Sideways...

We're tiny minutes late, going to see Dr. Foster.  I'm ready and I'm not.  In a "who knows why?" last minute flurry I change my necklace.  Instead of my vertical cross, I choose the sideways one.  Mine has become tarnished from wear.  But, it feels right.  

Especially when it feels all wrong. 

 Dr. Foster is pleasant, but brisk.  He smiles and answers when I ask how his hockey season was and then he inquires about the boys, but quickly its back to business.  

I tell him we can "forgo" the gown if he'd like, but no, he says he'll consult his notes while I change clothes.  So I'm waiting again as I quickly change into a gown.

He returns.  Examines me thoroughly, in much the same way Dr. Panwalkar does.  He finds nothing.

He says, "Go ahead and get your street clothes on, and then we'll discuss treatment."

And then I know.  

I run my fingers over my cross.  The sideways cross, reminding me of the one He carried.  Reminding me, that He plus me, will carry whatever is to come.

Long minutes later Dr. Foster returns.  

"Well, this isn't what I wanted to say."  

The room starts to fade from my sight, as everything slows, again.  I've been here before.  

Hearing what he doesn't want to say, what I don't want to hear, what I don't want to tell you.

The cross reminds me, He has been here before too. With me.  

"A new spot has appeared on your brain, 8 mm, a distance from the old spot, but deeper in your brain."

And then we go over all the things that don't add up.  I feel fine.  I look good.  I have already had a response to the Xeloda.  Its been 14 months since we treated my last spot in my head and typically more spots would have appeared by now.

So, I gather I'm not typical.  

"Biologically, your cancer is behaving in its own way, in it's own time."

I tiny smile to myself as I recall Dr. Panwalkar's words about my PET scan as "not terrible."  

Now I can add, "not typical."  

I chose the sideways cross, perhaps, sensing my news was a little sideways too. 

I have 3 options.  

Watch and wait, re-scan in a couple of months. 

Have a new "Jason" (Think Friday the 13th movies) mask made.  Screw my head onto the table.  And shoot a one-time targeted shot of radiation at my brain. Again. 

Or, radiate my whole brain.  

I ask for some time.  To think.   And talk to Dr. P.

In the meantimes, you will probably find me near the laundry room floor, on my knees.  

Emptying... to fill again.  

Colton's 11th Birthday!

Colton, can you wink?  Or 20 seconds that is one of my all time favorites.  

Dear Colton,

You were such a "big" baby we called you "Bubba" for the longest time, but to see your long and lean limbs and torso these days, Bubba just doesn't cut it anymore.

You are your mother's son.  You are the peace keeper, the calm maker and the care taker.  You have bonded to me fiercely and are the first to throw your arms around me unabashedly.  I love how open and generous your spirit is.  You're the first to curl up with me when I rest and then you look at me with your big doe eyes and long lashes and say so sweetly "Can we please watch Chopped?"  It doesn't matter what I am in the middle of watching, how can I resist those eyes?

Those same eyes that laser right through when you are mad.  Your nose crinkles at the top, your eyes light on fire and then your nostrils flare- we call those "Power Ranger" eyes and whoever is you target is in trouble when you reach your boiling point.  But so often those big doe eyes fill with crocodile tears first, and when they start to spill, mommy is the first thing you seek.  My heart always beats an extra beat when I see those tears that melt me on the spot.

You're funny as heck and crack us up with the things you say. I went back and found this little gem from several years ago.  We called it... 

Dear Colton's future wife,

When Colton tells you one day that "meatloaf" has chocolate spread over the top of it, could you just go along with him?  Oh, and nod your head when he tells you his mother made it with ham? I've stood on my head so many times trying to get the boys to try various dishes I make for supper.   Colton has always had an aversion to meat.  But I am learning that if you give a dish a creative name,  like "sugar-and-chocolate-covered-no-thats-not-meat-underneath-surprise-loaf," you stand half a chance that they will take a bite.  So what if he only heard the "ham" part of the hamburger.  And I can get by with calling brown sugar and ketchup "chocolate."  Please, future wife, forgive me. 

The little turkey ate 4 pieces and swears its his favorite meal EVER.  It was such a hit, just wait till you see what we're having tomorrow night...  "hey-thats-not-tuna, noodle casserole,  with yep- those-are-green-skittles-inside."  

Bubba Jack- I love you to the moon and back. 

Love,
Mommy

I will be having my mri of my brain today with sedation.  I will most likely sleep the rest of the day.

Thank you to everyone for their prayers!  Scan results with Dr. Foster tomorrow morning~ 

All shall be well~

rescuing...

I'm guilty of it without realizing it.  I "tell it like it is," sometimes.  I write a post. Spill whatever is going on.  Release it.  Feel better when I don't have to carry it anymore.  Then move on. 

And then I expect that my blog friends will come and commiserate, cheer me up, pray for me, or laugh along with me. End of story, right?

But the part that continues to just floor me every time?

Is when someone does an additional thing.  And rescues me when I least expect it.  

I get calls, texts and emails with offers of help.  "Can I help?"  

Like Jenny, and Nicole, and so many others after my post on Friday. 

Nicole reads about the boy's birthdays and my lack of getting anything done, and then contacts Jenny who bakes and decorates cakes.  

So in a matter of a couple of exchanges, the boys have a cake scheduled for a surprise arrival. 

And shoot- the two girls were so cute appearing at my door yesterday- why didn't I reach for the camera?

So for Mother's Day we grilled hamburgers and had Grandma and friends come over for Birthday Cake.  Could there be a better way to celebrate the day?  

Jenny has a facebook page for her cake business.  Its called Baby Cakes and so worth your time to check it out!

As if cake weren't enough- I had one more unexpected gift on Mother's Day.  I stumbled across a new post in my fb feed.  A Roger Maris Oncologist has started a blog.  I clicked right over... and

And really- you should just go read.  I was so surprised! Its a short introductory post, but you'll see why I was left humbled.  Plus, its a blog that I think so many people will find insightful and helpful and inspiring.  

Dr. Shelby Terstriep's blog:

DeCoded

I'm feeling better!  I adjusted my meds and it helped.  One more day and my second round will be complete!

I have sedation and a brain mri on Wednesday...  Dr. Foster on Thursday and we have another birthday boy to celebrate!  

Happy 11th Birthday to my Colton Jack! 

Happy 13th Birthday Nolan!

Dear Nolan, 

How in the world could it be that you are turning 13 today?  THIRTEEN!  I guess to look at you, I could say you are 13 going on 23 - what with the facial hair, and the fact that I now have to look up to see you - as you are officially taller than me.  

I was so proud of how you navigated this morning.  You wanted to go golfing - and the 30 mile an hour wind was not going to stop you.  You called a friend's mom,  asked for a ride, and then called the golf course and made your own tee time.  You ate, fed the dog, and got everything ready to go.  Where did my "little" boy go?

I know I scared you last night.  I forgot you were still up. I got up out of bed doubled over from sharp pains in my stomach.  I heard the worry and concern in your voice as you helped find Dad.  I needed the help of Dr. Google, and strong meds to combat another tricky side effect of Xeloda.  But you stood strong, holding me up, instead of running away.  I both hate that you have to see that, but can tell, its growing you into even more of a kind and compassionate soul.  

You've added such a richness to my life buddy.  A bold, yet soft, tangled, but beautiful, sensitive, and strong, thread to the fabric of you and I.  I always knew when my due date was "Mother's Day," 13 years ago, that you and I would be forever bonded in a special way.

My body is weak today, but my heart is filled with all things you.  You ran outside waiting for your ride  as I sat at the kitchen table, resting my head on the coolness of the wood. Lickety-split you ran back in, pulled me up, and hugged me.  Big.  All of you, wrapping yourself around all of me.  

And that will always be enough buddy, to see me through.  You are always more than enough.  

I'm reaching back today- to my favorite Nolan story... 

I have an entire journal filled with "Nolan" stories.  No story however, comes close to topping his story about God and the sunburn.

When Nolan was three he had gone to play the Sunday golf game with his dad one April day. It was unusually warm that day and got up into the mid 60's. It was just warm enough to catch us off-guard and Nolan experienced his first sun burn. Oh did he howl when I gave him his bath that night. He could not fathom how that red had gotten on his skin. We put some ointment on it and put him in bed and he was much better in the morning. 

A few days later after his bath he came to me. We'd had one of those days. I was in bed, emotionally drained and exhausted. Its hard to be three. Its even harder to be a parent of a child who is three. I was startled to see him creeping into my room. His eyes were downcast. His voice was somber and serious. "Mom, he said, his voice filled with resignation, "I think I'm dying." I got up from the bed. My mind started to spin. 

I said "Nolan, what is wrong?" 

"My skins coming off," he said. "I must be dying." 

I said, "Nolan, what have you been doing? Did you get into something? DID YOU PUT SOMETHING IN YOUR MOUTH?" 

"Oh mom," he said, "Every day I do. You tell me not to, but I do. I just can't help it. 

"What Nolan, tell me what you put in your mouth?" 

"I ate grass once," he said. "I eat dog food all the time. Oh, and I licked the bottom of my shoe. Yesterday I tasted the side of the car and its pooey mom, don't ever put your tongue on it!" 

By now I am trying to hold my sides that are jiggling from the laughter trying to escape. 

"Now my skin is coming off. Mom, I'll probably be going to heaven tonight. Don't be sad."

I am leaning over inspecting what I realized is the peeling sunburn now and hugging him at the same time.

"Oh Nolan" I managed to choke out.

As I go to get some lotion he tells me he has to use the bathroom. I holler at him to close the door and wait for him to return. As he comes around the corner he is smiling. "Mom! I've got it," he says. "Do you think God goes potty? Because if he does, and he closes the door, I'll just sneak down from Heaven when he isn't looking and give you a hug so you won't miss me too much." 

And with that he ran back to bed. 

He is a keeper that one. He tries our patience, and manages to find our last nerve some days. But the joy he brings, the laughter, the unique way of being in this world. He is more, and with that, we are more too. I can't wait to have the rest of this journey with him.

We love you Nolan!  Happy 13th Birthday!

Wild~

The Excel Energy Center hours before game 4 of the Playoffs.

Rick's panoramic photo of the packed Xcel Energy Center.

I'm slowly acquiring the posture of "embracing."  Of leaning in and trusting that despite going outside of my comforts,  I can feel okay.  In fact, how I feel, can take a back seat if I am willing to propel myself right through.  

So on Tuesday, we embraced the opportunity to surprise the boys.  We picked them up from school early and had their bags packed and ready for them.  As an early birthday present for both boys, we got them tickets to the Minnesota Wild Playoff game.  It meant pushing other obligations to the side for awhile.  It meant lots of rescheduling, canceling and opting out of other things.  But... we just knew it'd be worth it.  We'd never gotten to see our own #7, Matt Cullen play in the playoffs before. 

The atmosphere was electric.  The Wild had just won at home on Sunday and we all were looking for a repeat performance.  The white towels waiting for us across our seats swung wildly through the air.  We stood more than we sat for the first period.

But when our back-up goalie was injured, and the first shot went in against us, the Xcel Energy Center slowly deflated.  Despite repeated power plays, we couldn't find the back of the net and the Wild lost to  the Blackhawks in game 4.  Last night, the Wild lost in game 5 of the playoffs with Chicago, and are now done for the season.  

The Wild went from a lockout all the way to the Stanley Cup Playoffs in a year fraught with a roller coaster of up and down moments.  We're so proud of our team!

As we customarily do, we used Hotwire to find a hotel room.  We've figured out that we can secure a room, at a 4/5 star hotel for a fraction of the cost of their usual rate.  We just don't always know what hotel we will end up at.  

The Commons turned out to be a real treat.  Even though we arrived late, crashed and had to leave first thing the next morning, I managed a few shots of some of the cool features I loved.

We arrived home Wednesday night.  By Thursday, I was so tired I couldn't muster enough energy to get out of bed.  

Today, here I am, one day before my son's 13th Birthday- two days before Mother's Day and 3 days before my other son's 11th Birthday, and I have nothing ready.

So I am going into the sun-filled day, embracing all that awaits as we plan our next few fun-infused days and praying for energy enough to see me through!  

life begins...

Clearly, I went way outside of mine, on Saturday.  Writing is one thing, but speaking to a large group of women?  A little daunting. 

But my mother, with her sister Carol on the left and her sister Marlene on the right, were there to help ground me and center me  as I shared my faith story.

As usual, my brain was running on the slow side... my beautiful cousin Pam also came and offered to shoot most of these lovely photos you see.  I, however, was not quick enough to turn the camera around on her- so let me just say how I honored I was to have her and the rest of my family show up.  

The theme for the women's brunch was blessed assurance.  The room was decorated in a springy and colorful way that shed some light on all the gray and cold outside.

Aimee, on the left was diagnosed last fall and shared about how she felt so covered in prayer and how that helped her through.  She shared witty stories of her journey and how a new normal is settling in.  And the young woman, Kylee, in the middle is just 16 years old.  When she was just 3 weeks old she was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer.  Its propelled her into thinking she will go into medicine and wants to live a life of service.  She is planning a relay for life event on Saturday, May 11th at Moorhead High School.  

The beautiful plant we each received for speaking.

I think the sharing of my story went well.  I wove together bits and pieces of how it seemed to begin shortly after my father passed away in 2010.  I had chosen the word "Alive," to start off the new year, and was diagnosed with stage iv breast cancer 3 months later.  My faith grew exponentially after that and I shared a little about how that came about. 

I worked relentlessly last week on trying to cohesively explain the major bits of my journey.  While I accomplished some of it- I was surprised by how much of the story, seems to still be waiting for me to fully recognize it. 

Perhaps, I need to take the time to revisit this chapter again and see what else it is I need to discover- to know- to understand.  

While I was speaking, Nolan and his team, the Jr. Spuds were skating in a hockey tournament in St. Cloud.  They won first place again!  So proud of these boys- so bummed to not be there.  

So Colton and I hung out all weekend together.  We went to a movie, found out which baseball team he is on, and went to hockey practice.  We ended our weekend with one of our favorite things- breakfast for dinner.  

Speaking of "outside your comfort zone," I'm feeling the yucks again.  But, I am slowly incorporating yucky into every day life and its oddly starting to feel somewhat like normal.  

Blessings on your week everyone! 

Around the corner...

“You never know what's around the corner. It could be everything. Or it could be nothing. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, and then one day you look back and you've climbed a mountain.”

― Tom Hiddleston

I'm sitting in the exam room waiting for Dr. Panwalkar.  A steady flow of people pass by the open door.  My heart lurches a bit- the tiniest bit-every time I think it might be him.

Its always sudden.  Around the corner and in two strides he is in the room.  He sits down right away and starts looking at the computer.  

My blood work is good- reflecting that yes, I am having chemo with some elevated numbers, but nothing of concern.  

So he asks if I'd be willing to increase the dosage of Xeloda since I managed the last one okay.  The question of why is hovering about, but he is busy calculating percentages to tell me what to take.  He then smiles at me suddenly as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and uses the calculator on it to calculate how much he wants me to take.

Its a small amount really.  He assures me I can stop if I start having major side effects.  And I yield to his wisdom and trust.  I don't really need to know why right now, I'll just do.  

I notice how peaceful I feel.  

I cue off of him, he off of me.  I think we're okay.

He says he'll walk me to infusion.  

And as we round the corner, my friend Carrie, who works as a receptionist at the clinic, almost collides with us.  Dr. Panwalkar is in the midst of saying we'll keep watch over you to see how you do, and Carrie says, "Oh boy- you better!  Her and I go way back!  I hear him say "you do?" as she presses into me for a big hug as she continues... "and we need you to take very good care of her!"  

He then wraps his arms around my shoulder and hugs me and assures Carrie he will.  

Then we proceed around the corner.

I sit waiting.

When my name is called I am ushered into a corner of the dugout.  A bed is hunched against the wall tightly and a curtain is pressed in all around me.  I feel cocooned.  

I settle in with a warm blanket and angle the bed so I can sit up.  I'm about to drift off to sleep when around the corner a face emerges.

My favorite volunteer, Sandy.  Sandy had been taking care of her elderly and sickly mother and was gone from the infusion center.

I inquire about her mom, and she lights up saying "Oh she is Home, with Him, and free from suffering and pain."  Sandy is visibly filled with light.

And then she inquires about me and I tell her.  

And without saying a word, she closes the curtain all the way around and leans over me, grabbing my hand she prays- whispering grace filled words, covering me from head to toe.  I feel the sacredness of the moment.  

As I am leaving the infusion center,  I walk past 3 nurses, I haven't see in awhile.  More hugs, more reunions, more grace.

I went to infusion on a Tuesday thinking I'd get knocked down by a dose of chemo.

But instead I was infused with love.

Buoyed with faith.

Steeled with Grace.  

"...you never know what's around the corner..."