Oops!...I did it again

No – not ala Britney Spears…but in my own way, I’ve done it again, even when I determined not to. Christmas is one week from today and somehow, I’ve gotten caught up in the insanity of the season yet another time. Every year I tell myself that THIS year I’ll really celebrate Advent the way God intended: as a season of preparation for the coming of the King. And once again, I’ve sort of missed the point.

We had decided at the end of the season last year that it would be our final December to have a Christmas tree (we’ve had our artificial tree for about 10 years and it’s on its last limb). Instead, Pete would build a crèche with a cross behind, on which we would place a crown. We would light an Advent candle and read from the lectionary every day, focusing on repentance and being ready. Not having grown up in these traditions, they feel fresh and new to me, not old and worn out.

But alas, cancer got in the way, and our resident carpenter was busy going for radiation everyday instead of being creative in the garage. So, I decided I couldn’t have NOTHING in the living room and I put up the limp-along-tree one more year, minus a few limbs here and there that have fallen off. (It still looks lovely.)

I still hoped to read and pray and ponder the mystery of the incarnation and be really ready. I have not done a very good job at all. I got the Christmas cards out early (minus the few that I realize I should have sent and didn’t), and thought I had the shopping done before T-minus-eleven (but nuts – I’m not done YET). Dinners and rehearsals and other craziness have filled the evenings and the days find me making more lists and trying to remember what I’ve forgotten.

This is not the way I wanted to reach the week before Christmas. Last year that blessed extra week in November somehow made all the difference (there were five Thursdays in the month – how often does THAT happen?!?). By the first Sunday of Advent I had all the cards out and the shopping done and it all felt so easy. Last year I left for work at 8:15, as opposed to the 7:00 departure time this year, which allowed some time for reflection at a time when I was actually awake.

This year everything feels different.

But all is not lost – because this year, I have something I haven’t had for years…a two week Christmas break. And if we get lucky, it might even be longer because there is a big snow warning out and tomorrow is looking pretty ominous. The kids are talking about wearing their pajamas backwards tonight and they’re all hoping against hope that tomorrow will be a snow day. Today just has that “air” of a last-day-before-break even though it’s only Thursday. If we wind up coming tomorrow after all, there will be a whole bunch of disappointed people (students and adults alike).

But even if we do, I am still looking forward to the holiday and some good long hours of reading and writing and getting ready. It’s way too easy to get caught up in the hysteria and miss the point altogether. I’m ready for some quiet and some thoughtfulness and some soul nurturing.

Some emergencies are bigger than others

When our kids were growing up and afternoon cartoons were still somewhat safe, they watched with some regularity a show called “Animaniacs”. As I recall, there was some character that would, from time to time, have a “potty emergency”, running wildly in search of a bathroom. We laugh, but not having a bathroom when one needs one is really not a laughing matter. Worse yet is having a bathroom but not being able to use it.

Which is where our story begins…

One of the many skills acquired in motherhood (along with multi-tasking and making a volcano with vinegar and baking soda) is bladder control, because with toddlers, who has time to go? Some days here at work I suddenly find myself in a certain amount of discomfort because I realize that too many hours have passed and all at once I am in the midst of a “potty emergency”. Fortunately for me, there is a bathroom right around the corner, and when this particular urge came upon me earlier this week, I was grateful to not have far to go. I knew one thing for sure – a trip to the bathroom was absolutely mandatory before leaving for home.

Knowing that relief was soon to be had I was starting to feel better already. And then it happened…my zipper FROZE – there was no moving it up or down, and on top of that, it was a side zipper, with no way to even really see what the problem was. Panic began to set in as the stubborn zipper ignored every effort on my part to get it to budge. I was screaming at it to move and it sassily retorted its intention to stay right where it was. We were at an impasse. I was desperate and that stupid zipper could have cared less.

Now if I lived across the street, I could have laughed at that zipper and run for home. But a thirty-minute drive ensued and I really wasn’t sure what to do. Thinking the dilemma through completely in five seconds, the answer came upon me. I had to make a run for it. Five minutes of zipper war had yielded no results. And with pretty weak wrists (tendonitis), there was no forcing the issue.

So I jumped in the car and began the endless drive home. Thirty minutes might as well be thirty hours when catastrophic bladder failure is imminent. My first move was to call Pete to make sure he was at home when I got there. It was time to call out the big guns because there was no getting out of these pants without him.

Next, I called Heather to give me something else to think about on the way home besides THAT IRRESISTABLE URGE TO GO. She kept reminding me that getting pulled over would only make the interminable trip even longer. I probably would have driven faster were it not for the slow moving vehicle I, OF COURSE, was trapped behind.

Pete promised to leave the garage open and meet me at the door. Sprinting in, peeling layers of winter outerwear, crying out in pain, I was more than ready for the strong hands of my mighty protector to save me from the evil zipper. He pulled, he pushed, and he announced that by golly, it really was stuck.

“How badly do you want to save these pants?” he calmly asked.

“JUST DO IT NOW!!!!” I calmly replied.

I was thankful for his tendonitis-free wrists as he ripped the zipper from the fabric and relief was mine at last.

Do you know that stupid zipper is STILL zipped?

I’ve made a decision. I’m done with zippers forever. From now on, it’s elastic waistbands, baby.

Sydney, this one's for you

Our little Georgia peach, Sydney, is missing the Wisconsin snow. I posted this picture of her last winter in her GEORGIA snow, as we were having a not so white Christmas here in Wisconsin.

This year, we had a white THANKSGIVING, Sydney, and it looks like it may very well last all winter long. How about a picnic at Grandma's house?


Or maybe we should play in the backyard?


Baby, it's cold outside! And not one, but two more systems are scheduled to pass our way, each bringing only an inch or two more. But what's THIS news from the local weather desk:

...we’re keeping a close eye on Low pressure which looks to be developing during the day Monday around the Oklahoma panhandle. This is the type of storm which has the potential to produce a heavier, wet snow as it travels just to our Southeast. The exact track of this storm is critical in determining where the heaviest snow will fall, and we’re still too far away to pinpoint anything, other than to raise the flag and let people know to watch the latest forecast.

Oklahoma? Snow from Oklahoma?

Hey, Sydney, maybe Oklahoma will send YOU some snow in Georgia. too!

Love you!

It's back...

It hardly seems possible that three seasons have passed since winter was here last, but alas, it must be true. I have proof. There is snow falling today.


And the Christmas tree is up.



It seems just last week we were enjoying this...



Oh yeah, it WAS just last week. We visited the local botanical domes. We like going there in the winter. It helps us to forget that it IS winter. Wouldn't you rather be enjoying this?


Than this?


Yeah, me, too.

Thanks, Dad

After reading my post on The Pioneer Woman and after receiving a request from me for some family history, my dad did not disappoint. He sat right down, penned the following, and sent it to me. As a novice genealogy buff, this kind of stuff is like hitting the jackpot. Dates and names of unknown faces might fill in the tree, but this is the heart of it all. Hearing where your family came from and how they lived is an absolute treasure. And for the sake of my kids (it's their family history, too), and because this is the easiest way to disseminate information to them, I'm pasting my dad's memories as the latest piece of the family history pie. Read and enjoy!

I just read your blog concerning the pioneer woman and your desire for more information about my life "way-back-when", so here goes. I'll start with your great grandfather. He left grandmother with three babies, Frank, Mary and Grace in a small Kansas town and made his way to the Kansas-Cherokee Strip line on the 16th of September, 1893. When the cannon was fired, mounted on a fast running horse he had acquired for the event, he raced to an area a few miles south of the line to an area where he staked his claim. He then rode to Alva where he signed the appropriate papers or ownership, then rode back to Kansas, picked up the family in a wagon, with chickens in crates and a milk cow tied behind and proceeded to their new home. Mother and I have visited the homestead and it is nothing but flat, flat country for as far as the eye can see. Since this was the middle of September, winter was soon to come. Granddad put together a "soddy" in which the family lived until a proper home could be constructed. The homestead was located one mile south and two miles east of a town known today as Burlington. Before Burlington, the nearest town was a place called Driftwood, a few miles north of Cherokee. Those Pioneer Women were a tough group of ladies. I can't imagine taking your mother out in the boonies like that and telling her, "Well Dorothy, how do you like your new home?" Dad grew up like all the young men of the day, on the farm. Later, Granddad sold the homestead and moved the family to Cherokee. He was influential in building the town and was a hands-on builder of the First Methodist Church, which still stands today. We took you by the old "big house" when we were in Cherokee for your grandfathers funeral. Remember it? Mom and Dad married when both were eighteen. Dad had been farming while in school and sold a team of mules to buy Mother's engagement ring. It was know as Mom's Team of Mules Ring! The folks continued to farm for several years so, yes, your grandmother was at least an Oklahoma farmer's wife, if not a pioneer woman. Aunt Dot was born a couple of years later and eight years later, in Cherokee's hospital, I was born. As you know, I grew up on cattle ranches. Although Dad did many things to make a living, selling cars, managing a movie theater, farming, managing ranches, etc., he always had cattle. I remember the mornings at the age of eight or nine, sitting on my cow pony waiting for the sun to come up so we could see to start gathering cattle. A child by today's standards, I was expected to do a day's work like a grown man. I learned the greatest lesson a young could be taught, you have to work for everything you get in this life. Success comes from hard work, don't quit, when you get to the end of the rope, tie a knot and hang on. In 1943, Dad bought a 5,000 acre ranch about 20 miles east of Tulsa, the nearest town was Inola. We had 300 mother cows, 15 herd bulls and ran a successful cow/calf operation for several years. I went to school in the fair city of Inola, even played on the high school basketball team, although I spent my time on the bench, I gave everybody fits during practice! To the east of our ranch was one of the Brainerd Ranches. This was a huge operation owned by a conglomerate back east, but the foreman was an old man known as Ben Johnson. His son was Ben Johnson, the movie star who made many movies with John Wayne. Ben, Sr., was one of my heroes (mentioned in my book, The Rancher from Slapout. I knew young Ben, but he spent most of his time at rodeos and he was about five years older, so I was just a dumb kid in his eyes. When Howard Hughes made his movie, Billy the Kid, he sent horse buyers all over Oklahoma looking for stock. They bought several from the Brainerd ranch with the proviso Ben, Jr. accompany them to California. Ben, Jr. made the trip, fell in love with movies and never came home! Another large ranch operation was the Drummond Ranch. I knew the "Marlboro Man's" grandfather and great grandfather. They were typical ranchers of the day. They word was their bond. Another interesting side bar to this story. The doctor I used for my cataract surgery was the Marlboro Man's brother, Jonathan. He has a great practice here in Stillwater. His office is decorated with large photo murals of the old Drummond Ranch.He told me there were too many boys in the family for all of them to make a living on the ranch, so he went to medical school. But we shared many memories about the good old days. Yeah, the pioneer women we quite a bunch and so much a part of my own heritage. I'm proud of them and proud of sharing a bit of this with you. You are very much a part of this heritage, always be proud of who you are! Love you, Dad

Party time!

Today is momentous at our house because as of 8:00 this morning, Pete completed the last of 35 radiation treatments. Bring on the balloons, confetti, streamers, sirens, fireworks, and crazy running around in circles. He even gets a certificate! I told him it had better be framed and hanging on the wall by the time I get home from work. He took this week off to lay low and give his body a chance to recuperate, and it was the best decision ever. And now that he's done, he can slap that magic cream on his leg with abandon (while it makes those burns feel better, it magnifies the radiation if any is left on the skin - not good). Go to town, honey!

Cancer reminds us everyday that it is a silent enemy, lurking in the dark places, threatening to strike out at any moment. We count every single cancer-free day a victory and will celebrate it with joy. Others we know (particularly B & J at church - J has relapsed and is not doing well) have fought the good fight but are not winning the cancer war, and our hearts and prayers are with them.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We have so very much to be thankful for. Today, more than anything, I'm just thankful for today. We've made it this far and come to appreciate each and every day as the gift it truly is.

Looking back

Long before feminism was popular, Ponca City, Oklahoma paid homage to the pioneer woman. These brave souls accompanied their men across the prairie for nothing more than the hope of a dream fulfilled, having no idea what really awaited them at the other end. Ponca City honored the pioneer woman by erecting an enormous statue of a woman and her child forging ahead into the unknown and a museum detailing the lives of the early Oklahoma settlers.

I know this, because when I was a child, we used to visit our grandparents in Ponca City and every trip included a walk first to the TG&Y, and then to the museum, where we'd gaze up at the Pioneer Woman in all her larger than life glory.

Imagine my surprise when I heard of a blog entitled "The Pioneer Woman". I took a quick look one day and discovered the chronicling of life on a cattle ranch by a woman who was raised on the golf course, lived the high life in southern California after college, came home for a visit, fell in love with a cowboy, and never left. This premise, in and of itself, holds a certain amount of interest. A little more digging and the real surprise revealed itself. This modern day pioneer woman lives on a cattle ranch in Oklahoma! While her blog doesn't reveal the exact location of the ranch, she does list a mailing address in Tulsa.

This discovery was of particular interest to me because my grandmother was also a "pioneer woman". I do not believe she was raised on a farm (though I'm not 100% sure of this), and she found herself on a cattle spread near, of all places, Tulsa, Oklahoma. An interest has been renewed to learn more about the ranch at Inola (am I right? Is this where it was?) and what life was like there. I'm hoping my dad will read this and consider telling the story of his life herding cattle perched on his painted pony.

The other interesting piece to this story is the fact that a google search of "the pioneer woman" brings up the blog first, before the museum. Not sure what that really means...

It's official

Dear President-elect Obama,

It's no surprise - you did it. I think the word "change" struck a resonant chord from the beginning. Nobody likes war, and particularly when the outcomes are so far removed from the realities of loss. I understand that it's hard to send our young men and women off to war when we can't see immediate rewards for their sacrifice. I think that many people have clung to the hope that you are going to change all that, and that is one of the main reasons you won. We want immediate gratification and it will be very interesting to see what we give up down the road for getting out of Iraq sooner rather than later.

I am just coming to realize that I only thought I was living in a post-Christian nation, but in reality, I'm living in a post-conservative nation as well. With you in the White House and the Democrats ruling the Senate, I think things are about to change for conservatives, and are going to get more than interesting for conservatives who also happen to be Christians. While you are busy trying to protect the rights of gays and lesbians, will my previously-protected-by-the-Constitution rights to believe that God intended marriage for one man and one woman become history? If I dare to believe that God's plan as the Creator and Sustainer of this universe was right from the start am I in danger of being guilty of a hate crime?

Yes, I see change coming, and I think it is time to REALLY clarify what it is I believe and why. Because I think that for conservative Christians, the very core of our belief system is about to be challenged. Thank you, Mr. Obama, for giving me renewed courage to articulate what I believe in the face of mounting odds.

I promise to respect your office and to pray for you. While I have obvious concerns, I will not use them as a reason to bash you, but will commit to carefully considering and articulating them in a constructive way. God will use you to accomplish His purposes. You may be President, but He is GOD.

Today

The air seems heavy with waiting and anticipation. By the end of this day, we'll have change alright...

I drive 30 min. south and east to get to work, and I leave at 7 a.m. to get there on time. I arrive back home at around 5:00 p.m., which doesn't leave alot of time to vote, before having to be at church by 6:30 this evening. This is one election, however, that I don't want to miss, so I was at the polling place by 6:15 this morning and out by 7:05. I was #5 in line. I drove by last night on my way home, having heard that if I got there before 5:00 I could vote on an absentee ballot. There were at least 150 people lined up outside, so I decided to pass on that one and wait until today. I definitely have more patience for waiting early in the day than late.

While I know there are more things at stake than human rights, this most basic and fundamental issue takes top priority in my book. One of today's candidates was the ONLY negative vote in a bill designed to give medical care to babies that survive the unspeakable horror of having been medically aborted though viable. When asked at Saddleback Church when exactly he feels that babies do deserve human rights protection, he said (after umm...ing a bit) that the answer to that question was above his pay grade. And finally, exhibit #3...the comment that while he would teach his daughters morals and values, he would not expect them to be "punished with a baby" for their mistake. To think where this kind of morality will lead us is nothing less than terrifying.

I read an argument recently that by attacking poverty, said candidate will in effect be reducing the number of abortions, because those who can't afford to keep their babies make up the majority of women who have abortions. Economic reasons are not at the heart of his willingness to see his own grandchild aborted in the event of an untimely "mistake". I think it would be interesting to look at the numbers and see how many women KEEP their babies for economic reasons. A monthly welfare check might be a motivator.

I am just as concerned about the poverty in our country as any BO disciple. I'm just not sure the government is the place to land as the end all in poverty-busting. I read the following quote in another blog this morning:

"When our Lord ate with tax collectors and sinners, He did not instruct the tax collectors to organize socially to lower taxes, or to tax only the rich and give it to the poor. He called them instead to personal conversion, to sell all of their belongings and to give the money to the poor, and to follow Him. I do not believe that voting for politicians who say they'll help the poor is the same as helping the poor, nor does it alleviate our responsibility to do so. I myself cannot claim total innocence in this regard."

Well, that's all the time I have for rumination this morning...duty calls. Heidi has much more personal reasons for being pro-life (which obviously, we share). My only "consolation" as I ponder the "changes" we face is that whatever we get is what we deserve - but regardless, God is still in control, and if we witness further moral degradation (and possible moral collapse), it is in His timing, allowed by Him, and for His ultimate purposes.

They're here!

The wedding pictures are online! Plan to take awhile to look at them, because there are LOTS. Any and all are available for purchase through the website.

Here's how to take a look. Get onto the photographer's website here, click on "clients" and type our last name (all lower case) into the little text box below the photo.

Enjoy!!! Tell us which are your favorites!

Happy Anniversary!

After the big wedding last month, Heather and I were reviewing the highlight reel together and she made a poignant observation. She noted that in her lifetime she has never had to experience the divorce of a family member - they are all still married to one another - and that is really something to celebrate. As our role models in marriage for life, we look to and recognize my mom and dad, who will tomorrow be celebrating their FIFTY-FIFTH wedding anniversary. This is definitely momentous!

At the wedding, there was a "married couples dance", where the floor cleared a little at a time until the couple married the longest was the only couple left on the floor. Guess who won?






You guessed it! No one else in the room had been married 55 years!

In Mom's own words, here are her memories of that special day and the years inbetween:

We were married in Ponca City Fri, October 30, 1953 about 7:30 in the eve by the Methodist pastor in the First Baptist Church. Reception following in the basement and then off we went to OKC for honeymoon and stayed at the Skirvin Hotel. Was strange checking in with my husband . It was a beautiful hotel and has been remodelled and I believe still in the same place-downtown OKC. We stopped in Stillwater enroute at a downtown cafe for a cup of coffee. We stayed two nights and went to the movie:Sat. nite The Robe in OKC. We attended the First Baptist Church downtown OKC on Sunday morning. Came home Sunday aft. and spent the night at the Overstreet (Nana and Popo) home in Ponca City-loaded up everything we had and drove to Kentucky, Vine Grove. Dad had rented a small home there enroute home to get married. Next day, we went out and bought the bedroom suite you are using, a table and chairs (4). Dad had a sack chair for the living room and a TV. He built a sofa from a slab of wood (screwed legs on it) and put a pad on top. He was stationed at Ft. Knox, Ky. for 4 mos. and then sent to Korea. I went back to Ponca City and worked til beginning of next semester and enrolled at OSU and finished my first degree-Bachelor of Science in Home Ec. Dept. Dad was gone 16 mos. One semester I took 20 hours to complete the course by the time he returned. He left March 1954 and returned end of July 1955. All our furnishings had been stored by the military and when Dad returned he was stationed in the Baltimore,MD area and attended a CIC school for 3+ months. We rented a furnished apt. there. Then stationed in Iowa for duty there. We were in an apt. where military bought all our stuff and then in about a year purchased our first home on Stamey St. in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Dad stayed in the military til Dec. 1956. He then joined the Pickwick Co. in Cedar Rapids, Iowa in their Adv. Dept. Our first 3 years were most interesting and varied and different locations.We drove home Christmas '56 in very cold weather to Ponca and spent Christmas with the Overstreet grandparents. I remember stopping at a farm house enroute to get your baby bottle warmed. We had a bottle warmer in the car you plugged in and it had quit working. What a beginning for our married life and still going!! Many memories around the world in travels and living from east coast to west and Iowa to Okla.

Congratulations, Mom and Dad for 55 years of devotion to one another! We are all thankful for the inspiration you are to us.

Shhhhh......

It has been recently pointed out to me that I've not been updating, and therefore assumed that things must be hopping around here. On the contrary, it has been unusually quiet, and I'm enjoying a respite from the little insanities of life. It seems that for the past year it has been SOMETHING non-stop. Well, for now it's stopped (knock on wood) and for the current lull, I am extremely grateful.

Work is going well. Still loving the new job. The school calendar is as good as it gets.

Radiation will be half done by the end of the week. Outside of the "sunburn" and some early fatigue, Pete is doing well.

The newlyweds are doing great. We enjoyed a meal and an evening at their place last week. Us old folks even played Wii for the first time and actually had fun doing it. Check out this site for two "sneak peeks" at their wedding pictures, soon to be posted on same site. If you want to see them when they come up, you'll need a passcode. Leave me your email address in the comment section and I'll send it to you.

Absolutely nothing else to report. And I'm okay with that.

Catching up

A few months ago, Heidi had me sign up on Facebook so I could see her page and the group they started to keep people informed of their progress in getting to England. I felt I was a little old for Facebook, but agreed for the above reasons. My page is a complete dud without a picture or anything at all interesting and I've not done a thing with it. In the meantime, somehow the word got out among the 20-somethings at church and I have a good 20 "friend" invitations in my hotmail inbox waiting for a response from me. How unfriendly is it to not respond to people who say they want to be your friend?!? Just one of the many ways I need to catch up...

Thank you notes would be next (well, actually, they're first on the list). The wedding was absolutely beautiful. And the help of a number of dear friends made the day completely enjoyable for me. We hosted a "mini-reception" between the ceremony and the dinner at the country club, and the gym looked like a garden party complete with trees, park benches, and lights. Time with family was wonderful and those who sacrificed to be here gave us a gift beyond compare. Every minute was a blessing.

We're trying to catch up at home - the morning the throngs left we headed back to work and things still are not quite back to normal, though we've made progress. Heather moved in the day after the wedding and she is trying to get settled during a few days off work without killing herself in the process. She wants to move to Arizona in the spring for health reasons and didn't want to have to sign another year's lease on her apt., so she's turning the basement into a cozy nook. She got her cable hooked up and so now we have it, too. I've decided there is something decidedly addictive about the Home & Garden channel. Heather and I figured out that there are no commercials between the end of one show and the beginning of the next. You get hooked before you ever realize what happened. Another new show (well, new to us) is the Dog Whisperer, which is pretty cool. This Cesar guy is pretty amazing.

On the cancer front, Pete goes in for his "dry run" for radiation on Thursday, and then presumably, will start soon after that. I can't wait to tell Eric that his dad got a tattoo (though you have to look really hard to find it). They marked his leg with ink in a needle (doesn't that qualify as a tattoo?) and made a mold which will be secured to the table so his leg doesn't move during radiation. He has to go 5x a week for 7 weeks. He struggled for awhile with the REAL necessity of submitting to radiation as he tested cancer free after surgery. The clincher was the revelation that if the cancer were to recur in his leg he would possibly lose the whole leg. We'd obviously rather not go there.

And not for your viewing pleasure, here is a picture from the wedding. Emy's cousin is a professional photographer and while she was too busy taking care of the flower girls (her daughters) to be messing with pictures, she somehow posted 177 of them on her website. As I understand the wedding photographer will also be posting pictures in 2-3 weeks. I'll let you know that link/password when I get it. Aren't they cute?

The countdown has begun

What a joy to see Eric and Emily this morning at church...both wearing goofy grins that say, "I'm in love and I don't care if the whole world knows!" Apparently neither of them had a good night's sleep, both claiming the excitement of it all makes sleep pretty hard to come by.

Grace played and sang the song she'll be doing at the wedding for E&E and for us two moms. We told her the song was perfect, because it made both the moms cry. :)

I've surprised myself this past week at how easily and how often I've cried. My tears this time around are a little different than when Heidi got married. Any tears I shed at her wedding nine years ago were all for joy, knowing that she had the best guy on the planet for her. There was no doubt, no sadness, only joy. Don't panic, there is nor doubt or sadness this time, but it is admittedly different. With E&E, my tears recognize the beginning of a new life for Eric, and we have SO much to be thankful for. His adult life had a rocky start and seeing where he is today as opposed to where he was 7 years ago is absolutely overwhelming. He has become a man. He loves Jesus. He is pledging his life to love the woman of his dreams. And I couldn't feel more blessed. A few of the old memories come lurking to be met by the present reality and the happy tears start again. There were years of heartbreak and while I always clung to the belief that he would find his way back, it was so, so hard. Just look at him now and see what God has done. I couldn't be more proud of him.

I think I have another job to add to the list for this very busy week: cry as many tears as I possibly can so that by Sunday, I'll just be smiling.

Staple-free, one crutch guy

Out with the staples, in with the steri-strips. Hooray! It was a good day. Pete is down to one crutch, and is hoping to walk unassisted and perform the wedding while standing. He has 11 days. We are hopeful.

The only disturbing part about yesterday's appointment was the discussion on radiation. The dr. said because of the proximity to his femur, the weakening of the bone by radiation would increase the chances of a break. That didn't sound good... He also talked about the attack on the immune system, the "sunburn", rashes, and extreme fatigue. Since the tumor was self-contained and they cleaned out a rather large area around where the tumor was, one wonders if radiation is truly necessary. Pete is certainly asking that question and plans to do some more research before his first appointment with the radiation oncologist.

Besides preparing for radiation (or not), the next step is physical therapy. He has to wait another week, and then he can start. The fitness center he belongs to has both a physical therapist and a therapy pool. The therapy pool is AMAZING - from 3-5 feet deep (shallow to deep end), and a wonderful 85 degrees. I think just walking in it would be great for Pete's leg. Once it heals enough to be safe from infection, of course.

I'm living on lists now, with the wedding less than two weeks away. Write thank you notes - check. Plan rehearsal dinner - check. Mow the grass and weed - check. Next stop the basement!

I'm loving my new job - it's the kind of thing you can walk away from at night and forget about. Kind of nice not being in charge anymore.

Finally, some good news

It's probably not fair to start out as if we haven't had any good news in a long time. Not too long ago we were blessed to learn that Pete is cancer-free again and that was really good news. But two surgeries in two weeks WAS rather depressing, prolonging the staple removal and the ability to take a shower even longer. It's amazing how long three weeks feels when you have a leg full of staples (22 the first time - and only 19 the second time...Pete complained he'd been short changed). Personally, I think that two weeks is an awfully long time to leave staples in, remembering the difficulty of staple removal after a week following my third c-section. Just to clarify - Pete had surgery to remove the margins around his tumor site, and one week later had to go back for the removal of a hematoma. The staples had to stay in two weeks following surgery #2, thus the three week staple marathon.

But I WAS going somewhere with all of this...oh yes, the good news. We were admittedly a little nervous about yesterday's appointment as the wound site seemed a little pink and a little warm to me the other day, and the thought of MORE surgery was absolutely and in every way unthinkable. Well, thankfully, we don't have to think about it, because yesterday's news was good. Dr. H. removed the drain (and yes, that did hurt a bit), and said Pete can take a shower on Friday and the staples will come out next week. Hip hip hooray! I felt almost as relieved yesterday as I did when the scans came back clean. Yippee!

Pete has taken off his leg brace long enough to drive himself to work a couple of days this week. Today was a not so good day (he has good days and less than good days lately) and so he came home early and put himself to bed. He was careful to point out that he'll count this as his day off and work Friday (his regular day off) instead. Ever the over-achiever.

The days are flying by and soon the wedding excitement will begin. I haven't cleaned the house in a month and am thinking it's probably time, before the company starts arriving. We are all SOOOO excited - Heidi & family, my parents and two brothers are coming, as are my aunt and cousin, Pete's spiritual parents, friends from college/Air Force, friends from Rockford, and more. (No, they're not all staying here.) Weddings are such a fun reason to get together, and we're looking forward to it. The bride and groom are getting a little nervous about the planning of the service since Dad has been down for so long, but it will all come together in the end.

The picture that wasn't

I took a picture of Pete's leg today, for posterity, or for future reference, or for just remembering where we've been. I thought briefly about posting it here but was quickly censored, in fact, the words had hardly come out my mouth when something about privacy issues or HEPA or something shot back at me from his mouth and the whole idea was laid to rest before it ever had a chance at life.

Oh well. You probably didn't really want to see it anyway.

If you get queasy easy, skip this post

Pete had his follow-up check on Tuesday and the first clue that something wasn't quite right was the look on the PA's face when she removed the dressing. Pete's leg was every shade of black and blue and swollen and tender, probably more than it should have been after a week. She suggested that this could be a problem.

His oncologist seconded the motion and ordered him to the hospital for a second surgery to clean out the wound to remove a hematoma, which obviously made Pete very sad, having just spent his first day in a week feeling, well...he was almost afraid to admit it...somewhat good. His surgery was yesterday afternoon, and we brought him home this morning. I stayed with him last night, trying unsuccesfully to sleep in the recliner in his room, which I would liken to an instrument of torture. One plus was the ability to watch two quarter final matches at the US Open aired on cable in "primetime". Who knew that "primetime" means starting a tennis match in the late evening, finishing before midnight and then turning around and starting another? We watch Serena barely beat Venus and then Rafa Nadal take down Mardy Fish, a player with lots of game who is a little short on mental toughness. So the night was not a total loss.

Heather is here this afternoon, working from a much more comfortable recliner. Pete is sleeping, and I'm afraid to sleep any more (I got in a couple of hours) for fear I won't sleep tonight.

It seems that the hematoma was a bit bigger than first expected. When Dr. H. held out his hands (as in the commercial "you're in good hands with Allstate") he was holding the imaginary blob. His PA said, "Well you should be having some extra pain tonight. I had my hand inside your leg." Ouch. Dr. H. took a picture of the monster laying on the table next to a ruler and it was 5" long and 3" high.

I think it's safe to say Pete should begin to feel better now, providing he doesn't have any more hematoma issues. Dr. H. said this morning that it looked like a huge pile of grape jelly. I'll never eat another PBJ, and thanks to me, you may not either. There is a bigger drain tube in his leg, and we got some new instructions on how to "strip" it (move the blood along to the receptacle to avoid clots forming and blocking the way).

I just have to say that my new boss (and the HR head) has been terrific in this difficult time, giving me time off at the beginning of the school year to be at Pete's side. This week, half the middle school is at a nearby camp having an "outdoor education" experience, so that helps things be a little less crazy at school.

Needless to say, "there's no place like home", and we're certainly happy to be here.

Shark bait ooh ha ha

At least two of the three people that read this blog have probably never seen "Finding Nemo". I love this movie, and am sad that I loaned it to *somebody* and can't remember who it was. I'd watch it tonight if I had it. Why, you wonder? Because of this clip. It's only 12 seconds long and gives you no idea what the movie is about, but this little clip is the inspiration for Pete's new nickname: "Sharkbait ooh ha ha".

His leg does look a bit like he was attacked by a shark. Which would makes a good story anyway, because cancer surgery talk makes people uncomfortable.

Actually, he did come close to being attacked by a shark when he lived in Florida as a child. Part of the deal about swimming on the beach in Florida is understanding the rules - and in particular, this very important one: when the lifeguard blows the whistle, you swim for shore NOW. No lollygagging, just swim hard and get there quick. But who can hear a whistle when you're exploring the briny deep with your new snorkel and mask and flippers and lost in your own world and who would ever notice that you were drifting a little too far out? And who can hear the lifeguard screaming at you with the bullhorn to GET OUT OF THE WATER HEY YOU OUT THERE ARE YOU LISTENING?!? Why no, because it is so quiet and serene out there and who knew you could watch fish swim right by you and the snorkel must be the coolest invention ever. At which moment, he happened to finally look up, and hmmm...isn't that odd? There's nobody else in the water - well, except for those two lifeguards in the canoe paddling toward him with all their might while a third one is smacking the water with an oar. What could this possibly mean? Being a very bright child, he quickly deduced that no, this was not a drill, and began swimming toward the beach for all he was worth. Not being a very fast swimmer, and being at a bit of a disadvantage (only made worse by the fact that he felt more than a little clumsy in his big flippers), it became obvious that the shark was trailing him. Pan to the beach, where his mother has fallen to her knees screaming and crying, sure that her only son will never make it back alive. Back to the lifeguards, who are dragging the errant snorkeler into the boat with understanding and compassion for his plight ("Hey! Moron! Yeah, YOU! What is your problem? Do you WANT to get bit by a shark?")

All's well that ends well, and Pete will still swim in the ocean if given the opportunity (as long as the water is warm enough). He was rescued from the shark that almost ate him, and now, whenever he looks at his leg he can think of that fateful day long ago when he really was shark bait. Almost.

Itchy scratchy

As if pain management wasn't hard enough, poor Pete has been itching like crazy today, most likely from one of his many medications. The dr. wants to wait until tomorrow before making a change, hoping that the benedryl and topical cream will help tonight.

Reminds me of when I was a kid and broke out in hives after taking penicillin. I was not a good patient, complaining long and loud over the maddening itch that would never quit. My grandpa Dick told me that if one of the welts were to wrap itself all the way around my waist I'd die. I believed him and checked the big one on my stomach about every five minutes for two days straight. My mother was sympathetic and packed me in baking soda and water paste. Even her patience was tried by my insistence that I'd rather have polio than the hives.

Fortunately for all us, Pete is taking his itch like a grown-up.

And tonight he's watching the football game with a big bowl in his lap, feeling like he just might throw up. Poor guy.

Heather was a great nurse today while I was at work, faithfully recording every medication he took. She made a run to Target for some basketball shorts that are easier to get on over the big leg brace. She tried to make him pinky-swear that he wouldn't get up while she was gone. He refused, and sure enough, he found a reason to get out of the chair while she was gone. Happily, no falls to report.

Home at last

There is an odd science fiction aspect to the passing of time when you're at the hospital. Like a vortex or a taglian loop or a time warp or something...it's like time stands still. Or moves in a repeating loop. Or maybe it's moving backwards - that's what it felt like when Pete would call for pain meds and the nurse took 30 minutes to get there. Or when we called for "transport" to take him to the car today and it took 45 minutes.

It is not easy to get into a vehicle when you can't bend your leg. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to bring the van, and after realizing the front seat was NOT going to cut it, we pulled over and repositioned him behind the front passenger seat with his leg between the two captains seats propped on my bag. Much better. But what an ordeal! He is happily snoozing in his recliner after a miserable two days trying to find some way to lay where he could find relief for his back and his leg at the same time.

The hospital said they'd be sending a survey to find out if we were satisfied with their patient care. We're not too sure which expectations are reasonable and which are not and want to ponder that a bit before responding. One thing I do know for sure is that no one should ever be alone as a patient in the hospital. Right after surgery Pete was unable to articulate what was bothering him, but because I know him so well, I was able to ask the right questions and find out immediately. If I hadn't been there, I'm not sure anyone else would have been able to figure out how to help him (at least not easily).

So, it's good to be home, and hopefully, we'll both get a good night's sleep. Heather is here, at the other end of the couch, typing away on her laptop as I type on mine. I didn't know if was physically possible for a person to type as fast as she does, but apparently she really is doing it. She can work from anywhere if she has internet access and a phone, and this reality makes it possible for her to be here tomorrow (and for the next few days) so I can go back to work. I'm really thankful for a quiet afternoon to kick back and relax. And hey, after two days at work I get a three-day weekend for Labor Day.

Pete has to go back to the dr. on Tuesday for a check-up and at that time they'll remove the drain. The brace stays on for at least two weeks (maybe longer) and the staples won't come out for a good two weeks either. With the skin stretched like it was to close the wound, it will need to be seriously healed before he can be bending his leg.

Thank you (again!), Linda, for bringing supper. Not having to figure that out tonight is a great big blessing. Rumor has it more food is on its way from some other ladies at church. I'm good with that.

Out of the woods but not quite home

Yesterday's surgery was a success in that clear margins were achieved. Pete came back with his leg bandaged from his toes all the way up, with a drain from the wound, and his leg immobilized in a brace. The dr. was pleased with how it went and explained that the *portion* he removed was 11 cm long, 7 cm wide and 3 cm deep. Being a little slow in metric conversion, it took me awhile to realize that he was really saying 4.33 inches long by 2.75 inches wide by 1.81 inches deep. It was the 1.81 inches deep that took my breath away once I figured it out. It bled quite a bit in the night and when they changed the dressing this morning it looked rather like he'd been bitten by a shark...a little shocking at first look. The dr. originally indicated he might call in a plastic surgeon, but didn't. He just stretched the skin and put in a heck of a lot of stitches underneath and a lot of staples on top.

We had hoped that Pete could come home today, but the dr. said no, and so after a room finally became available this afternoon, he was moved up to the surgical ward from day surgery. He felt good for much of today but late this afternoon started feeling bad again. It is really hard to have to lay on your back to protect your leg when your back gets REALLLLY mad at you when you lay on it. He always sleeps on his side and laying on his back aggravates his hip AND his back. We tried everything and every position possible to make it more bearable, but nothing was helping. He also got a little behind on the pain curve, which certainly didn't help. So, a couple more doses of pain meds, and he was hoping for an early night.

I didn't come home yesterday but stayed close to the hospital at a friend's house (thanks, Linda!). Tonight I HAD to come home for a change of clothes (I wasn't prepared for his extended stay) and some rest - everybody knows there is none to be had at the hospital.

My new boss (a twice-breast-cancer-survivor) has been most gracious in granting me time off after only two weeks on the job. Tomorrow is the first day of school and I certainly hate to not be there, but bringing Pete home from the hospital has top priority.

I'm sure there is much more to say, but I am far too tired to have a single intelligent thought. One thing, though...we are so very grateful for all the prayers and support. We are indeed abundantly blessed.

Winding down

Well, it has really been a month. I feel like I've ignored my friends and family and have just put a shoulder to the wind and leaned in. Finishing my job at church required cramming all the work of the busiest month of the year into a week - and it happened to be the same week as VBS. Then starting at school feeling at a deficit already (with Pete's cancer stuff on top of already being exhausted) with a steep learning curve and the work I would have done over the course of the entire summer being crammed into the last two weeks before school starting...I think I can safely say these have been some of the hardest times I can remember in a while. Mercifully, we tend to forget the worst of it, and I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Pete's surgery is scheduled for Monday, and I'm taking Monday and Tuesday off work to get him there and home and cared for. School starts Wednesday. In order to be ready for school to start, I went in this morning for about 3 hours and got at least 6 hours worth done in three thanks to the excellent help of Heather who is a WHIZ. We drove through MacDonalds and headed straight to church for Emily's bridal shower. Heather was the photographer (see below). It was a lovely shower and Eric and Emy got lots of wonderful gifts.

Here's a shot of the happy couple: As you can tell by the backdrop, the theme was "Happily Ever After" and featured several Disney fairy tale props and Emy's mom's amazing talent at rewriting the words of just about any song to fit the need of the moment. This time it was their love story to the tune of "Bippety-Boppity-Boo".

Eric showed up towards the end to help pack up the loot, and got to help open presents besides.

Here's a picture of their cake:


















A closing cancer thought before I wind down for good tonight...Emily's dad is a physicist and works on the cutting edge of medical technology. He was also at the shower for awhile this afternoon and told me something I hadn't known before (which happens almost every time I talk to him). Did you realize (I sure didn't) that in 1977 there was no such thing as a CT scan or an MRI or chemotherapy or radiation therapy? Back then if it was suspected that you might have a brain tumor they just drilled a hole in your skull to have a look see. It's really amazing to think how far we've come. It was fascinating to look at the scans this week with Pete's oncologist - we saw "hot spots" on his neck, indicating degenerative arthritis (but no cancer!). And we saw unbelievable pictures of every part of his insides. They had one "slice" view of his leg that looked like a ham shank. And they could determine a prognosis with a high degree of accuracy and create a plan of action. It's a good time to be alive.

The Brewers lost, but we won

Sorry to not have posted yesterday...I went straight from work to the hospital to dinner to the game to home to bed, and now am back at work again.

So as not to draw out the suspense, our news at the hospital couldn't have been better. There is NO cancer anywhere else in Pete's body! Long story short, he'll be having surgery on Monday to clean out the tumor site, and he'll stay overnight as they will be putting a drain in his leg for a time. He'll be off of it for about a week, and will start radiation once it heals up. Five days a week for five weeks...that will be a haul, but after that, he's DONE.

I think I'll be living here at work between now and the time school starts (when I'm not at the hospital), but it's a small price to pay for such good news. Heather plans to stay with us next week, since with her laptop she can work from anywhere she can get an internet connection. She'll play nursemaid to Dad once he's home, which of course, he insists he does not need. I bet he'll appreciate the help!

We are all emotionally wrung out after the drama of the past few weeks, but in every other way we're flying high. Thanks for all the prayers.

Busily waiting

This is probably a weird combination of the best and worst times to start a new job. It's the worst time because August is the busiest month of the year in children's ministries and I worked grueling hours trying to finish well at church. It's the worst time because I feel spent between finishing at church and dealing with cancer and like I don't have anything left to give a new job. It's the best because what all of this is going to cost is unknown and some extra money will undoubtedly come in handy. And it's the best because it gives me something else to think about.

Because it feels like a lifetime has passed since Tuesday. Monday and Tuesday were big test days for Pete at the hospital: a bone scan, 3 CTs, and a rather involved set of MRI shots covering every last inch of his tumor leg. I told him that after last year's heart cath, his recent head MRI and all these tests, there's probably not a single centimeter of the inside of his body that has gone unseen. He tolerated it all pretty well for the most part, save some wild blood sugars as a result of having to lay off the diabetes meds for a couple of days while his body processed the FOUR different contrasts he was given to light up his insides.

And this coming Tuesday feels like it's another lifetime away. (That's when we go back to get the results of all the above tests.)

I sort of hit a wall on Thursday - it was like my body was screaming, "ENOUGH ALREADY!!!" and "WHAT PART OF STOP DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND???" I left work early with a big migraine, pulling over along the way to throw up, and when I (thankfully) made it home, when straight to bed until morning. Friday was only marginally better, and today a bit better yet, with traces of headache still lurking and enough energy to do some laundry and pick up a bit.

Pete was off this week on vacation, and believe me, spending two days of it at the hospital was not his first choice. But it was better than missing more work, and he did get one project done around the house, so all in all, a good week.

Did I mention that Tuesday is looming large and taking forever to get here?

I would say that up until yesterday we have handled the not knowing pretty well. Our faith is sustaining, and we know that no matter what happens, it is a win-win. That being said, Pete felt the need to talk yesterday about some of the "what-ifs" and I just lost it. I have avoided going there because it seems like a huge waste of emotional energy when things could just as easily go the other and have a happy ending. I realized that for all my brave little Indian talk, I am in no way ready to deal with that sort of thing. After I recovered, we did have a productive conversation and while I'd rather be in denial, he did feel better verbalizing his feelings about it all.

Waiting is the hardest part of what we've faced so far. If waiting is the hardest thing we have to endure, we'll be celebrating come Tuesday.

Back and forward

Well, after a MOST frustrating day with AT&T, it happened rather quickly in the end. When you finally get connected with the right person, you learn it isn't such a big problem after all.

Yesterday, Pete and I met with his new oncologist for the first time. We do like him, and believe he is "one of us" - his explanation of radiation - "it's like the fact that sin needs a covering"...made us laugh. He was very reassuring and we left feeling his team will do everything they can to help us through this journey. They took blood and scheduled a bone scan, three cat scans, an MRI and some x-rays. These tests will take the better part of Monday and Tuesday. Then the next Tuesday (8/19) we meet with the dr. again for the results. He will have also determined the stage/grade of the cancer and will have a plan, which will, of course, mean surgery first. He'll clean out around the tumor site and will create "clean margins". Then they'll blanket the whole area with radiation. And, of course, further treatment will depend on what else they find (or don't find, as we hope will be the case).

In the middle of all this, I have gotten a new job and will start on Monday. More on that later...

We're heading to our first church out of seminary over the weekend, where Pete will be preaching on Sunday for an anniversary celebration. We get to stay with dear friends and are looking forward to a little getaway.

This week has been profound in many ways, and hopefully I can get back and write about it in detail. From witnessing a close friend have a stroke while leading worship to Pete sharing his cancer news with our congregation and preaching the sermon of his life...to long, long days of trying to finish well at church and direct VBS to meeting with the oncologist...it was a whopper. And I am really, really tired.

I listened to the Steven Curtis Chapman interview with Larry King on YouTube tonight (http://chapmanchannel.typepad.com/jim/2008/08/larry-king.html), and I loved the very last comment made by Mary Beth. It went something like this: "Even as we have been falling, falling into the depths, and not even landing on our feet, but doing a face plant, we have found that our foundation was firm. And that means everything."

AT&T woes

Well, first they badgered us for at least a full year trying to sell us UVerse (a fiber optic internet/tv option) and we finally bit. We discovered we could have both internet and more tv channels than we ever wanted (we've never even had cable before) for about the same price as DSL and a landline, so we signed on the dotted line, endured the three hour installation, and disconnected our landline. And then the service worked/didn't work/worked/didn't work (ad nauseum)...somehow they sold us a service that we can't use because we're too far away from the "box", which one would have thought they'd figure out BEFORE installation. So we've had the phone line reconnected and must wait until Friday for our DSL to be back. We're not missing the tv at all, but living without the internet is like not having a microwave or a dishwasher - simply intolerable!!!

So - I have lots to tell and no time to tell it (I'm at work), and it will have to wait until later. No new medical news until after Thursday when Pete sees the oncologist for the first time.

Today ended better than it started

Thank you, Dan, for the push to move in a new direction. We called two of the major cancer centers in the city and found that one of them has two sarcoma specialists! This is after looking at all the sarcoma websites and finding NONE in the entire state. Froedert Hospital has a brand new sarcoma center, and boy are we glad to be able to stay here for evaluation and possible treatment. They can get him in within a week - better news yet! The first thing they want to do is to get the slides that were studied from his biopsy and have a sarcoma pathologist re-test them. Then, they'll most likely have their own specialist operate there. Hopefully, we'll sleep a little better tonight.

Day 6 - When worlds collide

There is something maddening about where we are in this process. We are stuck between two worlds - the one where we don't have enough information to know be too worried, and the one where we are being bombarded with information that is a little too far on the scary continuum for comfort. Our dear, dear friend Dan talked to his oncologist friend who strongly recommended finding a sarcoma specialist without delay and NOT waiting until Aug. 22 to have surgery. This is difficult on several counts, but the biggest obstacle is the fact that there is not one (no, not even one) sarcoma specialist in the entire state of Wisconsin. Pete is calling the cancer center at a local hospital to see if they have a recommendation. From there, I'm not sure what will come next.

We are both struggling today. Dan knows Pete better than just about anybody, and he knows what it will take to get Pete's attention. Believe me, he go it. We know what we know about the faithfulness of God and truly are sustained by it. We feel the prayers of many on our behalf. But in the middle of the night when I'm awakened by whatever and can't go back to sleep because I just want to hear the sound of Pete's breathing next to me, it's a little harder. I've hardly cried, until today...today I'm feeling rather overwhelmed on all fronts.

So...thank you for your prayers, and by the way, if you've tried to call us and wonder why our line has been disconnected, we've gone to cell phones only. Leave a comment below if you want those numbers.

Saturday, July 26, 2008 - Day 3

The first thing we read on the Leiomyosarcoma Foundation webpage was that after an LMS diagnosis your life is never the same. We thought that was a little melodramatic when we read it and now after a couple of days of “settling in”, we still don’t know what the life-changing part will look like, but we’re moving ahead. We can say the “C” word out loud and it sounds less shocking and more normal. It’s really amazing how quickly one can adjust to a new reality. It is what it is, and we just have to deal with it. If we don’t waste a bunch of time and energy worrying or wondering why, we’re left with more to constructively cope.

Pete had an appointment with his primary care physician (PCP) yesterday, who referred him to an oncologist and has a lot of faith in his surgeon. I have since talked to a nurse friend who also knows said surgeon and agrees he is very good. His PCP said they have better luck with insurance companies paying for PET scans when they’re ordered by the oncologist than by him, so the next step is to get into the oncologist. We’ll tackle that on Monday. Our next step is to ascertain if the oncologist seems competent with this rare cancer or if we need to look somewhere else. There is sarcoma clinic in Ann Arbor, MI, and a specialist at Mayo Clinic. Both seem so far away, and we’re leaning toward just hanging on until after the scan and surgery to have a better idea what we’re dealing with. Then, if the prognosis calls for aggressive treatment, it might be time to call in the big guns. If it doesn’t, and the surgery gets it all, we’ll probably just stay close to home. That’s the strategy (for today, anyway).

We’ve talked about a Caringbridge site, but Pete is rather disinclined, so I’ll probably continue to document here for the time being…it seems to me that someday I’ll want to look back and remember the details of what we were doing and thinking and feeling. If this thing turns into a long, drawn out affair, I’ll most like move the cancer talk to Caringbridge, but for now, I’ll stay here.

The elders anointed Pete with oil and prayed him today for the umpteenth time in the past few years (he’s lost count). I would think that after so many health problems the slope to depression could be rather slippery. Please pray with me that he will be a conduit of God’s grace throughout. So far so good.

A new reality

I first started reading blogs about 4 years ago. I got hooked on a Caringbridge blog first - it was written by the parents of one of my piano students in Iowa, named Heidi. Heidi had been diagnosed with a Wilms tumor (an agressive cancer that starts in the kidney) and her parents used Caringbridge (a website where people undergoing a health crisis can start a blog - www.caringbridge.org) to keep people updated without having to repeat the latest news over and over everytime someone asks. I checked their blog every day, and felt so very connected to them even though we had moved far away. They tried absolutely everything, and in the end, after two long years, Heidi died. Her family posted one more entry and then posted no more. Feeling such a part of their story, even from afar, and then having it abruptly end, with no more communication was harder than I imagined. I felt her loss like no other.

On a Caringbridge site (as in any blog), there are opportunities for readers to leave comments. It is through this mechanism that people network with others who are going through similar situations and find support. I had learned about several other cancer families on Heidi's site, and after her loss, I found myself reading their updates as religiously as I had Heidi's. In the blogging world, someone who reads anonymously without ever revealing himself in the comment section is known as a "lurker". I became a lurker and really got hooked. I don't even remember who I got hooked on first. Pete thought I was nuts, as if I didn't have enough hardship in my own life and needed to suffer vicariously through others. I didn't even know why I was doing it, but just losing Heidi had seemed so hard, and continuing my daily blog reading ritual, for some unknown reason, seemed therapeutic.

I have learned a lot about cancer from reading blogs. One of the most gut-wrenching aspects is what people go through trying to save the life of their child. No expense is too great, no treatment is too extreme. At the end of it all (and childhood cancer ends a life more often than not), families find a very small measure of comfort in the fact that they know they have done everything humanly possible. What some cancer patients go through in treatment is unthinkable and as you read, you find yourself wondering why they don't just accept the reality of their situation and let the child go...at the same time, you know that if you were in their shoes, you'd most likely be driven to go to the very same lengths. I think this is particularly true with children. Through the years, I've often wondered how I would respond if cancer ever visited our family.

I guess we get to find out.

Pete has struggled with any number of mystery maladies in the past year, which I won't get into here. This week, he had a neurological workup where, happily, it was determined he does NOT have MS, though a recent MRI seemed to indicate thus. We celebrated with a trip to Oscars for frozen custard (a local delicacy). Yesterday (the day after dodging the MS bullet), he went in for a follow-up with his surgeon, who had removed a lump from his leg last week. This little surgery had been quite innocuous...the lump has been around for a couple of years, and his dr. figured it was a varicose vein or a cyst...nothing to be worried about, but if it bothered him, he could have it removed. It was bothering him enough that we figured it was time. Last week's surgery happened in the office - nothing but a local - and Pete watched him do the whole thing. He wouldn't even let me come along, and he stopped in to visit a parishoner at the hospital next door to the clinic after he was done. No big deal.

Well, apparently it wasn't a varicose vein after all. It was cutaneous leiomyosarcoma (I think I spelled that right), which affects a whopping 4 out of a million...that's how rare it is. I always knew Pete was special. :) There are no specialists in the entire state that deal with this cancer, and not even any in Chicago. So we went from no MS (hooray!) to LMS (stink!) in 24 hours. There is a real irony to that...

I was at work (it didn't seem necessary to accompany him to the follow-up either) and when he got back to church, I knew as soon as I saw his eyes that something was up. I was meeting in the sanctuary with a guy who is hanging a cable for a curtain across the platform when Pete walked in. He joked around and acted like it was another normal day...normal for just a couple more minutes...just a few more minutes of relief that it wasn't MS before having to spill it, and then begin to live in a new reality.

Neither of us got much work done the rest of the day. Lots of reading about this rare cancer, and intermittent periods of hope (his showed up on a leg, and these tumors are easily dealt with) and concern (what if there are more tumors internally?), and most of all, questions upon questions with no answers.

Today, we go see his primary care dr., and hopefully, we'll arrive upon a strategy. The surgeon was ready to operate again right away and THEN recommend an oncologist. Maybe we're wrong, but that approach feels sort of backwards to us. Plus the fact that this surgeon has been removing lumps from people for the past 13 years and this is the first one that was malignant. Is he the right guy to be going back in?

So - we are at peace, interestingly enough. Pete put a post on our church email prayer chain yesterday - thought it was better for it to come from him than through the grapevine - and we can already sense the power of prayer. Partly we are numb, partly we are sort of floating until we have a better understanding of what is going on, and mostly we are resting in the arms of our heavenly Father, who was not in anyway surprised by what surprises us. He is our sustainer and our hope for eternal life, and we need not fear. Not a bad place to be after all.

Crazy, crazy summer

This summer has all of the makings of a forced institutionalization before it's over. That's the kind of crazy summer it is shaping up to be. Not just one too many backyard barbeques, no, I'm talking about THAT kind of crazy...the kind where they give you drugs and put you in a room with pink painted walls (it's supposed to be soothing) and play relaxation tapes with the therapist droning on in a monotone voice about breathing deeply and looking for your inner quiet place.

What could possibly be bad enough to threaten to put me over the edge? Well, nothing really. There is no singular crisis. It's just a whole lot of little things going on all at the same time requiring mental energy to process, make decisions about, prepare for or clean up after. For example, Monday was Pete's day off (his holiday for the 4th, since the 4th came on his regular day off) and I decided to stay home with him and get my hours in on another day this week. Boy, am I glad I did. A storm was rolling in and I was in the basement doing laundry when I heard a loud crack of thunder. I decided to make sure my laptop was unplugged and headed up stairs just in time to see Pete running out the patio door in horizontal rain. Our new screened pavillion was being lifted two feet into the air and I charged out after him. It took both of us to hold it down, being instantly drenched and not even stopping to consider the wisdom of this plan considering the high winds, driving rain and lightning/thunder cracking all around us. If we had not been home, I have no doubt the pavillion would have smashed through our bedroom window, torn off the gutter and been smashed to smithereens. But we saved it! It is bent in several places, but it is in tact. (And, thanks to that extra weight I'm carrying, I did not have to fear being blown away in the wind. I held my own, thank you very much. They say that extra weight is a good thing to have around during a famine. Same goes for high winds.) Another round was on its way, so we tore up several patio stones and further anchored the pavillion to the patio (it had been staked already for all the good it did.) This whole scenario took place shortly after we'd dropped off the dehumidifier at Sears, which picked this week to stop working. (When you live up north and have a basement, a dehumidifier is the only way to keep it dry enough to store stuff down there.) And this was a couple of days after we picking up my car from the second trip to the car hospital for air conditioner repairs. It's the summer for broken stuff, I guess.

Okay - so what's the big deal about a few bent poles and a damp basement? Nothing much, but add a ton of stuff on the plate at work, a new service coming at church with a bazillion details to iron out, three wedding showers this summer, wedding stuff (thank God I'm not the mother of the bride), uncertain health issues, and more, all on the heels of lots of company, and there you have it. I have a motto: "There's nothing wrong with me that a couple of weeks in the Bahamas wouldn't cure." Maybe a suite in a mental health facility is more like it...I think I feel a breakdown coming on.

Long time no blog...

Well, first it was the insanity of life in Twoville...more recently it's been thinking about the big wedding. After lots of conversation with the FOB (family of the bride), we've come upon a mutually satisfying plan for receiving the guests following the wedding. We are hosting a "fellowship" time in the gym, whereby people will go from the receiving line to the gym for cake, coffee, etc. Besides giving people a chance to visit and eat that are not going to the reception, it will afford a place to kill some time for those who are.

Speaking of cake, I've been steering clear of it this week, as well as most other carbs, as I've embarked on the South Beach diet. I was hoping the pounds would melt away, but when you're over 50, I guess that's a little to much to expect. Also, one must be diligent in exercise, which this week, I've NOT. On Sunday morning, I started getting a serious headache, which over the course of the week has been accompanied by some other digestive tract symptoms that you'd rather not hear about. Pete thought it was just the body getting used to a new diet, but after doing some reading, I do believe it is salmonella. I had not heard that there was an outbreak, and I think I bought the last tomatoes in the grocery store. There is no treatment for salmonella (just waiting it out...about a week), so no need to head to the dr. for a diagnosis. It's just not necessary because I just diagnosed myself. Hopefully, next week, I'll feel more like exercising. And stay tuned for the new and improved me. :) I told Pete that if I have to wire my jaws shut I'll do it before I'll be this heavy at the wedding.

So - my good intention is to be back at the blogging more often. We'll see how far it gets me.

Notes from Twoville

It's hard to even know where to start...this past six weeks have flown by. And LOTS has happened. First, we enjoyed a beautiful week in Kentucky. Pete was sick for the better part of the week, but we were in the perfect place for resting up. We checked into our little house after a long day in the car, complete with a couple of wrong turns along the way. We didn't see another soul in the resort until the weekend, and it seemed we were completely alone. Which was fine with us. We thoroughly enjoyed the peaceful surroundings, which felt as one might imagine an enchanted forest. We had everything we needed, and more, including a hot tub on the screened-in back porch. We enjoyed it every day! We took several hikes at nearby state parks, took a train ride to a deserted mining town, and checked out Lincoln's birthplace and early boyhood home.

On our way home from Kentucky, we stopped off at Heidi & Scott's to pick up the boys. H & S were to close on their house the next day and needed to finish packing and cleaning. After closing, they headed our way, dropping off some of their furniture to be used by Heather while they are overseas. Then, Heidi settled in with us, and Scott left for Nebraska, where he took the rest of their belongings to be stored on his parents' farm before heading back to Indiana. Heidi and the boys were here for four weeks, enjoying periodic visits from Scott and taking in some of the local sights. Overall, the boys did great, all things considered. They are starting to string words together to form partial sentences. One of our favorite things to do together was taking walks to the "yake" (the lake) here in our subdivision where they LOVE to throw rocks into the water. We saw baby ducks with their mommy and daddy, and had lots of adventures. Carter would tell Mommy all about it when we got back - "orange" (we saw an orange ball floating in the water), "golf ball" (and a golf ball on the edge), "baby ducks", "horsies", "pinecones", "water".

Scott got in on Thursday, and they headed out this morning to Nebraska (where they'll stay until they leave for England), with more stuff crammed into their minivan than one would ever believe possible. They had to take the long way through Iowa, detouring here and there to avoid flooded roads, which turned a moderately long day into a very long day. Hopefully the final leg tomorrow will be less eventful.

And finally, drum roll please...we're having a wedding! Eric and Emily announced their engagement and will be getting married on Sept. 28th! They came over last night and we celebrated with them, along with celebrating Heather's upcoming birthday and Father's Day. Outside of the upcoming wedding, it was not missed on any of us that this would be our last full-family gathering for a long time. I have always told the kids that I never take one opportunity to be all together for granted.




I'm having trouble uploading photos tonight, but obviously, these two were among the most important ones. I'll try again later.

Golden birthday

Today is what is commonly known as E's "golden birthday", because he is 27 years old today (the 27th). Happy birthday, E!

Lots of memories crowd in:
--the day he was born...I was awake for the first part of this c-section, and the doctor said, "Did you say we wanted a boy here? I'm feeling lucky! Look around, I'm wearing blue, the walls are painted blue...".
--P holding his newborn son for the first time...while I was still in the operating room and didn't get to watch it myself, the picture is priceless. I'll find it and post it.
--underwear and cowboy boots - E's favorite outfit. We called him "Cowboy Eric the Red Banana", a conglomerate of several nicknames all rolled into one.
--his first concussion...a fall all the way down the basement stairs in, you guessed it, his cowboy boots. Subsequent concussions included jumping/falling backwards out of daddy's arms (a freakish accident that would take too long to explain), jumping on the bed and bouncing off landing head-first on a carpet-covered-concrete-floor, running forehead first into a barn beam knocking himself out cold, a football incident, and at least two other times where concussions were possible but not confirmed. It's a wonder he can have a coherent thought after all that.
--flag football with his dad as the coach. P drove the other parents crazy trying to have six year olds run actual plays (kinda dragged out the game) but E and the rest of the boys learned a lot about the fundamentals (Vince Lombardi would have been proud).
--watching years of football from the bleachers. Several memorable moments: E had a "girlfriend" in the 7th grade, Rose, whom we had not met. There was a group of girls in front of us at one game carrying on, and one, who the others called "Rose", said rather loudly, "look at number (whatever it was) - he has such a cute butt!" Yes, it was her. And in E's senior year, his homecoming game, which they lost. He came off the field after the game and buried his head in my shoulder and sobbed. I believe I was crying right along with him. He was a team captain that year and won the most outstanding player award at the end of the season.
--singing together at the piano
--watching him play Perchik in Fiddler on the Roof after only two weeks of rehearsal. He didn't even try out, but took the place of a wrestler buddy who had broken a leg. We were awestruck.
--the day he stood behind me and rested his head on top of mine for the very first time. There were years where that posture was reversed...we stood that way a lot, with my head resting on his.
--my special song to him, which I sing again today, on his birthday:

If I had all the E's in the whole wide world,
and I stood them all in a real big line,
and if I could pick any E in the whole wide world
to love and have him be mine,
do you know who I'd pick?
and do you know why?
because I love my most special boy, E D...

Traveling notes

It's interesting how an hour-and-45-minute flight takes up a whole day...especially when you're an hour-and-a-half from the airport on either end. I can't complain, though, especially when past flights have included numerous plane changes, all in the name of saving a few bucks. I think I'm past that now, and was particularly thankful for a non-stop flight this time.

Winning the award for *worst trip on an airplane ever* is the time I went to visit T & P when they were at Letourneau University in Longview, TX. We lived in Rockford at the time, and P dropped me off at the Hoffman House to pick up the bus to O'Hare. I had just found a seat, was turning to sit down, and the bus forcefully bolted forward. I fell into the seat, in an awkward twisty motion, only to realize I had dislocated my knee. I do not have weak knees (literally or figuratively) and this is the only time I have suffered such an injury. "Suffer" is definitely the operative word, since I had no choice but to grab the offended knee and kick the leg forward, resetting the wayward joint. Ouch. It immediately ballooned, and I kept it up on the seat for the remaining hour-and-a-half (do I see a pattern here?) to the airport. To make a bad situation worse, THIS had to be the trip where I had brilliantly chosen the cheapest flight on the list by taking the roundabout way to my destination. You're not going to believe this, but I promise I'm not making it up. Ok...we started in Chicago and went to Cincinnati. From there we went to Atlanta, and of course, I had to take the train to a different terminal to find my gate. No doubt the farthest possible gate of any in the entire place (though I can't really remember for sure). Then we touched down in Monroe, Louisiana, because, according to the pilot who was "deadheading" on our flight and sitting next to me, EVERY flight that flew over Monroe at that time stopped in Monroe. Why, you may ask (as I did). Because at that time, the president of Delta Airlines lived in Monroe...that's why. At least I didn't have to get off the plane that time. So, who knows how many hours later, and how many miles of hobbling through airports, I finally arrived in Shreveport. Whew.

Fortunately, today's flight was nothing like that. It did leave Tulsa late, but no one minded. When our plane arrived at the gate, it was accompanied by pomp and circumstance, including a soaking by two firetrucks. No, it was not on fire. The reason for the spray down was quite celebratory...a real "water welcome" for a group of Marines returning home to Broken Arrow from Iraq. They disembarked first, to the standing ovation of the crowd. I am such a patriotic sap that I was fighting a breakdown. Then, the rest of the people came off, and thirty minutes later we were ready to board. Thanks to the miracle of the cell phone, I was able to keep P apprised and he showed up at exactly the right moment to pick me up. This was one easy trip, even if it did take the better part of the day.

Oklahoma was beautiful, with all the leaves out and flowers blooming, unlike our northern hinterlands, whose trees are just beginning to bud and may see that four-letter-S-word (snow) in the next few days. We enjoyed lots of visiting and just the right amount of activity interspersed (seeing a newly-married-old-friend, lunch with my brother who was passing through town, dinner at Red Lobster, lunch with my aunt at a winery, and a trip to the genealogy room at the library). My dad located two photo albums that are over 100 years old - a true treasure! Because they were so heavy (over 5 pounds each), he kindly saved me from lugging them home and is sending them in the mail. Thanks, Dad! Thank you both for a great visit.

P.S. - a look around my dad's office brought to memory two more creative endeavors I previously failed to mention...the Navajo loom he built from scratch and on which he weaved (wove?) several very authentic-looking Navajo rugs, and his ukelele playing (self-taught, of course). What a guy.

April 22, 1930

By the grace of God, my dad has outlived all of his immediate family. His father and his sister both died at the age of 62, and his mother was 74 when she passed away. Today, my dad celebrates his 78th birthday, and am I ever thankful he is still here and healthy and active and sharp as ever. Happy birthday, Dad!

I am the only person I know that can say that their dad has published books AND had his own darkroom AND built a western town, a clipper ship, and about every kind of model airplane ever thought of AND had an oil painting phase AND built and flown u-control and remote control airplanes and built slot cars and tracks and model railroad tracks complete with stations and trees and scenery AND MORE... can you say that about YOUR dad? I can. My dad has superhuman creative energy and the discipline to see every amazing project through to completion.

Not everybody can say with confidence that they have always known with every fiber of their being that their dad loved them. I can. I have never doubted, not even for a nanosecond, the love of my father. My dad has always been there for me, has been my biggest cheerleader (along with my mom), and still, even though I've been an adult much longer than I was a kid, challenges me to reach new heights and be better than I was yesterday.

Thanks, Dad for all you mean to me! See you tomorrow! Happy birthday!

Wow...a whole week...really?

I know there's something scientific about it. There must be, because it is an established fact that the older you get the faster time moves. It sort of feels like a free fall about now, with so much happening in the past few (and next few) weeks.

The workshop went well on Friday. The seven hours total driving time made for a very long day, and Saturday was sort of a wash, lots of time spent vacantly staring into space. But H1 came over in the afternoon and we went for a bike ride and the weather was glorious.

No, we did not feel the earthquake. It supposedly rocked our world around 4:30 in the morning, and if would have to be one pretty big tremor to awaken me.

Last fall, our neighbor two doors down reported that their two Rotweilers went CRAZY barking one day and when they looked out the window they saw a VERY large cat (like a cougar or a mountain lion) strolling along their back fence. Last week in Chicago, a cougar was sited in a north shore suburb and was eventually cornered and shot. Here's wondering if it was the same cat...

Tomorrow and Tuesday are full work days in order to be ready to leave Wed. morning for Tulsa. I got a cheaper ticket out of O'Hare so P is taking me to the airport. Thanks, honey! Tuesday is my dad's birthday, so between now and then, look for a commemorative post.

Saying that made me realize my brother turned 50 earlier this month and I didn't write about him...sorry, M. The first memory that always pops into my head (and our recollections of this event are exactly the same, even though we were only 2 and 4 at the time) is when the boat motor standing in the corner of the garage fell over on him (he was no doubt trying to scale it) and severed his little finger from his left hand. I was sent to the garage to find out why he was crying. I ran back inside to report, my mother wrapped his hand in a white towel, and we were about to leave for the hospital. Unable to find the car keys in the midst of such trauma, our next door neighbor drove us, and truthfully, we could have walked there faster. Or so it felt at the time. I stayed in the waiting room, and I can remember my dad arriving, and hearing M crying from behind the big doors. It was decided to not reattach his finger, the rationale being that he'd never miss a pinky and having it there but not working right would be more trouble than it was worth. And they were right - it never slowed him down, not once, even while he was recuperating. He was as much of a little monkey as ever, climbing out of his crib at night with the cast up past his bicep to go to the bathroom. It's amazing how this event was burned into our young minds forever, and how when I think of him, this is what I think of first. Well, anyway, I gave him a call on his birthday, and welcomed him to the 50's, having, as usual, blazed the way first. I will always precede him. :)

I just hope that American is up and running and on time come Wednesday. I'd really rather spend my time with my family than in the airport.