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.