Fun to fall down and get back up

My parents came to town a few weeks ago, and on a chilly-yet-sunny May day, we loaded up the van and visited a nearby park. Swings, soccer, football, tag, monkey bars, walks, runs... I glanced over my shoulder and saw Liz fall to the grass. As I stepped toward her, she waved me off, stood up, and kicked the soccer ball to Cohen. She smiled, looked at me, and said, "It's fun to fall down and get back up."

We went back to the cancer center yesterday for Liz's regular tri-weekly treatments. This time around we also met with the doctor. We have never seen him so optimistic and excited for her prognosis! It's all good news: her blood work shows levels completely in the normal range, the recent CT scan shows no evidence of cancer anywhere, and we get to reduce the frequency of another one of her medications. The treatments are working with no indication of slowed effectiveness.

Wow.

Flashback to October 1995, a couple of months before I began my two-year mission service in Germany for my church. I distinctly remember hearing a talk from a church leader, Elder Richard G. Scott, but I hadn't thought much about it since that time...until last week, when I came across the quote again:

"Just when all seems to be going right, challenges often come in multiple doses applied simultaneously. When those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more. He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding, and compassion which polish you for your everlasting benefit. To get you from where you are to where He wants you to be requires a lot of stretching, and that generally entails discomfort and pain."

The message here seems universal. Challenges can hit you like a flash flood. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, not due to any fault of theirs, or actions caused by others. If we can gain the perspective that we can learn, stretch, and grow through our challenges, we will be better positioned to show empathy to others and be more willing to help others get back up after they fall.

Somehow we made it through these past couple of years, through all of the highs and lows. Liz just completed her second 5K last week, she digs up trees for fun, I just finished the Notre Dame MBA, Cohen was proud to graduate from first grade at the same time as dad, Jensen completed preschool, and Eli babbled his way to the ripe old age of 20 months. We are blessed. And it really is fun to see Liz get back up after a fall.

Go Team Liz!

   

Luck of the Irish

Just 1 year and 10 days after diagnosis, Liz finished the St. Paddy's Day 5k in Chicago on 3/15/14. We couldn't have imagined just a few months ago that she would be so strong, so vibrant, and so... healthy! It was 32 degrees, windy, with ice and mud throughout the course, but we made it. Here's to many more races and many more decades to come. Go Team Liz!

But you don't look sick

A couple of weeks ago Liz sent me this text message:

"Sometimes little things are quite sobering and smack me in the face about dumb cancer. I picked out a button up shirt for Eli and it took me 5-6 tries before I could do 1 button. All the while the boys just happened to be sitting on the couch watching me. I tried to act calm and not distressed but Cohen just looked at me so intently like he was silently willing me to do it. Incredibly hard. A seven year old shouldn't have to be your cheerleader."

Cohen's unabashed choice for his school's "Wear Pink Day"

We have a new reality now. We're almost to a year since diagnosis, and although the cancer was obliterated (WAHOO!), it can still come back. Liz has good days and bad days. But when she looks well, it's hard for folks to understand that she is fighting a battle every day. As another cancer survivor wisely put it: "It's not that we are seeking pity, but we need the support of our family and friends...We look healthy. We aren't. We are sick. We are vulnerable. Even if we don't look like it."

How quickly some people forget what she is dealing with, both physically and emotionally. I forget sometimes too. But some people don't -- a phone call, a hug, a ladies night out, her favorite chicken noodle soup magically appearing on our doorstep on a particularly difficult day. These are the people who give her the strength and will to keep going. They remind me of an inspiring quote from Mother Teresa:

"I used to pray that God would feed the hungry, or do this or that, but now I pray that he will guide me to do whatever I'm supposed to do, what I can do. I used to pray for answers, but now I'm praying for strength. I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things."

Cohen shouldn't have to be his mom's biggest cheerleader, but he is. Each night, if I'm home early enough, I help put the boys to bed. I recently asked Cohen what he wanted to read before going to sleep.

"Dad, can we draw in the cancer book?"

We bought a great workbook last year to help Cohen open up about his questions, worries, and help him deal with the emotional reality of cancer in his home. He drew six boxes on the "Questions I have about cancer" page and filled them up: medicine bottle, germs, IV tubes, bed, and hair. He left one of the boxes blank. I asked him to tell me about each box:

Medicine bottle: cuz Mom still has to get her medicine at the cancer center every three weeks.

Germs: cuz we want to kill them all and make sure cancer doesn't come back.

IV tubes: that's how Mom gets her medicine to keep the cancer away.

Bed: Mom had to spend a lot of time in bed to kill the cancer and have lots of "engery" for her boys.

Hair: cuz all of her hair was gone with the cancer medicine and now it's growing back.

Blank: this one is for our whole family, cuz we love Mom and we are going to be together forever.

Yes. Yes we are.

Go Team Liz.

Ode to Eww

If you just want to read the "how's the family doing" part of this blog post, or if you really aren't interested in the more subtle grossness of my life in general, skip down further and start reading after the line. Got that, Mom? Love you.


I recently took a 16-day hiatus from the gym. There are a lot of lame excuses to explain my absence (work, school, carbs, apps...carbs), and I have since returned. But I think I had a great reason for my lengthy nonworkoutiness. I had just finished a good swim and decided to take an early break by resting in the nearby hot tub. There's even a waterfall, so I let the warm waters caress my head, face, and shoulders. I lounged, I stretched, and I floated. That's when I noticed a leaf in front of my face, so instinctively, I tried to quickly push it out of the way.

It wasn't a leaf. It was poo. And I'm not nearly as tough as I thought I was.

I launched out of the hot tub, and in between dry heaves, told the terribly unfortunate nearby worker about the bobbing bonus awaiting him. He lowered his head, paused, then "thanked" me for letting him know. I then spent the next 20 minutes trying to scrub off the memories in the shower.

Someone told me "at least it was in the hot tub, I'm sure the chlorine took care of any germs or diseases." O ye of little empathy and understanding, it wasn't the germs and diseases I was worried about. It was the floating prize. The one that I touched. The one that I wish had been a leaf.

It brought me back to the time on the Vernal Vipers swim team—pause for laughter—when we had to wait after public hours for the pool attendant to dump a giant scoop of white powder on a sunken brown treasure that was resting precariously on the pool floor. We watched as the disgusting deuce disappeared to the worker's glee: "see, it's all gone!" No, it wasn't all gone, it just turned into a billion microscopic fecal fragments that I ingested for the next two hours. Eww.

So I've started going to the gym again (I will forgive, but I won't forget!), and I intend to add an extra day or two to the weekly workout schedule. You know, so I can hang out more with gym guy:

• Sailor shanty shower singing with the scratchy pirate growl gym guy
• Drip dry locker room gym guy
• Rolling around on the carpet doing "exercises" that look like steamrollers gym guy
• No need to close the curtain when showering gym guy
• Hey that's a cool heart monitor wait a second that's a house arrest ankle monitor gym guy

________________________________

Whew, I'm glad I got that off my chest.

Now... How are the kids and me lady? Great. Really! The exhaustion Liz feels is more because of the "normal" stresses and joys of rearing three young and active boys, managing the household and all of the associated baggage, the boys' school and activity schedules, and her own health and church activities schedules. She keeps getting stronger each day. During difficult days I get a text or email from her with an escapist picture of the dock in St. John, USVI, or a link to a travel review. But she somehow finds the strength and resiliency to keep us all moving forward. What an amazing woman and inspiration to me.

The boys are doing well. Cohen told me last week what he wants to do for a job when he grows up: "Army, marines, navy, PetSmart, Good Will worker, Air Force, jollygist, paleontologist, and scientist math guy." Sounds like he'll be really busy.

Jensen (or "Jenshen" as he prefers to refer to himself) woke up a couple of weeks ago with a night terror, sobbing in his room at 2am. It took a while and a few extra visits for him to calm down, but he finally fell back to sleep. The next morning he told Liz, "Mom, I  have a really really bad dream. It's a Jenshen lobster monster. Every time I close my eyes I see a lobster there." My bad I guess: I took him and Cohen to the grocery store and decided to show them the lobster tank. The nice lady took one out to show the boys. Cohen loved it, but Jensen took off down the frozen foods aisle as fast as his little legs could carry him. I chased him down, but he refused to move within a five-foot radius of the horrific creature. Terrified. Then bad dreams. Whoops.

The good news is that the lobster incident encouraged Jensen to start saying his own bedtime prayers each night. He used to just listen and throw in an "Amen!" at the end. The nightmare got him started: "Heavenly Father, please bless that Jenshen not have bad dreams about lobsters." Amen.

In addition to sea creatures, he is also terrified of fake mustaches. Cohen puts one on and tries to give Jensen kisses while he runs away screaming. Ah, brothers. Cohen also "accidentally" left the mustache stuck to the middle step on the basement stairs, which Jensen unfortunately only noticed on his way up the other night. I had to convince him to close his eyes and run upstairs as fast as he could. Probably not the smartest idea, but that's the best I could think of in the moment. Jensen then comforted himself by hugging Busterd (rhymes with mustard, but used to be Buster), his Fisher Price pull-along puppy. Boys are fun.

Eli is our sweet baby, such a funny boy. He scrunches his face any time we eat or say cheese. His brothers adore him, and nothing makes us happier than when they all play nicely together (usually some form of chase, tag, wrestling, or generally sitting on one another). He's 16 months old already, babbling up a storm, and still enough of a baby that Liz gets her cuddles in.

We're only two weeks away from the one-year anniversary of Liz's diagnosis. And we're 3 1/2 weeks away from the 5K we're doing to celebrate her continued triumph over cancer. Here's to continuing to kick cancer in the face.

Go Team Liz!

No cancellations allowed

Liz has a cough and a head cold, and she kept the baby while I took the big boys to church. Here's the conversation as I drove them home:

Jensen:   "Hey, Dad?"

Me:         "What, dude."
Jensen:   "Did Mom got cancelled?"

Me:         "What do you mean?"

Jensen:   "Did Mom got cancelled again?"

Me:         After some thought... "Are you asking if Mom has cancer?"

Jensen:   "Yeah."

Cohen:    Big brother pipes up: "No, Jensen, Mom gets her medicine every three weeks so the cancer
              doesn't come back."

Jensen:   "Yeah, cuv I don't want Mom to get cancelled."

Me:         "Me neither, buddy, me neither."


 

The break-up

Dear 2013,

I break up with you.

As with any break-up, I thought long and hard about it, but ultimately it is the right decision.  Please know that there were some good times that I treasure. The not-so-good outweigh them, though, so it is time for us both to move on. You probably are not shocked by this news, but just in case I will give you some of the reasons.

January started off with a bang and with such promise! You and I both felt good, our relationship was getting stronger—you were going to be the best thing that ever happened to me. I just knew it. Although it was cold, February came and we were so happy. Valentine’s day was perfect.

Then the end of the month came and I began to sense something that made me uneasy. By the beginning of March I was done with you. Then came April, May and June. Why did you even stay all those months? It was cruel and unusual punishment. Tormenting me. You were this close to becoming stalkerish.

Thankfully the light and heat of summer finally came in July and our future looked a bit brighter again. We had a long, long ways to go but at least we were talking again. With the end of summer and beginning of Fall in August and September we fell into an easy rhythm. Although, I admit, I was still quite bitter that you short-changed my summer. If you really knew me, you would have never done that. Sadly, you blew it come October. And November. There were a lot of good things in those months, but again you had to throw in some not- so-good things. Broken hearts (and rib).

All the cheering of Christmas made December a welcome relief. Thank you for that. Bells ringing, children singing and a most memorable sun shining beach vacation finally helped me to be done with you, 2013.

Thank you for the memories, but please don’t ever, ever come back. Memories are enough. Visits don’t have to happen. Ever.

Yours truly,

Liz

P.S. Oh, and I met a new friend! 2014. We’re perfect for each other.

2013 Top 10

Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't a top 10 list. I just figured the title would get your attention. And now you're still reading, in spite of this awkward introduction. How else to start a blog post when I haven't written in a while?

So last night I decided to go all Arizona and throw on some flip flops for a quick trip to Chipotle. Nothing says Christmas Eve Eve like a steaming bowl of rice and beans. Well, that wasn't the best decision. Flip flops I mean, not Chipotle. It was zero degrees with a -19 wind chill. You know how your forehead aches when briefly out in the harsh, cold wind? That's what my toes felt like. Fortunately it was only for all night long. But no frostbite or gangrene, so we're good to go. I did fall asleep on the couch out of sheer exhaustion, or perhaps it was a coma, but you ain't never seeing that picture that my sweet and beautiful wife took (RIGHT, LIZ?!).

First off, the great news: Liz's markers and blood work and heart tests all are NORMAL! In fact, her numbers improved to all-time record levels this past week. She still has her antibody treatments every three weeks, and we'll keep that going, since it's working. Her hair is growing in nicely (with an awesome waviness in the back...I hope she'll go for a mullet, but I think that's off the table). Nails need a little more length before it's mani/pedi time. We are so grateful.

Next: I'm done with the second progression of school. Wahoo!! Graduation in May, only eight more courses to go. But it's a nice, albeit short, break. Last tuition payment is in. It's go time. I was this close (imagine me pinching my fingers together in front of my face with one eye closed) to quitting the program when Liz was diagnosed in March. But she pushed me to keep going with the program, and amazing classmates and work colleagues helped buoy me through the toughest times.

Finally: I should think about something important to write here, since this writing structure seems so appropriate. Hmm...

The boys are doing great! On Tuesday of the week of Thanksgiving, we took Cohen and Jensen to the surgery center for some fun. Cohen had his adenoids removed and tubes put in his ears. Jensen had his tonsils removed. Cohen recovered quickly...almost too quickly actually. Apparently the fluid in his ears really did prevent him from hearing well -- he asked us to "turn off all of the noise" and he shut himself in his room for most of the first two days. It took Jensen nearly two weeks to fully recover, but he's doing great now. Eli stumbles around and mumbles all of the time (he takes after me). He just got his first haircut last week too. Unfortunately, he keeps getting ear infections, so we have a triple ENT visit scheduled for January: follow up for the big boys and potential ear tube prep for Eli.

We'll write up a "year end review" on this here blog some time in the few weeks. Just have to survive Christmas Eve and Day with some overexcited boys. In the meantime, Merry Christmas to you all! Thank you for your love, support, prayers, and help throughout this difficult year. We couldn't have done it all without you.

Go Team Liz!

 

Gym Guy

So I had a good workout today, which basically means I didn't loathe my trainer and I didn't look in the mirror. I headed to the locker room, donned my sweet swim trunks, excited for a relaxing few minutes in the hot tub. Until I saw gym guy lounging around in the water. You know, the one who likes to dry off his nether regions with the hair dryer in his right hand and his left foot up on the counter. So I just went back to the showers, probably because I knew he wouldn't be in there.

I'm not good at picking out faces in a crowd, at describing how someone looks. But I tend not to forget funny and horrible experiences. So while at the gym, I just pretend that they're all the same person.

Remember purple silk briefs gym guy? Yeah, he's also turquoise-silk-briefs-with-purple-silk-dress-shirt-and-Axe-body-spray gym guy.

Then there's Right Guard aerosol gym guy. It's almost like he wants to disappear like a magician in smoke or a squid in ink. One second he's there, fogging the locker room, and the next second he's gone in a poof of canned deodorant spray.

Don't get me started on stretching-in-too-small-towel-while-in-sauna gym guy.

I have noticed that with the weather turning colder and the air drying out, gym guy uses a lot of lotion. I'm cool with that. Hands, elbows, maybe feet. My problem is when body-lotion-rubdown-in-the-nude gym guy thinks he's in his bathroom at home. I didn't even know lotion belonged there.

Weatherman-gym-guy and I chat every morning. He likes to tell me about stupid people who pay him flat fees to plow snow from their driveways and parking lots. I know when payday is, and he tells me how much he makes. Our three minute conversations always start with "Hey, bro. No snow today. Sweeeeeeet." I wish he wouldn't talk to me.

Then there's high-school-football gym guy. I get it: supporting the school kids, enjoying Friday night lights. But he doesn't have any kids at the school. He doesn't even live in the area. He's just a superfan of the team, buying all of their gear (at least all of their t-shirts and gym shorts). He records each game then "breaks down tape" every morning with the poor guy next to him who must not realize that he could pick a different locker.

My favorite moment last week was when I met lying-down-by-the-hot-tub-and-it-looks-like-he's-dead gym guy. It's not like anyone introduced us. I walked by the hot tub and he was lying there on the tile, neck contorted as he leaned against the wall. He totally looked dead. Not breathing, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. First Aid merit badge time... I tapped his knee with a good "Hey man, you ok?" To which he responded, "$*^% man I'M SLEEPING." Jeez, with an attitude like that, he'll have a hard time getting anyone to tap his knee when he really dies on the tile by the hot tub at the gym.

Unfortunately, leg-on-counter-with-high-powered-hair-dryer gym guy bid me adieu as I left the gym this morning. Someone should tell him that the towels are free and he doesn't need to blow dry all of his parts. Maybe I'll tap him on the knee tomorrow and let him know.

Quarterback sneak (The Results - Part III)

Liz has had a lingering, terrible cough for a couple of weeks now. Yesterday morning she woke up with searing pain on the right side of her chest. So I cancelled my work trip and we rushed into the doctor. X-rays were negative for anything related to cancer or broken bones. Hmmm... But we learned that you get to jump to the front of the x-ray line when you have a cancer doctor's nurse write "STAT" on the order.

Then Cohen's teacher told us that he was coloring and crying in the nurse's office with jaw pain, so Liz took him to the dentist then to the pediatrician. It turns out that he has a bad sinus infection that wasn't cleared up on the antibiotics he's been ingesting for the last nine days. Antibiotic switch. We learned that it helps to get into the fully-booked pediatrician when the dentist calls them first.

Now back to Liz.

Instead of having the cancer update CT scan on Thursday as we secretly had planned, we pulled it up to Tuesday morning, at the urging of the super cancer nurse. Like that's not supposed to freak us out. So here's the good and the bad news:

Good:

• The cancer has not spread to any new areas or expanded in any existing areas. WAHOO!!!! And her blood work still shows normal levels of the sciency things they track. Treatments continue to work swimmingly. We were really nervous about this test, the first one since she got the good news from the doc a few months ago. We didn't share the timing of the test until we could get the results ourselves. What a relief. So my quarterback ran a sneak and scored a touchdown against cancer. Go Team Liz!

Bad:

• Liz has a broken rib.

Her entire chest hurts when she moves, when she breathes, when she's lying down or sitting up. But it's definitely not related to cancer, so that's the silver lining here. She got some new cough medicine from the doctor and is curled up in her bed today. Ain't nobody got time for that. But here's hoping that she can get through the worst of the pain, that the coughing goes away, and that she's back on her feet quickly. Pumpkin carving tonight, trick-or-treating tomorrow, date night Friday... Gotta get well. Maybe she should be bundled up as a mummy tomorrow. Cohen and Jensen have been practicing, though I'm not sure their costumes will work well if it rains tomorrow night.

The latest Team Liz Logo submissions put a smile on her face, though. Thanks, Jen!

Go Team Liz.

Blue Ridge Parkway

South Carolina

The travelers

Quite an eventful couple of weeks. I intended to write like tons of bloggy stuff, but honestly, it is exhausting to think about the next test, the next treatment, the next anxious wait for results. I was waiting to blog after the results from her most recent scan, but it didn't happen yet (we had to reschedule for a few more weeks out), so I wrote nothing instead.

This is tough. Liz will continue going in for treatments every three weeks for as long as they keep working (and they are working). She will have scans every 3-6 months to make sure there are no surprises. I wonder if the nervous gulp in my throat will ever go away as we wait for each set of results. It's hard recognizing that cancer will always be a part of every major family decision, vacation plan, work trip schedule. Probably harder when the family is sick too -- Liz and Cohen can't shake the chest colds. But blood work is all still "normal" and all signs are good that she continues to recover. We are grateful for each day we have together, and the prayers continue to help. Thank you.

Liz called me last week, after we had returned from the trip and I was back at work. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hi babe."
Liz: "This is the first time I've been alone in 12 days. Just wanted to let you know. Love you, bye."

The trip to visit grandmas and grandpas was well worth it, and the boys cherished every moment. I need to see if I have some pictures of Grandma and Grandpa in Idaho with the boys. It was so good to see them after also spending a day or two with G&G of Utah. But the trek was tiring for me lady, especially since I left her for a few days to come back to work and school. So we went out to dinner and a movie last week to spend some time together. Liz is the hot one on the right:

It was so good to see my beautiful, wise, and hilarious 92-year old grandma while in Idaho:

And we took a quick visit to BYU campus and the bookstore for some gear before we went back to the airport:

 

 The tired traveling boys were really excited to get back on the airplane though.

And we capped it off with a Saturday night piano recital. Cohen's first. He was very anxious, but he powered through, and it was awesome to see the sense of relief and accomplishment and pride wash over him as soon as he finished. Big moment for him to overcome those fears.

Go Team Liz.