What a week.

It's been an emotional week - happy, sad, exciting. I've been too busy processing to think of things to write.

Graduation was fantastic and we had a great weekend. For the first time in a while, we had no where to be on Saturday morning. I woke up before the kids and sat on the porch with Dave to drink my coffee. We went to breakfast and did our shopping, and I spent a few hours cooking for the week. We filled the house with cousins for the evening and Dave made supper. It was a low-key day, and we needed it.

Sunday morning, I found a letter from Dave in my coffee drawer. I sat down in the sunshine in the Big Room to read it while I drank my coffee and I cried. It was one of those things that is just so perfectly on time, so perfectly soothing to the soul, so very needed in the moment. I've read it over and over again since then.

After church we had lunch at Rebecca's with Grandmother, and supper at our house with Grandma. It was a day full of family; a really good day.

Monday was Monday, but Tuesday was the last day of school. For one kid, it was a blast (he had a water party and was just beside himself about having chips and pizza for lunch), for the other, it was hard. It was hard for me, too, knowing how she felt and feeling very much the same. I had written thank you notes to her teachers the night before, trying to fit all of my gratitude for the past three years coherently into a note card. As if three years of loving her wasn't enough, she came home with a hefty three ring binder full of the things she did this year and notes from her friends and her teacher. I flipped through the whole thing immediately, but Dave chose to wait, saying, "I can't handle that right now." The best part is the book with all of her friends handprints and notes about what they liked to do with her and why they like her, including a page from her teacher - which she didn't know about until I read it to her. We sat on the couch last night and went through the whole binder, and at bed time she asked if I would read the friend book again tonight. It's obviously a source of comfort to her. She has asked me to pray for her each night about being out of school because she wasn't ready for it to be over and she misses her friends. I have. I've prayed while she listened, and I've prayed some more later when I went to check on her and found her sleeping. I know she'll be fine once we get fully into the swing of summer, but she's struggling right now, and I'm struggling right along with her. If the end of preschool is this rough, what kind of wreck will I be at the end of high school?

The highlight of the week for them both was coming home Tuesday evening to see our waterslide inflated in the yard. Luke's eyes grew 10 sizes as he asked me, breathlessly, "I get to put my swimpoot on?" Yep. Swimpoot time. They have played and played, and we will probably leave it up until the pool opens next weekend. Then, it will be put away until her birthday party.

We also had our one week check-up on the new earrings, and Dr. Tattoo Piercer gave her a clean bill of health. Again, Luke queued up his list of ailments to report, and asked me about our "appointment" as we were leaving. For some reason, I'm finding his confusion about this especially amusing.

Outside of our household, some of my friends and several others I pray for regularly have also had very emotional weeks with sickness and injury and bad news and good news. It's been a lot to take in, and I've spent a lot of time stopping mid-something to pray for whoever just popped into my head. That's how it works for me, my mind just wanders along doing what it does, then suddenly it's like Emeril makes an appearance in there: "BAM! Someone's Name," and I have to pray.

The verse I've clung to this week is the one Ella's teacher gave them in class on Monday. It seems fitting for most of the people I've prayed for this week.

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." - Joshua 1:9

I've Started a Worm Farm

It's technically a compost pile, but is that really much different than a worm farm? I can't get past the irony of a worm-hater like myself - I once tossed an entire fishing pole into the creek because the worm touched my leg - starting a compost pile.

But I did.

And it has big, fat, juicy worms in it already. I'm a bit horrified at the mixed feelings I have about this. On the one hand, worms. On the other, I know they are doing a job in there so I took care to make sure I covered them all back up when I turned the pile yesterday. WHO AM I?

A person who is about to trade the love of having her hands in the dirt for gloves, that's who. I can let them be to do their job, but I cannot abide accidentally touching one, so, gloves.

I also uncovered some fat grub-like things in the flower bed I planted. I'm not sure exactly what they were, and I'm not about to Google and risk having images of worms and grubs permanently seared into my corneas, but suffice it to say that if I were a warthog or a meerkat, it would have been a feast.

All this worm business is for yet another attempt at growing green things. Vegetables and flowers, and one citronella plant to scare the mosquitos away from the back porch. I'm trying to make the patio more hospitable.

Flowers in the Fire Ring

I'm hoping these flowers will fill up the entire ring in a few weeks. I know they have the potential to do that, I'm just not sure of their chances with me as the caretaker. And also, with the flower-eating deer herd that lives near our house.

Tomatos and Red and Green Bell Peppers

The tomatoes are in containers on the back porch for the sunlight, and also, to protect them from the deer - hopefully. But if a deer comes all the way onto the porch to eat them and I'm home to see it, I might count it as a fair trade. Ella won't. She still hasn't forgiven them for eating her sunflowers last year.

Okra and Zucchini

I decided to plant the rest of the vegetables in the bags of potting soil instead of tilling up our nice red clay back yard. I read that you can do this, so it's a real thing, but we'll see what happens. These are next to the fence in the other spot that looks like it stays sunny all day. I purposely put them where a camellia bush grows on the other side of the fence, hoping that the deer will eat the camellia instead of my plants. Do deer eat camellias?


Yellow Squash

I planted 3 tomato plants, 2 bell pepper plants, a yellow squash, a zucchini, an okra, a canteloupe, and a cucumber plant. If they survive the summer and bear fruit, I'll be ecstatic and start planning a more permanent garden area than two bags of dirt on the dirt for next year. Also, I'll have to learn how to make pickles, since homemade pickles are what got me into this worm-raising, dirt-digging, plant-caring business in the first place.

Not-So-Perfect Life

Lest reading this blog leads anyone to believe that I have a perfect life (and I hope that's not the case because I try to be very honest), I decided to write a post dedicated to the not-so-perfect moments that happened this week. I was inpired by this article: Stop Instagramming Your Perfect Life.

But first, my philosophy: I believe in looking for the good in every person, place, and thing. I'm probably too optimistic. When you read optimism here, I hope you aren't mistakenly reading perfection, because it's not perfect. I'm not perfect.

Also? My measure of perfection might be very different than yours. That's why I gave up comparing myself and my life with everyone else a long time ago. I actually am very happy with my life, but that doesn't mean there aren't things that happen on a daily basis that I wish I had done better or that I wish I didn't have to deal with.

So, here are some not so perfect moments from the week.

~ First thing Monday morning, Luke ran up to Ella to tell her excitedly about his new movie and she reared up from the couch like a beast and screamed, three inches from his face, "Noooooooooo!" It broke my heart for him (he was less affected) and it made me mad at her. All day. We are trying hard to help them facilitate a good relationship with each other, but moments like this make me feel helpless and worried. Also, her general attitude lately has been very negative - that's not necessarily new for her, but it does start to wear on me sometimes, especially when other things happen that exacerbate it.

~ It makes me absolutely nuts to get dressed in my nice clothes and have a kid wipe snot or tears or food on me before I leave for work. NUTS. There were a few mornings this week when I thought Luke was on a personal mission to do just that. Then it makes me feel even worse when I jump away from him to avoid the mess. 

~ Work is making me crazy. I'm out of my comfort zone, working on a product that I'm learning as I go, and not a single day this week has gone the way I thought it would when I got to the office in the morning. I still have not done the thing that was on the top of my list on Monday - and I'm procrastinating right now to avoid it just a little longer. I have been busy, just not busy doing what I thought I would be doing, and it's been that way for weeks.

~ I had a very enlightening conversation with Dave this week in which he pointed out my stubborn refusal to listen to him about a particular topic. It sucked when I realized how unfair I had been.

~ I'm in the middle of a body crisis. It has nothing to do with what anyone else looks like, but everything to do with how my clothes keep getting smaller. And gravity. And the absolute hideousness that is shopping for dress pants or cute shoes. Ugh.

That's enough, I think. Here's to the weekend!

Grateful

It's been one year since we found out that Dave had cancer.

One year since his surgery.

One year since he stopped using tobacco.

One year since our priorities shifted from the trivial to the important.

One year since we opened our eyes to God working all around us.

One year since normal readjusted itself.

One year ago today.

Today, I am grateful for Jehovah Rapha - the God who heals.

"'For I will restore health to you and heal you of your wounds,' says the Lord." - Jeremiah 30:17

Nine Things I Learned in 2012

I learned some things last year - some new things and some old lessons reiterated. It's another awkward list of nine things. Maybe I'll just make lists of nine a regular thing.

Nine Things I Learned in 2012

1. God is my Counselor, my Comforter, my Prince of Peace. True, the Bible says it and I already knew it, but I experienced it anew. If cancer taught me nothing else, it taught me to turn to God first in times of trouble. No earthly advisor got it right; no one had the words I needed, but I found them in prayer and in God's Word.

2. My family is precious to me. This also wasn't new news, but I do feel like I learned to be more present with them, to block out distractions and really focus on enjoying them.

3. I need help. Much to the chagrin of my fiercely independent spirit, I just cannot do all the things that need doing all by myself all the time. Learning to accept help more willingly, to ask for it even, was an uncomfortable lesson but one that was also liberating.

4. The world doesn't stop for cancer - nor should it. Though at times it felt like time was frozen, life went on. I worked, Dave worked, the kids went to school, soccer, and gymnastics. People got married, had babies and birthdays, and even funerals. Sometimes I felt too numb to live it, but staying busy living life was better than wallowing.

5. Cancer doesn't always mean death. Sometimes it does and it's heartbreaking, but sometimes it's just part of the journey. Standing in the face of the surgeon last March, I was completely distraught while trying to rectify my previous experiences of cancer=death with the news that my 33 year old husband had cancer. I will be forever grateful for the firsthand experience that cancer does not always end in death.

6. Cancer doesn't end with remission. Technically, yes, it does, but the after effects of treatment continue on indefinitely. It's a price willingly paid for remission, but it's very frustrating and sometimes disconcerting - especially when the after effects are similar to the original symptoms.

7. Forgiving people isn't easy, but it is right. It's right for the person you need to forgive because they are human just like you - acting and reacting in the world from their own unique experience and not necessarily with cruel intentions. It's right for you, the person doing the forgiving, because it frees your heart from bitterness. Sometimes it takes practice. I think that was the biggest lesson I learned about forgiveness, that it requires practice.

8. Increased use of social media requires increased personal responsiblity. Not just from the perspective of what you share (and I've struggled with that aspect this year), but also from the perspective of what you allow to steal your joy. I love having the world at my fingertips, but I am guilty of letting Facebook drama or unending commentary of politics and tragic events put me in a funk. It's just not worth it, and I'm the only one who can control my reaction.

9. Life really is too short to sweat the small stuff. Really.

Day 30 - Something that made you smile this year.

There were so many people and thoughful gestures and kid shinanigans that made me smile this year, but this is what instantly popped into my head when I read the Day 30 prompt.

This is the sign that our Sunday School class left for us on Dave's last day of chemo. It was an external expression of the relief I felt at being finished with that phase of the cancer process. Though he still felt sick and tired and we still had to wait for the follow-up PET scan, this was the day that I finally let out the breath I had been holding since March. It felt so appropriate to mark it with balloons.

Day 23 - Joy is _________.

There is so much joy in my life. I try to remember to look for it everywhere and through everything. I try not to let the world steal it from me. Sometimes it's hard to find it, and sometimes it just pours out with no effort at all.

Joy is laughing with a man who has been making me laugh for almost 13 years. Even when there doesn't appear to be anything laugh-worthy, we can find something.

Taking our picture at the TSO concert.
Partly because we wanted one,
partly because we were laughing at all the people around us who were doing it first.

Joy is wrapping yourself burrito-style in a favorite blanket. Luke's blanket, randomly named Gigi, can cure a lot of ills and induces coma-like sleep when the situation is right. When he needs it, he doesn't care if it's 102 degrees outside, he's going to pile it on top and keep it there while sweat beads break out over the bridge of his nose.

Luke with Gigi blanket.

Joy is spending time with a friend when you are lonely. I know this to the bottom of my soul because a couple of good friends have repeatedly dragged me out of a lonely place over the last year during lunches or phone conversations where all I had to do was listen as they talked about life and kids and family with no expectation that I should do the same, but certainly with acceptance if I did. It's good to have friends with whom you can be quiet, but still walk away with your soul refreshed.

Sometimes Georgia allows Gypsy to sit close beside her when she needs a friend.

Joy is creating. Art, music, songs, words, software, appellate briefs, food, it doesn't matter what, but the act of bringing something into being is fullfilling. Ella and Luke already know it, and we have hundreds of variations of paintings and glued scraps of paper that are all Something to prove it.

Ella and Luke painting together.

Joy is a special treat to celebrate a special occasion, or, just because. This particular milkshake was a Last Day of Vacation treat.

Last Day of Vacation So Let's Do One More Random Thing Milkshake

Joy is playing. And, in this specific instance of play, joy is re-enacting a high school football game. Ella is the drum major, Luke is the football player, and Dave was playing the drums. I may have been singing Luke's version of the fight song, too. That's what usually happens when this breaks out.

Highschool Football Game in Luke's Bedroom

Joy is knowing that I am the child of a loving God who not only hears my prayers, random or angry or selfish or broken or happy or trivial as they may be, but who answers them.

Little children might understand this joy better than all of us.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance." - James 1:2-3

Father's Day: I blew it.

This is the way I pictured Father’s Day weekend.


Saturday morning – Take the kids shopping to pick gifts for Dave, Papa, and Pop the Pop.

Saturday afternoon – Go to a birthday party.

Sunday morning – Make breakfast for Dave and go to church.

Sunday evening – Have supper with my dad.

This is how it really happened.

Friday morning – Yes, that’s right, Friday, 4:30 am, Luke threw up in our bed. While Dave cleaned up the floor (complimenting me on my cat-like reflexes as I jerked Luke up and suspended him over the side of the bed so that most of the vomit landed on the floor instead of the sheets) while I calmed Luke down, cleaned him up, took his temperature, gave him Motrin, and settled into the recliner with him. He threw up again. I calmed him down, cleaned him up, wrote off going to the office, moved to his bed for a couple more hours. Again, Dave cleaned up vomit from the floor and chair. I worked from home with two kids, and mostly held Luke all day. Aunt Becca came to help me for a little while by holding Luke so I could do some work and going to get us some lunch. While she was gone and I was holding Luke and listening to him breathe rapidly, I decided he needed to go to the doctor. His fever was still climbing despite a dose each of Motrin and Tylenol.

Friday afternoon – I took Luke to the doctor while Ella went home with Aunt Becca. He was running 101.8 fever in the office, tested negative for strep but had a blotchy throat. Doc thinks it’s hand, foot, and mouth disease and prescribed Tylenol with codeine to manage the pain while we wait for it to run its course and keep him hydrated, and oh, by the way, he can run fever like this for the whole 4 -5 days. I started shoring myself up for a long weekend of pain/fever management, toddler holding, and coercing him to drink.

Friday evening – Dave ran the errands to get the medicine (and shouldn’t have bothered since liquid narcotics are too nasty for a child to swallow) and brought me supper from Pop the Pop and Grandma’s house.

Friday night/Saturday (wee) morning - I slept with Luke because he started crying every time I moved from his side. Ella got up at 2:45 and got in bed with Dave. And I didn’t even know about that until mid-morning. That’s a miracle.

Saturday morning – Luke’s fever was gone and he was well enough to play in fits and spurts between needing to be held. Any tiny thing ruined the moment and made him inconsolable again. That went on all morning until he was just a melted down mess at nap time.

Saturday afternoon - I got Ella ready for the birthday party and she took Dave as her date while I held Luke for three hours while he napped. He woke up grouchy and stayed that way until supper when he finally decided he was hungry enough that he had to eat through the pain. After that, bath and bed.

Sunday morning – I woke up in Luke’s bed again, though I’d only been there half the night this time. He was ready to play but sill drooling buckets and crying, “mouth hurt.” Dave was already outside working on a project. I got Luke stabilized with Motrin and juice and went to the fridge to scrounge up breakfast. There were no eggs. No milk. No muffin mix. Nothing to make for breakfast. Why did I expect otherwise? I had not left the house in days. Luke and I went to the store for eggs. He ran barefoot through Lucky’s in a t-shirt and diaper, celebrating being out of the house, and I let him. At home, I cooked breakfast as fast as I could so Dave and Ella could eat before church. They left for church and I took my little petri dish to the grocery store, for real this time, and only because I had to.

Sunday afternoon – Papa and Grandmother came over for lunch. Luke slept another three hours and woke up happy. Ella was a complete grouch until I forced a nap on her. She woke up from nap still grouchy. I was at my wits end with being touched and needed and listening to crying/whining/grouchiness and it was oozing out of me. Dave left to go to Lowe’s for more things for his project and probably because we were unbearable. I put one kid in front of one TV and the other in front of the other TV and went to the shower – for the first time that day. At 4 in the afternoon. I sent my dad a text saying we would be there for supper because I had to get out of my house. After that, I put Ella in the shower, thinking it would improve her mood. It didn’t. She came out crying and complaining of a headache. I took her temperature and it was 102.2. I put her nightgown on her, gave her Motrin, and put her on the couch. Sent my dad another text, “Not coming. Ella’s running fever.” Changed into my pajamas and sat on the couch with Luke. He was grouchy again. I nursed Luke, patted Ella, and tried not to lose my mind.

Sunday evening – My dad brought us supper – happy Father’s day to him. I fed the kids and put them to bed, and then put myself to bed.

It was awful. The worst weekend we’ve had in a very long time. Thankfully, I'm learning to be flexible. And, thankfully, today is a new day. And, thankfully, Grandmother is willing to tag team with a feverish child so I could go to work today for a much needed break.

Another Lesson from Cancer: Flexibility

I am a rather inflexible person. I really like routine. I like knowing what to expect. I take comfort in the familiar. My biggest source of stress in any given situation is The Unknown. Followed very closely by Plans That Get Changed. It really, really bothers me when plans get changed suddenly.

This inflexibility is something I’ve known about myself for a while. In the past, it’s been something that drove Dave nervous (Incidentally, he is indecisive – the exact opposite of inflexible – you can see how that would cause, umm… discussions). I also had an evaluation at work one time that listed my inflexible nature as one of my areas for improvement. So…

I’ve been working very hard on being more flexible for years now, and I thought I was doing an okay job with it. I still might hate it when I’m asked to do something new, but at least now I can (usually) deal with it in stride rather than having a breakdown about it. My love of routine is really good for my small children, because kids like to know what to expect (especially kids like Ella). But I’ve realized lately that even though I’ve been working on it, I still keep a very rigid routine. I know this because I get text messages like, “Hey while you are out this morning and up that way how about stopping by the house we like….”, not because I told the sender that I was going that way but because I go that way every single Saturday at the same time of morning to grocery shop at the same Publix. I can’t help it, the other Publix stores in the area aren’t laid out the same and I hate it because it makes me forget things that I need.

I am so predictable that the people around me don’t even have to ask to know where I am on a Saturday. And I’ve probably written about it enough here that you knew it, too, even if you don’t talk to me in real life every week. That’s just so boring.

Do you know what doesn’t give a crap about your routine or what you have planned for tomorrow or next weekend or next year? Cancer. Do you know what that forces you to become? Flexible.

Dave and I had a conversation this morning about how we – our little family – have become more flexible since March. And we like it. We’ve spent that past few weekends meandering around with no solid plans in mind and it’s been wonderful. We’ve gone out to breakfast, made an impromptu visit to my brother-and-sister-in-law’s house in Gardendale (and it was reminiscent of how we used to just end up there on the weekends when we lived in Gardendale. And, I realized how much I’ve been missing them!). We had dinner with friends I had not seen since Ella was a newborn and we stayed out too late (with the kids!) and loved it. We’ve been to the Galleria, mostly just to ride the carousel – and I did ride it even though it makes me feel sick to go round and round – and I had fun because it’s been a really long time since I’ve actually ridden a carousel and because Luke was riding with me. We went to a birthday party. We shopped at a different grocery store and not always in the morning. Dave took Ella on a date while I cuddled Luke for a nap and watched movies on the couch instead of doing grown-up things like laundry and cleaning. We played in the pool when the weather was nice; we dragged a screaming kid on a walk because we needed it, even though it was rainy. Luke ate breakfast and lunch at the table in his room because he was playing and I didn’t care.

We are living The Unknown right now. I started this journey half afraid to make any plans, but now I realize that I half want to be open for entertaining our whims. I have planned exactly two things this summer: the kids’ birthday parties. And I almost decided to skip those altogether, but Ella will be turning 4 and I just couldn’t tell her we weren’t having a party. We don’t have a vacation planned. We don’t have every weekend booked from now until September. But there’s potential for those things. Maybe we’ll take a vacation. Maybe it will be to the beach, but maybe not. Maybe we’ll find a nice hotel with a good pool and just swim for a few days, somewhere other than in our yard. Maybe we won’t go anywhere at all.

All this un-commitment, this potential, this non-routine is rather freeing. Though living in a rut as deep as the Grand Canyon is comfortable for me, I get so stressed out and exhausted by the expectations and demands on my time, the sense of responsibility and obligation I force myself to uphold. Not that those are bad things – they are really good, but sometimes it’s suffocating. And sometimes I just need to breathe. Is it coincidental that cancer brought that breath into our lives? I doubt it; I don't believe in coincidence.

The Valet Parking Lady

As busy as the Bruno Cancer Center is and as much as I've been impressed with the nurses and doctors and office staff, there is one lady there who just blows me away: The Valet Parking Lady.


Today's parking spot.



We found out yesterday that she goes by the name of Suzy Q, and I'm ashamed to admit that it took us four treatments to learn this. Because she knew Dave's name the day after his first one. She never fails to call him by name and she knows when he's there for a long day of chemo and when he's just there for the quick shot (he gets a shot 24 hours after each round of chemo to help his body recover his white blood cells).

This space usually holds 1 or 2 more with
just enough room to drive around them to get out.




The lot was not full today.. there are usually
2 more cars squeezed in this space you see.



Suzy Q works in the hot stress of a parking lot with a seemingly unending flow of traffic - and she is always happy and caring when she talks to the patients. She also has mad parking skills. I'm astounded at the number of cars she can fit in this tiny lot. One day, when she allowed me to parallel park the car myself for our quick shot day, I sucked it up so bad that she offered to fix it for me and bring the keys inside to me when she was done - teasing me the whole time. Another day, she said, "I'm gonna park you right over there in the shade Mr. Roper 'cause we don't want you gettin' too hot."

She does a job that I would hate and she does it with a good attitude, even when the cars are lined up so no one can get in and out of the lot and it's 95 degrees outside. I don't know how much a parking attendant makes, but I know it's not millions. Her job is one that would be easy to glance over without much thought; I'm sure some people see her as a mere convenience so they don't have to find a parking spot. But she's more important than that.  She spends her days running all around the St. Vincent's campus so that cancer patients have only to walk into and out of the front doors to get to their cars - not because the parking situation is sketchy, but because sometimes even the walk to the front door is too far. I don't know if she realizes it, but she has a pretty powerful ministry going on right at the front door of a place where people really need ministering. Any random person could be parking cars there, but not many would do it with the love that she displays for the patients. 

There are so many cars parked that the entrance/exit is one lane.



I believe she has a spiritual gift of service and probably also of mercy, and she is putting them to good work every day.

Do people recognize my spiritual gifts from watching me live my life? I'm not so sure...

Halfway There

Round three of chemo is over, I guess. He has energy and has already developed the week 2 side effects even though he didn't have the second crash first. That messes with my head. I was expecting the crash Monday or Tuesday of this week, even had meals lined up for those days, and it didn't come. So I'm calling round three finished.

This one hit him hard and fast but he recovered more quickly, too. I'm certain that's because he had no choice but to sleep in the two days following the treatment and that's what his body has been needing. I'm hoping he can arrange his schedule so that he has time to sleep like that for the next three rounds.

This round was hard on me. I haven't been about to lose my mind, but I'm feeling less like, "Let's do this thing" and more like "How am I going to make it through three more rounds?" He told me after the first round that he thought it might take all of his willpower to survive six rounds of chemo. I'm thinking it might take all of mine, too, and I'm not the one being poisoned every three weeks. We are living in a bizarre world right now.

I was laying in bed with Ella the last week and she kept asking me when we were going to eat at a certain restaurant. It was taking me forever to figure out which restaurant she was talking about and I asked her when we had been there before. She said, "You know, that day we walked around and passed out fingernail files." And I did know. She was talking about a restaurant we stopped in one day when we were handing out campaign literature for one of the local elections. It was Sunday, February 26, two days before I took Dave to the ER. It was all I could do not to lay in her bed and cry, thinking about how drastically our lives changed two days later. Not for the worse, but never to be the same again. Having a new normal thrust upon you without warning takes some getting used to. I occasionally find myself in situations like this one with Ella where old normal and new normal collide in my mind at the same time and I struggle to process everything that's happened since the end of February. Some days it's hard to believe it's been three months already and some days it's hard to believe it hasn't been three years.

I've come to realize that cancer has a time warp similar to the one that happens at the end of a pregnancy. All at once, time is flying and standing still. And, cancer is a line of demarkation in our lives together. Just like having kids. In the timeline of us, there are periods of time I think of as Before Kids and After Kids, and now I've added Before Cancer. There's no After yet because this isn't over. I'm not sure it will even be over at the end of chemo. I'm thinking there will be other time periods known as During Chemo and After Chemo, but I don't know when After Cancer will happen. Will there be another line of demarkation or will we just ease into it without realizing it until we're well on the other side? Now I'm rambling, but at least it's cathartic.

Anyway, three rounds down and three to go. With my whole body and soul I'm looking forward to this long weekend of playing in backyards with my family, to soaking up the sun and fun and laughter, to restocking my mental facilities in preparation for round four. And Lynyrd Skynyrd's Tuesday's Gone in my ears has mellowed me out just in time for the weekend. 

Thinking Back, Living Forward

It’s been just over 2 months since Dave’s surgery. There are still unknowns, but we are in a much better place now. We know that the surgeon got all of the tumors, that the surrounding tissue did not show evidence of cancer. We know that his PET scan showed “no measurable amount” of cancer left in his body after the surgery. We know that his type of lymphoma generally responds well to chemotherapy and that the majority of the time chemo will cure it. We know what the chemo does to his body and how to manage the side effects. We know how long he will feel bad and when he will feel good again after a round of chemo.

We are very optimistic that this is just another episode in our lives to be survived rather than an ending.

I am glad to be in this place, where we know what is going on and we have some reassurance for the future. But occasionally I flash back to the lowest moments immediately following his surgery and I’m consumed with the emotion all over again. Sometimes I’m overcome with the feelings I had while I sat beside him in the dark each night in the hospital, wondering what this meant for us, where we would go from there, if he would be alive the same time next year. I was so scared. For him, because I had no idea what he would have to endure and for us because I didn’t know if we’d still have him.

Sometimes I think back over the sadness of a conversation we had one Friday afternoon, after his first oncology appointment, before we had any real information about his diagnosis and treatment plan. I told him that I truly didn’t believe he was going to die, but that I knew that I would be okay if he did. That I didn’t want to think about my life without him in it because he is my best friend in this world, but that if he came to a point where he was holding on to life for me when he needed to say goodbye, I would be able to let him go. Because I would rather he be in Heaven waiting for me than suffering on earth with me.

He has no intention of dying this year and we are planning for his full recovery, but it’s important for me to capture the low points in words to help me process those feelings that bubble up and to help me remember how far we’ve come in two months.

This was a life event that changed me. While the process is sometimes painful, I’m confident that the results will be worth it. If nothing else, my life was brought into razor sharp focus and my perspective was adjusted. The things that don’t matter are clear and so are the things that do.

God is in the forefront of my mind most of the time now in a way He wasn’t before. I find myself considering my words and actions with the questions, “Does what I’m about to write/say/do reflect God’s glory? Does it make it evident that I’ve been with Jesus?” My humanity still gets the best of me, often, but I am trying to take that breath and consider the testimony I’m living. I’m a work in progress.

My nucleus, the man that God made for me and the little souls He put into my care, they teach me new things every single day and they constantly remind me of the importance of time. They are infinite sources of joy and laughter. They keep me busy living.

My family, those outside of my household – both of my blood and of my heart, has bound itself around us and lifted us up, held us together when I could not. It’s a surprisingly extensive family. I’m awestruck and humbled by it. It’s one of the things that matters a lot.

I was asked recently if I wanted to go back to the fall of last year, before any of this happened, when everything was still normal. My answer was unequivocally, “No.”

I have grown and I have been richly blessed through this trial. I would not undo it. This is our normal now.

Busy Living

We had a fantastic weekend. The kind that makes you miss the kids on Monday and puts you in a good mood to start the week.

It started at the ridiculously early hour of 5:30 a.m. on Saturday for Ready.Set.Cure. - which is a 5k fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. My sister decided while Dave was in the hospital that she and our friend, Kendall, were going to run it in his honor. I jokingly told her she should have t-shirts made that say "I hate cancer." Well, a few weeks later, she sent me a t-shirt design and I told her I wanted one but that I wanted it to say "Lymphoma Sucks". She redesigned them. And she made a special one for him.

Lymphoma Sucks has become my life theme right now. I also found a website that offers resources and support for young adult cancer patients and survivors called Stupid Cancer. It's my kinda place, where they focus on getting busy living and giving cancer the bird, so I ordered some bracelets for us. They give Ella an approved reason to use the word "stupid" and she's taking full advantage - as in last night at the supper table when she asked me, "Mommy, when will Daddy's stupid cancer be gone?"

Dave decided he would try to walk the 5k, so we did, and he pushed about 90 lbs. of stroller and kids half the way. And we finished in less than an hour. It was an amazing time! Thank you, Rebecca, for organizing it for us!
 

These people know lymphoma sucks but getting busy living doesn't.

After that, there was back porch swimming and back yard playing. Luke was naked, of course, and we had a little potty training milestone. He heard me tell Ella not to pee where we play, to go to the edge of the yard instead (because we don't have indoor plumbing, you know). A few minutes later, he left the little pool where he was playing and went to the edge of the patio to pee. Do you know what that means? Two very big things: 1. He knew he needed to go before it happened and 2. He had enough control to move to another place to do it. He's been waking up dry most mornings, so it might be time to get serious with this potty business. Yay! Diapers, your days are numbered.

At one point during Luke's celebration of nakedness, after Dave suggested that maybe he needs a pair of swim trunks if he's going to be playing all over the yard instead of swimming, the little dude army-crawled under the car. Naked. Chasing the cat. I had to tell him to crawl out the other side because I wasn't about to drag his little naked self out from under there by the ankle. Swim trunks indeed, but I think Dave will have to be in charge of putting them on and off, on and off, because I know that's what's going to happen.

Then we played cars and chased the cat (she can't get a break) and cooked on the grill. The kids didn't go to bed as early as we planned because we were having too much fun, but that's okay.

Sunday, we went to church and it was my turn to work in the nursery. I got a little caught up in the play and forgot where we were until the shrieking reached playground level when I suddenly remembered that they could probably hear us in church. Oops. After church we had lunch and a big fat nap, then Dave lopped down the camellias and put Luke to work dragging sticks to the street. He was very proud of his job.


Even little ones have to earn their keep.

 In the middle of camellia cutting, Dave decided he needed a chainsaw, so we rode down the street to The Shed to borrow one. That turned into a few hours of visiting and cousin playing. Luckily we had leftovers so we didn't have to rush home to cook. Then baths and books and bed and it was over already!

Getting busy living, like inappropriate laughter, is much more fun than losing my flipping mind.

My Loves

These pieces of my heart actually walk around in this world - a thought that sometimes terrifies me, but mostly brings me great joy. I took these last weekend. I just love the sunshine and the swimming on the back porch happiness.

Ella picked out her new swimmin' suit all by herself at Target and I think she did a great job. I love this happy face she's wearing.

EGR in her new swimmin' suit.

Luke goes naked in the backyard because he loves being naked and because I have an ulterior motive - potty training. He's of two minds about naked peeing in the backyard - a teensy bit freaked out and completely amused.

Luke is very serious about his pool time.

Dave looks like a Very Serious Lawyer doing Very Serious Things on his phone in this picture. Don't be fooled - he's losing his virutal money in a game of Texas Hold 'Em. I think he already harvested three seasons worth of vegetables in Word Mole for a ridiculously high score, so he moved on to something more entertaining.

Dave's Very Serious Lawyer Face

Georgia isn't allowed in the back porch pool, so she has to swim in the little one on the patio. She also has to share her pool with the skin kids, so she doesn't even have it to herself. She gets the short end of the deal, but that's okay because she's the dog.

Swimmin' Pool + Big Yella = Dog Bliss

This is what she was doing right before I told her to show me her cheese face.

Digging. It's almost as good as swimming.

I am not strong.

What I am is crazy. Nutballs. Losing my flippin' mind.

There's so much to do at home. There's so much to do at work. Work. It's a flexible situation, thankfully, but what do I do? Take unpaid intermittent Family Medical Leave? Use my vacation time with the leave? Keep up what I'm doing now, which is trying to squeeze 40 hours of productivity into the rest of my insanity? I'm honestly wondering if I can handle it - that expectation of my productivity. And that makes me feel vulnerable and worried in a way that I don't need to be about work. Because do you know how much a round of chemotherapy costs? I don't either yet, but I'll be finding out soon enough and I know I don't want to be without health insurance. And you know what else, Obamacare haters? I'm so thankful for that pre-existing condition deal he put in there that I could just cry. You know what's a pre-existing condition? Cancer.

There are so many doctor's appointments and medicines to manage. So many people to care for. And the dog and the cat and the house. And me? Sigh. I'm starting to question my mental health. Large quantities of chocolate and probably a prescription are in order. I wonder if our primary care doctor will just see me at Dave's next follow up so I don't have to bother with scheduling another appointment?

I know that it's all going to be fine. I know that God's timing is perfect and I need only to wait on Him. But right now I'm having a little fit about it all and you're going to have to bear with me.

And now I'm going to try to leave it here and not have a bad day about it.

I have a confession.

I have an inappropriate sense of humor. I laugh at things that most people probably find offensive or, well, inappropriate. Dave is usually on my wavelength - either laughing with me or making me laugh at completely inappropriate times. Like the time we were at a wedding and, during the middle of the vows when the preacher asked, "What token do you bring...?", Dave turned to me and whispered, "The fatted calf." I was laughing, quietly, so hard that tears were running down my face with the effort of containing it. People were turning around to look. Now of course, he doesn't even have to say anything in the middle of a wedding ceremony, he can just look at me knowingly and I'll start laughing.

I laugh because it's fun and because sometimes it's either that or fall apart. And who wants to do that? So it's not at all surprising to me that in the middle of our most serious personal situation to date, I find myself laughing at the most inappropriate things. Namely, Dave.

He's mostly with me, but I occasionally hit a soft spot and realize I've gone too far and need to take it easy on him. Like when I received a chat from a friend of ours telling me to take a close up of his eyebrows because I probably wouldn't see them for a while after he starts chemo. I found that hilarious, mainly because it hadn't occurred to me that he'd lose his eyebrows, too, and I laughed out loud. When I told Dave about it, he just wasn't very amused. (I had an elaborate plan to take before and after pictures of his eyebrows and write a post about them, but I don't think he's going to let me. Party pooper.)

But just a little while ago, he completely exploited his recent, dramatic weight loss to make me laugh and laugh. I was making fun of the shorts he was wearing because they were all bunched up when he tied them on his waist with his belt. He changed to another pair and said, "These aren't much better. Look at this." Then he proceeded to perform a hula routine that jiggled those shorts all the way to the floor. He thought it was funny, too, so I was safe that time.

Sure, it will suck for him to lose all of his hair, but it's just hair. It will grow back. Sure, the reason for the weight loss sucks, but he's presently thrilled to be able to eat whatever he wants and not gain weight. Why not laugh? It's certainly more fun than being depressed over it.

My point is, I have an inappropriate sense of humor and you are going to see it here about chemo and cancer and all manner of other serious things. If it offends you, well, as my Grandma used to say, "I hate it."

Around the House

I've been feeling so uninspired lately that Dave actually questioned why something he said this very week wasn't reported here. The answer? I guess I haven't been paying enough attention. He followed that up with this classic last night when talking about his recent illness.

"I wonder if it's because I've been wiping [Luke's] nose with my fingers and then getting a dip of Skoal?"

Um, yes? Probably so? Don't you know that's what t-shirts are for, provided there are no tissues or wipes? And there are tissues and wipes, and you know it, because you make fun of my roll of toilet paper in the kitchen all the time. But you are using your fingers to wipe his nose? Then getting Skoal without washing them first?

Sexy. Almost as sexy as the sound he makes when he hacks up his spleen coughs. But enough about that. I am just relishing the fact that the last two times the kids have been sick, Dave has been sick with them, not me. Is it possible that like an ER nurse or a preschool teacher, I've finally conditioned my immune system to fight off their little nasties?

Back to the topic at hand, if there is one, after he said that gem about snot and Skoal, I decided to ignore the voice in my head rushing them all to bedtime pay attention and take some notes.

Dave fixed the supper plates last night and put all the stuff away while the kids and I were eating. As he was closing the package of tortillas, Ella asked him what he was doing. He said, "Closing the tortillas," but he pronounced it like "tortila" - without the double "l" that makes the "y" sound (there's your Spanish lesson for today). Immediately, Ella attempted to correct him, except she mixed up the syllables and it sounded like: "Teetoras."

While Luke adds words to his vocabulary on a near-daily basis, he does not yet have the words to say, "I want to put my own sprinkles on my cake!" We know this because as Ella was sprinkling her cake last night, Luke was yelling at us every time Dave or I tried to say anything. Yelling. Each time we opened our mouths. I couldn't figure out what he wanted and I finally let him down out of his booster seat. He went straight to the cabinet, got the last can of sprinkles, climbed back in his chair, and proceeded to sprinkle his cake. I think we got the message.

The sprinkles are in the same cabinet as the onions and garlic. Lately, since he discovered the cabinet and dumped a box of baking soda on the freshly mopped floor (this is why I hate to mop, it invites mess) over the weekend, Luke goes to the cabinet to get an onion and throws it around the kitchen, yelling "Ball!" He might be even more ball-obsessed than Georgia right now. Case in point: As he ate his chicken tacos last night, he held up each little black bean or corn kernel to tell me, "Ball," before he would eat it.

From there we proceeded to bathtime, where we now keep a schedule of who gets to sit in the front of the tub on which night. It's only fair. I know this because I always got to sit in the front of the tub when my sister and I were little, and the few times I was in back, it sucked. (Sorry, Rebecca.) Finally, after Luke tried to drown himself, brush his body with his toothbrush and throw it in the tub, contort himself like he's been travelling with Cirque de Soleil while I put on his diaper and t-shirt, he was ready for bed. Ella put on her own clothes (!) and once Luke was asleep, I went to her room to lay down with her.

When I walked in there, Dave said, "Tell Mommy about your fella, Ella." And she did. A little boy in her class is her fella. They play together every day. Cars and sometimes babies, and he takes care of the babies like she tells him to.

I opted to respond with, "It's good to have all kinds of different friends to play with. That makes school more fun."

I'm also thinking we didn't start reading Amazing You: Getting Smart About Your Private Parts a moment too soon. Think I'm wacko? Guess how old I was when I first chased a boy around the playground trying to kiss him?

Three.

Candy Bookends

Does this look like we've been trick-or-treating?

Ella's parade loot

We haven't. October is a month that starts and ends with candy in our little town. Ella collected this bucket full at the Fire Prevention Parade over the weekend. It was her idea to bring her Spiderman Easter basket to hold all the candy, but I have to say that I was amazed at the amount she (we) collected. I don't know what we are going to do with it, but I know that we will not be eating all of it. It will disappear before we fill up two more buckets trick-or-treating in town and at the Fall Festival on Halloween.

 

Side note - Look how tan she is? Who gets a Fall tan?

 

We spent a lot of time outside because it was beautiful, and Dave traded cameras with me so I have some pictures to share. 

Luke with Ella's new cup

 

 

Luke took the first opportunity to steal Ella's new cup, and you can see her in the background, on her way to retrieve it. She is very possessive of her new cup, which she picked out on our "girl time" shopping trip Saturday after the parade. Our main mission was new tennis shoes for her, and after trying on seveal pair of light-up, sequined atrocities, we found some cute pink New Balances. They were comfortable enough to win her over in the first step she took in them.

 






 
 

Swinging on their playground



Both kids love to swing, so we spent quite a bit of time swinging over the weekend. I had to raise Ella's swing up another link because her toes were dragging the ground.

This is the part of our backy-ard that isn't torn up with construction right now. (An update on that project is coming soon.)


Luke on the lawn mower




"What are you doing on my lawnmower?"


Luke cannot stay off of the lawnmower when we are playing oustide. He basically loves anything with a steering wheel, but he especially loves the lawnmower because Dave drives him around the neighborhood on it.

Driving like a mad man



Hangin' out

Finally, I found Luke like this after we'd come inside for a break Saturday afternoon. He was just hanging out on the end table, looking at a picture of Pop the Pop.

 

He's shirtless because Ella sprayed him with the water hose while she was washing all of the front yard toys.  

Pumpkin Patch 2011

This year's trip to the Pumpkin Patch was a huge success. Ella knew what to expect so she was ready to love it. Luke just loved it.


Ready to go




Luke didn't nap before we left, or on the way, or while we were there. He knew we were going to do somthing fun.

I couldn't get them both to cheese for the camera at the same time. Every time Ella said cheese, Luke turned to laugh at her.


Pumpkin socks for the Pumpkin Patch




Ella picked out her pumpkin socks for the trip. I think this made it a little easier for her to wear her tennis shoes. She's a flip flop kind of girl (so much that I'm probably going to have to hide them when it really gets cold).


Pony Ride



I walked beside her pony, named Pickles, so she would be comfortable and so Luke could get a could look at them. He kept calling them dog-dogs and barking. I tried to get him to say, "Horsey!" but he just moo-ed instead.

We did see a miniature cow at the petting farm. And a llama, goats, sheep, and piglets. The piglets were raising a squealy ruckus, and I think they scared Luke because he sat down hard and cried about it. Otherwise, he loved all the animals and the goats especially loved him. Ella had fun feeding all of them.


We all loved the bounce house this year.




We all jumped in the bounce houses and slid down the big slide. The slide that caused a colossal melt down last year was a blast this year. I slid with Ella four times, Dave did it 2 or 3. She loved it and she was strong enough this year to climb up the big ladder by herself. Dave carried Luke up and slid down with him. We think he liked it, but he really looked stunned when they landed.


On the way to find our pumpkins




By the time we rode out to the pumpkin patch, we were all tired.


Searching, searching for the perfect one.




I love this picture. I love how it shows the progression of our family since last year.















Two prize winning pumpkins.



Here we are with our prize pumpkins. Ella was able to surpass last year's and find one even smaller. It is so small that Dave had to pick it of the vine for her.

As I expected, Luke went with a bigger one. He loves them both and keeps trying to eat them. Ella has already told me that both pumpkins will be staying in her bedroom again this year. We aren't allowed to cut them. I guess Dave and I will have to get our own if we decided we need to carve one.

My Personal War with Roaches

I'll preface this story by saying that I am not afraid of roaches. They creep me out with their slithery-ness, but I don't feel the need to jump up on the furniture and squeal. I have no trouble stomping on every one I see. I’m just so very tired of the nasty things. With that said, and in fairness to my husband, I must tell this story. It ranks up there with snake killing and bird invasions.

I believe Dave and I have come to a point in our relationship where we have lived together long enough that we are beginning to act like one another. Last night, after the kids were in bed and I’d woken up from my power nap with Ella, we were sitting on the couch together. As is our usual habit, he was lying on one end and I was sitting on the other, legs tangled up in the middle, sharing a quilt. Oddly, last night we were both awake and talking, though I have no idea what about because the events that followed completely erased it from my mind.

As we were chatting, I noticed a big, nasty, flying roach slither through the crack in the front door and make its way up the wall. I considered getting up to kill it right then, but I didn’t want to interrupt Dave, and I’d just gotten comfortable. Dave had no idea it was there because his back was to it. For about fifteen minutes, as we chatted, I tracked its progress all around the crown molding, on top of a picture, and back down the wall.

This is the point where my husband and I swapped personalities.

Suddenly, it launched itself into the air and flew right over Dave’s shoulder and landed on his chest. He exclaimed in surprise, but I was ready. As it was 10:30 and there was nary a flip-flop in sight, I grabbed the rolled up Neighbors magazine from my end table and attempted to smack the life out of it. Again, Dave exclaimed, this time about how hard I hit him. I heard nothing of it; I was singularly focused on killing that blasted roach.

It had disappeared.

I jumped off the couch and ripped the quilt off of Dave, yelling, “It’s in the blanket! Get up! It’s in the blanket!” I have no idea what he said, but he got up.

I kicked the ottoman out of the way and frantically shook the blanket until the roach fell out. Then I took to smacking it with my rolled up magazine. Like a mad woman, I was chasing it around the floor, hitting it for all I was worth, and cursing it with words that aren’t appropriate for writing here. I think it got the message that I believed it to be a piece of something undesirable. All the while, I think Dave was in the kitchen, eating popcorn and watching the show.

Then it disappeared again.

At that point, I lost my composure (if you could say I ever had any). I was squealing and jumping around with hands flailing, screaming for Dave to find it while I ran to the other side of the room. I was terrified that it was going to fly again and land on me.

He calmly moved the chair and grabbed it with a paper towel, while I continued to ask repeatedly if he had found it yet. He held up his fist to show me the balled up paper towel, roach inside. With a sigh of relief, I went back to my spot on the couch.

And this is where we swapped back to our original selves with me watching, and him holding the paper towel roach ball and asking me, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

I said, “Throw it away.”

To which he replied, “It will just crawl out again.”

Uhhh. “What?! It’s not dead? You didn’t kill it?”

He understood his responsibility. He squeezed it in his man fist and said, “I just heard it crunch.”

Again, I breathed a sigh of relief, “Good, as with anything with an exoskeleton, crunching is good.” (I don’t really know if roaches have exoskeletons, but they do crunch when you defeat them.)

He threw it away and left the room, and I started to laugh. He came back and asked me if I was laughing at myself. Yes, yes I was. Then he said, “My favorite part was when you changed from mad killer into our screaming 3 year old.” I could not deny it.