on how religious the family really wanted to be that week.
I felt a lot of judgement when I went through my lengthy divorce from hell. Some of that could have been my own judgement of myself. And some of it was also from some very small minded people that fill the pews on Sundays. The bottom line is I think religion/spirituality is a very personal thing.
During my cancer journey I had an experience I would like to share. It was the day of my bilateral mastectomy. I had posted an update to my social media about my surgery and asked for prayers. When I arrived at the hospital, Dr. Jay McCluskey- a pastor and my friend, was there waiting for me, to pray with me. All I could do was cry.
After I was checked in and taken to the pre surgical room, Pastor Gary Sears, a family friend, also came by to pray with me. My surgery was delayed seven hours due to complications with the person before me. As I sat with my husband, I began to review my post from social media that morning and continued to read about all the people praying for me. As I sat in that curtained cubicle waiting to be taken back to surgery, I felt God. I mean, I really felt him. It was a peace I had never experienced. And I also felt my dad right beside me. And I knew I was going to be okay.
After surgery, I was taken to a hospital room in the Women’s Center. Before this day, I thought that was for women having babies. It was dark, late at night when I got to my room. The next morning when I woke up, Jay opened the blinds and there it was- the American Flag, my dad. He fought for his country in Vietnam and he was a proud American. He was with me, and he still is.
There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of my dad. I miss him every day. It doesn’t get any easier, I just get more accustomed to my grief. There are so many things that I am thankful for along this journey and my glimpses of dad are at the very top of the list.
