The Race is Run!

Races are run by conquering hills and valleys, moving forward through cramps and injuries, and fighting back when your body and your emotions tell you they've had enough.  Sometimes races are full of broken shoelaces, charlie horses and PowerBars, and sometimes they're full of Rituxin, Cytoxin, Prednisone, and PET scans. 
 

In both cases, we're done.

Just like bell-ringing day just over a month ago, today was another big day - the Big Cottonwood Half Marathon.  The Utah Leukemia & Lymphoma Society Team in Training racers raised over $29,000 for cancer research in preparation for this race, and that's not even the physical training.  It's been a wonderful emotional support for us getting to know the people and hear the stories of the LLS and Team in Training members here in Utah.  

Remember the research that events like these fund:  Dr. June in this video is supported by LLS grants.

With your help, Team Paulapalooza raised $2,000 - enough to support two runners.  Nick & Ty were "voluntold" by their wives that they were the lucky winners chosen to represent the family. :)  Neither of the guys had ever run a half marathon, and due to moves and job changes for both, they couldn't train much, either.  They pulled it off amazingly, though, and certainly made us all proud.

Those of us in the cheering section waited at the last water station with other Team in Training volunteers, and had fun encouraging all the racers who came past.  Lillian handed out high-fives while Megan kept count - 106 total! 

 

 

Thank you all for your love, encouragement, and support. Mom discovered herself talking about cancer in the past tense the other day, and that is a really big deal.  Races show you what you're made of, but for this one, we're glad all that's left is a little recovery.  Here's to moving forward. 

 

Lots of Love,
Brad, Emily, Jill, Ty, Megan, Lillian, Nolan, Jeff, Caiti, Lucy, Amy, Nick
&
Paula

WE ARE DONE!

Okay, so I'm running a little behind, since Mom's last treatment was more than two weeks ago...but we're still just as excited! After a whole summer of treatments, Mom can finally focus solely on getting better--which takes a lot of work! Best part? We don't have an appointment with the doctor until NOVEMBER! We love Dr. Whisenant...we just don't really want to see him so often.

The treatment went off without a hitch. First, we met with Dr. Whisenant. He was very encouraging, but realistic. He said she probably won't start feeling much better for a couple of months, and won't be able to say she feels "back to normal" until next summer. So it's not like we're actually done--but we're getting there. One of the hardest things for Mom during this whole ordeal was making herself go back for a treatment, when she usually felt pretty well by the time another treatment came around. Who goes to the doctor when they're feeling well, just so they can feel crappy for a couple of weeks? It doesn't make sense. So, although we're still in for some hard days, at least we'll be making upward progress, even if it's just a little bit at a time.

There's a "last treatment" bell at the clinic that you get to ring on your way out of your last treatment. (Okay, that was probably self-explanatory...) During treatment #5 (second to last), there were a couple of timid bell ringers. Mom said then that she was going to ring that bell with some enthusiasm when her turn came, and she did! Here's a shot of the occasion. It was a happy one!

This last weekend, Mom, Nick, and I took a little trip up to stay in my grandparent's time share in Island Park, Idaho. We spent a day in Yellowstone, hiked to Mesa Falls, and did a lot of relaxing. It was really great for all of us to have some time to relax and enjoy ourselves after a stressful summer, and before a stressful school year starts! 

 

One last thing, and then I swear, I'm done. :) This morning we REACHED OUR FUNDRAISING GOAL!!! Thank you all so much for your help in achieving the goals we set for ourselves this summer. We are so grateful for all of the love, support, and friendship you've shown. We love you!

We're Beating Cancer!

Just a quick post to say a BIG thank you to everyone who came out, donated, helped, or anything at our BBQ on Saturday! You guys are amazing and it was a huge success because of you! Thanks so much! Tonight we're getting ready for the FINAL treatment in the morning! Mom gets to ring the "last treatment bell", and according to her, she's going to ring it with all sorts of excitement! I'm sure we'll have a post in the next few days about the last day. 

Anyway, thanks to everyone who helped us celebrate on Saturday!!

      

  

Are you ready to party?!

We are less than ONE week away from Mom's LAST treatment!! Holy cow. It's so fantastic to be able to say that. It's been a crazy summer, full of a million different highs and lows. But here's the thing--it's almost over. It will be a few months before Mom really feels like it's actually over. It's going to take awhile for her to feel "normal." But in a couple of weeks, we can really say that it can only go up. Like Brad wrote, the word to describe how I feel is relief. Not enthusiasm, not really excitement either. Sure, there was inexpressible joy at hearing the news that the PET scan was clear. But there was also the realization afterward that, although a clean scan was the thing we'd all been hoping and praying for, it didn't signal an immediate end. I think that's been hard for Mom. Sometimes it's hard to be happy, enthusiastic, or excited during this time. The results of the scan have brought out some sort of conflicting and unexpected emotions. "Shouldn't I feel excited that I only have one left?" It's an amazing feeling to know that it's almost over--but it still isn't over. It's easy to feel guilty for not feeling grateful all the time. There's a difference though, between feeling incredibly grateful for answered prayers and feeling constantly enthusiastic. So that's what we've been working on reconciling lately, but overall, life is great! 

The reason for this post--after all that rambling--is to remind you of our fundraiser barbecue THIS Saturday at Lindsey Gardens in the Avenues.                                                                                          

                        

I can guarantee it's going to be a blast! Good company, good food, and-as far as I can tell-great weather! (The high is 88!) We'd love, so much, to be able to see all of you. To catch up, pig out, and share our celebration and gratitude with you. Will you do that for us? :) Hope to see you there!! Please share this post and the invite with your friends and family. We would love to see all of you!

Relief.

Is it possible that the spring, summer and fall of 2013 will represent merely a moment where a life, many lives really, were sidetracked by an invasion that seemed to spring from nowhere wreak some momentary havoc and then vanish almost as quickly as it came?  The idea seems sort of unreal and impossible right now, but maybe five, ten, twenty years from now Mom will think back and say, "Yes . . . that was scary, and the chemotherapy, that really sucked.”  And those of us who didn't have to live through the treatments, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot Mom had cancer.” 

It feels like too much to hope for, but I really hope so.

For now the invasion still looms pretty large, but some of that enormous weight was lifted this week.  It appears that my mom has had all twenty pounds or so of the lymphoma she once carried melt itself away, greedily eating up the Rituximab, Doxorubicin, Vincristine and Cyclophosphamide dissolving a once threatening mass into puny remnants her body could whisk away.  She still has two more rounds of treatment to complete (yes Mom, you have to,) but – and I think we’re all afraid to really say it, we don’t want tempt fate – the cancer looks like it’s gone.  This might really be over soon.

Here I feel compelled to qualify my happiness . . . contain my relief.  You know, "But what if it’s not."  That sort of measured reaction, not wanting to get my hopes up or be too happy, too sad, I think I get that from my mom.  But we should be happy.  This is exactly what we were hoping for.  Since the day we heard “Diffuse large B-Cell blah blah blah” hearing, “the PET scan is clear” on Tuesday was the best possible outcome.  So. . . YES!  What this means is unless something changes my mom has won her race.  She talked about being able to see the finish line, and I like that metaphor. One thing I’d add to it though, nothing is chasing her anymore.  The finish line is in sight and the competition has already dropped out.

What a relief.  I love my mom, I don’t like thinking about what it might be like without her.  This means I don’t have to do that so much anymore, which is a burden lifted, let me tell you.  Knowing that your mom isn't carrying around 20 lbs of lurking cancer inside her anymore feels good.  I know there are hard days ahead, and my Mom probably won’t really be feeling good herself for quite some time, but even if the hard part isn't really over, it looks like the scariest part is behind us.  Good riddance.

Monday Update

Just a quick update for today. We are anxiously awaiting the results of Mom's PET scan last week. She and Jeff are headed to see Dr. Whisenant tomorrow morning to find out if she will have just 2 more treatments, or four. The scan seemed to go well, and the technician even said, "I know I'm not a doctor, but this looks really good!" But we will wait for the final word tomorrow. Other than that, Mom's been feeling pretty well, with just a little nausea and fatigue here and there. 

One more thing. We are planning a fundraiser dinner for the 20th, most likely at Murray park. Save the date for some great food and great company! 

I also want to say thank you for all your love, support, prayers, dinners, visits, (I could go on forever!) it means so much to Mom and to us kids too! You are our strength and we love you! 

Paulapalooza's Birthday Party!

Whew! This week has flown by. After Chemo Treatment #4 on Tuesday, and Mom's birthday on Wednesday, it's basically Friday already! We started this week recovering from a big weekend in Idaho Falls for cousin Daniel's wedding. Mom was feeling great and we were able to spend time with lots of family and had a blast. Nick got to come for the weekend, too--so I was pretty happy about that! :)

My last post told about how the last few days had been a struggle. Right after that, Mom decided to call the doctor and find out if there was anything she could do to feel better, so they had us come in and then pumped some fluids in her. Who knows if it was the fluids, the timing, or a little bit of both, but the next few days were MUCH better! A week later she met with Dr. Whisenant, who did a great job of validating her concerns, and encouraging her to be optimistic for the last stretch of treatment. He reiterated the importance of the last two treatments in curing it, even if the PET scan comes back clear next week. He also told her that he is confident that the scan will come back clear. (A nurse told us the other day that he's the best doctor they have-and he wouldn't say he's confident if he didn't really feel that way) Hopefully, he's right, but only time will tell. She goes in for her scan on the 3rd, so all the good vibes and prayers you can throw at her would be much appreciated!

Treatment #4 went really well. It took the least time, so far, and the affects that day seemed to be less, as well. We're hoping that the last treatment cycle was an anomaly and it won't keep getting worse. They even let her get her shot the same day (apparently Medicare just changed the rules...again...) so she didn't have to get it on her birthday! Small victories. :)

Mom is so cool in her hat! 

Yesterday was great. Like a true grown up, Mom went to work on her birthday, and was happy to be able to feel well and get things done there. Then we all met up at the house and headed out to dinner at Five Guys before the Real Salt Lake US Open Cup Quarterfinal against the Carolina Railhawks. They helped make Mom's birthday great by winning 3-0. It was a fun game to watch and great to get out and relax with the fam. We missed Caiti and Lucy at the game, but silly over protective parents thought a soccer game wasn't the place for a 5 week old baby.
Sheesh... :)

We're prepared for this weekend to be hard again, but hopefully not as bad as it was before. If it is, though, at least we know that it won't last forever. She must be feeling great, because I'm signing off so I can eat a delicious-smelling homemade lasagna she just pulled out of the oven. Yum!

Wish Paula a Happy Birthday!

I know you're never supposed to discuss a lady's age, but I can't help but brag about Mom.  Yesterday she turned 61, and chemo and all, she's living as rip-roaring a life as ever.

HAPPY 61st, MOM!

Paula, Queen of the Hill!

This photo is from a trip we took to Zion National Park when I was expecting our oldest, Megan.  Becoming a grandma hasn't slowed her down a bit!  Meg (6) said once that she hopes that she gets to be a "young grandma" like Grandma Paula is - a grandma who climbs around on the floor and throws the kids around, and a grandma who has years and years ahead with her grandkids.

Just like on Scott's birthday, we've set a big goal: to raise $610 to celebrate 61 amazing years!  

In my mom's case, we have years of cancer research to thank for the fact that she WILL have many years to share with her family.   I just got off the phone with her, and we talked about the changes that researchers are hoping to make in the chemo regimen she's currently on.  In the near future, they hope to replace some of the chemotherapy drugs with immunotherapy drugs that will eliminate the side effects of hair loss and nausea. Can you imagine?!  This is the future we're fighting for - for our family and yours.

Please spread the word, and wish Paula a happy birthday by helping others to get through the same thing she's dealing with right now.

SOMEDAY CAN BE TODAY - HELP US HELP RESEARCHERS TO CURE THIS THING!

The Good Life

The other day I made these carrot sofrito enchiladas when my mom came over for dinner and some conversation.  They were pretty good if I do say so myself.  I based my dish on a recipe from Food and Wine magazine you can find here.  My mom liked it enough to ask for the recipe, and I decided to post it here because even though part of my mom’s life has changed and become about white blood cell counts and good veins and wigs and lethargy, mostly it seems like it's still about dinners and family and work and Skyping with the grandkids and the NBA Finals.  Same as it ever was.  Anyway here’s the recipe for you mom, and whoever else wants some.  You know you can’t pass up the endorsement from the woman with the compromised palate.

 I stole the photo from thekitchn.com since I didn't take my own photo.

Here's the link to that post.

CARROT SOFRITO

1 1/4 pounds carrots, coarsely chopped

1 sweet onion, chopped

5 garlic cloves, peeled, coarsely chopped

2 medium sized tomatoes, chopped

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Kosher salt

So, take the chopped onions, carrots and garlic and run them in your food processor for a while.  You want the carrots to get to a texture finer than a mince. 

Preheat the oven to 225 degrees.

Heat about half the olive oil in a large skillet or other heavy bottomed oven safe receptacle and scrape the carrot mixture into the skillet.  Cook it up for like seven or eight minutes stirring occasionally.  Meanwhile chop up the tomatoes and puree them in the food processor, then add that to the softened carrot mixture and continue cooking for another five minutes. 

Pour the rest of the oil over the sofrito and throw it in the oven.  Cook for an hour and a half or two hours, at 225 you could go as long as you want really, give it a stir now and then if you feel so inclined.

ENCHILADAS

About 2 cups of crumbled cheese (I used what I had in the fridge, some feta, some cotija, the recipe called for queso fresco)

1 cup finely chopped cilantro

3/4 cup finely chopped red onion

Canola oil, for warming

12 corn tortillas

Salsa (I made a chipotle tomatillo salsa, but I think any kind you want would be just fine.)

Mexican yogurt sauce (My own invention, mix some cumin (lots), oregano, cayenne, salt, pepper and lemon juice into about half a cup of yogurt.)  Alternatively you could just use some sour cream or crema.

Mix up the cheese, cilantro and red onion.

Pull the sofrito from the oven.

Warm up your tortillas.

Put a couple spoonfuls of the cheese mixture (1/4 cup at most) in one tortilla, roll it up and put it in a baking dish (9x13).  Repeat with all 12 tortillas.  Top the rolled tortillas with the sofrito, some salsa and any of the cheese mixture that remains. 

At this point you could serve the enchiladas, or you could do like I did and stick ‘em back in the oven while you get the table set or a side salad ready or whatever.  

Serve the enchiladas with the yogurt sauce/sour cream/crema and more salsa, maybe some limes and/or fresh cilantro.

Enjoy.  

Renewal

To be completely honest, the last few days have been hard. Like our friend Kerstin said, Mom's hit mile 16 in her marathon. She's already come a long way, but she has almost as far still to go. It's pretty hard to stay positive when you can't see the beginning or the end. Here are some things I've learned the last couple of days.

→Accepting God's will - especially when there's a chance it won't be what you want - is terrifying.
→It's okay to not be okay 100% of the time.
→Sunshine makes anything seem just a little better.
→Sometimes it's okay to be mad at God - as long as you continue to turn to Him in prayer, and continue to love Him.
→Being sad sucks, but sometimes it's just too hard to be happy.
→Chemotherapy, whether indirectly or directly, takes a toll on all the systems in your body, including your spirit.

Over the last few days, Mom has been hit hard with the fatigue that comes with chemo. If you know her, you know how unusual it is for her to lay around all day, not wanting to get up and do anything. You also would know how hard it is for her to be still. Other than the fatigue, Mom hasn't really been physically ill after this last treatment, which is definitely a blessing. In some circumstances, though, being physically ill would be easier to deal with than being emotionally ill.

Isn't she beautiful?

The good thing is we've turned a corner. Last night, after a long day, we decided to take a drive up City Creek Canyon and go for a little walk, since it was still too hot in the valley to enjoy being outside. Something about the sunshine, the mountains, and the cool breeze began a bit of a renewal. We are so blessed to live in such a beautiful place, where we can be up a mountain in 15 minutes, taking in the calm and serenity that comes from leaving a busy world behind. Today is better, still not great, but better. And that's what we'll do, just make every day a little better than the last. Hopefully, this will only last a few days, and she'll be back to feeling well soon. If she doesn't, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. It's really easy to become overwhelmed when we think about getting through this whole experience. I don't think any of us has the strength inside of us to get through something like this when we look at it as a whole. But we do each have the strength to handle one treatment, one week, one day, one hour, if that's what it takes.
 
A quick shout out to everyone who liked or shared our posts yesterday, and especially to those who donated in honor of our brother, Scott's 33rd birthday. We reached our $330 goal, and we couldn't be happier! There's still a long way to go, but it's nice to reach small milestones along the way. I continue to be amazed by the support and love poured out to us, and am so grateful everyday for it. We couldn't do any of this without you - thank you!

Scott's 33rd Birthday!

Yesterday our brother Scott would have turned 33 years old.  We've discovered that due to the leukemia research over the last three decades, Scott's specific diagnosis would be easily beatable had he been born today.  We need that research to continue!

In honor of Scott's birthday, we've set a goal to raise $330 by the end of today.  

 Click the link at the right to donate now.  

Thanks for your support!

That's not a lot of money, and we know you can help us get there.

Come on folks, let's make this happen! With a little determination, we can ensure that families like ours get to grow up together.

Fight Cancer with Team Paulapalooza!

Sometimes life calls on us to do hard things. Help us in our fight to take cancer off that list!

Our team of 11 is training for the Big Cottonwood Half Marathon in September to help kick cancer to the curb. NO DONATION IS TOO SMALL, AND EVERY DOLLAR COUNTS!

Thousands of studies go unfunded every single year. Research that brave doctors - and all of us - dream of goes undiscovered.Watch the story of the revolutionary (and a little crazy) idea that saved one girl’s life when she had run out of options.

Start dreaming with us!

Blood cancers aren’t just an abstract affliction; they’ve hit our family more than once. Our current fight is for our mom, Paula, who is currently undergoing chemo for Stage 3 non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, and will be hitting the trails with us and participating in the Big Cottonwood Half Marathon!

Let us introduce you to some the reasons we’re fighting blood cancers. Scott is Paula’s son, diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 2 months. He passed away 15 months later, in November of 1981. Paula’s sister Marci (left) was also taken by leukemia – leaving us in October of 2012. Her mother Fern (center) is also currently battling leukemia. Paula (right) was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma in April of 2013 and is currently undergoing chemotherapy.

We need your help for the future of our children and yours. Donate today and help us raise $1,000 per participant for blood cancer research! We’ll get there – even $5, $10, or $20 will help!

Mom deserves a medal

We have had a running joke in the family that there has been a wedding in the Fillmore family every other weekend for the past 5 months.  In one such of these weddings, Mom, Grandma & Grandpa, Aunt Toni, and cousin Steve made it in the mix, traveled to the big DC to kick off the marathon wedding season.  You can imagine the ragtag group, hailing from large cities like Fairbanks Alaska and Salt Lake City Utah where traffic often adds hours on to your commute, as they drove the streets of Washington DC and the surrounding areas.  On one such of the driving extravaganzas, Grandma was so impressed with my Mom's driving that she repeated multiple times, "wow Paula, you're such a good driver, you deserve a medal."  One other family member in the car caught on to the repetitive praise and encouraged the bestowal of a medal upon my mother.  They were unable to obtain a medal for my mother at the time but the repeated praise given by her mother (Grandma) that day served as a great story and the title for this post.
   For those of you who don't know (which you all should) May 16th is Paralegals day where we celebrate the hardworking men and women who assist and lead in the legal field.  They are often the glue that holds the firms, the lawyers, and the cases together.  Brad, Amy, and I attended with Mom a lunch at the Marriott Hotel in downtown SLC to celebrate my Mom as a paralegal and a medal winner.  Although about 5 months  removed from my Grandma's declaration of medal bestowal, Mom was chosen as the Utah Paralegal of the Year.  This is a little pic of her acceptance speech. She looks like a medal winner.  

One of the many impressive parts about this is she accepted this award not 48 hours removed from the start of the second round of treatment for chemotherapy.  48 hours ago she was sitting in a chair with an IV pumping a various mixture of chemotherapy drugs through her body.  The committee that had awarded her the medal asked her if she wanted them to say anything about her recent cancer treatments and she asked that the focus of the award be on those who have helped her throughout her professional life.  She hasn't asked us to stay mum on the whole cancer thing but I guess you figured that out by this blog.  She's always been a person ready to deflect the praise and spotlight others as they have endeavored through life.

In the 2012 Disney movie entitled, "Wreck it Ralph", the main character, Ralph, is the villain in an old school video game approaching it's 30 year anniversary of existence.  Ralph sees his video game nemesis, Fix it Felix Jr., receiving medal after medal for saving the community from Ralph's wrecking tendencies.  As any of us would be jealous of a little success of others, Ralph goes on a quest to get a medal and everything accompanied with it.  I won't spoil the movie but I'll tell you this much.  Ralph figures out something that Mom figured a long time ago: while medals are humbling and wonderful recognition of outstanding efforts, there is something far more rewarding.  It comes in attending a family wedding every other weekend whether it be across the country or in your own backyard.  She sees it as she has committed her life, her talents, and her abilities to a workplace that has influenced our family's life for the last 30 years.  We saw it on Thursday as she humbly and gracefully accepted her medal that she deserves. Thanks to you Mom.  Here's your medal.

Chemo Treatment #2

Yesterday was Day 1 of Round 2 of Mom's chemo. We started by packing a bag full of snacks, books, and card games to occupy us through the day. Then we headed out to the John and Karen Huntsman Cancer Center at the fancy-pants new Intermountain Medical Center in Murray, Utah. Blood pressure, pulse, temperature, and weight were all taken. Her numbers were all fantastic! Then we saw the doc who was, once again, surprised by how well she's doing! He could hardly even find the mass anymore (remember how it was 20 pounds!?), and was overall really thrilled with how she's been doing. He was surprised that she still had any hair at all! We attribute that to her voluminous mane--it ain't going down without a fight! Monday morning I chopped off her ponytail, so her remaining hair would be easier to manage.

A little crooked, but not too bad!

 Anyhoo, then we went into the chemo room and they took her blood (again, the numbers were great!) and started her on the anti-nausea and Benedryl. The Benedryl was fun! She kept saying that she felt like her reactions were all a step behind, and her words were coming out a little slurred. I told her it wasn't any different from the many nights she's dozed in the recliner watching House Hunters or Chopped. :) Then they started the Rituxan, which for most people, usually causes the most problems. They give you the Benedryl to counteract the common allergic reaction to the drug. But, Mom's a rock star of course, and took it like a champ. No problems! Then she got Vincristine, just a little push from a syringe, then Doxorubicin, which is bright red and they call it her "Kool-Aid." Finally came the Cytoxan, which really was the only one that she had any sort of reaction to. Just a sinus headache that went away within an hour after the treatment.

So that was our day! We were there for only 5 hours this time, as opposed to the 7 last time. She came home feeling pretty good, just a little wiped out from the day. We went for a walk in the evening when it finally cooled down!

 Here's a funny story for you! Two or three summers ago, Mom's house was broken into in the middle of the night while she was sleeping upstairs. Understandably, that really shook her, and she's since been more diligent about locking all the windows and doors at night. (So much so that she's locked herself out a couple of times!) Last night as I was going to bed she asked me to leave her door open just a bit, because since the break-in she wants to be able to hear if something is going on. Probably because she was thinking about it, she woke up in the middle of the night and heard a couple noises that freaked her out. So she got up, grabbed a stool that was still in her room from the haircut Monday morning, and started out. She stopped and thought, "Well if I get out there and see someone and throw the stool at them, then what will I do?" So she grabbed a curtain rod! She went downstairs, investigated, found no one, and decided there was no way she was going down in the basement alone in the middle of the night. So she fell asleep on the couch on the main floor, was awakened again by a noise and realized it was just the wind. She must of been feeling pretty good to think she could take on a house burglar!

We're expecting a few hard days later this week, but just like before, we'll get through them and start feeling well again. We've been amazed by the outpouring of love and support from family and friends.

 Here are just a few of the cards and gifts she's received. Thank you all so much for your love. We feel it!

Mark Her Words...

Right before I read this post by my mom this morning, I came across an old photo of her on Facebook, posted by a high school friend.  I'm late to the game, but couldn't help chiming in.

Her hair - her nemesis.  I have so many childhood memories of my mom trying to manage style her hair every single day.  It's the hair that fine-haired people dream of: thick, full, with an endless supply of curl and body.  For years she regularly went at it herself with thinning shears, leaving in the trash can what looked like a large beaver, with plenty still left on her head.

One morning last year while my kids and I were staying at her house, she came downstairs:  post-upside-down-blow-dry, but pre-flat-iron, with a mountain of hair flying every which way.  My 2-year-old Lil looked up at her, frozen with terror, and starting crying!  "Put it back right, Grandma, put it back right!" she bawled, burying her face in my shoulder.  My mom and I laughed until we were in tears, too... How I wish I had a photo of that 'do!

Nemesis?  Maybe.  But a well-controlled one, like a villain in a comic book who never even has a chance.  Wielding weapon after weapon - from embracing the bouffant in the 60s to a regular clothing iron in the 70s,  the giant velcro rollers of the 90s, and several different before-they-were-trendy flat-iron/round brush combos in the early 2000s, she's been showing that mop who's boss for decades.

So now we've hit a paradigm shift.  To quote her post this morning:  

"I liked my hair a whole lot more than I ever thought I did, and I will never curse it again!"

Fighting the frizz has conditioned you for battle, Mom, it's just that now the enemy has changed.   Don't worry, though - that mane will be back in no time!

Battle of the Hair

It has been a month since "the crack" appeared in the Christensen family planet.  I have to say that overall, it has not been nearly as bad as I feared.  And on those few days that it was that bad, it was mental/emotional pain, not physical.  I have learned that fear is the most difficult of all things to endure.  Amazingly, however, it is the one thing I feel like I have at least a small degree of control over, unlike the phyiscal part of this ordeal.  I have amazing friends and family, especially my four children and their spouses.  On the days, when I have let fear get the better of me, they have been there to hold me while I cried, talk me through my fears, and, eventually, make me laugh again.  Laughter is so much better than fear. 

The life I have led the last two weeks is not at all what I anticipated.  I have felt completely "normal," with a few exceptions.  I have learned a lot and am sure there will be many more lessons. 

• Did you know that the hair in your nostrils is what keeps your nose from dripping.  When you lose your hair, that hair goes too.  I now carry tissues with me everywhere.   
• Even though I feel normal, my body does not heal itself like it has for the past 60 years.  So, I wear gloves and shoes while working outside, and I am trying to be more careful.  Difficult adjustments for me. 
• I liked my hair a whole lot more than I ever thought I did, and I will never curse it again! 
• It's okay to be different (I'm still working on this one). 
• People are kind.  I have more friends and loved ones than I ever could have imagined.  I love you all and appreciate all of your kind thoughts, prayers, acts of kindness, and words of comfort.  Unless you have been here -- and I am learning that many of you have -- you can't know how that buoys me up and gets me through the week. 

Through the first round of chemo, my body reacted great.  The "tumor" is now maybe 1/6th the size it was (that's not a medical assessment).  I had some pain, was tired, had a sore throat, and felt "sickish" for about four days.  Since then it has gotten progressively better, and right now I feel completely normal (except my hair is falling out everywhere).  I was able to work regular hours last week and am still busy and doing normal stuff.   I start my second round on Tuesday.   
 
I am optimistic about winning this War.  I was feeling discouraged yesterday about my hair.  Then I realized that although Cancer was winning the Battle of the Hair, I really have won all of the other battles so far.  I feel good -- what more can I want right now (except my hair back).
 

there was a crack in the planet

For me it started with a voice mail.  I was in between classes when the digitized version of my mom’s voice told me, “I need to go to the doctor’s office at 4:00. I’m afraid it’s going to be bad news and I want someone to go with me.  Can you come?  If you can’t that’s ok, I’ll probably be fine. . . .”

. . .

There’s a scene in the movie Spanglish where the character played by Tea Leoni tells her husband (played by Adam Sandler) she has been cheating on him and then starts into a rapid explanation of what she thinks her motivation was and how it began and on and on. 

(just discovered this video isn't viewable on my phone,

sorry if you're reading this post on a phone.)

The things going on in my head after listening to the voice mail weren’t at all the same as what was going on in the husband’s head in Spanglish. The effect of hearing that my mom was going to the doctor’s office and was clearly scared was pretty similar, “there was a crack in the planet.”  My whole existence changed, I can only imagine how it felt for my mom.  There would be more, smaller cracks to come, the first time we heard a doctor say the word, “cancer.”  Then another doctor said “non-hodgkins.”  And “bone-marrow biopsy.” 

But the real paradigm shift was something I should have known all along, my mom is mortal.  She is and always has been an amazing army of one when it comes to supporting me, my siblings, her siblings, her extended family, people in her ward, people she doesn't know. . . you get it.   All of a sudden she was as fragile and vulnerable as I am, which is to say, probably considerably tougher than most other people in the world, but still.  Cancer is scary even when it seems like it’s one of the more treatable kinds, it’s scary.  Especially when it’s your mom who’s got it.

Angels don't have wings

I think not being very good at being sick isn't a bad thing.  Mom expresses this inability but is doing pretty well.  She got a little infection in her finger from a cut she sustained doing normal house work on any normal day.  Us cancer newbies are still learning that a few things are different and some changes need to be made.  We will work at it and wear super industrial gloves if we need to.

My mom mentioned a couple of times how she was impressed by this idea of guardian angels that have come up in a blessing to her daughter and a blessing given to mom..  Our animated imagery of this occasionally reverts back to our childhood perspective of guardian angels.  You know, the ones where angels dressed in some sort of glowingish white outfit who have large wings and fly back and forth protecting us from evil.  Mom probably has those too, but I'd like to focus this post on those who do not have wings.

They look like a text message from a friend asking if everything is ok, a phone call from a loving father making sure she made it home alright, or a visiting friend with a meal and some encouraging words.  They are those who take walks, send emails, or call for a talk, and most certainly they surround her saving her from evil.  Many of these acts I haven't seen, but I hear them through my mom or other angels that have stopped by.  I hear of a sweet prayer offered on behalf of my mom at the start of a relief society meeting.  I see it when neighbor boys hop the fence and start the lawn mower.  I feel it in a letter sent by mom's uncle.  Mom's text messages include the phrases from multiple senders, "R you ok?" "Just checking in" "How are things going today?" "Could I still stop by tomorrow?" "Thinking of you and love you."  It happens at work, it happens at home, it happens at water aerobics,  church, and family gatherings.

To extended family who have pitched in at baby showers, stopped by during chemo day one, locked me down in a death stare threatening me with my life if I didn't let them help, giving blessings, praying for mom, being with mom, and helping her to enjoy life in adverse circumstances: we say thank you.  I often think of one night I showed up at mom's house at 9:00 at night and several family members were there visiting.  There have been many experiences like this that she and we have appreciated immensely.

Brad & Emily, Jill & Ty with Megan, Nolan, and Lilian, Amy and Nick, and sweet Caiti, I think of you as the strongest of sentinels guarding our mother.  I've seen it in dinners made, walks taken, tears shed, packages, pictures, phone calls, blessings, airplane tickets, and unannounced visits.  I am proud to be the brother of the finest people I have ever met.

To those of you who have guarded my mother we say thank you for giving her a gift of friendship and love.  Know that she and we are buoyed by this.  It's supposedly the chemotherapy that is tackling her cancer treatment but I know it's you who is working on curing it.

Just an Update

I find myself having a hard time coming up with titles for posts, just like our friend Joe did on his blog about cancer. Maybe I'll get more creative as time goes on! Mom went in for her white-blood-cell-increasing shot yesterday, something she was a little anxious about because she'd heard it could hurt pretty badly. It didn't, though! The nurse said, "This isn't a scientific fact, and I think someone should do a study about it, but it seems like when the shot hurts, there's more pain later, and vice versa." So we're hoping, since the shot didn't hurt, she won't be in much pain over the next couple of days.

Mom told me yesterday that she woke up feeling so good she was giddy, almost like a school girl. (That image makes me happy!) She was busy all day, going on a walk with a friend, visiting a friend who is expecting and on bed rest, finding a place for firewood my grandpa sent,

A LOT of firewood

and grocery shopping. By the time I talked to her in the evening she said she could tell she was getting tired, but otherwise felt great! She did take a nap, though, which is an unusual thing for her to do! I told her she might be converted to napping after this experience, and have more in common with Caiti and Nick. :)

Tackling the Mountain

It's not that the height of the mountain changes, it's that our belief in the capacity we have increases.  Last night we spent the closing hours of the day uncorking some of the anxieties that the word cancer entails.  I mean what do you think of when you hear cancer right? A battle, a fight, a struggle, the worst, a mother, a brother, a friend, or a daughter.  Mom's always been a champion and taking on cancer is no exception.  It doesn't mean that she's not afraid of what could happen or how different her life will be over the next four months (or a lifetime), but it means that she never questioned about going forward to take care of the Lymphoma inside of her.  Today came, the base of the mountain arrived and away we went.

Armed with a dear friend (or daughter as the doctor guessed, props to mom for tricking the doctor into thinking she had such a young daughter)  and me, we went with mom to get the party started.  Doc spoke music to Mom's ears, "not in the Bone Marrow, not in the Organs, and mostly concentrated to the belly (although she did a pretty good number in the belly)."  This was one of the bigger fears that the cancer was actually worse than projected.  It's hard to describe the relief mom felt but a quite optimism filled her.  She remembered to breath, she smiled just a little bit, and then she started up the mountain. 

We moved to the chemo room filled with people of all shapes and sizes.  Many were quietly resting with their eyes pressed shut.  Another woman in a bright yellow exercise suit was writing cards.  Another woman, the companion to one of the other patients, spotted us as rookies and quickly helped us set up shop around the chair mom would spend her morning sipping on benadryl, a couple of anti-nausea meds, and a start in to the retuxan.  Kerstin and I staid until noon when Caiti, Grandma, and Grandpa showed up in full force (5 people around mom really made us look like the newbies).  G&G staid until Grandpa decided it was time to go pick up some of the many sticks that were around his front yard, Brad provided much appreciatd reinforcment and made her exercise after the long day, and Caiti brought home the victor.  

It's not that mom was the victor because she beat cancer, but because she saw inside of her an enhanced ability to tackle the mountain the lies ahead.  That's not to say she's a totally different person.  Trust me, there is no other person that benadryl works so well on.  But as the doctor said, we're "excitedly optimistic" about the prospects of mom responding well to treatment.  What we are perhaps as excited about is the part where mom, and us with her, come to see ourselves as more capable to tackle the mountains that life will bring.  Here's to one day at a time.   

Chemo: Day 1

After two long weeks of waiting to get this party started, today was the first day of chemotherapy treatment.  It was long, but started with the great news that the bone marrow scans had come back clear, and was fairly localized.  Mom was in great spirits and took the long day in stride, meeting new people and as the "chemo rookie," getting some good advice!

She came home and began walking on the treadmill, as she'd learned exercise helped fight fatigue.  All in a day's work, right?