Mayo

Dad and I went to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, Arizona today.  Unfortunately, the records that were faxed over yesterday didn't get into his file, so we had to recount what we could remember of the progression of Dad's illness.  This doctor was impressed with how well Dad is doing and said as long as he is doing so well, she wouldn't recommend he do anything medically.  However, if he starts to have symptoms, pain, or scans show the cancer growing, then there is the possibility of future chemo treatments.  She needs to see his records, go over his scans and possibly compare them to a new scan, and wants to see the pathology slides so she can confirm the type of cancer cell he is fighting.  This information may also give her an idea of a different kind of chemo to try.  She is the first doctor who said there are still treatment options.  Which makes me very happy.  And somewhat suspicious.  She did say any treatment option needs to be balanced against potential side effects and Dad's quality of life.   

Good doctors have told Dad there's not much more they can do other than keep him comfortable--his own doctor, two doctors at Fred Hutcheson Cancer Center in Seattle, and a highly recommended cancer specialist who is also a cancer researcher in California.  Can all these medical professionals have made a mistake?  Is this Mayo doctor just blowing smoke up our collective rear ends?  Or is there something she knows that the other doctors do not know?  The Mayo doctor did concur with all the other doctors in defining the eventual outcome: this disease is terminal, nothing she can do will "cure" him.  Now why doesn't that make me feel all warm and fuzzy?

This medical maze we live in and are experiencing even now is a real challenge.  We want hope.  Hope makes Dad happy.  Me too.  All of us really.  But are we giving up anything to have this hope?  If it just costs money, then that's ok.  But what if he is spending precious time away from home...away from his family and friends who love him, away from his orchard...the dirt and trees and sun that runs through his body as surely as this cancer does?  Is that a good thing?

We do not know what she will recommend after she has a chance to review all the records.  She may completely concur with the other doctors.  And if she doesn't, if she offers alternatives, I guess Dad will consider his options and make a decision.  The decision isn't mine, that's for sure.  Nor can anyone else make this decision.  He has to.

She said this is not typical esophageal cancer, it is slow moving, so the pathology may be different, meaning a different chemo may be effective in holding at bay for a longer period of time.  She also said any chemo regime she recommends, his own doctor can administer it so he can be home.

No, I don't completely trust this doctor.  But at this moment, I am enjoying the glimmer of hope she has presented.  The rest, we'll deal with later. 

BRUCE WILLIS

Dad's hair has been falling out since he started his new chemo. Last week his friend Sam got out the clippers and shaved Dad's head. It was quite startling to come home and see his bald head. He says he thinks he looks like Bruce Willis only better. Way to have a good attitude about it, Dad. He has a nice round head without a lot of dips and bumps so it's really not so bad.

Today is my birthday. I went over to Dad's and there was brownies and cake. It was a surprise. Kelly is over and staying with Dad tonight so I was settling in at my house and wasn't expecting anything. Debbie and the kids were there, Rob, Steve, Kelly, and Dad.

My life is very odd right now. I've been staying at Dad's and coming home once or twice a week to pick up mail and check the house. Then one of his nine kids calls and someone else comes and stays with him to "give me a break." It is unsettling. I don't need "a break." I'm trying to get used to going back and forth. I know the other kids need to be with him and I don't want to interfere with that. But hauling my stuff back and forth between his house and mine is cumbersome at best, totally disconcerting at worst. Now what is it I need and where am I sleeping tonight?

Dad is getting stronger and may not need the attention, but I hesitate leaving him home at night because if he falls I hate the thought of him being down all night.

I cleaned out my basement today. Steve and Rob brought a truck of mom's stuff up today. She'll get a uhaul and get the rest of her stuff up here in the next few weeks. She's pooped. She'll probably have time here without me to decorate the house, get her stuff put away, and get settled in.

Some days I do really good with the uncertainty. I know the Lord is in charge and his tender mercies bless my life daily. Some days I just want to crawl in bed, curl up in a ball and stay there for awhile. No time for that, however.

A year has dripped away with barely a notice. Happy Birthday to me.

I think winter is here

We've had snow, cold winds, rain, and frost in October. It may snow tomorrow night with rain predicted for the rest of the week. Yuk.

I've been staying at Dad's off and on for several weeks, since he fell. He seems quite tippy still and we want someone to be there to help him up if he falls again. Rob is there tonight, and Tooty and Oni are visiting, as well. I've been a bit under the weather today, but am feeling better even now. It is a difficult time right now. He has chemo again on Thursday. His beautiful white hair is almost gone now and he is so sad about that. We'll know if this new chemo is working when we get the numbers on Thursday. He is fighting the good fight, but it's taking a lot out of him. He needs a lot of rest these days. He is eating very well. I've been eating very well. He needs the weight. I, on the other hand, do not. But I will keep cooking for him in an attempt to fatten him up. Or at least keep him from fading away.

I have been alone here in my little farm house in paradise for almost two years, but that solitary life will end soon. Mom is coming to live with me. It is difficult for her to pack and move and downsize. It's a brave thing for her to do. I've been moving books into my room, trying to make space for her couch, book cases, and pretties. And TV. Wow. I'm going to have to watch myself with that. TV is such a time sucker. I haven't had a TV for some 5 years. I watch it at Dad's now, but when people talk about shows or commercials, I haven't got a clue what they are talking about.

In the positive column, work is going well, Mom is moving up here, I'm writing poetry again, and we'll be getting firewood next Saturday for the winter. Yes, many good things are happening.

Happy Father's Day

Yesterday was a glorious day. Brothers and sisters came from all around bringing kids and grandkids for an afternoon of family and food.

Dad is doing pretty good. His last scan showed the tumors growing and his doc is putting him back on IV chem starting this week. This is an unexpectedly bad turn from my perspective. I thought he was healing, going into remission, and that his cancer would continue to go away until it was all gone. Some of it is all gone. And his liver function is good. Am I foolish to believe that healing can happen?

Dad is so positive about how well he's doing. But then, he doesn't talk about pain or side effects of the oral chemo he's taking or the cancer or his outcome except he's making long term plans to travel this winter, go hunting in Montana, do a little fishing as the mood grabs him, and talking about the amazing harvest that is just weeks away.

I'm blessed to be here in Paradise just down the road from my Dad. I'm enjoying this opportunity to reconnect, build and rebuild, and simply hug him every day.

Thanksgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, but I had my family over last Saturday. The children all have Thursday plans and I just wanted to sit down to dinner with them, rock the babies, and have some face time and hugs.

I'll head down to Dad and Carmen's tomorrow afternoon. I think their count is up to 40 for dinner. I took the ham over from our dinner, and a couple of baked pie crusts to help out the cause over there. Carmen made ham and beans as a dinner for the wanderers tonight as they wander in, with sliced ham for sandwiches. I didn't figure she'd want the leftover turkey, because tomorrow they'll be making their own leftover turkey.

They seem to be managing. Still getting thinner, but still smiling. I don't know if it's denial or not, but I'm still hopeful for a full recovery for both of them.

On another grateful note, tonight my niece Tiff had her little baby girl. She was over 8 pounds, I can't remember exactly, and looks a lot like her daddy. Oni, welcome to the world. Mom and baby are resting comfortably, or were a bit ago...that changes fast when you're dealing with a hungry little baby. Congratulations Tiff and Bernard. All my love and best wishes.

Manic Monday

I had training today. I practiced setting up meetings on a state wide educational meeting reservation system. My meeting was the Micky Mouse meeting which met once a month with someone from another college. Unfortunately,the lady got the email confirmation for six Micky Mouse meetings before I could delete it from the system. Oops. Nope, not going to be any Micky Mouse meetings, sorry.

Carmen is in town getting chemo right now. They changed her chemo last week because the other stuff wasn't working. Now she is nauseated and fatigued. Is it a rule that the chemo isn't working if it doesn't make you sick? What's that crap about? Dad seems to be holding his own since they took him off one of his chemo medicines that was making him horribly sick. He still gets other chemo, just not the one that makes him sick. He is taking some supplements and is considering other alternatives if what he's doing isn't working. He is positive he's going to "beat this thing." He'll get a scan next week and we'll see what's happening inside him.

The holidays are creeping up. I have given up on cross-stitch. I have one and a half ornaments done. At this rate each of my grandchildren will have a Christmas ornament next June or so. On to Plan B. I just love B Plans, don't you? Another chance to experiment and try something new. And the good news is that several kids are coming the week end before Thanksgiving for holiday dinner. I'm excited to see them and the grandkids. I figure somewhere between 20 and 40 people for dinner. Should be interesting.

My little fire place is keeping the house cozy and warm. It makes me so happy to light a fire and know that my house will warm up in no time. I've been gathering wood like crazy.

I'm up to my eyeballs in apples. Made apple butter, dried apples, applesauce, sliced-spiced apples, apple crisp, apple cobbler, given away apples...and still more apples to make more wonderful stuff. I think I'll make apple pies for Thanksgiving. Good idea, eh? Maybe the kids will take some apples home. That would be good. First thing in the morning, I'll start another batch of apple butter.

Well, I'm off.

Gotta Do Something

It's been a rough week for Dad and Carmen. Dad had chemo last Friday and did okay for the week end, but since Monday, he's been sick. Carmen had chemo Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and she's not feeling well. Duh.

They are such an important part of my life today and my history, I'm having trouble even contemplating their mortality. I understand that, logically, none of us has a lock on life, and life could be over for any one of us at any moment. But my heart is screaming, stop this nonsense, they just planted new trees and they need to see how that adventure turns out. They have grandchildren and great grandchildren who are still babies, what about them.

The tears have come easy for me this week. There is always hope for a miracle. But perhaps the journey they are on and the example they present during this difficult time is more important than any miracle. Carmen's cancer is responding to chemo, but the doc said Dad has months. I hate it when doctors quantify life that way. And maybe the chemo will help him. And there's always the miracle thing. I don't know.

So I take them food. Cinnamon rolls, peach cobbler, an occasional dinner. Because I must do something. Yesterday Dad was feeling so bad. He finally let me do a little energy work on his belly. I have been doing guerrilla energy work on him and last night, I worked on him again. Carmen has been letting me do a little massage and energy work on her some evenings. Hands on is easier. And they fill my prayers.

If you gotta do something, too, add them to your prayers often. Write them notes and cards and express your love, share a memory, send a picture of you and your family. Have your little ones draw them pictures. Tootie, they loved the pictures of your baby. Let them know you're thinking of them. It brightens their days and makes them smile, and smiles are precious these days. They never get on the computer, so that's not an option. (They are so funny that way). Pick up paper and pen and get to it. I'll bake, you write.

Chocolate and Other Thoughts

Why, you may ask, do I keep a 1/3 cup measuring cup in the sugar container? Because that's how much sugar it takes to make Fudge For One, and sometimes a pan of fudge is necessary to my survival. I have been known to double the recipe, but rarely, and only in extreme circumstances. Am I a fudge addict? Perhaps a binge fudge addict because I only crave it once a month or so. Hormonal trigger? you ask. Entirely possible. I read somewhere, and I don't know if it's true or not, that sugar, alcohol (which metabolizes as sugar), some illegal drugs, and being "in love" (that first rush of new love...addictive?) all stimulate the same "pleasure" center in the brain. Okie dokie, I can live with stimulating my brain with fudge. So here's the recipe:
Fudge for one
1/3 cup Sugar
1 heaping teaspoon Cocoa
1 Tablespoon + 2 teaspoons Milk
1 scant Tablespoon Butter (real butter is always better)
1/2 teaspoon Vanilla
Mix sugar and cocoa in heavy pan (I call it my fudge pan--even if I cook green beans in it, I smile over the memory of my last batch of fudge). Add milk. Bring to a boil. Boil for 1-1/2 minutes. Remove from heat. Add butter and vanilla. Beat till thick and not glossy anymore. At this point, you can pour it onto a buttered saucer and cut it into squares, or eat it from the pan. Which is usually what I do. Why dirty a saucer? Warning: give it a little time to cool, the stuff has just been boiling, right? It will take the hide right off your tongue. (Ask me how I know?...Right).
I found this recipe on the internet and if I could remember where, I'd list the citation. Unfortunately, I love to look at recipe sites, and cannot for the life of me remember where I found it.

On the home front, my friend left yesterday on the road to her new life. I was so happy to have her here, reconnect, visit, and renew our relationship. My oldest daughter and two babies are coming this afternoon for a week end visit. I'm excited to have her coming, looking forward to walking in the orchards with Bug and rocking Lady Bug to sleep (she hates to close her eyes and sleep for fear she'll miss something good).

I stopped in to see Dad and Carmen a bit ago, but they weren't home. I'll try later. Neither one of them feel well. Duh. Chemo is a harsh treatment and I hope they can survive the chemo long enough to stop the cancer. Carmen feels ill, but her cancer is responding to treatment. Dad's chemo is newly approved and he hasn't been taking it long enough to know if it's going to slow or stop the progression of his disease.

Thank you to all who have sent ideas, links, and prayers. I appreciate it.

I must go and hang the sheets on the line in order to have fresh sheets on the beds when Alli comes.

May the good Lord bless and keep you till we meet again.

Morning in Paradise

Life is about change, right? And so many things are in the process of becoming around me. My garden is sort of a microcosm of that idea, small plants and seeds grown large and producing wonderful treats for my table; tomatoes abound, green beans, green peppers, squash, and it looks like my beets and carrots are finally coming along. Autumn is in the air, the nights are cooler, the morning sun rises a bit later, the pumpkins are turning orange.

There was a huge, orange harvest moon last night, a bright red sunrise this morning, both reminding me that in spite of the temporary tornado I'm living in right now, there are constants that comfort and quiet the soul--that bit of order amidst the chaos which gives hope. The earth continues to turn, the seasons progress in their time, and I will continue to experience this moment, and the next, and the next. The love of family and friends, the growth of my own testimony that God lives, He knows my name, and He sustains me through all this; that's what keeps me going.

Carmen started chemo Monday and seems to be doing well. My Dad will hear about his clinical trial this week. We are all struggling with mortality around here. I looked at the moon last night and wondered...how many more full moons will my Dad enjoy? Does he wonder? I am comforted by family willing to listen to me and hold me when I cry while I work through this challenge.

I must go. I leave for work in a few minutes for more training. Hooray! My very own job.

May the good Father bless your day today as He has already blessed mine.