Coping with cancer, al dente

Just made some perfect fettuccine for me lady. And...I'm pretty awesome at cooking pasta. It is a questionable skill, given my current state of robustness, but it turns out that this chemo carnival causes Liz to crave noodles that are cooked to be firm but not hard: al dente.

It turns out that al dente is good for cancer treatment as well. We're learning how much we can handle without allowing our hearts or our emotions to harden or overcook. Liz is doing much better at this than I am. She still amazes me with her resolute strength, given all we've been through together, especially to ultimately be blessed with our boys. She says she feels more like mushy pasta. I respectfully disagree.

These boys love their mom. Lots of 'Happy Mother's Day!' exclamations and hugs for her today. Even some shy head-tilt sideways glance flirting from 7-month old Eli, her biggest fan. The boys are resilient and understanding, especially considering the disruptions and changes they've been dealing with over the past year (bed rest, kindergarten, new baby, cancer diagnosis, chemo treatments...). They give us reason to push through.

Case in point:  Cohen giving zerberts to Eli

We're going for the first second opinion tomorrow at The University of Chicago Medicine Comprehensive Cancer Center Duchossois Center for Advanced Medicine and Thinktank for Extra Long Hospital Names. I think it's across the street from the Derek Zoolander Center For Children Who Can't Read Good And Wanna Learn To Do Other Stuff Good Too. The doc we'll visit is nationally ranked in the top 1% of her specialty (by a magazine that ranks doctors so they can sell magazines), and she is personally known and recommended by Liz's oncologist. She's the same doctor who confirmed in March that we're on the right treatment path.

I hope that she'll say it was a big mistake, that Liz simply has a lot of stress caused by mothering 3 active boys, no cancer anywhere. Ever. Chalk it up to a faulty diagnosis.

If that won't happen, I want her to say that the world's best cancer researchers guarantee that Liz will be completely healed by July, forever, on her current treatment plan.

If that won't happen, then it must be time to get a second second opinion.

We already received official governmental confirmation that all will be well. Jesse White, our beloved, narcissistic Secretary of State of Illinois, officially declares the disease temporary. Pictorial proof:

This whole cancer thing just has to be over soon. The chemo treatments are beating up my beautiful bride. But we'll keep working on getting stronger, firmer, without becoming too hardened. Al dente works for us, but there is one exception: we'll harden our resolve, and we'll become more firm in our commitment to do everything we can to fight this. As a ND friend said to Liz: fight like a girl!

Happy Mother's Day to the strongest, most intuitive, most patient, most caring mom our boys could have hoped for.

And a very grateful Mother's Day to those brave, selfless birth mothers and families who entrusted us to raise Cohen and Jensen and allowed them to become a natural part of our family.

Go Team Liz.