Happy New Year

     Sorry we haven’t written in quite a while.  We’ve had some major changes in our lives and access to the world wide web was limited.  Our 9^th infusion therapy went without a hitch, but the side effects are building faster than we wanted to admit.  Fatigue, nausea, and all the not so pretty sides of chemo are in full force now.  The two to three days down with four to five days up have switched to five to six days down and one or two up.  Amy’s spirits are good, but the pain just seems so much for her tired body to bear. 

     We do appreciate the calls and emails asking where we’ve been and how she’s doing.  So thank you for your prayers and words of encouragement.  Here’s my thought for the day and Happy New Year.  

Psalm 30:5 Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.

Christmas Eve, Eve

     Working our way through the beltway never seemed cathartic; the anxiety of going to treatment is not a soothing one, but traveling with less than two hours of sleep just seemed off even by our crazy standards.  This was my last night shift before the holidays and Amy also stayed up most of the night, unable to get any restful sleep with the constant thought of more chemo looming in her head.  The cold and rain only adding to this mornings dilemma.  We arrived safely at the Mays center, once again, only to be told we were at the wrong building.  This place is religious about taking their holidays off.  We took the u-turn of shame out of the parking lot and traveled a couple blocks back to the older center, the one we affectionately call "Big Brother." 
     We were informed that they were only running one hour behind...I will never miss this place.  After being called back, we lucked out and scored a choice room. One next to the restroom, next to the nurses station, big enough to have a regular size bed and recliner, and our nurse was in a great mood.  Our standards on what's a great day have changed drastically over that last couple of months.  By cancer standards, we're on track to a great day. 


Amy - 8th round chemo

      My pink warrior's strategy for her 8th round was to come in completely tore down and try to pass out.  I was already prepared for that plan and had acquired a blanket of my own.  So with the pre-meds started, I turned off all of the lights and she pulled the sheet over her eyes.  If I could have been granted a Christmas wish, sans no cancer, finding a cure for cancer, or winning the lotto, it would have been to get through this treatment without any pain.  My wife went into a deep sleep and only moved once or twice.  The nurse came in on schedule and would start and stop the meds with the port already connected and lined up.  Amy never heard her come and go, so when the alarm was sounding, she thought it was for the pre-meds completion.  She wasn't sure if she was still foggy from sleeping or if she really was done when I told her that is was after noon and we were finished.  She had slept throught the entire treatment and was ready leave.  Finally, something went our way.
     My baby was up, finished, and ready to eat.  While we were talking about being too tired to make it back to our part of town without stopping somewhere our nurse informed us that we were close to the Rice Village.  When our oldest son was very young, we used to go Main Street Theater and see the kid shows, shop, and eat great Italian food.  Parking is limited, but there's definitely no shortage of great Italian restaurants in this area.  On the corner of Times Blvd is the little place called Gugliani's Italian Cafe.  Their motto on the back of their shirts reads, "Don't eat until your full, eat until you're tired."  This is our kind of place!

     So with the chemo deeds done and our bellies full of Italian goodness, we journeyed home.  Our plan was to hug the kiddies before they took off into the neighborhood and we retreated into our regimen of recovery.  Tomorrow will be Christmas Eve and the spirit of Santa will hopefully fill our childrens hearts to content and maybe, just maybe, give my little Angel a moment where she can forget all about this not so wonderful place called Cancerland.    

What Cancer Cannot Do

     As Amy finishes her 7th round of chemo, we knew I wouldn't be able to be with her for all her treatments and still maintain my work schedule.  Knowing this upfront doesn't make it any easier.  The cell coverage is lousy inside the clinic rooms, as you'd expect, but every once in a while we're able to get a text through or a phone call will slip in.  I was pleasantly surprised when the call at work came through and I heard my baby's voice on the other end.

Ashton & Anthony on Lil' Blue

     Half in tears and half in laughter, she updated me on her progress, how she was feeling (legs aching, stomach cramping, anxious to get it all over), and also the condition of her mother who took my place today.  I could hear my sweet mother-in-law snoring in the background.  I suppose the thought of being in a quiet room with only a bed and chair was too much an opportunity to pass up...She has a lot on her plate and I pray I'm never sharing a bed with one of my children trudging down the same path.  Still, the sound of her "sawing logs" in the background was too funny to ignore.

Family time on the bay

Destin Beach, Florida

So we talked about what we normally talk about; anything not having to do with why we're here.  Trying to focus on better days isn't easy when you're not having a particularly good one.  I have yet to see anyone smile on the way in or out of this place.  Any yet, everyone seems to be friendly and kind.  All unwilling members into a club that welcomes folks from every walk of life...lucky us, huh?  We talk about happier times; enjoying the days in the sun, our only care is where to have our next meal and what time the next tour might be.  We remember our walks on the beach and wonder if the people who live here still appreciate the beauty of this place?  Crystal clear beaches and blue green waters.  All these beautiful places we can remember like we were there yesterday, trying hard to remember like it was just yesterday, as the blood pressure machine kicks on and drowns out her soft voice on the phone.  We're instantly pulled back into Cancerland and the seventeen more rounds we still have to endure - trying to count this one as done, even though it seems to take longer and longer on each visit.

     I try hard to keep reminding her that this time next year it will be over.  At least this portion of the treatment and we should be enjoying recovery with some hormone treatment and follow ups...ok, so it will never be completely over, but this too shall pass.  And we can manage this, we can survive this.  There is so much cancer really cannot do, and those things are truly worth fighting for.  I hate that my wife has to go through this; but if this is the cost of admission, we'll take two please.

What Cancer Cannot Do

Submitted by: constancelynn from scrapbook.com

Author: Unknown

Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the Spirit.

Caregiver

     With the treatments building up, the side effects are increasing as well.  Amy is noticeably more tired and is spending more time down than up.  She hasn't lost her spunk and can still manage quite well.  I don't see her entering any 5k runs in the near future, but we weren't exactly following the Army's "Fit to Fight" work out plan when we started this treatment. 
     Heading into our 6th treatment, we enlisted the help of our first born to guide Amy through yet another eventful trip through Cancerland.  Our oldest is 15 yrs old and was blessed with his mommas eyes. 


Mother and Son

 A light shade of blue that show a hint of green with the color change of a dark green shirt.  Amy's eyes are hazel, but can darken green or blue with a clothing change as well.  For me and our younger son, it's plain vanilla brown.  Of course, neither of our boys have the nice blood shot red in the whites that I've been sporting as of late.  That keeps me in the running for joining the cast of Twilight or True Blood, assuming they've lifted the age and weight requirement...I can dream.
     The tasks of keeping up with chemo are plenty and, thankfully, our boys have done a respectable job of picking up the slack that we've incurred with the side effects of treatment.  With so much stress and pain caused with this illness, it would be a shame to overlook the blessings we do have.  Two boys that are quickly developing into young men are definitely top of our list.  Our little one is finding his way with his Boy Scout troop and young enough where hanging on his mom is still cool.  And Anthony is filling in my shoes and learning about a different role that most kids seldom see; the role of Caregiver. 
     The role of Caregiver in cancer is a complicated task.  Involving communication, knowledge, trust, and maturity - things teenagers are still learning and developing.  In treatment you rely on your Caregiver to make some decisions for you while you focus on the chemo.  Fluids, blood pressure, and allergic reactions to the meds are some of the things the nurse checks on; but you, the Caregiver, spend most of your time managing and watching.  A very grown up task for such a young heart.


      My sweet pink soldier was in very capable hands.  Anthony performed his duties with ease.  Reading to his mom from his World Geography book.  Just the comfort of him being there was a measurable impact that made the difference with her session.  I can't be at every single treatment with my shift-working schedule and knowing that my son can manage this task is a true blessing.  What will he take from this experience?  A sense of compassion and sensitivity for those dealing with the stresses of cancer, the understanding of what takes place at a cancer center, or maybe just the satisfaction of knowing that he was there when his mother needed him. 
     While a mother's love for her children may be fierce, loyal, protective, and self-sacrificing, the love those children share can be equally measured.  We are very grateful to be blessed with our boys who love their mother and will step into roles, normally not meant for them, when needed.  We are a family whose primary caregiver is hurting.  To offer love, compassion, and open arms is worthy of praise.  On this day, our oldest son displayed an unwavering resolve to support his mother and our family.  Today, he was our Caregiver.


Anthony in laughter

    

1Corinthians 13:4-8

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Moving Right Along

Who knew Chemo could be so much fun?




       Today was our 5th round of chemo and Amy seems to be getting into the groove, if the concept of driving poison into your veins to banish a bigger threat is normal.  Her restless leg like symptoms has been getting worse so the good doc reduced one her pre-meds to see if this would lessen this side effect.  Taking the Benadryl down to 1/2 seemed to reduce the amount of time suffered but she's still shaking like Elvis in the bed...I offered to bring in a life-cycle for her to work out the kinks and now she's expecting me to produce some type of peddling mechanism to keep her busy in the beginning - note to self "go get ice chips and keep quiet."  I'll have to work on that one.
     So I did what I could to keep her laughing until she wasn't able to take her mind off of the effects of the treatment.  Then I enlisted the help of Angelina and Johnny while we caught the middle of The Tourist.  There's really no way to get around the agonizing two hours of chemo infusion. With the required break times in between, to let the pre-meds take effect, with hopes of warding off any allergic reactions to the not-so magic Taxol that kills everything it touches.
     So the good news, actually terrific, is that her tumor has shrunk!!!  That's right, the meds our doing their job and our tumor measured in at just about 1cm.  This is a 2cm reduction.  Our follow up with our Oncologist was fruitful and almost enjoyable.  Dr. Boozer really is on top of his game and has a team of disciplines lined up for us.  We're very grateful to have him as our doctor and looking forward to our day that we can say "goodbye."  I have a feeling he feels that way, too...Amy made a point to tell him that he needed to focus more on her weight gain and less on her cancer - not kidding.  Pink what?  We're looking for Dr. 90210, not Dr. Cure All.  Oh well, the behavioral sciences ward is close if he needs some help with my little darling. Maybe he'll get a discount.
     So with another one under the belt, no pun intended honey, we celebrated at Santa Barbara's Italian and nestled in for a night of HGTV.  Sans a few of the usual side effects, we're moving right along.  Good night!