Gym Guy

Liz was diagnosed with advanced stage metastatic breast cancer exactly 25 weeks ago. 175 days. Almost six months. And it has been 5 1/2 weeks since the end of chemo round 6 when she finally got to drop the Taxotere, steroids, and Neulasta. She still has no eyelashes, her eyebrows are barely hanging on, and her energy level is improved but it will be a long recovery road. She has a good 1/4" of head hair coming in though! We just want things to get back to normal, whatever that means now. We catch ourselves more often in moments when we are not thinking about cancer and death and treatments. It's a good feeling. It usually happens during The Great Food Truck Race or Judge Judy. Don't even get me started on Burn Notice. Boom.

The sitter is getting antsy to start her new job nearer to the city in a couple of weeks, and we still need early morning help at the very least. Why early morning you ask? (Just go along with me here.)

These last few months have provided constant, stark reminders of my own mortality. Not only because of Liz's diagnosis, but also because of friends and family who have gone (and are going) through serious and scary challenges. Plus my little brother now weighs the inverse of his previous weight. He skinny. So two weeks ago I signed up for a gym. And I go every weekday morning. Well, so far, at least for the last two weeks. Thus the need for a reliable early morning sitter.

On one hand I wonder what I was thinking. Cancer in the family, Cohen in first grade, Jensen in preschool and waking up like all night just to let me know he is there, I am in the most challenging and stressful part of the MBA program, I need to ease back into helping more within the lay leadership position at church <insert huge shout out and thanks to John, Kurtis, and Steve here>, and I have a job and responsibility to my team and company. On the other hand I realized that it's now or never, so I signed up to get mercilessly shamed multiple times a week work with a ruthless escaped convict personal trainer who helps me have accountability and learn how to actually work out the right way. Honestly, she's not so bad. (Yes, she is.) But after a couple of weeks her demonic methods scare me so much that I am afraid to leave I feel great and can't wait to get back the next day. But I'd still rather be sleeping.

The only problem with the gym is that Gym Guy is there. When I refer to Gym Guy, I mean literally any guy in the gym who does or says or shows anything that makes me throw up a little in my mouth. And I don't plan to make a lot of friends there, since most of the time Gym Guy ain't wearing much. Some recent examples (parents, shield your kids from the following):

• Mid-life crisis Gym Guy walked in with his workout shirt emblazoned with "Can we just skip to the part where we get naked?" I was offended by both the content and the grammar.
• Old and wrinkly Gym Guy was walking around the locker room, totally naked, except for the swim cap and goggles on his head.
• Short and overweight Gym Guy leaning way over onto the counter to brush his teeth. In his tighty whiteys.
• I hear showering Gym Guy blowing his nose. Note: there are no boxes of Kleenex in the showers. Good thing he uses the same stall every day, so I don't have to use it ever.
• I was minding my own business, walking from the front of the locker room to the back, when I had to make my way around tall and overweight Gym Guy, who had one foot up on the counter and the gym-supplied hair dryer clearing his nether regions. No clothes. Fortunately this morning I noticed that the hair dryer is conveniently missing. Whew.

So other than Gym Guy, the place continually reminds me of how much I hate working out is great.

One parting thought from our friend Colette, in light of the chaos that is cancer. Go Team Liz.

Strength to carry on

"Be strong, trust yourself, love yourself, conquer your fears, just go after what you want. And act fast, because life just isn't that long."
            - Pam Beesley Halpert on the final episode of The Office


I love that quote, and I have been hanging onto it for a while. Perhaps because I am having massive Office withdrawals (though they are not nearly as severe as my 24 withdrawals). But more likely because I did not want to reference anything that implied that life can be short. Seriously... It is crazy how often I think about what might be. Liz and I would be naive if we did not at least talk about the elephant in the room. But with the great news from the last few weeks of her treatments, we are at least encouraged and optimistic that we will make it. That she will make it. So these last few weeks have been all about enjoying every day, thanking God (and those who selflessly do His good work), and trying to help get things back to "normal."

Cohen started school last Thursday. He jumped out of the van and ran right inside, not so much as a look back to his mom. When she picked him up, he ran to her yelling "Best day ever! Best day ever!" He loves the lunches she packs. And did you know he has recess? EVERY DAY? And P.E. twice a week? And his teacher is "great!" So, yeah, he's fine.

Jensen started preschool today. No screams or crying, which was quite an accomplishment. It was nearly impossible to get the first-day-of-school pictures, since he lives life on turbo speed. He must have learned that from his brother. When Liz took him to the inaugural bathroom visit at school this morning, he decided to hug lean into use the urinal. Not particularly successful -- he still is trying to master potty training, and we lost a few months of practice. Is it appropriate to give tips to his teacher? Or maybe just apologetic glances. Followed by high fives since Jensen is so awesome.

Eli is still awesome too.

Liz has now been to church two weeks in a row, and she has taken care of all three boys (including Cohen's school pickups) twice in the last week. She is exhausted. And she hurts. Maybe some physical therapy or other strength training will help, so we'll look into that. Recovery is not easy, especially with the continual concerns and thoughts creeping in. But we will just enjoy every day, grateful for her increasing strength and fighting spirit to carry on.

With family, work, and school lately, I have slacked on my bloggy duties. In the last few weeks we received some amazing Team Liz Logo submissions. These mean a lot, to both of us. Thanks to all here, and all who have sent them in so far. I will caption each photo and upload them on the Worldwide Logo page tonight. Go Team Liz!

Wisconsin by the numbers

What a great trip to the Dells (my Chicagoland team mocked me for calling it Wisconsin Dells):

• 4 hour drive
• 2 stops along the way, including 1 stop at Cohen's favorite rest stop in the world: walls he can climb up and walk along
• 3 days and 2 nights at Great Wolf Lodge
• 1 terrified toddler of the people in character costumes
• 2 hours later bedtime and 1 hour earlier wake-up for Cohen aand Jensen since they had to share a room and they have completely different sleeping preferences ("Jensen, will you please just stop talking so I can finally sleep?").
• 2 Cohen bathroom runs per hour at the waterpark
• 0 bathroom runs for most of the kids there. What are swim diapers really for anyway? I have never seen so many kids peeing in public. And I was a Boy Scout. Seriously, you could look in any direction and see the telltale signs on the faces of overfilled children testing the chlorine effectiveness in the pools. But I digress...
• 3 story cargo net climb for Dad, to Cohen's shock and to the shagrin of onlookers below
• Unknown number of inappropriate swimsuits worn by others that made me feel like I'm much better looking in my sweet swim shirt than I thought
• 14 inch fish (we caught 2) from the tourist trap kid fishing ponds in my feeble attempt to git some country back in my city boys. Didn't work. Though Cohen was impressed with the foreign exchange student working the gutting station who seemed to enjoy ripping the beating heart out of the fish just a little too much.
• 15,000 steps per day
• 6 Moosejaw root beers
• 12 dollars in tolls on the way home
• 45 extra minutes for trusting Google Maps to safely lead us through a 35-mile construction project
• 1 happy family with tuckered-out kids and tuckereder parents

We got back Friday, Liz was tired and sore, but it was from the walking and not from the chemo. So we got a sitter on Saturday and ran errands! It was a great date: Goodwill for donations, Old Navy and Gap for boys clothes, Eddie Bauer to make me feel super adventurous and want to buy a lot of safari pants. It felt...normal. I was starting to forget what normal feels like. It's definitely a new normal, but I love seeing Liz regaining her strength and exercising her considerable will.

Herceptin, Perjeta, and blood work yesterday. Her numbers are still great. Hopefully hair and nails will come back and the tingling pain in hands and feet will go away within the next 3 months, 6 at most (we hope!). Glad to be home. Gladder to be doing "normal" things again as a family.

Go Team Liz.

Attempting a family vacation

We're going to try it: road trip! Well, a short-ish one. We were going to go to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, for a few days starting tomorrow. But the weather might be iffy, Liz really is not ready for a sunny day at the beach, and I am not really ready to help keep Cohen afloat while chasing Jensen down the beach and keeping Eli from eating as much sand as he can find.

So we're off to Wisconsin Dells tomorrow. This will almost meet our obligations to the six-year old who never forgets promises. And it will provide a comfy space to hang out without having to venture outside. Good news for Wisconsin: regular swim trunks for me, no Speedos. Actually, that's good news for the world. And if we get sick of the indoor water park (yeah right) I can take the big boys to the fake fishing ponds where you throw in your line and haul 'em out quick. Wish us luck...

Two nights ago after I put Eli and Jensen to bed, I took Cohen to the park. Liz and I have not had enough chances lately for 1-on-1 time with any of the boys. He assumed my answers would all be no, so he posed questions as "I wish" statements:

"I wish we could go over and jump on the rocks."
"It would be fun to go run on the grass."
"I wish I could go climb the tree."
"Too bad the playground is too far away."

I decided to say yes to everything, which blew his mind. So I got this smile and a very happy (and tired) boy. Made it all worth it.

After I put Eli to bed last night, Cohen had some mommy-and-me time and I took Jensen to get a haircut at SportClips. If you are not familiar with the SportClips experience, it is basically a sissy salon that makes you feel super manly about getting a head massage with your shampoo because there are TV's everywhere showing ESPN. Awesome. Jensen was shy when he arrived, but after double-fisting their free suckers, he bore down for the long haul. Cohen loves getting the MVP Package, which includes hair wash, hot towl, head and face massage, and neck/back massage. But he wasn't there. So I asked Jensen. He said yes. Here he is, trying not to like the shampoo while sitting in the massage chair, and J trying not to like the back massage. He loved both.



Liz has a few new eyelashes showing up late to the party. Her skin is glowing. So are her spirits. I have not seen her with this much energy and can-do-ness since March. It really has been two steps forward and one step back so far over these past few weeks, but that is better than the other way around. And I think we are close to three steps forward. Her eyes still constantly water, so pray that her tear ducts will start to heal as well.

It was SO good to have Howie, Amanda, and their kids here for a couple of days. I'll post more this week about our fun adventures, replete with photos. Wish we were closer to family. So glad we have each other.

Go Team Liz!

P.S. Here are some more awesome photos from Jen as she takes a cross-country road trip. More to come, I hope. Good reminder that the Team Liz Logos contest is still alive and well. Thanks, Jen!

Friendly folks

Jensen and Eli are apparently still sick, at least as of yesterday. This is a nasty bug. My deepest apologies to Heather's back seat where Jensen was sitting. To my credit, I did try to chase her down with a gift bottle of Febreze, but she drove away too fast. We owe her.

The doctor said yesterday that if we just give the baby Pedialyte and take away all dairy from Jensen for 24 hours they should be able to kick it to the curb. So I ran to the Meijer grocery store early this morning for more bananas, crackers, apple juice, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I hadn't planned on buying (because I'm a guy, so I can't help it).

Holy moly, shoppers are really nice early in the morning. The employees were pleasant and helpful. And the lady I thought was going to attack me in the parking lot just wanted to congratulate me for "coming to my store so early, I love seeing other shoppers at daybreak!" I actually left with a smile on my face, whistling back to my car, and I sang all the way home. Sorry, neighbors, for having my window down.

I believe that happiness is a choice. Sure, some people are predisposed with happy genes (as opposed to happy jeans, which are basically acid washed mom jeans, I think). And others learn to cope to life based on their worldview or their upbringing. But overall, we all can decide how happy we want to be. Apparently I did not want to be too happy this past week. Just ask my team. Good thing they're forgiving folks.

A favorite Old Testament proverb of mine states: "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."

This cancer stuff is hard. Liz isn't going to be able to take care of the kids and her annoying husband for some time. Life moves on for the great people who have been such generous providers of support and service. They are tired. So are we. But we can choose to smile, to laugh, to enjoy the good moments we have. It makes life so much better.

Go Team Liz.

P.S. Great pics from my cousin and his family at the USAF Museum in Dayton, Ohio. Liz and I went to that museum back in our Ohio days. Love it! Thanks, Kevin.