October Feelings

It's funny; if any of you were to be standing in front of me and ask how I am doing right now, I would tell you I am doing fine.  And I am.  I'm working at my job again (and that is a good thing), my laundry is mostly done, and my house isn't too messy. I'm off of that horrible diet so I can eat chocolate again, and my kids are not hating school or their new teachers.  Derrick and I are doing fine.

And yet, every time I sit down to write lately, it is sad.  There is a disconnect somewhere.  There is 'the fine me', sitting here writing.  I feel pretty good, no headache, don't feel like crying, don't feel upset or mad or really any negative emotion.

Then there is the 'three o'clock in the morning me' that wakes up every single night and thinks and thinks.  Lots of anxiety.  Am I doing enough?  Am I trying hard enough?  Am I being a good enough friend?  Good enough mother? Good enough wife? Sister and daughter?  Human being? Anxiety over past mistakes.  Anxiety that I will never be good enough for anything.  That I will never be as strong as I should be.

And then there is the 'me when I am by myself at home, on my couch, by myself'.  Everything feels pretty futile.  I have 'what is the point' mentality.  Of course I know what the point is.  But there is only a 'point' if I am strong enough and good enough.  And it feels like I fall on my face pretty much all of the time. 

Then I'm back to feeling fine.  Fine is a good place to be.  But it is unreasonable for me to just expect to sail through this month (or life in general) and just get to feel fine.  In fact, I can't think of even one friend who isn't going through something really hard right now and having their own struggle.  This just happens to be my own particular struggle.

Since the middle of September, every day corelates to what was happening at this exact time last year.  We went to our assembly in the end of September, and it reminded us that that was the first assembly Mom couldn't go to because she was just so sick.  September 28th was the day Derrin turned 11, and it reminded me of calling him last year from Mom's house to ask him what being 10 felt like.  Last weekend was the anniversary of the first time we gave her the strong pain medication patch that took away her pain but also her ability to talk.  And now every day is a memory of a day in a string of days that progressively became darker and darker.

This time last year was one of the hardest my family has ever gone through.  I can't describe what it felt like to watch Mom fading away.  I remember looking in the mirror and seeing a look in my eyes I'd never seen before, and I couldn't make that look go away no matter how hard I tried.  It was so surreal to see real suffering in my own eyes.  It was heartbreaking to see that suffering in the eyes of every other person losing her too.

When she died, there was grief, but it ended that horrible period of time, that month of unendurable suffering.  We grieved, but we didn't have to exist in a world where our mom was hurting anymore.  There was a relief in that.  I never had to walk into that house to see her hurting on that bed again. 

It was like the fire that was cancer had taken five years to reach us as we were all bound above it, knowing what the inevitability was.  We fought as hard as we could to put the fire out, but one day it reached our feet.  Then it took a month to consume our bodies as we dangled there, not able to do a thing to put it out, just twisting in pain as we burned.  And then the fire had nothing left to consume.  And we were burned and scarred and hurting, but we weren't on fire anymore, and I was relieved. 

And every day I woke up and I wasn't on fire anymore, I was relieved. 

I still don't know that I'm done feeling relieved, and the fire has been out for a year. 

Maybe we are just far enough on the other side, that under the scar tissue old nerves are starting to reawaken. We spent a lot of time watching the fire build under us. That sort of thing really takes a lot of attention. Fear is a powerful thing.

The first six months after, I didn't stop moving or running.  Running makes me feel better.  It is a tangible thing that I can do to FIGHT despair and guilt and depression.  It makes me focus on and appreciate the fact that I can BREATHE, that I have this body that is still alive and has the ability to feel good, feel pain, struggle and sweat.  I have a heart in this body that still pounds when I make it. 

I haven't been running so much these last couple of months.  I need to get out there again and remind myself that I am alive and breathing.

I haven't even really done any photography this year, not like before.  Maybe that is another thing that needs to be picked up again. 

Writing helped before too.  It's easier just to write about what's going on in our family life, and that serves a purpose, but when I started THIS particular blog, it was called 'The Lamentations of a Girl from Paradise'.  Sometimes lamenting needs to be allowed.  In my life I can't just talk about this stuff.  There needs to be a place to put it.  Tonight it is going here.

The Last Fight

I know I've written about this before, but I've just been thinking about Mom a lot today and needed to write it again.

This morning on the way into town, for some reason or another, I had a flashback of a phone call with hospice I'd had about seven months ago. I was in the back room at my parents house where I'd been staying for the last week or so to help take care of my mom. She was sick, and had taken a decidedly turn for the worse. She'd had Stage 4 Colon Cancer for four years. It had been four years of fighting, first with chemo and surgeries (which is a whole other story), and then with natural medicine and a special diet (also another story). She'd lived far longer than the doctors had thought possible. She'd outlived the projections of every website and message board I'd visited in my obsessive need to understand what we were up against. Her CEA (tumor marker) numbers had stayed low, and nothing had showed up in her monthly exams for a long time. Then the numbers did start to go up. Then, after three years of nothing, they found a new spot on her liver. It only took four months to go from finding that small spot, to my being in that back room on the phone with a lady from hospice.

Mom had been getting intravenous fluids that whole previous week. As weak as she was, we would help her get dressed, get her to the car with one of us on each side to keep her from falling, drive her to the hospital and wait the two to three hours to get the fluids and then repeat the process to get her home. We'd done this every day for a week, but the benefits of the fluids were starting to be countered by the difficulty of the journey. She was just getting too sick to make the trip anymore. We'd been talking to her doctor, to the hospital, to anyone we could think of to figure out how to get the fluids to come to her. We felt certain there had to be a traveling nurse, or someone who could administer the fluids. If the problem was that insurance or medicare wouldn't cover the cost, we were all more than willing to pay for it. We just needed someone to be willing to do it.

When I asked the lady from hospice if that was something she could help us with, instead of answering my question she asked me some of her own: What did I think was really going on? What did I think the fluids were going to do for my mom? Would it be better to keep her going long as we could, as she got sicker and sicker? Were we doing this for her, or were we doing this for ourselves? Beyond these questions, we discussed that Mom's body wasn't really benefiting from the fluids as well as we'd hoped. Her liver and kidneys had already begun to shut down, and we knew she experiencing fluid retention and swelling. The fluids we were fighting so desperately for were doing more harm than good.

I had one of those moments right then where the blood thunders through your ears, the air gets sucked out of your lungs, and time slows down. She was so sick. Every day she was getting sicker. Of course we knew she was going to die. But until that moment, we'd been in fight mode. This was the first moment I realized the fight was really over.

The lady on the other end of the phone waited until I stopped crying, and then we made arrangements for her to come over and talk to the rest of the family. We'd been fighting this disease aggressively as a family for over four years. It was going to take some professional help to transition from that all consuming fight into helping our Mom let go and... die.

She came over and we all gathered around the couch where Mom was laying, and we talked about the fact that she really was dying. It was singularly the saddest discussion I've ever been a participant in. Everyone went out and left Renae and I alone with Mom. We talked more about how this was really it. We told her how much we loved her, and how we would be there with her through it all, and then we would be there to see her on the other side.

I wonder how she felt at that moment. I think about that moment a lot. I regret that moment sometimes. I wish we'd just stayed in denial about the fact she was really going to die so we'd never had that discussion. Once it was out there, it just seemed like any fight she had inside just went away. She was just ready for it to be over with.

Renae, Steph, Brandon, Cookie and I all took shifts staying with her and Dad. At first we were still gently trying to get her to eat and drink, but in retrospect that still may have been our lingering need to fight for her life. Eventually even that stopped.

I would stay for two days, and then leave for one or two. I would go to work on the days I was away. Work became somewhat of a sanctuary where my mind could be otherwise occupied. Then I would drive the hour and a half back to my parents. I would feel the heaviness become worse and worse until I drug myself up their steps and into their house where I would see her again.

We'd brought a hospital bed into their living room, so I would see her the minute I opened the door. Every time I opened that door, it made me want to recoil in horror. Our mom was lying there in that bed dying! It couldn't have felt more surreal. By then she was drugged and asleep, and unable to talk very much even when she was aware. It was a living, waking nightmare we couldn't escape.

A strange, numb, detached-ness decended upon me. I've never been like that my whole life. It was like my brain just shut parts of itself off. I felt made of stone.

We held her hand. We brushed the hair out of her face. We put chapstick on her lips and swabs of water in her mouth. We told her how much we loved her over and over and told her we were going to be okay. We promised her we would never stop talking about her to our kids so they would always remember her. We talked about our hope for the future when we would all be together again and she would be healthy. I hope that she felt some comfort from us being there with her. We knew she was scared; her brow and face would be scrunched up with anxiety and pain, even though she couldn't voice it. The best we could do was give her the shots of pain and anxiety meds that hospice had left for her.

The last time I saw her alive, the truth is, I knew it would be the last time... I should have stayed. I should have stayed. I should have stayed. But when my niece came over for her shift, I left. To escape the horror, the impending doom, and the despair, I went back to my house. The next morning I talked to my niece and she told me that Mom's hands were getting colder, and I knew I should go back. I knew the signs of impending death by heart; I'd read them over and over in hopes of preparing myself. But I didn't go back. I went to work instead. Renae called me at work to let me know she was at Mom's. She held the phone to Mom's ear so I could tell her that I love her. She couldn't talk, but I could hear her breathing loud in an attempt (I choose to believe this) to communicate with me. Renae then called Danny, and a similar conversation happened.

Renae was on one side of Mom holding her hand, and Cookie was on her other side holding her hand when it started to happen. They both told her it was okay to let go, and then she did. I am so sad I wasn't there when it happened. I am also so grateful I wasn't.

Tonight as I was tucking Derrin into his bed, he asked what he and Kloe should do if there was an earthquake and Derrick and I had been hurt very badly (or worse).  It shouldn't have been too surprising of a question; we've been discussing disaster preparedness ever since the earthquake and tsunami in Japan.  It still caught me off guard though.  In every one of my senerios I've thought out, the common denominator was me.  I'd be there to take care of the kids.  I'd be there to know where our emergency supplies are, and what phone numbers to call for help or who I could track down for help.  I'd be there.

It must be human nature to think of death on the terms of losing someone else.  It's too hard to think of not being there for someone you love during their time of need.  It makes me think of my mom.  She never really believed she was going to leave us.  I think she was torn between being so tired of the struggle to beat that cancer just one more day, and just wishing things could go back to the way they used to be before she got sick- just being able to focus on her family and life without having to worry about every bite of food she put into her mouth and remembering to take the hundreds of pills she took every day just to keep going.

What a "Green Drink" Does That Makes It Worth Drinking.....

...even though "some" people (i.e. Derrin and Kloe) say it looks icky and tastes funny....

I blend this stuff all together every morning and chug it down.  It is worth it! My energy is so much better on days I do this, my skin feels nicer, I can run better, think better.... my emotions are nicer...:)  Highly recommended.... (thanks heather, for telling me about this...)

Ingrediants

 Kale: http://hubpages.com/hub/Health-Benefits-of-Kale
Unusually high in fiber, excellent for vitamin A, C, and B6, Calcium, potassium, folate, antioxidants, fights cancer and heart disease

Carrots: http://www.organicfacts.net/health-benefits/vegetable/health-benefits-of-carrot.html

Helps with blood sugar regulation, great for fighting cancers, helps vision, great source of fiber...

 Blueberries:  http://www.womenfitness.net/blueberries.htm

Blueberries ROCK.  Not only do they taste good, but they aid in fighting infections, fight colon cancer (and many other forms of cancer),  fight belly fat (*!* just found that out), fight heart disease....
cranberries:  http://www.suite101.com/content/the-health-benefits-of-cranberries-a40863
fights infections (of course), fights bad cholesterol raises the good kind, fights both heart disease and cancer, helps with digestion...
bananas: http://bananasweb.com/bananas/Health+Benefits+of+Bananas

Immediate and slightly prolonged source of energy, improved mood, relatively high in iron, fiber, Eyesight Protection, Healthy Bones, highly protective to kidney health, prevents high blood pressure, Bananas are high in B vitamins that have been shows to improve nerve function.
Many people report that rubbing the inside of a banana peel on a mosquito bite is very effective in reducing itching and swelling. (*!* just had to include this because it's AWESOME)

Run for the Health of It!!!

We did our run today. It was so fun to both be running again and to be together with loved ones. Last year this run enabled three people to pay for colonoscopies who otherwise couldn't have. That is awesome! It felt so great to be out there running again- definitely what I needed to be motivated to keep on going. Love and happiness... (ps- Derrick isn't in any of the pics because he was always behind the camera:)

Run, Running, Runable, run-atious, Runanananun

So I am officially signed up for the "Run for the Health of It" 5K this Saturday. Should be interesting as I haven't been able to get myself to run even ONCE this whole month. I may be walking quite a bit of it. I'm hoping that this will be a springboard for beginning to run again though. I need to do it!!! Between my obsession with chocolate, black licorice, and anything fatty and delicious lately PLUS my couch potato-ism, my pants were a bit tight this morning. I was so going to run today before work... that didn't happen, but I did make a green drink (kale, blue berries, cranberries, banana) and took my vitamins for the first time in a month- yay for self-care... But seriously, running and all that other stuff is going to be huge in the surviving of this winter, which has always been a struggle for me anyways, even before everything that has happened with mom.

I've been reading a lot about delayed grief. Talked to Renae yesterday about how I just don't seem to feel much of anything right now (besides being so tired and lethargic), and she said that is how she feels too. Brandon too- he hasn't really cried at all... and I know Steph is there too. Even Dad seems to be there with us. A lot of stuff I've been reading says that this can happen a lot with care givers of terminally ill loved ones- it's a coping mechanism we have when we need to get through an especially hard time (like when caring for someone who is actively dying), but that it is hard to turn off after the crisis has passed. I feel like we are sitting on a ticking time bomb. Dad wants us to come down and go through her things soon. Also, we are need to choose a headstone and sprinkle her ashes...

Back to the race... SO, Renae called me yesterday to let me know that Partnership for Health is one of it's sponsors and beneficiaries. It is... not sure if ironic is the right word here... well, just a fun fact for us, especially since Steph and I (Patsy's progeny) are going to run something for them, since they were the ones who let her go for YEARS without a colonoscopy, even after she repeatedly reported symptoms that screamed colon cancer. If they would have listened to her (even if they would have just had her get one because she was over fifty), she would still be alive today. Because of what happened to Mom, they changed the whole structure of when to recommend colonoscopies to their patients. This run could even be in reaction to what happened to her- trying to make colonoscopies more available and affordable to lower-income people. So, it will be a bittersweet thing to run for them on Saturday... mostly sweet though. I wish that funds had have been available for my mom all those years ago (and that her doctor would have recommended she use them).

5K for Colon Cancer Screening:)

Run for the Health of It •The (WMON) is pleased to announce the 2nd annual 5K fun walk/run. All proceeds benefit Montana Cancer Screening Program which provides assistance for colon cancer screening. Starts at 10 am. The start and finish in front of The Women's Club. The course is a flat fun maze through the neighborhood. All preregistered participants are guaranteed a insulated travel mug. Stick around after the race for great prizes and raffle. Register prior to October 31st for $16, then $20 up to race day.

Mom's Obituary

We lost our very dear wife, mother, grandmother, sister and friend at the age of 71 on October 18th, after a four year battle with cancer.  She fought courageously, and refused to let cancer define her or take over her life.  Through it all, she remained the same kind, loving, supportive and beautiful woman we have always known.

Patsy was born February 7, 1939 in Paradise, to Ruby and Charles.  She was the third of six siblings.  She was a true Paradise child, swimming in the river, riding bikes, and spending her days with siblings, relatives and friends in the tight-knit community that Paradise was in those years.  She grew into a fun-loving teenager who could play both guitar and piano.  She met the love of her life, William, when she was 17 and soon married him in December of 1956.  They made their home in Paradise where they first raised their four older children (Lonnie, Danny, Daryn and Renae) and then their two younger children (Rachel and Shaun).  Their house was always full of love and laughter, music, friends and family.  On July 31, 1971 after studying the bible with Jehovah’s Witnesses, Patsy dedicated her life to Jehovah and was baptized.  She spent the rest of her life serving her God and one of her greatest joys was sharing the hope she’d found with others.  She believed with all her heart in the resurrection described in John 5:28,29 where it says: “.. the hour is coming in which all those in the memorial tombs will hear his voice and come out…”  This hope along with the assurance of living forever on a paradise earth with her family and friends brought her great comfort.  (Ps. 37:29- “The righteous themselves will possess the earth, and they will reside forever upon it.”) Patsy was a member of the Thompson Falls Congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Some memorable things about Patsy include her extreme kindness to family, friends and strangers alike.  She always believed the best in all of us and helped us to believe in it too.  She never gave up on us, even when we struggled.  She was always there to celebrate with us during good times, and hold our hand through hard times. 

She was so brave!  When she believed in something she didn’t hesitate to go against the crowd and say out loud (in a kind way) how she felt.  She always did what she knew was right and true even if it meant standing apart.  She approached everyone she met as a friend she just hadn’t met yet.  She was  loved by so many.  Just by her example alone she affected so many lives in powerful, positive ways.  Not just of the people who witnessed her and changed their lives based on her example and hope, but also their children and families.

We will miss her spiritedness and playfulness.  No one loved to play cards (and WIN!) as much as Patsy.  She was passionate about shoes and had many of them.  No one had a better sense of humor; she loved to laugh.  She was truly pure at heart.  She told us all how much she loved us every chance she had.  We never had any doubt about how much we were loved; she made sure of it.

She gave us a powerful legacy to live up to.  Our lives will never be the same again without her.  We ache for the day when we get to see her again, when she will be healthy and will be restored to youthfulness.(Job 33:25;  Rev. 21:3,4)

Being Raised One of Jehovah's Witnesses

One of the greatest gifts my mother (and father) ever gave me was that of teaching me everything that they knew from the bible. I was raised as one of Jehovah's Witnesses from the time I was born. That meant several things for me; for non-witness kids the most noticeable thing about me was I never celebrated holidays (if you wonder why ask me!) or birthdays. Even as a little kid I got used to being different from other kids and learned to be okay with that.
Being a witness also meant going to three meetings a week where we would learn from the bible in an almost school-like way. We studied before going to meetings to better understand what we were learning there. It also included preaching from door to door, doing what Matthew 24:14 taught us to do.If you think being different in school from everyone else, going to meetings to learn about the bible all the time and preaching were easy for a kid... then you would need to think again. But those were times when I learned vital lessons about who I wanted to be and what I wanted my life to be about. I definitely knew what the choice I was making meant for me when I was baptized at the age of 12. I had committed myself to being one Jehovah's people for life- not a thing to be done lightly, and really it wasn't something I could just jump into even if I tried. I had to answer many questions first to prove I knew what course of action I was committing myself to (as everyone who gets baptized as one of Jehovah's Witnesses does).
Just because my parents put all of this hard work into raising me, it doesn't mean I never let them down. Anyone who knows me from high school knows that I was not a shining example of how a Christian should act. I made several HUGE mistakes- I knew better, but thought I was missing out on fun so I did things I shouldn't have. There were several things that I could have been removed from the congregation for. Definitely things that were against the course I had committed myself to when I made my promise to God. I sorta just faded away from the congregation for awhile and did my thing. I have a lot of regrets from those days because a lot of my choices hurt other people, witnesses and non-witnesses alike.We are going through old pictures this week for a sideshow we are doing at Mom's memorial, and one that struck me is at my own graduation- my mom is hugging me and she just looks so SAD. I hate that I hurt her in those days! Mom never gave up on me- she saw the truths she'd taught me as a child as a vehicle to save me from myself. I don't know how many times I asked her to JUST STOP trying to get me to come back!!! I got to the point where I felt so low, like I could never feel good about myself again- I'd made so many bad choices. Mom NEVER gave up on me though, and eventually I woke up. Mom and Dad let me move back in with them and I talked to the "elders" in our congregation who helped me talk about what I had been doing. They could see I really regretted the choices I'd made and they helped me move passed them. They could have chose to remove me- I had shown complete disregard for everything I'd promised and hurt others and myself in the process, but I learned there (and several times since-I'm apparently a slow learner) that the elders want to help me. A person is only removed when they decide that they no longer want to be part of the congregation, and would rather live a life that isn't the one they previously committed to in their babtism.
I am SO grateful for the help the congregation and elders have given me in those times and in times like we are having now.
As an adult I go to meetings and study the bible, and still go in our bible door to door ministry. I'm passing on the gift my parents gave to me to my own children. The hope from what I've learned from the bible is so worth living a life that means swimming against the current(and fighting myself!) on a daily basis. Especially in times like these- losing my mom has been the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. Losing her to cancer was an unimaginable horror. My dad,sister, niece, nephew and I were her primary caregivers that last month, and it was like watching her die in slow motion. A living nightmare for her and for us. The only thing that gets us through it is the hope we have from the bible that if we are loyal to God, we will see her again. When she wakes up she is going to be healthy and feel so much better again (Daniel 12:2 says there will be many of those asleep in the ground of dust who will wake up, these to indefinitely lasting life...). I refuse to let anything ever come between me and that hope ever again.

Mom died at 1:10 yesterday afternoon. I was at work when Renae called me with the news. I had just talked to Mom and told her I loved her minutes before she died. She could only breathe hard into the phone in response, but I choose to believe she heard me.
My co-workers have been so wonderful throughout this. Finding out at work was not what I wanted or anticipated. Cindy (other clerical support gal) was in the bathroom instantly with me, hugging me and telling me to just grab my stuff and head out. So, I went home, Derrick and I grabbed a couple things, and we left for Plains.
Walking in to my parent's living room and seeing my mom's body was so surreal. I will never beable to forget it. But at least she looked so much more at peace than she did the last time I saw her. All of us women, sisters, daughters, granddaughter took turns putting make-up on her, fixed her hair, put ear rings back on her. She looked like mom again when we were through- as beautiful as ever. I was glad when Dave made it in time with my kids too, so they could see her one more time in her home without the pain on her face. It was very hard for all of us when the man from the mortuary came and they put her in the bag and took her from the home. Just when I thought it couldn't get any more real.
We are having a viewing of the body on Wednesday. We still need to write an obituary... Steph and I want to make a slideshow for after her funeral, which is going to be on Saturday. In the meantime... I guess the main thing is to keep breathing.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Cancer means... Watching her die in slow motion. Wondering about why I feel so cold and detached. Scared that it is going to end. Seeing every loved one's face strained and stressed as they walk through the door and see her again- even if it's only been a day. Watching her cheekbones show more and more, and her eyes opened up to somewhere else, not here. Seeing her only communication become little blinks when she pulls herself enough back to us to answer anything. Moments left being measured in days, hours, and breaths. Every goodbye is the forever from this side kind.

Mom

Last June, the oncologist here in Missoula found a spot on Mom's liver which he said either may or may not be cancer.  Because she is unable to take chemo, and therefore he finds it pointless to be informed about what is going on in her body, he didn't want to do testing to find out for sure.  Turns out it is cancer, only now instead of a little spot, it is the size of a tangerine.  It is causing her a lot of pain, and making her feel sick to her stomach.  She had another appointment with the same oncologist today, which we all discouraged her to going to based on the face that he is a Hope Vampire,  but she went to anyways.  He gave her the brilliant option of taking 5-FU via pill form.  Idiot.  5-FU has been tried by TWO other oncologists with Mom, nearly killing her both times within a week of taking it.  If he ever bothered to look at her chart he would realize that she is missing and enzyme (DPD) needed to use 5-FU and not DIE.  Argh.....

We have another appointment set up with a Dr. in Kalispell on Wednesday- he is supposed to be willing to work with people who are not tolerant of chemo.  We also ordered a RIFE machine which is supposed to help break up tumors.  SO, there is still hope- this fight is not over.

Not Good

Last week we got the news from the Plains Clinic (where Mom is seeing Dr. Dry now), that her CEA was down the around 600. Initially I was skeptical, thinking that we needed to wait until we heard what the levels measured out as at the Missoula clinic. But I guess we all needed some hope. We all decided it was because of how well she'd stuck to her regiment while staying at Renae's after Dad's heart surgery, and that all of the work had actually paid off. I think we all felt pretty relieved about it.

Just got a call from Mom awhile ago. The CEA count in Missoula is 1947. It has actually gone up pretty dramatically since last time it was checked in Missoula. I had chalked up my suspicions of cancer in her stomach as an over reaction (I was pretty high-strung during that whole time period) since her numbers had apparently went down, but now I don't know.

We got Mom in to see Dr. Dry in Plains today. Sandra took her, and he was apparantly very nice:) He scheduled her for a MRI on Tuesday if they can't fix her in on Saturday. It will be good to know what is going on. I am grateful that I am part of a big family of siblings, aunts and uncles who all care so much for Mom, and who all want to help her. The support is good for all of us:)

Tomorrow is THE big day for me. After driving the race trail with Derrick last night, I have to admit I am a little nervous. This will be no flat road race, and I have intentionally not done very many hills runs, as I find them unpleasant. I foresee some swift walking in an upward direction. It doesn't matter- I just want to have a good time:)

I'm sure I'll be taking pictures tomorrow- I will post some soon.

Colon Cancer can Spread to the Pertoniteal lining of the Stomach

Mom is in the emergency room at the Clark Fork Valley hospital right now. She has horrible pain in her lower abdomen. They are running a lot of tests.

I don't want to play doctor (I wish the doctors would just try harder) but I found out (on the internet) that one of the places that colon cancer will spread to is the peritoneal lining of the stomach. Mom has every symptom linked to having cancer in that area- that was why she requested a CAT scan of her stomach in the first place.

Mom

I am crawling out of my skin. Feel so nervous today. This is the kind of day I wish I could lock myself into my room and hide. Instead I am at work, dealing with people who probably feel worse than I do.

Mom is really sick today. She has a lot of pain in her lower stomach and abdomen. I am so frustrated to be stuck in Missoula! She will not go to the doctor, and I want to march down there and make her go. Been on the phone with Renae (who is in Seattle), Danny (who is stuck at work in St. Regis), and Cookie, who went to see Mom and check on her. Everyone who has seen her agrees that she doesn't look good. I'm worried. My stomach is twisting. I should be exhausted since I didn't hardly sleep at all last night, but instead I feel wired and weepy. Must make it to 5:15....

Tomorrow I need to clean my house, call around to find a new oncologist for Mom, take all of our extra cash and give it to Discover card (gotta do that one fast, like pulling off a bandaid) and then go to work at 1:00. Steph and the kids should be at our house by the time I get off of work. I ran only about 3.5 miles today instead of the 6.2 I had planned. It would be just like me to overdue it, so I thought I should take it a little bit more easy.

And now.... 3 more hours to go and then HOME.

Me, Myself, and I

This has been an interesting week so far. I've been kidless since Sunday afternoon and husbandless since Monday morning! The kids are having a great time in Thompson Falls. Kloe is staying with Stephanie and Aiyana, and Derrin is staying with Heidi and Colton. Steph signed both the kids up for swimming lessons, and they are LOVING it. Swimming lessons last for two weeks, so it looks like the kids will be back down there next week too (which I am sure breaks their hearts).

So, what have I been doing in the meantime? Weeelll, Monday was a weird mood day for me. I had a crazy downward swing that sort of hit me unexpectedly in the morning, and it lingered for about half the day. I was actually glad that my family wasn't around to have to deal with me. If I were to have a mood chart with crazy low at a 1 and crazy high at a 10, I would give that morning a 2. I managed to calm myself to go to work by 11, and being at work seemed to help. When I got home I worked on an art project for awhile (computer art with photos) which was very soothing, and then I forced myself to go on my 6.2 mile run. I ended up walking the final mile, but I felt WAY better at that point. Then I went to Finnegans (I was very amused with my choice of restaurant) to eat and use their WI-FI. The day ended on a good note.

Yesterday I had the day off to go to Mom's doctor appointment. We were worried about her stomach because she has been having a lot of pain, and we were getting results from a CAT scan she had received the week before. The scan didn't show anything going on in her stomach (cancer wise), but it did show a spot on her liver that wasn't there before. The report said that it was suspicious of cancer, but maybe it could just be a hematoma. The doctor said it was pointless to test it since operating wouldn't really be an option anyway since she has several tumors in her lungs. I can tell she is starting to feel scared now. I'm scared too, but it's like the feelings and thoughts that go along with my mom's sickness are blocked. I don't think I could function on a daily basis if I had to deal with those feelings. I pray a lot about it, for strength. Running helps a lot. We are trying to spend more time down in Plains and Thompson Falls too. All of the yard work is helping too:)

I did a lot of yard work after I left Mom and Dad. I lined the little pond in front of our house with new plastic, put rocks in, and filled it with water finally. It is a muddy pond, but I have given up on perfection out there a long time ago. I did a ton of weeding out there this morning, and hopefully Derrick will hook up my new little fishy spout to the water pump when he gets home. All that will be left after that is to get a couple new little goldfish to start their own little game of who will survive Rachel's pond this year:)

After all that yard work, I got all dolled up and went into town to eat with Shannon, and then we went to the Jewel concert. My honest feelings about Jewel are 1) She is a brilliant song writer. 2) She is a very funny performer and very good with interacting with the audience. 3) When she gets too dramatic in her Jewel fashion it actually makes me happy because it reminds me of the same slightly irritated feelings I had with that as a kid. She brings me right back to being sixteen again:) Anyways, I had a good night with Shannon.

And that brings me up to today. I ran my 6.2 this morning. That brings me to 12.4. Gonna run tomorrow (will be at 18.6), take Friday off and the Saturday is THE DAY. I am looking forward to it!!! BRING IT!!! Derrick will be home by the time I get off work and I am glad of it. Although I have enjoyed the last three days of me time, I wouldn't want it to always be just me. Waking up next to someone I love and hearing the voices of two more of my little loves in the living room is how I want my life to be.

Mom

Monday morning at 8 o'clock in Spokane Washington at Sacred Heart Hospital, Mom is going to have her liver resection done. We went in last Monday hoping that they could do a procedure called radio frequency ablation where they would only make a small incision, insert a probe and blast the tumor with heat. It would've been a minimally invasive procedure, but the tumor was too big for it to be effective. The resection will involve going in and totally removing the section of the liver with cancer on it.
We've talked to the Bloodless Management department at Sacred Heart, and all measures are being taken to reduce blood loss and manage any blood loss that occurs. It has been very reassuring talking to them over there.

This Friday morning Mom is also having a smaller procedure done where they are putting a filter in a vein in her stomach to catch any clots that may form in her legs. It is just another precaution that the doctors are taking to ensure her safety.

So, this is it! If all goes well, this will improve her chances dramatically.

Picking up the Shoe

Yesterday we had a family pow-wow (including grilled chicken and hamburgers) at Mom and Dad's place. We (Renae, Doug, Nancy, Danny, Derrick and I and kiddies) all came over with bags of food and hopes of a little family fun, but we had ulterior motives. We came with a new plan.

As soon as we were all there, all sitting out on the deck visiting, the new plan was approached softly. We didn't want to scare, shock or overwhelm anyone with the plan. We were all relieved and happy when the plan was received well, and arrangements began to shape up.

Renae and Doug are going to take Mom and Dad to Mexico. There is a clinic just past the US border that works with a cancer patients diet, as well as giving them a "hoxsey", a serum developed to eradicate the cancer in that specific person. They will be gone for about a week to get the treatment and diet, and then she can come home with a six month supply.

In conjunction with this, I found a new oncologist in Missoula who is willing to monitor Mom during the six months. She will also provide any additional chemo if it is needed. I called this oncologist Friday, and guess what? SHE called ME back! She talked to me for a long time and both asked questions and allowed me to ask questions back. She was a ray of hope on a dark day. We are going to call her Monday and make an appointment and form a plan together.

We also have an appointment with Mom's surgeon Tuesday to see if he has changed his view of surgery on Mom's liver like the infamous Dr. N did. We hope he will still work with us when Mom needs her surgery in the future, even though we are dumping Dr. N as our oncologist.

We know other people who have done the hoxsey treatment, and they are cancer free. I've read message board after message board from family members struggling with their loved ones through cancer with just conventional chemo. It always follows pattern of getting chemo and feeling like crap, getting a surgery to remove a tumor, being cancer free for two or three months, and then having a recurrence and having to start the whole horrible process over again. Even if this hoxsey and diet didn't completely wipe it out, but she felt good while the cancer was held at bay (for a long time), it would be better than being at the mercy of Dr. N and his poison. What kind of life is that? Also, if she does end up having to have surgery in the future, this will buy her time to get those blood clots completely dissolved first.

So, here is to new hope.

The Other Shoe Dropped

Today confirmed what we already knew. If Mom's cancer count doesn't go down, surgery is to be looked at in two or three weeks.

The problem with that is she still has bloodclots. If she gets the surgery she will have to go off of the anti-clotting medicine she has been using, both before and after. And after she would be on her back recovering... which could cause more clots.

The other problem is that Dr. N is starting to have issues with our stand on blood. All of a sudden, this surgery is extremely dangerous. Before the story was that the tumor is in the lower left lobe doesn't have any major arteries, so if you have to remove part of it, that is the safest part to remove. Today he was ranting about all of the little veins there that she could bleed out of (and "not make it" was a phrase her too many times). Before HE told us he was going to build up her blood supply to twice it's usual amount and he would make it as safe for her as possible, so she would beable to lose a lot of blood in surgery and still be okay. His previous support of our beliefs was one of the reasons we chose to use him as her oncologist. I could say so much more, but I am so tired.

I do want to say that the family is talking Mexico treatment again. We are tired of Dr. N and his promises of the moon that turn out to be mirages. We are going to talk to Mom and Dad Saturday to see if they will consider going to Mexico for treatment and coming back here to use a different oncologist who will be willing to work coinsiding with natural medicine.