Weekend-ing

                                                             From December chilling...

to June warming...

Excitement seeking boys car- riding-bickering... then finally... the fishing...

lots of catching and releasing...

new lawn mower mowing...

Hot tub dipping...

s'moring, "survivor torch" twirling, with mom eventually kaboshing... (oy).

and never enough- visual feasting... 

Mind clearing...

Clean air breathing...

Memorable sun lowering...

dipping...

soul searing...

And Daddy missing...

"Beauty and terror"

"Let everything happen to you 
Beauty and terror 
Just keep going 
No feeling is final" 
— Rainer Maria Rilke






My body betrays me over and over again.  123/83.  My blood pressure is not its normal, and it matches my rapid heartbeat.  My feet tap, tap, tap, the floor as my mind wildly chases thoughts stumbling over each other, "What if?  How much?  How come?  What if...?"  Lorazepam is no match for my trembling knees, and fidgeting hands.  Its called scanxiety, or scan anxiety and I have it bad as I sit waiting for Dr. Panwalkar yesterday morning.


He mentions my higher than normal blood pressure and smiles when I tell him I am nervous.  My labs are within in the normal range with the exception of my white blood count, but that is to be expected.  He thumps down my spine waiting for me to tell him if I feel any pain.  He makes it all the way down my back without me stopping him or flinching at all.  My breaths are deep and clear.  I have no dizziness, no blurred vision.  I am eating and sleeping well.  He tells me he will call me during my infusion the next day and give me the report of my CT scan.  He then smiles and says "you're okay."  "I think you are okay."  


I arrive in the afternoon for my CT scan.  I drink the contrast solution in the liter bottle over the course of the next two hours.  With a few swallows left to go, they call my name.  They insert an iv in my vein and walk me to the scanner.  I pass by the open door the MRI scanner and shiver as I quickly scoot past the door to the next room.  The CT Scanner is wide and open at both ends.  I lay on the table and they take some measurements.  A voice then commands me to hold my breath.  The table slides in and out.  They insert the dye in my iv and I feel a stinging sensation as warmth radiates through my arm, down my body and into my legs.  I slide in and out a few more times and suddenly they announce I am done.  As I stand up from the table, I breathe deeply for the first time that day.  


This time Lorazepam kicks in nicely and I sleep deeply all night long.

I awake this morning with more resolve and am less nervous.  Its infusion day.  I have questionnaires to fill out for the study.  I also have to fill out a new consent form as the verbiage has changed some.  Another 10 tubes of blood need to be taken today and the nurse sets to work getting the right label matched to the right tube.  


Kathy, my research nurse comes in.  She closes the door and comes to sit by me.  She has the results of my CT scan.  She is serious looking and I notice I am holding my breath.  She gets right down to business.  


"There were three "spots" on your liver.  Two of those spots are no longer detectable.  The third one has gone unchanged and therefor they are concluding its a cyst.  Your liver is clear."


"The spot in your spine was 18 mm and is now 13mm."


"The mass in your breast has shown a slight decline of .2 cm."  


"No new lesions or masses were seen on the scan."


I realize I am searching her face to discern if this means what I think it means...  She smiles as I realize it does...the treatment is working.  TDM1, the "super herceptin", or the miracle drug... is working miracles in me so far.  At any time, it may stop working, or the tumor can build up a resistance to it.  But for today, its working.  


A few moments later Dr. Panwalkar calls me as promised.  He carefully repeats each bit, line by line as I let it sink in further.  When he gets to the part about the mass in my breast he says with confidence in his voice, "well that, we'll just cut out if it continues to stay there.  That is not a big concern to me."  Then he repeats his parting words to me of yesterday, "You're okay, he says, "you're okay."  


I hang up from talking with him as sweet tears of relief slide down my cheek.  I am cautiously believing him.  I know I still have a long road to travel, but for today, I rest in the knowledge I am okay.  


"Eucharisteo—thanksgiving—always precedes the miracle."
— Ann Voskamp (One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are)

Retreat

Colton's teacher, Mrs. Larson, retired last week from her teaching career.  The kids had written her letters describing what they had come to enjoy about her class the past year.  It was touching to see them pour their second grade thoughts and ideas into a letter.  My favorite one was from a boy who said "I hope you have a happy "re, re, retreatment..." we all laughed, but the truth of it stayed with me.  Those second graders know more than we acknowledge sometimes. Knowing Mrs. Larson, her only retreatment is truly from teaching at the school, as her children and grandchildren will now be the lucky recipients of her time.

I too have had to retreat a bit.  I've been able to only be very part time chauffeur to the boys, with Rick filling in for me as his schedule allows.  I felt a bit redeemed when after the first day of running the kids to their activities he came home exhausted!  He tried, for about a minute, to explain just what it was like... but slowly it occurred to him I might know just a bit what it is like.

No sympathy required for us, we do this willingly to ourselves every year.  I'd rather engage the boys in activity,  than watch them turn to Xbox and Wii and sitting at home fighting with each other.  So instead its hockey camp, golf, baseball, and for Nolan an extra dose of "dry-land" training with Joe Cullen.  He crawled home from baseball Monday night and asked if he could just go straight to bed!

In between washing loads of baseball pants and hockey gear,  walking with the neighbor, and a bit of running the boys around, my retreat has taken place on the couch.  A bit of a power nap and most days I am ready to go again, but some nights, the fogginess doesn't leave my head, and the heaviness in my legs nags me on into the night.  I drift off to sleep, and dream of even more retreatment... like cancer cells retreating from within the tumors, within my organs, within my mind- my dreams, from within me.

Next week we'll see how well the cancer cells truly have retreated.  I have a litany of tests Monday including a CT scan, and a meeting with Dr. Panwalkar.  Tuesday is infusion day.  

Only one big part of my life has seen no amount of retreatment.  All of you showing up here and in my life every day, cheering me on.  I've had meals delivered to my door almost every day this week- awesome, tasty, and nourishing meals!  I've gotten touching and oh so thoughtful notes brought to my door, or delivered to my mailbox.  The warm hugs I receive everywhere I go.  The phonecalls, texts, emails and visits have not subsided. You all have continued to show up and lift me up and I almost feel repetitive in my 1,000 gifts journal, because you all are there in the pages every day, multiplying my blessings and filling my life with gratitude galore.




A big thank you to Colton's Godparents, Curtis and Jennifer for sending him and Nolan the perfect preserved memory- a blanket with our photo on them.  You'd think it was the middle of winter for the amount of time we all "retreat" with our blankets in the early evenings.

Team Vicky

Courage is tiny pieces of fear all glued together.  ~Terri Guillemets




I have a permanent smile today, tattooed to my face.  Just try and take it away.  I couldn't be more proud and impressed with this special group of kids.  We've assembled a AAA hockey team to play in the North American Pepsi Cup hockey tournament for 5 years now.  Our first year skating our kids had never played in a full ice game.  They had very little concept of what "offsides" was or how to pass the puck to each other, let alone any idea of what the penalty box was like.  We were blown out of the water by teams with a score of 21-0.  It wasn't pretty.  But each year we've improved.  As their passion for the sport grew, so has their skill and development as players.  After last year, we knew we could at least compete with the others.  


So we were all excited for this weekend again to play in the Pepsi Cup.  We had three practices as a team.  Most of these kids play on 3 different teams throughout the year, but they are almost all born in the year 2000.  


I fell asleep shortly before the start of the first game and arrived after out team was down 1 goal.  But very quickly they mounted a comeback and the announcer was calling them something I couldn't quite comprehend.  It seems that on the program they were called the M & M team, but they had been asked to be called "Team Vicky," in honor of me.  It was the first of many surprises they had in store for us over the weekend. 

Colton, Nolan and I. 

Friday, after coming from behind, we won our first game.  In between attending graduation parties on Saturday, we played two more games and won both of them, securing a place in the semi final game.  If we won the morning game, we would go on to play in the championship game.  Team Vicky persevered!  We won our way into the championship game and faced a team we had played already form Grand Forks.  






Here we are forming a cheer tunnel for our players.  They were fired up and excited to play!  A big trophy is on the line!  Could this be our year?  The year of the pink breast cancer ribbons emblazoned on their jersey's and helmets?

Parker with the puck...

Gavin with the puck...

Colby stickhandling...

Landon firing a rocket shot...

Kade with the puck...

Ethan with the puck...

Griffin with the puck...

Clay taking the puck... Clay's dad was in the hospital recovering from a tough gallbladder surgery.  His mom videotaped the games and brought them to the hospital so his dad wouldn't have to miss seeing him play.  Clay had at least a hat trick in most of the games and inspired most of us with his phenomenal play.  A very wan and pale Craig arrived out of the hospital in time to see the team play in the championship. Clay did not disappoint... in fact none of the boys did.

Nolan with his pink taped stick and the puck... he managed one goal in the semi-final game.

Tommy scoring!  We are now up 3-0, with Clay having scored twice already. 

Carter, the other reason we won so many games, making a big save, which he did time after time for us.  He was rock solid in the net and went on to shut out the other team 3-0 to win!

Team Vicky is the 2011 Pepsi Cup champion in the boys open 2000 division!  Way to go Team Vicky!!

Notice who is asked to be in the photo?  One proud momma and all "her boys" who demonstrated to her what courage and strength and fight is all about.

Team Vicky's locker room door! 

Hoisting the big trophy and taking turns kissing it, just like it was the Stanley Cup...

The coaches, in the background, who were very humble, but are very deserving of our gratitude for leading the team to conduct themselves in a manner we were all proud of.  Thank you coaches!

Speaking of courage, this one took a stick to the chin and was lucky that it only scraped him, but he went  back in and continued to play.  Most of our kids got pretty banged up at one time or another but they fought on.

Rootbeer floats afterwords on a beautifully sunny day.  

Our youngest and biggest fan sporting his Vicky bracelet! Poor Andrew was such a trooper as he sat squinting away the sun so we could finally get a shot of his bracelet he wears so faithfully every day! 

You'd think that was the end.  Sunshine, rootbeer floats, and a Pepsi Cup Championship Trophy... could it get any better than this?  Well yes... I was summoned to the locker room... it seems somehow, the person they had decided to designate for keeping the trophy... was me.  I feebly tried to deflect a bit, truly wanting the boys to have a place where they can congregate and look at it whenever they want.  But they were having none of it.  Parker said "we did it for you!"  They were selfless and generous and so full of heart I get a lump in my throat every time I see the trophy.  Team Vicky is living proof that strong will, tenacity and all heart are what you need to conquer the major obstacles in life.

I came home exhausted.  In need of a soak in the tub and some rest.  As I crawled out of the shower I went to comb my hair.  I watched as strand after strand tumbled from my head.  I pulled again, and a clump came straight out of the side of my head.  Its the beginning of the "thinning" of my hair and we'll see if I eventually lose it altogether.

Courage is tiny pieces of fear all glued together.  ~Terri Guillemets

But its a tiny piece of fear, and I still have a permanent smile with a whole lot of courage behind it, which is much greater than a fistful of hair.  

Team Vicky Rocks! 

Stuck in the blender...

I think my life is in blend mode these days, its seems that green smoothies aren't the only things that come out of my blender.  I have days where my emotions get tangled inside.  When I get too far ahead of myself, they threaten to whirl off into space, and I've learned to jam the on the off switch and change my direction as quickly as possible.


Some days its my brain that feels like its stuck in the blender, chemo brain is no joke.  Mostly I look at common objects and struggle with what to call them, and sometimes names won't come to mind.  But mostly its my daily life that is becoming a blend- normal every day life, like planting spring flowers, taking the boys to their activities, and doing laundry, with a heaping side of all things "cancer."  It goes a little like this...




Notice that so far "planting" of flowers has not happened, only "buying" and "hanging" flowers.  But normal spring activity nonetheless.

Then theres a knock at the door and this arrives.  I've been warned its a brutal regimen, and I have no plans for attempting something like this, but I've also heard this is a great read... so here I go...

And along with a little Lance, some more Kris Car.  She is like the EF Hutton of cancer, if she is talking, I am listening! 

Had to throw in this extraordinary example of normal... Rick's company does the yearbook for our kids' school and they turned out so well.  They are completely fun and cute books!  The drawings were done by the students and each child got to do a self portrait that is printed below their classroom photo-- so clever!  They had extras and even they sold out yesterday shortly after noon.

And this showed up, along with vinegar and soda for cleaning.  But I have no idea who?  We found it in a Target bag in our garage... and the mystery of who brought it remains.  But thank you!  I'm reading up on how to go about using them to clean.

Hello new staple in my diet.  So there is something called the Budwig diet.  Its the name of a German Scientist who discovered a process that happens when you blend flax oil with organic cottage cheese.  The oil takes away all the cheese properties, while combing with it and forming a new compound that helps a body rid itself of cancer.  But really, you just have to google it and make up your own mind.  I think its worth a shot.  It tastes good and helps me feel like I am doing something good for myself.  

Each day I make strides in learning a little more, and then trying to assimilate and blend them into every day life.  But so far, my bloodwork is showing signs of improvement.  Whether its the chemo, or diet, or both, its slowly making a difference.  But I can only understand when the values aren't what they should be...  so now I am tackling a foreign language -lab results for chemo patients- wow, fortunately when I don't get it, I can just blame it on chemo brain and people just nod in agreement.  There is always a silver lining when you look for it- even when you're in blend mode.