One little word... 2017

It probably started with the coffee stain.  It repeatedly caught my eye as I trudged up and down the arena steps.  Somehow a sticky dark substance had spilled, and run and trickled into a little pool, in the exact shape of a heart.  I pondered if it was picture worthy?  But I simply smiled and huffed my way past each time, the image seared in my mind.  It's funny how these little tiny things, can somehow have such a big impact, if you let them.  But let me back up a couple of weeks,  and explain a bit more...

I heard someone say the word normal can only be found as a setting on your washing machine.  Touche.  Yet I was determined this Christmas to come as close to "normal" for our family as I could. But the abundance of blessings we felt from friends and family, was beyond the confines of that simple word.  I'm not even sure when it began? Just one thing- which led to another thing...

For the longest time, the surprise arrival of this tree ornament was a mystery to us.  But the delight of someone making a family heirloom piece we can put on our tree each year, is treasured by me.  It made perfect sense when our friend Ria mentioned it to me- she is after all the vision behind the photos that continue to make my heart soar.  Thank you, Ria.

And when the hockey loving sons, receive cool hats and t-shirts from Teags & Ry, how can we not feel special?  Their product line continues to expand in such fun and unique ways!  You'll have to just click the link to see for yourself.  Thanks Alyse and Jayme!  

With boxes and cards arriving continuously,  the magic of the season grew daily.  I treasure this handmade clock from my sweet friend Peggy in Missouri.  A vintage card carefully decoupaged on this wooden piece with my favorite shade of blue in the background.  It's sitting next to my computer desk so I can see it daily.  We loved the goodies you sent us- so thankful Peggy!

Eileen, in California, sends us this beloved vintage hockey calendar each year.  It's so authentic, it makes you want to walk right into the picture and lace up your skates.  So touched Eileen- thank you!

The hockey stick and mask ornament have been on our tree for many years- but the surprise of the orange spud ornament was just perfect.  Thank you, Heidi!  The boys love it! 

Linda's box arrived with this sleigh wrapped in plastic, and a bottle of sparkling cider that happens to be Colton's favorite.  I tucked the sleigh under the tree to open for Christmas.  It was filled with goodies and fun things.  I miss my mom and the way she would make Christmas so special for us- and Linda helps me feel like my mom is right there with us after all.  To the moon and back, Linda.

From the 10 dozen cookies we received from a cookie exchange- so yummy and fun to eat- to the gift cards for our kids- beyond touched by everyone's thoughtfulness- we truly had a meaningful and memorable Christmas.  

Nolan's been living in a story that I could write about for days.   But he is 16, and placing his trust and confidence in his mom.  So when the young man of few words says he "feels like he needs to go to church- to feel better?"  Its all the gift I really need from him.  He raises his candle high and I hear his voice ring out... and I just think, "Let it shine, Nolan.  Always remember to seek the glow of the light when you feel alone in the dark." 

Even Santa celebrated the birth of baby Jesus on Christmas Eve.  Oh my heart.

The tree and I seem to have shrunk over the years, as the "3" boys continue to grow.  But those smiles simply say, we had a joyful Christmas with so many friends and family with us in spirit and some in person, as well.

With a couple of days to recover... we were soon off on a trip. 

It wouldn't be Christmas if it weren't for a hockey holiday tournament in St. Louis Park.  I was thrilled with feeling well enough to travel with Rick for 3 days, to watch Nolan play.

Thankfully, my hidden secret was this espresso coffee machine in the hotel.  It was truly like a coffee house version of a cuppa joe and gave me the added boost of energy to engage each day.

I relished the sun and warmth not so typical for late December in Minnesota.

Despite using a handicapped sticker for parking, I was struggling for air by the time I walked inside the arena on some days.  Standing at the boards to watch leaves me with cramps in my toes and legs later in the evening, so I climb the stairs to sit.  Slowing if I need to, but always pushing through.  Just keep going, I tell myself.  Nolan and I share this feeling of straddling the line between two worlds, wondering where we fit?  Is he Junior Varsity?  Is he Varsity?  All he can do is keep showing up, just like me.  

On our last day, Nolan texts me that he'll play Varsity his last day, due to an injury by one of his teammates.  Its always bittersweet.  

 I pull my suitcase out to the car, and can't seem to breathe deeply for a long time afterwards.  So I sit on the nearest bench in the rink, conceding, I need just a little help.  And our hockey community rises up to offer water, and to walk with me when I'm ready.  

I climb the stairs, and as I stop to gather my last bit of resolve- there it is again.  The coffee stain shaped like a heart, sitting by the very step I've stopped to rest.  I've been drawn to it yet again.  So onward I go.

And somehow Nolan is feeling it too.  He skates fast, and gets knocked down along the board drawing a checking from behind penalty for the other team.  But he bounces right up.  Onward he goes too, strong and determined.

Then this...  the next move he goes backhand and sinks the puck into the net!  

His teammates celebrate with him, as my heart soars.  We go on to win the game. 

It's sealed when he comes out of the locker room with the hard hat on.  The goalie, his friend Lance, awarded it to him.  It's a tiny moment, with a big impact that's helped propel us forward yet again.

We're home again, about to begin "chemo nesting."  I'll have labs drawn early Tuesday morning, and a visit with a nurse practitioner, then infusion on Tuesday.  

But I linger here, in my new quiet computer space.  What should my new word be?   What has been made abundantly clear to me,  at the "heart" of everything, just like that coffee stain... is one thing.  So why not just lead with my heart?

As we head off into the new year of 2017, my one little word is love.  

Part of me now...

Happy (a bit late) Birthday, Superman.  So thankful, you share your heart with me!  Aren't the heart shaped sparklers cool?  It's like love on fire, literally.  And here we are, side by side, through it all. 

Would you believe the sparklers were a part of a"goodie bag" for my first role in a documentary?  If you go to imdb, and google my name?  The documentary I was beyond honored to be a part of,  "Part of me Now: Living With Breast Cancer," will pop up.  We're just waiting for the director, Emily Gerhardson, to announce how we can all see it.  She's done an amazing job from start to finish in getting this project out into the world- so many film festivals it has gone to- we're just hopeful it gets picked up somewhere!  

Thanks to Ria for capturing this at the end of our photo session last August- somehow she always finds the best light.  

Speaking of light- I've spent days and days going through photos we took in and around Pittsburgh.  The light was simply stunning and the leaves were in full color.  I've formed such a deep connection to feeling "alive," when I spend time in nature.

 “I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, ‘This is what it is to be happy.’”

—Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

So many places and activities we savored in Pittsburgh have continued to stay with me... despite how much I had to concede and surrender along the way.  It became quite clear when we arrived back home, the toll so much of this "journey" has taken on me.  Two days after we arrived home: 

Tuesday,  November 1st, 2016

Roger Maris Cancer Center

He strides into the room, his voice booming, "Hello, Vicky, how are you?"  Then he stops mid-step.  One look at my face, and his whole demeanor changes.  I have yet to truly say anything, but he reads me in that moment.

"Ohhhh, what is going on with you?"  Dr. Panwalkar's face falls from smiles, and registers concern, as he scans my face.  His voice softens as he sits down, but turns to look at me as I try to answer him.

"I just don't seem to bounce back like I once did."  I shake my head, and say, "I just don't know what is going on with me."  He starts to run through the list of questions about fatigue and appetite, sleep, and breathing.  

My appetite is good- but my tolerance for so many foods is limited.  I feel sick, after I eat, with a tenderness in my lower left side.  I still eat.  I'm just never sure what will set my stomach off.  I can certainly use meds to calm it back down. But soon the gnawing sets in again.   It's just a vicious circle.  I can't see clearly enough to cut a clean swathe through the maze.  And really?  The bigger question?

Are my symptoms treatment related?  Or is it cancer progression.  My blood work actually looks good.  Although my tumor markers have climbed yet again.  

He thoroughly examines me, asking questions as he goes head to toe. 

He's nodding his head when I offer, "that small inner voice is telling me to scan."   

 Dr. Panwalkar helps me sit up, then goes to sit and begin the process of garnering approval for a PET scan, and a brain MRI.  Soon, we shift to discussing what a new treatment might be.  

He mentions going back to Taxotere, since I had a good response to it, and we quit before it stopped working, due to my intolerance for the side effects.   He also mentions another chemo agent I'd done before- Halaven.  

And then, mustering much enthusiasm, he mentions the one I've blocked from my mind- Adriamyacin- also known as "The red devil."  

I'm nodding my head, understanding the gift of knowing I have options, while also sliding right into denial, so that I don't have to focus on the toll those options can take on a weary body and spirit.

He also mentions looking into immunotherapy trials and asks where I'd be willing to travel?  "Anywhere," is our answer.  But just days later our insurance agent informs us my new policy will only allow me to have treatment at Sanford in Fargo.  I try to cling to gratitude that I can still at least find a policy that will take me on, despite its limits, and expense.  

Dr. P and I conclude our time together, and he ushers me out of the room and walks with me to the infusion waiting room.  He stops and motions towards the seating area, but then looks at me, and rubs my back as he smiles and simply says, "See you in 3 weeks. We WILL get to the bottom of this."  

So I get up each day and I try.  Some days it's merely hours later, and I'm back in bed, down for the day.  But each day I push a little more.  

After a day of resting at home, I take a chance and attend the steak fry fundraiser for the Moorhead hockey team.  I even managed to eat half my meal and felt so encouraged to see so many friends attending.  I manage to clean house, spend time outside with Crosby, and work on this blog post.  Stringing all of these moments together crafts a sort of "seat belt" that tethers me in place, for the curves we endure on this tenuous ride.  

At the end of our trip to Pittsburgh, we go to say goodbye to our friends, Matt and Bridget Cullen, after the Penguins come away with a big win. Smiles abound.  We've had such a great trip.

Those light-filled eyes, and big smiles, from the bigs and the littles, melt my mother's heart.

We're pulling out of the parking lot after the game, when the car with the little boys stops.  Their Dad says, "I have some pretty sad young boys who have requested just one more hug from the big boys?"  

He has taken the time to stop, and they all unbuckle and tumble out of their car seats... as my big boys jump out of their seats for that last big hug.  The littlest guy looks up at Colton, tears streaming, "l'll miss you!   Please come back again soon so I can see you!"  

Out of all the moments, so very many of them, its this one I tuck away in my heart forever.  

My brain MRI will be Thursday with sedation at 1 and scan at 2.  Then the PET scan will be at 730 am on Friday, with injection at 730 and scan at 9.  

How can I pray for you?  I will bring a list and pray fervently for anything on your heart and mind.

~All shall be well~

because it's the Cup

I awoke last Friday with a prayer of gratitude uttered from my sleepy self,  Thank you, God.   The big day is here!  And you've given us this beautiful, sunny, summer day at it's finest, to celebrate.

I could hardly wait!  We'd been happily consumed for weeks with executing the little details for Rick's role in the Celebration of the Stanley Cup with Matt and Bridget Cullen.  But first, it was time for the arrival of the Cup!  

It's 6:15pm when we arrive at the Barn at Five Lakes Resort.  

I simply brought my cell phone to shoot a few photos, wanting to just soak in the moments with all the friends we knew we would spend our time with.  

We knew we were in for something special... we had NO idea just how special!! 

But it's 6:30 when Rick and I discover we each have a voicemail message from Rick's Dad, Jim.  "Please call as soon as you hear this."  

We step out to the back of the barn, Rick ahead of me on the phone already.

 I have visions of Crosby having a seizure, or something to do with one of the boys.  Nolan, our new driver?  Colton?  My heart thumped wildly.  Jim wouldn't call if it weren't something we needed to know right away.

It's moments later that Rick appears, his eyes glistening.  

It's my cousin, Randy Gerdon.  Randy died unexpectedly at home- sometime during the night.

I'm instantly in shock- I couldn't have possibly heard that right?

What?  What just happened?  Not Randy.  He is young, 45, the father of 4 kids, husband of beautiful Sara.  NO, how can this be?  

We take a few moments to gather ourselves. Heartbroken. Few words to say to one another.  The knowing etched into our faces, with a shroud of shock all around. 

We slowly work our way back to the party, numb.

 We hear the whispers of the Cup arriving soon.  And we decide we have to stay in this moment.  We have to push the loss of our cousin off to the side tonight, for now.  Because if you knew Randy?  He'd completely agree.  Often the "life of the party," kind of guy that he was, he'd tell us to celebrate. 

Rick and I, having lived with the unknowing, uncertainty of the day to day with surviving cancer, we have learned to compartmentalize.  We've learned to shelve things, labeling the book, and only pulling it out when we need to. How else would we get through it all? 

So, somehow, we slowly stepped back into the warmth around us, the beauty of the landscape, the laughter of friends, and a once in a lifetime kind of weekend just beginning to unfold.  

Just moments before, I was giddy when I saw Ria, who would be shooting photos for the night.  My excitement mounted as I fully know the talent and vision of Ria will capture the purely "magical," feel that enveloped me as I approached the event.  For a true taste of the stunning shots that Ria took of the event, you would not be disappointed by a visit to her Facebook page here: rialeephotography. 

And who is the second person I run into?  Bridget Cullen.  We try to move out of the sun for a quick photo, because Matt and the Stanley Cup are arriving soon and she is on her way up the hill.  And yet, she doesn't hesitate to embrace me first, and linger for a quick photo.  

The crowd gathers.

Bridget, with Matt's mom, Nancy, who will go and greet Matt and the Cup when it arrives...

Matt and the Cup have arrived! 

After a few photos outside with the cup,  Bridget and Matt spent a few minutes shooting photos upstairs, and then the rest of us find our way up to see where the cup will reside the rest of the night.

My first time photo with the cup.  Matt won it with the Carolina Hurricanes in 2006, and with the Pittsburgh Penguins 10 years later in 2016.  It just doesn't get any better than this.

Moments later Matt embraces me and I tell him I'm choking back tears- because if I start, I may never stop.  So Bridget joins us and we're honored and humbled to be amongst such generous and giving people.  I'm sensing the ripple effects already beginning to flow out from all the blessings that abound.

Rick and I then move back outside as dinner is ready.  But first I grab our friend Julie for a photo.  The bracelet on my arm says, "I am blessed."  And the bracelet on Julie's arm?  Is the pink one made from skate laces by our friend Pam in my honor, over 5 years ago- and Julie has never strayed from wearing it.  She is the epitome of generous, thoughtful, and beautiful.  I'm not just wearing "blessed," I'm feeling it.

We then gather outside and feast on the smoked pork, and salads, and tasty food.

I can't even say the last time I have seen Jen, so its a treat to catch up with her- we pick up right where we left off.  

Everywhere you turn is a beautiful area to see and explore.

My sweet friend Nikki - it isn't often we both have a free night- but I'm grateful every time we do.  

I couldn't get enough of the golden sunshine,  mingled with laughter and celebration around every corner.

The sun went down and we gathered inside.  The champaign bottles were open and the Cup was filled.    And we watched as family members drank, and Cully's Kids Foundation members drank.  It's truly the dream of anyone who knows the reverance and prestige associated with Lord Stanley's Cup - to simply be close to it.  

But the Cup will leave at midnight for that night, and its close to that.  I've held back from drinking, but Matt smiles and gestures to me once more, and this time I will.  The Cup weighs 35 lbs., and so Matt and his brother Joe, along with his brother Mark looking on,  help tip the cup as I lower myself to drink.  Oh the sweet taste of victory.  

Walt, the keeper of the cup, has come along for this trip.  He shares with me that so many of the NHL players choose to celebrate the cup with a few family members and friends.  But Matt and Bridget's generous spirits humble me so, they desire to share the cup with as many as they can.  

Rick and I leave shortly after the Cup does, we have an hour drive back home and yet another big day ahead of us.

But look what is waiting in my messages when I arrive home?  A beautiful photo from Ria- a shot of the barn in all its glory, with a Superman standing next to me.  I'm overflowing with gratitude as my head hits the pillow this night.

The next day, was the day the Cup got to come to Moorhead, to the Youth Rink and every Moorhead hockey player was invited to come and have a photo taken with Matt and the Cup.  But first, Rick took one group photo of all the kids with Matt and his 3 boys in the center!  

I had forgotten my own phone and camera that day.  So Rick set up a chair for me and I sat and watched as Matt smiled and posed, for just over 1200 photos in 4 and 1/2 hours.   Our boys were the very last ones to go.  Matt's smile was every bit as genuine and sincere as it had been for the very first shot. 

(This will be the look of the photo that each Moorhead hockey player will receive. ) 

One of my favorites. Matt has a genuine gift of meeting you, right where you are.

 And he never stopped.  He did not take a break, ask for anything, or say no to anyone.  He brings professionalism to a whole new level.  Because I'm not kidding.  He took a half hour break to eat, and then went outside and brought the Cup to another huge crowd.  

Just look at all the people- the line was all the way around the building!  And Matt gave even more of himself as he took photos until 8:30 that night, for a Sanford sponsored event.  

A few of us, went off to a local restaurant to gather for dinner, and await Matt and the Cup.

Nolan was excited to see Ben, Matt's cousin.  Ben and Nolan are high school rivals on the ice, but friends the second they get off.   We're so excited to have the chance to watch them continue to play in the years ahead. 

This guy was all about the Cup.  He threw his arm around it and admits he kissed it. He posed for all kinds of photos with the Cup.  That grin is coming from the sweetest spot within that boy.

And this guy too.  No shortage of smiles this day. He is so 16 and I was not going to know all that he was thinking, but that smile spread across his face all day long too.  

Colton shows me where Matt's name is from 2006.  Soon, his name will be added for another time.


In so many ways, even though Walt was officially keeping tabs on the Cup, it felt like Matt was the keeper of the Cup in a way that weekend.  He lifted it, he tipped it, he offered it, thousands of times, to whoever stepped forward to partake. Matt has a way of staying present, and entering the moment with who ever is in front of him.  That ripple effect, of Matt and Bridget, giving so selflessly from such an authentic place, just keeps rippling away.  They're more than leaving their legacy, they are living their legacy, moment by moment, showing us all how we can too. 



It's Thursday now... 

Rest in peace, Randy Gerdon.  It was standing room only both, for your prayer service, and in the church yesterday at your memorial service.  We wore our Husker Red for you, and read all the scriptures you had highlighted in the bible, and laughed as much as we cried.  Clearly, you were living your moments full, too!  I have no doubt your joy-filled legacy and that hearty laugh will go on in all of us always.  GBR!