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If you read this blog frequently, you'll occasionally find that I talk about things outside of the weather world.  This post has nothing to do with the weather & everything do with a personal battle, a journey.  The battle was being waged by my mother...the journey was me coming to terms with the prognosis & final farewell.  You'll find a few posts during the last 8-9 months that contained info. about cancer.

Some of you might remember commercials ("promo's" as they're called in the business) that had my mom talking about my fascination with the weather at a very young age.  My mom became a sort of star in Jacksonville & surrounding areas.  In fact, when she was admitted to St. Luke's hospital in early Jan., '07 for a blod clot, many of the nurses talked to her like they'd always known her -- it was such a treat for mom.  And people would recognize her around the city.  Thereafter, I kidded her about being more popular than her chief meteorologist son!  We both had fun with it.

But Mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in July of '07 & faced what she eventually called the "toughest fight of my life".  The grace with which my mother waged this battle will forever stay with me...my dad's commitment to his wife will always have an imprint on me.  All part of a personal journey for me that I believe has changed my life.

I began a journal of sorts shortly after Mom's diagnosis.  That journal is reprinted below with the permission of my father -- nearly 48 pages & some 26,650 words.  I was not sure that I wanted to -- or maybe should -- post such a personal journey but after careful & long consideration...& after some consulation with a few close friends...I've decided maybe someone will find some value amongst all the words.  Reading it back over for me has been very helpful.  I have heavily edited in some places that were extremely personal & replaced names with pronouns or took out the names completely.  There will be parts that are gramatically incorrect or that have the wrong punctuation.  Take it for what it is & may it be of some value.  This journey for me was not one I wished to take in July of '07 but after many twists & turns, the journey turned out to be priceless.  May my beautiful mother rest in peace.

THU. July 12, 2007

I learned of Mom’s illness a little over 48 hrs. ago.  I’ve decided to sort of try to chronicle each day or nearly each day.  So I’m going back to Tue. afternoon, July 10……….

     Mom was to have a cat scan Tue. Morning due to continued stomach issues, a lack of appetite & weight loss.  I had told my wife I feared it was something serious, but the phone call still shook me to the core.  I was just getting ready to walk out the door to work when I noticed Mom & Dad had called but left no message, so I promptly called.  Mom answered & said the “news was not good”.  She proceeded to tell me she had pancreatic cancer & “there wasn’t much they could do”.  I wept & blurted out that I’d be home the weekend after next.   I called my wife on the way to work as she was with the kids at the grocery store.  We cried together then I tried to compose myself before entering work.

     I called Mom back to just try to talk coherently & see what she knew.  I asked about Dad, & she said “he can’t talk”.  As I was talking to my wife again – this time in an empty “2^nd” studio that was dark – a very good friend – just happened to walk in.  It was like God had called him to make a trip over to TV from the other side of the building.  This man is active in his church.  As I finished my call with my wife, he asked if everything was alright.   This was my first complete loss of control – he grabbed me & held me.  I told him the news.  He held me some more.  Two grown men holding one another – one sobbing – in a dark studio…quite the picture I’m sure!  Once I got myself together, we prayed together.  It was very powerful – I’m confident he’ll be important to me & for me during this process.

     I was doing a live weathercast that afternoon, so I went about my business & got through that fine.  I went back to the station briefly before going home for dinner & told a co-worker the situation.  While I was home he decided to write a brief email to the newsroom alerting everyone to the situation & for their thoughts & prayers.  The intention was good, but it’s not really the way I wanted people to find out – especially management.  It’s probably good, though, because I’ve had people say some really nice/supportive things & I’ve had some really good talks.

     My wife told the kids that afternoon since they saw her bawling.  They get it to some degree – especially my 7-yr. old.  Both immediately made cards for “Grammy”.  We pray for Grammy every night.  Tonight I asked my 7-yr. old if she’d talk on the phone to Grammy.  She thought about it for about 10 seconds then said “yes”.  She asked me if Grammy is coughing, if she can walk around.  I said yes & that you really can’t even tell Grammy is sick from the outside.  She asked about Grammy’s “room” [hospital room I suppose] – how big is it?  I get the impression my 7-yr. old realizes Daddy is very sad.  I’m not moping around mind you, but she has a sense.

     My wife has come up with a really good idea – her & the kids driving to Iowa in a few weeks – when I’ll be going for a 4-day weekend – then staying there for up to 3 weeks before the kids have to start school.  That way Mom & Dad could have fun with the kids, some bonding time & the kids will always remember their time with Grammy as fun & vibrant.  Then I will return to Iowa at least monthly depending on how things evolve.

     Speaking of my wife, she’s been great.  This is one of the reasons I married her.   I wanted to get to know her as soon as I saw her behind the camera in Cincinnati….I fell in love with her smile, wit, laugh, smarts & sense of humor…I wanted to marry her because of all those things + I knew she could be a rock.  I must say I was correct.  I’ve been dumb about some things but picking my partner for life -- & being lucky enough for it to be mutual – was not one of them.

     So Tue. was primarily a sad day.  Wed. was kind of a mix of sad & mad.  I called Mom & Dad early in the morning – they were leaving for Mayo in the afternoon.  I got little more than a couple of hours of sleep but worked out & went swimming after talking to Mom & Dad.  I found myself doing a few laps then thinking about Mom & slamming the water – must have done that half a dozen times.  I then went to a morning meeting downtown at Emergency Management then home for lunch & a shower then to work.  I found myself fine one minute then crying the next.  Co-workers have been great.  I had a good talk with a photographer in the parking lot this afternoon.  I sent emails to people I thought should know or who could possibly help me.  I’m saving all emails related to this – some of them are very powerful.  I was dead tired Wed. night, so I did sleep much better.

     This morning – Thu. – I find myself asking why.  Upon rising from bed, I came to the realization this is going to be a long ordeal.  I told my wife when you have a bad day at work, you can go home & sleep on it & feel pretty good the next day ready to get back at it.  But in this case with Mom, a good night’s sleep won’t help.  The problem remains.  So I find myself asking how it is such a good, moral person like my Mom can be stricken with such a horrible disease.  Why should she have to suffer, to have pain.  Dare I say it’s not fair – though I know that’s not fair.  I find myself not praying as much as I thought I would or feel like I should.  I don’t quite know why.  I mean I’m praying – just not as intensely as I imagined when this day might come.  I want to go to church but time to do so is tough to come by – that’s a terrible excuse but the truth.  We’ll be going this weekend.  I’ve thought a lot today about what must be going through Mom’s mind.  She seems very calm & collected – almost resigned to whatever the outcome might be.  I’ve tried to put myself in her position but, of course, 25 yrs. younger.  I told her tonight on the phone that I wish I could take out the cancer in her body & transfer it to mine.  I do sincerely mean that.  She told me she used to say that about me & my sister when we were sick or had troubling times.  I can remember that.  Mom is such a good person.  The most moral person I’ve ever known…the kindest (& the cleanest!).  I still have never heard her cuss!!  I can see why God would want to punish immoral people with a nasty disease that eats at you from the inside & makes you suffer BUT MOM?!?!?

     I do seem to be doing a little better today.  I almost feel guilty for that.  I have a little more step in my gitty-up.  I still am always thinking about Mom & Dad, I have many sad moments, I cry a little.  I’m feeling a little numb today.  Mom had a bunch of tests today at Mayo Clinic.  A biopsy will be done Mon. to make sure the tumor is malignant & Wed. or Thu. will be a meeting with the “cancer Dr.”.  I wish I could be with them while they’re in Rochester.

     My workplace boss’s have been kind.  I had about a 10 minute sit-down with the news director Wed.  We shed some tears.  I wanted to go in there & be stoic, but I wasn’t perfect.  She thinks I need to go home now, but I’m waiting 3 weeks unless the Mayo Dr’s. give us news we’re not expecting.

     I’ve felt true heart ache 3 times in my life so far: (1) now…..(2) a “love loss” in my early 20s…. (3) a best friend’s mom’s death when I was in my mid teens.  They all have felt just about the same physically.  Different mentally, of course.  I prayed a whole lot on (2) & (3), so I’m a little confused why I haven’t really taken the same path this time around – at least so far.  Maybe it’s because of where I am in life….or maybe a product of it being Mom….I believe I’m as spiritual as ever.

     It’s 1:45am & time for bed……………..

     FRI. July 13^TH

     Woke up about 8am & went into the living room.  I told my wife I had a neck ache – must of slept on it “wrong”.  My wife said she kind of had a headache.  I said jokingly I guess it’s not all that bad since we don’t have cancer!  She smiled at me & said you have to have a sense of humor sometimes.

     I called Dad about 9am & he wasn’t in good spirits.  They were meeting with the dietician (diabetes) but Dad stepped out to take my call.  He said there’s so much to go over.  That they went to bed about 9pm last night in their motel room only to wake up about 11pm & couldn’t go back to sleep.  They were exhausted & were having trouble keeping up with all the Dr’s. directions & instructions.  I told him I know it’s exhausting & to hang in there.  Upon hanging up, I immediately (with the help of my wife) checked into flights to Rochester, emailed my boss for time off next week & once I had her approval, we booked the flight Mon. arriving late in the afternoon & leaving Thu. evening.  So I’ll arrive shortly after the biopsy is completed Mon. & will be there Thu. for the “cancer meeting” with the Dr. – not looking forward to that one!

     I know what Dad means by being exhausted.  I mean this thing just won’t go away.  It’ll be staring us in the face at every waking moment for God knows how long.  It wears on you – mentally & physically.  I feel better that I’m going to see them soon.  I fear that maybe staying at a distance was my way of coping to some degree – pretty cowardly.  So I’ll be facing the music come Monday & a part of me is very much looking forward to it.  My wife, me & the kids will all be in Iowa in 3 weeks.

     A co-worker just told me an interesting (& hopeful!) story about a friend’s father-in-law who has pancreatic cancer – was given a poor prognosis but has continued to survive for a year-&-a-half quite well.

SUN. , July 15^th

     It’s not good when you tell people your mom has pancreatic cancer & they sort of wince & follow with something like “we wish you the best….we’re sorry…let us know if there’s anything we can do”, etc.  It’s even worse when it’s a doctor or priest.

     Mom’s blood-sugar count finally went below 200 – 180 y’day & 140 today.  About 100 is apparently near normal…120 is high.  At its worst about 5 days ago the number was 500+.  All doctors were stunned at the number.  So she’s not feeling as tired now & Dad says she looks better.

     Cruel irony: Mom & Dad took part in a “Walk for a Cure” in Toledo/Tama last month – walked around a track for an hour raising money & raising awareness.  I can’t help but think the cancer inside Mom was laughing at her – snickering – cells with horns on them…the devil of cells…of cancer.   Cruel irony, part II: I rotate having Christmas off within my office – it’s what I consider fair & give everyone a chance to hopefully have some family time.  This is to be my year & my wife & I were going to take the girls to Iowa for a week & have an old-fashioned Christmas at home – a rarity for me since I’ve worked virtually all of them since I graduated from college.  I said last Christmas that I’d be counting the days to Christmas ’08.  And so what will Christmas ’08 be like now??  **!!XX@@!! – insert expletive.

     I think about one of my best friends growing up.  His mother’s death had a profound impact on me.  I was only about 14…he was 12.  His mother died on Christmas Day.  It was my first taste of death close to home.  It was tortuous for me; it was worse for my friend.  Mom & Dad helped sweep him up, & he made our home his home many days ‘til college.  I’d have to believe that if I told him how sad I am, he’d say – “hey, at least you had your mother into your 40s”.  Valid point.

     So we went to mass this morning.  I was disappointed this was the first time since Mom’s illness was discovered.  It wasn’t really by choice.  Well, anyway when we walked in, the choir was playing “Peace is Flowing Like a River” – a favorite of mine + Mom likes it too.  In fact, she had the choir back home in Iowa play the song a number of years ago when I was home visiting.  That moment & song this morning was pretty powerful.  But I find myself tearing up at times throughout mass…I had a hard time praying…hard time concentrating.  I don’t like this part of the ordeal – it seems to be testing my faith.  But I don’t believe I’ll cave.  It’s beautiful to hear my daughters pray for “Grammy”.  On the way out of church, I stopped in the gift shop where I bought a pendent for Mom that’s for those suffering from cancer (St. Peregrine), a card & a little marble stone for Dad with a saying about mourning.  Father was kind enough to bless them for me, & I thanked him with tears in my eyes.

     Today is my wife’s b’day & we had a huge day.  The celebration was a treasure hunt that began late yesterday.  We spoke with Mom & Dad while at b’fast at Panera’s. 

     My aunt called this evening.  She stayed with Mom & Dad over the weekend.  She said Mom is busy as ever & seems to be taking it all in stride.  Dad, however, is not doing so well.  This confirmed what I felt from knowing them + from talking with them the last few days.  I’ll find out for myself when I arrive in Rochester at Mayo late tomorrow.  Packing for this trip I felt like I was getting ready to go into battle.  Nothing fun about this plane ride & its destination.

THU. AUG. 30^TH

[note: Mom’s surgery – “whipple” procedure was attempted on or near July 17^th.  Dr’s stopped when tumors were found on her liver…Dr’s then proceeded to take out the gal blatter & did a bypass of her pancreas & digestive track.]

Mom & Dad just returned from Mayo in Rochester after 2 days of tests, follow-ups, etc.  A cat scan was taken – I encouraged Mom & Dad not to bother with what it showed since we know it won’t be any better & probably worse.  It’s simply a baseline for 2 mo. from now when another one will be taken to see if the chemo. is doing anything.  But they did choose to see it & indeed the tumors had increased on the liver.  They were officially told today that the cancer is pancreatic, “stage 4”.  No surprise really.  It’s just more confirmation of what we already know.

Friends from Florida flew in for a visit – seemed to be really good for Mom & Dad.  They played lots of cards, Mom is eating better & doing better.  She sounds on the phone more like herself.  The biggest problem seems to be not being able to sleep at night.  She has received some sleeping medication, but it isn’t doing a whole lot apparently. 

The chemo. will be done in Waterloo so at least it won’t be a long drive – once a week for 3 weeks, week off then another 3 weeks.  It’s at that point that another cat scan will be done so probably early Nov. which doesn’t coincide well with my schedule.  I’ll be home the last few days of Oct. but can’t stay into Nov. because of the ratings period (unless, of course, Mom takes a real turn for the worse).  I’d very much like to be with them when the next cat scan is done.

My 4-yr. old sure was cute tonight on the phone with Mom…asking her multiple times how she’s feeling then when saying goodbye saying “see you at Christmas”.  It was both heartbreaking, cute/sentimental & encouraging.

We’re off to Washington D.C. tomorrow through Mon. – Labor Day to celebrate my wife’s parents 40^th anniversary.  My sis & her husband will be home for the weekend & it’ll be my sister’s last visit until T’giving.

MON. SEPT. 10^TH

Mom had her first chemo. treatment last Thu. & all seemed to go well.  I sort of get the impression that Dr.’s don’t feel there’s really much hope.  More frustrating is that yet another Dr. (the one administering the chemo. – same one as 18 yrs. ago for Mom’s *** cancer!) has told Mom & Dad that the blood clot back in early Jan. probably was a telltale sign of cancer in her body.  That’s all rather deflating & frustrating.  Mom has developed a clot on her right leg.  She didn’t tell the Dr.’s & I guess Dad forgot when they were at their appointments last week, but it was getting too bad over the weekend, do Dad made an appointment today.  An ultrasound revealed a “superficial” clot which according to the Dr. is “nothing to worry about”.  But it is very sore for Mom.  They go to the “chemo. Dr.” tomorrow so Mom will get a recommendation from him.  I know she does not want to stop the chemo. treatments which is maybe why she didn’t say anything to the Dr.’s last week.  I also wonder if she’s just so tired of seeing Dr.’s, having appointments, getting pricked, all the fuss, etc.  She did tell my sister (while she was home for Labor Day weekend) she was tired of all the shots.  I mentioned to my sis I thought Dad was sounding a little depressed the last few days…she has picked up on it as well.  I guess he’s quite bored at home…frustrated, too, I imagine.  Can’t blame him.  Mom does seem to have taken the first chemo. treatment well & she’ll get a single dose each of the next 3 Thursday’s then a week off then another round of 3 treatments & so on.  They have to travel to Waterloo for these – not too bad a trip though the last few months could involve bad weather.

So I’m headed home in a few days as long as the tropics “cooperate”.  This is the weekend that my best friend will be coming down too.  Very much looking forward to this trip & so is Mom & Dad, I believe.  My friend & I will try to get Dad out on the golf course &, of course, there will be corn hole.  We’ll try to entertain Mom if she feels well enough.  My friend likes “Up & Down the River” (card game)…plus Iowa plays Iowa State.  I fly in Fri. morning & out Mon. afternoon – Cedar Rapids.

I have obtained a copy of “The Dance” by Garth Brooks.  That’ll be the “cover song” for her DVD that’ll contain pic’s & video.  My sis will send a few pic’s.  I don’t plan on a lot of pic’s…more video but the whole thing only about 5-7 minutes.  I’ll try to get that done before Christmas.

This is a tough time as we’re sort of in “no-man’s land”.  We don’t know if the chemo. will work at all…Mom is feeling so-so…Dad is unsure…the weather is turning much cooler in Iowa…fall will be settling in, & I can’t help but fall into that metaphor that I grew up with regarding the seasons – fall is old age then there’s the death of winter.

Mom did actually go into work yesterday!  She did some paperwork – only a few minutes.  But the desk light was still on.  So many will miss Mom when the good Lord calls her home.

The kids were cute praying tonight.  My 4-yr. old: “make that line on Grammy’s belly (& she pointed/gestured with her finger) better.”  7-yr.old: “Make the spot on Grammy’s leg better & take the cancer away forever”.

Amen!

MON. SEPT. 17^TH

Just returning now from my “reconnaissance mission”.  All seems relatively well with Mom & Dad.  There’s some sniping between the two at times but nothing unusual. Dad no doubt is getting stir crazy but hasn’t seen anything yet once winter arrives.  Speaking of which…dropped to 30 degrees Sat. morning but was 85+ Mon. afternoon!

Mom looks a bit gaunt as her weight just won’t increase much.  Overall, though, she’s definitely better than 5 weeks ago when I was last home.  She’s battling a couple of “superficial blood clots” but applies heat & elevates her legs occasionally which seems to be doing the trick.  She’s anxious about out-patient surgery she’ll have Wed. to implant a port in her chest for the administration of chemo.  She told me she’s “tired” of having anesthesia which I can understand.  She also heard an 80-yr. old lady last week complaining that the procedure was “more” than she expected.  But Mom does want the procedure done.  Once the port is in, Dr.’s will no longer have to *** her veins to administer the chemo.  Thu. will be the last treatment of this “round”.  I’m curious about the next cat scan as we were told by Mayo that the cat scan would be done after 2 rounds – 7 weeks, in other words.  This would time out to be the week before my next scheduled trip to Iowa which would be good timing.  But the chemo. Dr. in Waterloo hasn’t mentioned this cat scan – I told them to ask about it.

Mom is still tired but not bad & does a fair amount around the house.  Her voice is strong, & she’s eating pretty well.  Dad is clearly bored & anxious…maybe at times depressed though I didn’t really sense he was terribly depressed.  I asked multiple times if there was anything they needed or if there was anything I could do for them & every time the answer was “no”.  I do think they were genuinely happy I came home for the weekend.  My best friend drove in Fri. night & left Sun. afternoon.  What a genuine act of kindness, & I’ll forever be grateful.  We got Dad out to golf Sat. morning…played plenty of corn hole & lots of cards.

The “food tree” is working great.  Mom continues to feel “guilty” about people bringing food to which everyone has said “that’s ridiculous”.  Yesterday Dad grilled chicken breasts, & I made mashed potatoes – good meal & fun.  Of course – while Dad & I were visiting Grandma – Mom decided to peel the potatoes, marinate the chicken & get the bag of peas in a pot.  So she’s definitely doing better.  She did bring death up rather passively a couple of times but no “discussions” really came of it.  I’d like to wait for that cat scan before bringing up the funeral stuff though I’ll talk to Mom one-one-one when/if I get the opportunity.  I get the impression death and/or funeral is the last thing Dad wants to talk about, but I could be wrong.  I don’t know how much the two of them have discussed things.  Maybe next time I go home, I’ll initiate some “frank talk” between the 3 of us.

It was a pretty weekend – hummingbirds fattening up for their annual trip south…squirrels carrying & burying nuts…corn & soybeans turning brown but appearing golden in the sunlight…combines scattered about the rural landscape…local talk of the coming fall & winter, etc.  All seemed pretty normal but, of course, it isn’t.  Mom & Dad do seem to be coming to grips with the situation as much as such is possible.  They have lots of friends coming & calling, & it takes at least 5-10 minutes to get into church & 20-30 minutes to get out.  As of this afternoon, Mom has received 236 cards!

SAT. SEPT. 29^TH

Mom’s outpatient surgery a week ago Wed. for the port went o.k. though it did have to be done twice because the tube was bent after the first attempt.  Mom became very black & blue afterwards but said she wasn’t “overly” soar.  She even had the chemo. administered into the port the next day.  She had her 6 stitches removed this past Wed.

Both Mom & Dad seem to be in pretty good spirits.  I think Mom is feeling quite well & Dad is following suit.  The weather has been pretty nice too.  Dad set up a “puzzle room” off the living room with a t.v. because it’s hard for Mom to rest with the t.v. on.  That’ll especially be good in the winter.  Mom went to bridge club (a group of women that gather for 3 hours but actually only play cards for maybe an hour!) Mon. night.  That was a pretty big step for her, & it sounded like she really enjoyed it.  Just a couple days later – on Wed. – Mom & Dad went to the casino to play some bingo.  So they’re getting out & it seems Mom is having more & more energy all the time.

Mom started today an experimental oral drug that costs a ton & for which insurance only pays a portion.  We’ve heard good things about this drug & the thinking is “what the heck…what have we got to lose?”  It’s called Tarceva & was approved by the FDA in 2004.  Here’s what I found on their website regarding the drug:

Q. What is Tarceva?

A. Tarceva is a pill taken by mouth once a day to treat your cancer. Tarceva is used for patients with advanced NSCLC who have received at least one previous chemotherapy regimen that did not work. Take Tarceva at least one hour before or two hours after eating

Q. How does Tarceva work?

A. Tarceva is a targeted cancer treatment. Unlike many traditional chemotherapies, Tarceva affects certain cancer cell activities. Tarceva is designed to block tumor cell growth by targeting the protein in your body called the Human Epidermal Growth Factor Receptor 1 (HER1/EGFR). This protein is important for tumor cell growth in NSCLC.

Q. What are Tarceva's benefits?

A. Tarceva is an FDA-approved targeted cancer therapy clinically proven to help some NSCLC patients live significantly longer. In addition to improving survival, Tarceva may slow or stop the growth of cancer - and may even shrink the tumors in some patients. Tarceva is convenient to take; it's a pill you take by mouth once a day as prescribed by your doctor. Individual results may vary.

Q. Does Tarceva really work?

A. Though individual results may vary, Tarceva has been shown to help some patients live longer. In a large clinical study, 31.2% of patients who were taking Tarceva were alive one year after they started Tarceva, as compared with 21.5% of patients who took a sugar pill. Additionally, large clinical studies have also proven that Tarceva can slow or stop the growth of cancer cells in some patients. Speak with your doctor about whether Tarceva is right for you.

So far Mom has experienced few side effects from the chemo. – at least that she’s admitted to.  Another big development – it’s been determined that Mom is NOT a carrier of the “cancer gene”.  This was very surprising to just about all involved given this is Mom’s 2^nd bout with cancer + her mother died at age 50 from cancer.  This is especially good news for my sis but also for me & my daughters.

I’m anxious for my next visit which is about 4 weeks away.  Iowa will be heading deep into fall at that point, Mom will be well into her treatments & it’s possible that the next cat scan will have been taken.  Mon. is Oct. 1 – that start of “*** Cancer Month”.  I’m hoping Mom will write a guest blog regarding the disease.  We’ll see.

 

FRI. OCT. 12^TH

Mom is in her 2^nd week of round 2 of the chemo. treatments.  Was quite tired after y’day’s, but she’s also doing a lot more which might be part of the reason for the fatigue.  Overall, both Mom & Dad seem to be doing quite well.  I head home for a “reconnaissance mission” again 2 weeks from tomorrow.  We’ve booked our plane tickets for Christmas.  I’m concerned about how I’ll manage to get home on any kind of regular schedule next year since I might not have the sick days to use.  Oh well, I’ll jump off that bridge when I need to.  Side effects from the chemo. & oral medicine still aren’t too bad for Mom.  A bit of a rash due to the oral med. but not bad according to Mom.  The kids continue to make this saga more “interesting”:

n  4-yr. old’s class made a “get well” card for her & mailed it Wed.

n  Mom went into the office(!) a couple of times the past week.  When she told my 4-yr. old this on the phone, my daughter said “Don’t go to work, you’ll make someone else sick”.

n  My wife was talking about donating to a cancer charity & my 6-yr. old said “why don’t they just send all that money to Grammy?”

n  And a couple of nights ago my 6-yr. old called Grammy & when she got done talking to her, my daughter said “she sounds good”.  In other words, Grammy doesn’t sound like she’s sick.  It’s hard for my girls to understand this kind of sickness.

This is *** Cancer Awareness Month & Mom wrote a guest column for my station blog.  In fact, Mom is now again reading the newspaper, doing some computer work & seems to be more interested in the things she did before getting sick including cleaning, cooking, etc.  Here’s her blog:

“A CHRONICLE OF MY  B R E A S T CANCER”

The year 1989 was going to be a big year for me as I was to turn “50” in April.  In February, 1989, at 7:00 A.M.  I traveled 50 miles for my annual mammogram without any fear of problems.  A second X-ray was taken which was not unusual and by 10:30 A.M. I was back at work.  When I got home at noon for lunch my phone was ringing and my Doctor informed me that I had a suspicious spot on my b r e a s t and I would need a surgeon to do a biopsy.  The Doctor made an appointment for me to have a needle biopsy a couple of days later, and the next day I received a call from my surgeon that he needed to have a conference with me.

I had a malignant tumor and had several options to ponder.  Without hesitation, I told my surgeon I opted for surgery because of the location of the lump, and I did not want any cancer in my body, is possible.  As a result, I had a radical mastectomy the following week.

After surgery I came home with tubes which I had to measure the fluid several times daily and was alarmed that they sent me home so soon.  However, I got along fine and found out it was no problem.

Later I went to the therapy unit in Covenant Hospital and was explained as to the type of exercise that would be necessary for the future use and lifting my arm without a problem.  I faithfully did my exercises and my husband made me a pulley in the basement to assist me with some of the exercises.  Today I have full use of my arm and can raise my arm as high as the other one.

Since my caner spread into a lymph node I had to take Chemo which was not to hard on me.  I took three drugs, cyclophosphamide, fluorouracil and methotrexate each time.  My oncologist told me I may lose my hair, and I made up my mind if I lost my hair it would be the end of the world, and I was very lucky and did not.  I usually took my treatments on Wednesday afternoon and did not feel badly until Friday evening when I ached all over such as flu aching, which lasted about 12 hours. 

After I was through with my Chemo treatments I took tamoxifen twice daily which I believe is a miracle drug.  I took it for nine years – it was an experimental drug when I started taking it, and I have a strong belief in its success for b r e a s t cancer patients, although by now it may have been replaced by another drug.

A positive attitude, prayer and faith gave me the most strength during my b r e a s t cancer along with the desire to live and the encouragement from family, friends, co-workers and cancer survivors which helped me get through each day.  My employers were very understanding and played an important part in my recovery as I took time off for my treatments and Doctors’ appointments as necessary.  I worked full time except for Wednesday afternoon when I had my treatments.  I had the weekends off.

In closing I want to encourage all women to do monthly b r e a s t exams, have annual mammograms and clinical exams once a year.

                                Submitted by Connie Buresh

                                                                THE PINK RIBBON

The pink ribbon stands for: 

REMEMBRANCE, SUPPORT AND HOPE;

REMEMBRANCE of the women we know who had b r e a s t cancer;

SUPPORT for the women we know who we know who are living with b r e a s t cancer;

HOPE that someday, there will be a way to prevent and cure b r e a s t cancer.

 

SUN. OCT. 14, 2007

Mom told me on the phone a couple of days ago that she had written on her kitchen calendar that today was the day they were to leave for a month at their “winter home” in The Villages.  So much for that.

I’ve been very curious & anxious about the supposed cat scan after 2 rounds of chemo. & was planning on asking Mom & Dad about it.  I happened to bring it up to Dad a few days ago while Mom was busy & thank goodness I mentioned it to Dad without Mom knowing.  Apparently my sister asked Mom about it earlier in the week & Mom quite emphatically said “we haven’t asked & don’t plan to.  If the Dr. wants to do a cat scan, he will”.  Point well taken.

TUE. OCT. 30, 2007

I’m sitting in the C.R. airport right now having just been dropped off by Mom & Dad after 3 days at home.  Mom has digressed.  She’s extremely tired virtually all the time, gaunt & slow to walk.  I caught her often (when she thought no one was paying attention) “in her own world” – apparently thinking about things.  One time at the kitchen table, another on the couch (where she is most of the time) & an especially poignant moment when she was walking from church across the parking lot to the car.  She looked nice – all dressed up but looked razor thin – with her head down.  She gets tired of talking to people – I think she likes talking to people but is tired about people asking her & talking about her.  She’d rather not be the point of discussion.  I get the impression she’s tired of the whole thing.  I wouldn’t say she’s giving up, but she’s resigned to the situation & she’s ready.  This battle is wearing on her.  Even something that should be so minor as a hang nail is giving her fits because it’s not healing properly or fast & it’s swollen, red & blue & leaking puss like a volcano.  It’ll be a week tomorrow since it started festering.  She sees the Dr. tomorrow for a regularly scheduled appointment & will have the nail looked at then.  Apparently the combination of chemo. & diabetes allows for cuts to become easily infected & makes cuts slow to heal.  Mom has only walked outside once in the last ten days.  It would seem this slide “down hill” started about then following a resurgence of energy.  I think the cumulative effect of chemo. + the oral medication is taking its toll.

Seems the pricey pills will end up costing about $2,500 out of Mom/Dad’s pocket but that means $12,500 will be picked up by insurance.  That’s better than it looked a while back.  The cat scan will be the last week or 10 days of Nov. but an appointment has not yet been set.  It’ll be done in Waterloo & -- after being home the last few days – I’m thinking someone needs to be there when Mom & Dad get the results.  There’s a chance my sis will be home for T’giving on that day.  If not, I might try somehow to make it.  If the news is not good, it’ll be very difficult on both of them but especially Dad.

I guess the big news of the “recon” trip was that Mom is very tired & Dad is increasingly frustrated…& that Mom is thinking about the “end”.   I didn’t get in until late Sat. & immediately afterwards we went to an aunt’s b’day party…church Sun. morning & more visitors in the afternoon, so we didn’t have much time to ourselves until Mon.  First thing at the b’fast table with Dad completely unaware, Mom tells me she would like me to help her write her obituary as well as a newspaper thank-you to the community.  I said “sure” & used this is an opening to talk about a funeral.  I was somewhat surprised in that Mom said it’s completely up to “us” & she didn’t really have any plans.  I asked about music, readings, etc., but she had no requests.  So I threw out “On Eagles Wings” which I know is one of her favorites – she agreed…I mentioned “Peace is Flowing Like a River” & she thought that was a good idea.  I said how ‘bout a DVD that can be played.  She said “yes” & mentioned she really likes that idea & that could be nice (not knowing I’d already set the wheels in motion).  I asked Dad if he had any requests & he replied “no” & otherwise said nothing during this conversation.  Mom then said she’d basically leave it up to me, my sis & Dad, & I said I’d set up a rough outline & let her look at it & that I thought we’d have people make their own comments.  She mentioned she thought her boss might want to say something.  She doesn’t want a rosary, just a prayer service/visitation the night before.  I was glad to get this discussion out in the open.

So then Dad & I went golfing with a good friend of Dad’s.  It was a beautiful day, & we had a nice time – Dad seemed to really enjoy it.  On the way home I asked him again if he had any requests for Mom’s funeral & he quickly replied “no”.  He did say he had a funeral “outline” he’d received, & he passed it on to me today.

Mom pretty much slept all day yesterday.  We only played one game of cards all weekend – Sun. night.  She was going to try to play Mon. night but just never mustered up the energy.  Dad & I enjoyed watching Mon. night Football.

So this morning dawned bright & early & it was our last chance to work on the obit.  After b’fast I asked Mom if she wanted to work on it & she said “yes”, so I sat at the computer & basically took dictation.  It’s pretty straight forward, not too flowery or anything.  I might still do some more work on it, but the basics – I’m happy to say – are in place & done.  I also made note of the pall bearers & honorary pall bearers Mom would like to have.  I told her my intention was for her funeral to be a celebration; she seemed to like that idea.  I really didn’t have any problem/issues/emotions while doing this nor did Mom.  I did noticed Dad was keeping himself busy & generally staying away.  While we were finishing up, my wife called & asked what we were doing.  I said, “well, we’re doing Mom’s obit.”…& kind of chuckled & said “how’s that for starting out a morning”.  Well, this was the breaking point for Dad who broke down crying in the kitchen & quickly exited to the garage.  I got off the phone, Mom said “you better check on Dad” which I was planning on doing.  I told Mom what we were doing was good & then went into the garage.  I told Dad we had to do this…that it was good to get it out of the way now.  I hugged him & kissed him on the forehead.  He said he understood.  I then went back inside to work on the “community” thank-you with Mom.  Again…I dictated then moved some things around, changed some semantics, punctuation, etc & we had a pretty good letter.  This letter will go in the local paper the next week or two thanking everyone for their actions, thoughts & prayers since her diagnosis & surgery.  A little later Dad & I played some corn hole then took about a 20 minute walk when we talked some more.  I asked him point blank if he was depressed, & he insisted “no”.  I said we needed to get that obit. out of the way. He agreed & said “it just hit me all the sudden”.  I said I know & that he needed to somehow keep himself occupied & busy during the upcoming winter.  He complained about Mom’s energy, & I said it’ll probably stay that way until her chemo. is over but that there then could be a pretty good period…for how long we don’t know.  He mentioned he’s anxious for the cat scan – I agreed, & it’s this part of the conversation that makes me think my sis or I need to be there when they get the results.

Mom also mentioned to me this morning that she has been a little depressed recently – especially y’day.  I didn’t really know what to say other than “keep fighting & praying”.  She said she will & that “it’s not like her to be depressed”.  I told her she has the right & that it’s understandable.  I think I’ll follow this trip up with an email to Mom’s co-workers to “keep an eye out” although I don’t really know how they can help.  Mom really doesn’t care to have too many visitors – not even phone calls.  But it’ll make me feel a little better that someone close will be looking out.  I did stop by Mom’s office y’day & talked to her co-workers & mentioned that I thought Mom had digressed some.  They were somewhat surprised since – when they last saw her at a meeting & when she came into work a few hours a couple of weeks ago – she was seemingly doing so well.

So here I am now in Cincinnati on my layover.  My latest recon. pretty much over.  I’m trying to digest it all & will have to give a report to my sister.  I’ll just tell her things are a little more dicey but leave it at that.  My sister & her husband will be there T’giving week then we’re all coming in over Christmas.  By then we’ll be down to between 1 & 2 rounds of treatment left & hopefully/prayerfully have some light at the end of the tunnel.

THU. NOV. 22 – THANKSGIVING

Mom is struggling as she has virtually no energy & is sleeping a lot.  She’s depressed.  Dad is stressed.  BUT we are at the half-way point of the treatments.  Mom will have her cat scan Monday & we’ll find out the results one week from today.  These are anxious times.

I had a “rough” day yesterday for some reason.  Sort of snuck up on me.  I let it all out with one short but strong cry on my dinner hour at home after talking with Mom & Dad on the phone.  Doreen & her husband + my nephew are home ‘til Sunday.

Mom’s finger has taken weeks to heal & is still not completely healed though it’s much better after 2 rounds of antibiotics.  She told me a couple days ago that she’s not in much pain – just occasionally some relatively minor back pain – but is just so tired.  I told her it’ll stay that way at least until the treatments are done & to not worry about it.

I’m struggling with the idea of not going home next week when Mom & Dad get the cat scan results.  But I made my decision weeks ago, will live with it & not look back.  Mom & Dad seemed rather insistent on me not coming home.  We’ll arrive for Christmas on Christmas Day.

We did have fun at work yesterday with a live phone call on the air with Dad regarding their Thanksgiving Eve 3” snowfall.  Dad sent some pic’s & we talked back-&-forth for a couple of minutes.  Much to my surprise Mom didn’t get on the phone – the first time that’s ever happened since I started doing live “phoners” with them…some 20 years in T.V.  I think that’s one of the reasons I broke down last night.

But I did get a Thanksgiving flower center piece sent to them yesterday.  I’m thankful for all the good years we had together…for such awesome parents…for all I have today…for my family…& for Mom & Dad being such good role models in so many ways.

Just got off the phone with Mom & Dad…..they’re getting ready for church.  Mom still would never miss church if at all possible.  Mom had an eye check-up last week & was looking forward to getting her new lenses with an updated prescription so she could see better only to find out the prescription was wrong, so she’s stuck not being able to see well for at least another week.  She’s unhappy about that.  Just spoke to Grandma too….she says my sister told her yesterday that Mom wasn’t “very happy”.  It remains such a helpless situation.

FRI. NOV. 30,2007

We have the results of the CAT scan!: The pancreatic tumor has decreased “slightly” from 5.1 to 4.1 cm.  The liver tumors are “less dense” & one larger tumor on the liver has shown particular improvement.  Dr. says the cancer is in a “steady state” – not spreading right now but will also never be cured.  He wants to do 2 more rounds of treatments (total of 6) then another CAT scan in late Jan. followed by possibly one more round (3) of treatments.  Apparently…chemo. becomes ineffective after certain period of time + other organs break down after too much chemo. + wear & tear on the patient which we’re already seeing in Mom.

But, overall, pretty good news & a pretty good report.  About what I was expecting actually.  Dad sounded a little broken up with me on the phone as he regurgitated the report but also optimistic – “we’ll have Mom around for a while”.  Mom sounded better this morning on the phone.  She was even dusting.

So we’ll look forward to Christmas then hope for a trip for Mom & Dad to Florida upon completion of the treatments – maybe in early March – then on to their 49^th anniversary in April then to summer & so on & so on.  I heard a few days ago that a staggering 80% of pancreatic cancer victims don’t live more than 5 years.  We’ll see, but we’re all at least hoping & praying for some quality once her chemo. treatments are over.

Mom is already worrying about Christmas evening.  I told her it’ll be fine.  She’s concerned about dinner, & I said we’d all pitch in & it need not be anything too fancy or time-consuming.  Let’s just sit back & enjoy & take it all in.

And this is the last day of the hurricane season.  I bring that up because I’ve had remarkable luck with the weather & hurricanes upon Mom’s diagnosis in July.  Relatively frequent trips home even at the peak of the hurricane season did not have to be changed because of the tropics.  What luck.  And the t.v. station sale appears to be up in the air.  The longer we stay Clear Channel, the longer I can use “banked” company sick days to “run” home.

So I’m relieved that they didn’t appear to necessarily need me this weekend.  Though – in talking with Dad – I did get the impression he wouldn’t have minded it if I’d come home, but he understands & is o.k. with my decision.  Might turn out to have been wise judging from what looks to be a pretty bad ice storm this weekend in Iowa – airports might be tough to fly in & out of.  Once again luck on my side.  I sure hope & pray there’s luck on Mom’s side too.

 

MON. DEC. 10, 2007

Mom had out-patient surgery last Thu. for her fingers which are severely “cracked”.  Apparently the operation scraped the tissue quite deeply – to the base of the cuts.  The fingers were quite sore but have since improved.  Dr.’s gave her some pain med’s which are helping though she didn’t use them the last couple days.  She’s slept well the last couple nights but still complains about being so tired with no energy.  Of course, no way could they not send out Christmas cards!  Mom wasn’t so enthusiastic at it, & I told her that was fine & that people would understand if they didn’t send cards.  But Dad said “they should send something out”, so they are.  Dad wrote a form letter of some sort, & Mom told me this morning she had completed 66 cards!  It’s awfully hard for her to write since the 2 fingers she had operated on are on her right – writing – hand.

Christmas is but 2 weeks from tomorrow.  I don’t know what to expect – it’ll be bittersweet since we won’t know how many more Christmas’s we’ll have with Mom.  I think of her every time I hear her favorite Christmas carol – “Silent Night”.  I think the toughest part of the week home will be church.  Christmas Eve mass would be especially difficult, but we won’t be home until Christmas Day.

The early part of winter has come hard to Iowa.  Mom & Dad have had snow & ice cover since the day before T’giving & temps. have not made it above freezing during the better part of the last 2 ½ weeks!  This is wearing on both of them but the anticipation of Christmas is helping  I think.  The problem will be after Christmas once everyone has left & the weather is still nasty.  Dad is trying to exercise some & bingo at the settlement seems to occupy some of their time.  Mom says it’s the one thing she can do & feels like doing(!).  Dad has decorated the house spendidly for the holidays & seems quite proud of it.  He did a little extra since everyone will be home.  I noticed he seems to enjoy talking with me & likes to laugh with me.  He needs that sort of thing.  I’m sure looking forward to being there for a week.  Off the cuff, I’m thinking I might fly home again in late Jan. for a quick 3-day weekend.  I told my wife we should all fly home in March but then I got to thinking & realized Mom & Dad might actually be down in The Villages then if all goes well.  We’ll see.  In the meantime, I’m counting the days to Christmas for indeed I’ll be Home for Christmas…& we’re all dreaming of a white Christmas too.

FRI. JAN. 4, 2008

Well, where do I begin?   Just back – late Tue. – from our Christmas week in Iowa.  Mom is not doing well – that’s the bottom line.  She spends most of her time laying down & counts the hours to bedtime once it gets to be late afternoon.  She’s thin & frail-looking & obviously depressed.  Dad has gained some weight, lots of wrinkles & is sad.  I guess I’ll start at the beginning.

Our flight into Iowa was storybook-like in that it was white, sunny & sparkling.  Dad & my nephew picked us up at the airport & once arriving at home, reality quickly settled in.  I found myself choking up often but managed to keep it under control – sometimes I’d have to go to the guest bedroom until  I got ahold of myself.  Dinner was good & provided by my Aunt – dumplings, sauerkraut, ham & sausage dressing.  Then it was time for gifts.  The last thing my sis & I opened was what has become our annual (3^rd yr. in a row) $ check.  We all got up to hug & give our thank-you’s.  I first went to Dad, & we hugged a long time as I cried a bit.  Then I went to Mom & she whispered in my ear: “you know this is probably our last Christmas together”.  Oh my gosh.  I lost it & ran to Mom/Dad’s bedroom where I just bawled like a baby.  My sis & Dad followed me in to try to comfort me then Mom walked in & said she shouldn’t have said that.  I said it was alright & I held her – hugged her hard – for at least a few minutes without saying anything other than Mom saying that hug “felt good”.  I never did ask Mom if she had anything else she was planning on telling me, & now  I’m curious as to if she did.  I’m worried that she’ll now not confide in me because she thinks I can’t handle it.  I think I’ll ask her if there was more she was going to say.  Well, Mom soon went to bed…my nephew took Grandma back to the Nursing Home, & I proceeded to get drunk – great coping mechanism, huh?  While Mom slept, we all stayed up & played cards.

My sister & her family all left early the next morning.  The kids were anxious to go out into the snow & did so.  Mom sauntered out of bed – tired.  The next day was Mom’s first chemo. treatment of round #3.  She has swelling in her right foot & leg along with some pain, so the Dr. lowered the dosage which didn’t make Mom happy.  Her 2 fingers operated on  a few weeks ago are rapidly improving, however.  The Dr. didn’t seem to offer much hope.  Mom beat around the bush about her depression, but the Dr. wasn’t concerned since she didn’t have a history of depression.  But how can one look at past history when we’re talking about the sudden onset of a terminal illness??  I asked the Dr. if Mom’s quality of life would improve once the treatments are completed.  His answer was “probably not”.  That was a huge disappointment to me though didn’t seem to resonate as loudly with Mom/Dad.  I think if I were Mom, I’d say to hell with the treatments.  I don’t know if she’s taking the treatments for herself or others.  Well, on Fri. Mom had an appointment with the local family Dr. who monitors her blood.  We talked with him about her depression, & he agreed to prescribe antidepressants for Mom.  She seemed pleased with this & has now been on the medication for a week.  The Dr. says she’ll need at least 2 weeks to tell if they’re effective.

Mom did seem to perk up some by Sun. through Tue. & played 2 games of cards Sun. & Mon. – the most at one time in months.  My wife gave her “permission” to go to bed earlier, so she did go to bed between 7 & 8 pm (Mom liked this idea of going to bed early & then called my wife “her friend” – ha!).  Mom made it clear she has no plans to return to Florida, HOWEVER, at the C.R. airport she did tell my daughters that she’d try to get down to Florida to see them.  So we’ll see.  Apparently Mom told a co-worker at work a few weeks ago that “it was time”.  I believe Mom will live for less than a year.  It’s sad, but I don’t see a whole lot of hope.  I don’t think she’s giving up as much as she’s just ready.  She believes God has a plan & she’s fine with it.  Let’s face it: the survival rate of pancreatic cancer is 0.  Church was a challenge though not as bad as if I’d been there to go on Christmas Eve.  Several times I looked over at Mom & watched her – took a snapshot in my head to remember her by – being in church with her.  Mom just doesn’t have much personality any more.  When things were funny….when the kids were being cute, kind…she just had virtually no reaction.  Finally Mon. morning Mom asked my 6-yr. old at the breakfast table if she’d like to sit on Grammy’s lap but she declined.  She’s not the “lovey-dovey” type like my 5-yr. old, so I hope it didn’t hurt Mom’s feelings.  It was the first time this whole trip that Mom expressed any interest in being close to anyone or having the kids on her lap.  She’s just plain exhausted.  I noticed she even has a bit of the “shakes” at times – shaky hands.  God, it was all hard to watch.  There are times you see hints of her old self but for the most part she’s a shadow of her former self.  I believe it’s time to get to work on her funeral DVD.  Dad did pass along to me some changes/amendments to the funeral plans we worked on back in Oct. & also gave me a list of people to call when Mom passes.

Today Mom had her 2^nd treatment of round #3.  The Dr. has decided that Mom should have outpatient surgery on her back to relieve her of the pain that has been quite constant (apparently due to the original tumor).  This operation will be done Mon., Jan. 14 & will be a celiac plexus injection.  Apparently, the Dr. will go in with a needle & nova cane until Mom says she longer feels pain at which point the injection will be done killing the nerve in that area which should then relieve the pain “permanently”.  One more procedure to be done.  I’m sure Mom is thinking the same thing.  She must feel like a voo-doo doll.   I just pray she doesn’t suffer, that she’s not going to be in great pain.  And I pray for Dad.  No doubt this will be a long & difficult year.

SUN. JAN. 13

The 10^th just passed – exactly 6 mo. since Mom’s diagnosis.  Dad talks about July 10^th like people talk about where they were/what they were doing on Pearl Harbor Day, when J.F.K. was shot, when Reagan was shot, when the Challenger exploded or 9-11.  Can’t blame him – the day will live in infamy in this family. 

Mom & Dad had a scare Fri. morning when Mom went in for her normal chemo. treatment.  Apparently her blood pressure & pulse were sky high.  She was rushed to the hospital where a battery of tests were conducted.  Her only symptoms were a shortness of breath.  Dr.’s decided she was fine, her blood pressure went down & so the “chemo. Dr.” decided to go ahead with the treatment.  Dad was pretty shaken.  So I’ve decided to make a very quick trip home a week from Thu. & will come back Sun.   I’m flying directly from Orlando to DSM using the tickets that Mom/Dad were going to lose from there plans to fly to The Villages in late Dec.  (There’s still money left over -- $146 round trip!).  The timing of the trip is good -- & was something I was already considering – since Feb. is ratings period in T.V. land, & I wouldn’t be able to get home again until early March.  A cat scan is scheduled for Wed. then the Dr. follow-up & interpretation is the Fri. I’ll be home. 

Mom has her outpatient back surgery this Mon.  On Fri. the Dr. told Mom/Dad that “this procedure will be good for a few months & that’s all that matters”.  I asked them what that meant & neither could answer as they didn’t follow-up with any questions(!).  Mom continues to have little energy, low appetite & little true quality of life.  All that consumes their days are shots, pills, monitoring Mom’s blood & sugar levels & trips to Dr.’s.  It’s wearing on both of them.

So I’ve been working diligently on the DVD for Mom’s eventual funeral.  While sad at times, it has been comforting in a way to see Mom as her old self – vibrant, smiling, hugging & holding the kids.  Maybe it’ll be therapeutic for me.  I’m hoping to get it done in the next few days, edited in the next few weeks & be done with it.  It’s the last thing I want to try to do at the last minute when it’s obvious Mom is in the last stages.

A neighbor at The Villages asked a friend – while he was working on the landscaping around Mom/Dad’s house – why Mom/Dad weren’t there yet.  The friend explained & apparently the Association sent out an email telling people about Mom’s condition & encouraging emails &/or cards.  Dad seemed touched by this.

Speaking of Dad, he had outpatient surgery himself this past Thu. on his arm for skin cancer.  Dr.’s believe they got it all but Dad was clearly bothered by it.  It’s something he’ll constantly have to monitor…as will I.

Looking back at the past 6 months I do have to admit I’ve been blessed.  The kids have been sensitive to Grammy’s condition…my wife has been a rock…& through all my (our) travels back & forth we’ve had no trouble, no bad weather.  And when I’ve missed work, I haven’t missed any serious weather here in Jax.  I sure hope such weather luck can continue.

Last month, my wife found the article below in her “Self” magazine regarding a young woman diagnosed with pancreatic cancer:

Choosing my own path

Facing a pancreatic cancer diagnosis, I helped devise my own treatment plan and beat the odds.

By Anna Masellis, as told to Kate Ledger

From the December 2007 issue

The doctor who broke the news to me in May 2006 was very kind about it. She put her hand on my knee and softly said, "I'm sorry, but we found a mass on your pancreas. The cells are atypical."

As soon as I heard those words, my brain shut off for a moment. I may have shed a tear, but I was speechless. When I went in for the tests earlier that day, I'd known there was a possibility that I had a tumor on my pancreas, but I'd pushed the notion right out of my thoughts. After all, I was a 41-year-old mother of two, I was in excellent shape and I hadn't even felt sick—I thought I had a nagging sports injury. I made an appointment because my squash teammates had me promise I'd see a doctor when I mentioned that this dull pain I'd felt on my right side for the past few months had intensified. I fully expected my doctor to reprimand me for overexerting myself. Instead, when she touched my side, she thought she felt a lump. After results of a CT scan came back as inconclusive, an endoscopic exam and biopsy were ordered, just to be safe.

I didn't need anyone to explain the ultrasound and biopsy results: I have a Ph.D. in medicine, specializing in oncology. I've worked at the Virginia Piper Cancer Institute and University of Minnesota, both in Minneapolis, trying to understand cancer and identify cures. I knew exactly what I was up against. Pancreatic cancer strikes 37,170 people a year. Sufferers, who tend to be at least a decade older than me, are symptomless or experience only vague signs, such as dull pain, so the disease is usually advanced by the time it's detected. Most patients die within a year, and that's probably why only 1 percent of government cancer funding goes to pancreatic studies.

Confronting cancer
Despite the dire news, I refused to fall apart, probably because I'd beaten terrible odds before. At age 5, I was diagnosed with Wilms' tumor, a rare pediatric kidney cancer, and underwent several surgeries and an experimental combination of high-dose radiation and chemotherapy. It was such an awful experience that my mother still can't talk about it. But amazingly, the protocol that saved my life then has now become the standard treatment for Wilms' tumor—the survival rate has skyrocketed from only 20 percent to more than 90 percent today. So I knew I had to fight this cancer with everything I've got.

A week later, I went in for a Whipple, the routine surgery to remove part of the pancreas. It was supposed to take seven hours but lasted less than one; the doctors discovered a 3.5-centimeter mass on my pancreas and rice-kernel-sized patches of cancer all over my abdominal cavity. The surgeon gently explained to my waiting family that the cancer had already spread too far to do the Whipple (and further tests would show tumors in my liver). Then he informed them that I might have only two months to live.

My mom took the news hard, which broke my heart, but from what I knew of the disease, I wasn't surprised by the prognosis. Because of my advanced stage, the oncologist prescribed pain relief and gemcitabine, the most effective drug for pancreatic cancer, which temporarily staves off the disease in roughly 10 percent of patients. But that wasn't going to be enough. From my research, I knew my approach had to be more aggressive-and that it was up to me to find the right experimental treatment plan.

I believed the best thing to do was attack the cancer from multiple angles at once, using a range of drugs. But in order to do that, I needed to find an oncologist who was willing to push the envelope with me.

Uncharted territory
I began interviewing doctors and, within a week, found Gail P. Bender, M.D., who runs a private practice in Minneapolis.

Dr. Bender's overall philosophy is to offer her patients many options, some more aggressive than most oncologists would suggest. She told me she was already treating another patient with an unconventional chemotherapy regimen that included drugs typically used to combat lung, ***, ovarian and colon cancers. I thought her approach made sense, so I decided to work with her, even though chemo with a combination of multiple drugs would be physically brutal. The way I saw it, I'd run a dozen marathons and could push myself to extremes. I could make it through this.

I went through four cycles of chemo. It was grueling, and I was lucky to have friends who cooked for me and drove me to my appointments. Two months later, despite the prognosis, I was still alive. A month after that, in August, I had another CT scan: The mass on my pancreas had shrunk a hopeful 50 percent, and the liver lesions were also slightly reduced. I was thrilled—until I learned that a lesion on one of my abdominal muscles had grown by half a centimeter. Suddenly, my joy vanished; all I felt was devastated.

I went home and thought about what wasn't working with the chemo and, ultimately, figured that the drugs may not have been reaching the inside of my abdomen well enough. I remembered a journal article I had read, which described a procedure in which medicine is surgically delivered into the peritoneal cavity, where it can bathe the tumor cells directly. It's a method Dr. Bender had long used for ovarian cancer, one that only recently became standard treatment for that disease. Dr. Bender and I discussed the idea, and we agreed it was a good approach. The only glitch: We had to wait a month; my body needed to recuperate and build immunity after the last round of chemo, so I wouldn't be susceptible to infection during surgery.

I was so energized to have a new strategy that it was hard to wait. Finally, in October, my surgeon installed a port between my lowest two ribs, where the drugs would be infused. He discovered that, despite the enlarged tumor, every abdominal cancer kernel had been obliterated. Gone! I'll never forget the smile on his face when he told me. I smiled, too—I was making progress.

The abdominal infusions made my belly puff up, and I felt tiny electrical-shock sensations and harsh gastrointestinal cramping that lasted a week. In March 2007, after 18 weeks of treatment, my CT scan showed a clean abdomen. The news was incredible, but I still had a tumor on my pancreas, so I devised yet another regimen of chemo. Our hope was that switching therapies would keep the cancer from becoming resistant to treatment.

It's been a year and a half since I was given only two months to live. The CT scan I had this past August showed no metastatic cancer anywhere, and the primary tumor on the pancreas had shrunk to 2 centimeters and formed calcified plaques, which most likely indicate dying or dead tissue. Even so, I have no delusions: Pancreatic cancer has a nearly 100 percent chance of recurring. Until that happens, I'm taking full advantage of the time I've been given. I spent the summer in Italy with my kids, I see friends and I pick up my squash racket to play when I can. As a result of this experience, I advocate for other cancer sufferers and help review grant proposals for pancreatic cancer research at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.

For a scientist, there's no high quite like having your experiment work. That's why I'm helping to write a case study about what I've gone through to share my success with other doctors. I hope my fight against cancer will inch us closer to a cure.

MON. JAN. 28

 

Well, lots to cover…just returned home from Iowa late last night.  The gist of the cat scan & Dr. consultation was this:

The primary tumor is again growing – increased a solid ½ cm.

All other tumors/lesions are increasing in size & number.

Not much left to do – all treatments essentially suspended.

Obviously, a most difficult last few days.  Mom & Dad asked no questions of the Dr., so I finally spoke up & asked point blank “How long does she have?”  His answer: “This is a very bad disease.  Maybe 3-6 months, probably closer to 3.”

From there on, it was physically draining & emotionally exhausting.

The cat scan was Wed…the Dr.’s office immediately called that a blood clot was evident along the femur (upper part of the leg).  Mom had no symptoms but immediately was put on a blood thinner which means 2 shots per day in her tummy again! 

I arrived home about 7:30pm Thu. night.  Mom was laying on the bed but sat up by the time I made it to her bedroom.  (I’ve discovered this is something she does – pops up & sits up & smiles when someone enters the room no matter how crappy she feels).  We hugged but oh how thin she was!  It’s hard to imagine – skin hanging down, her complexion white, her hands shaking but still the hint of a smile.  My God…you’d think by now I’d be prepared for this downhill slide – looking worse every time I’m home, but it still shocked me.  I watched Dad dutifully apply the shot.  Large bruises were already evident from previous shots.  At that point Mom was ready for bed, so Dad & I got a bite to eat.

We arose early the next morning as the Dr. consultation was at 9am.  It was bone-chilling cold with lots of snow on the ground.  Hard for anyone healthy to get around let alone someone in Mom’s condition. 

The Dr. did say Mom could start on an oral chemotherapy.  She agreed & will start the treatment soon.  Dad, my sis & I don’t see the point but Mom wants to take them & if that’s what she wants then that’s what she gets(!).  Nurses took out the tube that had already been inserted in the port for her next chemo. treatment since such a treatment would not be done.  Dad & I stood out in the hallway alternating between tears & sighs.  Dad would just say “shoot, shoot”.  Something he said frequently the rest of the weekend – a big sigh then “shoot”.  I told him we had to know & he said it’s not surprising.  He’s right, but it’s still shocking.  We went out to the car as more snow fell.  We had planned on lunch, but Dad said he wasn’t hungry.  Mom said we must eat.  We ended up at Red Lobster where everybody ate well as big flakes of snow fell & little was said.  We drove home in silence.

Once home, I asked Mom what she thought of the prognosis of 3-6 months.  Her answer: “That’s what they told me 6 months ago.”  And that was that.  I took off to see Grandma & decided on the way to stop by the church to enquire about funeral “protocol”.  The office was already closed but – just by great luck (grace of God?), the priest was coming out of his office.  I introduced myself & said I had some questions about the funeral process.  He was surprised to hear Mom was declining so quickly which I came to found out was a frequent response through the weekend.  Apparently they were never too communicative about Mom’s condition.  People were seeing her go to church, so I guess they assumed she was doing o.k.  The priest gave me a booklet on funerals with possible readings which was helpful + an outline for the Wake Service & funeral.  We talked for about 15 minutes & Father did say to tell Mom/Dad to call him if they needed him.  One thing I learned: a Catholic funeral mass will not stray from the norm.  Spontaneity is NOT encouraged.  Lord forbid such!  I asked Father about the DVD playing within the funeral.  Apparently this is a big no-no, but he did end up saying he’d acquiesce if we so desired.  The only “off the cuff/out of the box” opportunity will be after Communion when traditionally a family member or close friend says a few words.  So I haven’t decided if we’ll go for the DVD or simply a poem.  I’m hoping to be able to do this part.  The Wake Service the night before the funeral will have great opportunity to be “celebrative”, so I guess we’ll whoop it up then(!).  After visiting Granny, I told Mom & Dad I talked to Father.  This seemed to please them & -- for the first time – jog their memory that it might be a good idea to call him (which shocked me).  So Father will be visiting this week.

None of us slept well that (Fri.) night.  I awoke at 2am & read the funeral book until 5am then slept some more ‘til 8am.  I wasn’t impressed with many of the readings but a few stood out.  So many of them talk about “fearing God” – to me that’s always been the opposite of what faith should be about – counter-productive & counter-intuitive.  Is one to be “good” so as not be scared to death about the consequences?  I’ll have to study some more on that one.

Anyway…Sat. morning was spent talking about funeral plans, making some more arrangements.  The outliner was good in that it reminded Mom/Dad of some things we had not yet covered.   Dad sent out a general mass email late Fri. reporting on the results (but not that we were down to months)…this resulted in lots of calls Fri. night & Sat. morning along with several visitors.

Sat. afternoon Dad & I got out of the house for a brisk 2-mile walk.  We talked about lots of things – hospice, the Florida home, living alone in Toledo, what we’re going to do, etc.  Dad needs support/prayers but a certain amount of coming to terms with this whole thing will have to be done personally – it’ll be a process.  I told Dad it might be good to sometime consider a hospital bed in the living room, so Mom can at least look outside.  I don’t know that she really cares, but it sounds better than the bedroom.  I really don’t think Mom will be very mobile much more than another 3-6 weeks which will then be followed by about another 3-6 weeks of being confined to a bed.  She walks slowly & sometimes gets light headed.  I noticed that sometimes her right leg sort of “kicks out” when she walks…which is turning into more of a shuffle.  I found her at one point Sat. morning curled up on the covers of her bed.  She was obviously in pain – uncomfortable – but didn’t really admit to such.

The “old symptoms” have reappeared – a feeling of fullness so usually no appetite & her eyesight is declining again…her blood sugar level is becoming increasingly difficult to control.  All signs that the end is near.

Dinner Sat. was at Zeno’s Pizza.  The sweet owner knew that if I was home, things weren’t good.  She hugged me & offered her prayers/support.  What a beautiful thing.  I was watching Mom eat & noticing it’s very difficult for her – more of a chore, certainly not pleasure – she’s forcing the food down.

Sun. morning was difficult.  Mom didn’t feel up to church & the first moment someone said something to me (a family friend: “I’m sorry to hear about your Mom’s report”), I lost it.  “Losing it” continued on-&-off through the mass.  Dad wiped tears continually.  The worst part was Communion.  Dad was a Eucharistic Minister that day & was “working” the line I was in.  I didn’t notice it until it was too late (I’d have gone to another line).  I had the little case that would hold Mom’s host…held it out then Dad offered me mine.  I could say nothing as tears rolled down my face – it was awful, helpless feeling.  I sort of motioned my head for him to put the host in the “holder”.

Upon getting home, Mom’s boss & his wife brought over a nice stew lunch & her boss said a wonderful prayer.  After lunch, I sat with Mom & we (mostly me) talked.  I asked her if she wanted her final days to be at home & she said “yes as long as Bob can handle it”.  I told her that would be fine – that he’d have help.  I told her I appreciated everything she’s done for me over the years.  That my only regret is that my daughters won’t grow up with her in their lives.  Her only response was that I’m a good son & father.  I told her I love her, kissed her on the head & sat there for awhile.  That was just about it.  She really doesn’t have a lot to say & would rather not talk a lot – to ANYONE.  Remarkably she did make my favorite rise krispies Thu., & I made sure to let her know they were great & I appreciated them.  I imagine it’ll be the last thing she ever bakes for me.  Mom & Dad did find some chocolate chip banana bread in the freezer she made back in Oct.  We were suppose to eat it at Christmas but Dad & I couldn’t find the darn stuff – took everything out of the freezer twice – it was the most frustrating thing.  I figure my oldest daughter will still get a chance to eat her “favorite bread”.

And so Dad & I took another long walk then it was time for me to go to the airport.  No doubt flying home was the right decision – Dad has expressed his gratitude time & time again.

So the sun is setting on what has seemed like a very short good-bye.

 

SAT. FEB. 2

 

     Mom is quickly going downhill.  She had an “episode” last night in which her pulse went up, she couldn’t sit up & was badly disoriented.  It scared Dad an awful lot, & he checked on her frequently for several hours to make sure she was o.k. – that she was breathing.  I don’t want him to be alone with Mom when she takes her final breath yet I don’t want to be there to see it myself (though I’d like to be there for Dad’s sake).  While talking with Dad this morning, he just kept on talking.  I could tell he didn’t want to hang up.  He doesn’t want to be alone.  This is when “leaving the nest” suddenly becomes extremely difficult.

     Hospice “folks” are coming Tue. afternoon for a meeting & at least some hospice care will begin immediately.  By the looks of things, full hospice care might be just around the corner.  I’ve heard great things about hospice in the past but have never had any direct experience – all indications are it’s an incredible thing.  They’ll take care of virtually everything as Mom’s condition continues to deteriorate right on through the death.  This has seemed to be comfort Dad at least to some degree.

     So feeling helpless today I decided to send a half dozen red roses in a vase.  I want to be there in some way, shape or form.   Seems rather mundane to send flowers, but it’s what I’m relegated to at the moment.   I’m not sure Mom will even make it to the end of the month…very doubtful she’ll make it through March.

     The DVD is done & I feel is beautiful. – only 4 min. 15 sec.  Dad thought it was a bit short but didn’t realize there are 44 pic’s + her talking during family celebrations.  It simply moves right along which is the way it should be.  I still say it’s is therapeutic to see her well & vibrant.

      I’ll never forget 2 moments last weekend while I was home: (1) Me helping Mom make her bed Sun. morning.  I noticed she wasn’t out in the living room, so I went to find her & there she was making her bed.  I asked if I could help & she said “sure”.  I watched her as she was as meticulous as ever – going so far as to tell me when I didn’t have it just perfect!  I watched her carefully.  She was very much into this project.  She arranged all the pillows perfectly.

(2) Watching her sleep in the living room Sat. afternoon.  It was as I imagined seeing her in the casket – quiet, serene, hands folded across her stomach.  Lifeless but in a better place.  I was angry at myself for thinking this & yet I couldn’t help it.
     My wife asked me last week if it was time to have “the talk” with our daughters – about Grammy dying.  I said I thought we could wait a while thinking that they’d still talk to her from time to time if Mom was able.  If we had this deep discussion with them then they might not understand that they can still talk to Grammy when she’s up to it.  However – in light of recent events – it seems that that “talk” is necessary.  We’ll probably tackle that one in the next few days.

     This is difficult.  Some days I “zing” right along.  Others are trying.  I want to be able to hold it together at the funeral, but I don’t know that I can.  Tears of grief & sadness are perfectly normal but in order for the prayer service & funeral to go the way I envision, I must have it at least somewhat together.

      My sis will arrive a week from today.  I don’t know that Mom will still be able to stand though I believe she’ll still have most if not all her faculties.  I hope so for my sister’s sake as I think sis considers this the true & last farewell…just as I did last weekend.

 

 

SUN. FEB. 3

 

     I received this sobering email from Dad in response to my email asking who we could call to the house upon Mom’s passing in case my sis &/or I aren’t there:

“I thought about this the last few days, who I could get to come to the
house when the Lord will take mom.”

So at least it sounds like Dad realizes the gravity of the situation.  I never really doubted that the last 6 weeks or so, but it’s the first time he’s come out & said (typed) it.  Now I have to make that phone call to their friends (two) to ask him if they’d be willing.

     Ever since Dad told me – yesterday morning – about Mom’s “episode” I’ve felt like I was going to vomit.  The thought of Mom suffering…of Dad watching it.  I mean think about it – they’ve been married 48 years + a few years of dating + essentially growing up together in the same small town.  They are one.  Dad told me this morning that Mom had another “episode” last evening – similar to the previous night & just about the exact same time.  Dr.’s thinking is it’s the new chemotherapy pills.  She has to take 4 in the morning & 4 12 hours later with food both times.  Dad says it’s been closer to 8-10 hours apart because of Mom’s schedule, but he’s going to try to spread it out better.  I told him why don’t we just stop the med’s?  He agreed but says Mom isn’t ready to do that yet.

     Read a couple of things yesterday:

“Hospice is code for 6 months”.  I’m sure it’ll be far less for Mom.

“The happiest times of an adult’s life are near 20 yrs. old & again near 70 yrs. old (if you have your health)”.  I guess Mom won’t see that second peak of life though I think she’s been very happy – for the most part – for a good part of her older life.

A good homily at Mass today as Father emphasized that God doesn’t create bad things to happen to us – nor are bad things meant as any kind of punishment.  The Good Lord is there to help us – even carry us – through the bad times.  Something to remember.

     I did get to talk to Mom this morning.  I caught Dad as he was leaving for church so then spoke to Mom for a good 5 min. or so.  She sounded weak, a little hoarse but otherwise not too bad.  I sent them 6 red roses in a vase y’day…she thanked me & seemed to really like them.  Let’s face it – it’s the little things now.  I got to tell her we were going out for lunch “on them” – Cracker Barrel gift cards Mom & Dad gave us for Christmas.  Gift cards were a big thing given Mom’s health.  Mom had also shopped for 2 dresses for my girls to give to them for Valentine’s Day which they wore today to church.  I took a picture & will send it to them.  Best part of my conversation with Mom was we ended it with the “Lord’s Prayer”.  It was nice.

     So it’s Super Bowl Sunday today.  I have to work tonight since the game is on our affiliate.  I think I’ll call Dad at halftime & maybe later again so we can sort of “watch it together”.

    

MON. FEB. 4^TH

     Well, I called home last night right after the Super Bowl game but no one answered.  So I called his cell phone & sure enough Mom had just fallen in the bathroom.  He was still assessing her when I called, so I asked if we needed to call 9-1-1 or someone nearby, but he insisted he had things under control.  I could hear her talking in the background & Dad said he’d need to call me back.  After about 10 agonizing minutes he called back to say he thought everything was under control.  Again I could hear Mom in the background & she was asking why I was calling at midnight & if I was o.k.!!

     Dad said he was putting a puzzle together in the guest bedroom & watching the game when he heard a crash.  He knew Mom had fallen & found her passed out up against the shower door.  She was disoriented but only has a small bump on her head.  I was mortified & thought immediately I need to get home. 

     After talking with Dad this morning, I’ll stay put for right now.  They had Dr.’s appointments in Waterloo this morning but cancelled all of them due to Mom’s weakness & decline + lots of ice this morning.  He talked with the Dr. (“the cancer Dr.”) & they both – as we have all thought since prescribed – felt it was time to do away with the new chemo. pills (xeloda).  Hopefully this will stabilize things some. 

Mom & I did again talk this morning, & she sounded quite good.  We prayed together though I was too emotional to pray along much.  Interestingly, Mom did say she thought “the end” was not as close as Dad thinks.  She might be right.  For some inexplicable reason this has given me some comfort but Lord knows it’s still just a matter of time but perhaps she’ll make into March or even April.

Poor Dad.  He’s doing a good job, but it’s got to be taking a toll on him.  I think I forgot to mention that while I was home last weekend, I noticed the kitchen calendar – a small paper notebook-like one on a 2-ring binder – that Mom has had since I can ever remember…she always just buys a new year’s worth at the end of each year…was still on Jan. 15 even though it was already Jan. 25.  This has always been her way of keeping her life in order – appointments, important dates.  She had been keeping up with it until the 15^th – another sign that the sun is setting.

WED. FEB. 6^TH

     Mom is doing better now that she’s off the “chemo. pills”.  Just about back to where we were a couple of weeks ago which is better than the nightmarish weekend.  Mom is eating quite well & has actually gained a pound or two for the first time in months.  No cancer treatments are now being administered which is likely to be the way things go from here on in.  I’ve had the opportunity to talk to Mom just about each of the last few days, & she’s sounding pretty good.

     The hospice supervisor paid her a visit y’day afternoon & things went quite well.  Mom signed the papers & initially a nurse will come by once a week.  Hospice seems to be quite an amazing program – Mom was impressed & comforted & Dad was definitely relieved.  Hospice can be increased, decreased, stopped, restarted at just about any time.  The only requirement is that the sick individual be terminally ill with little or no medication to try to save the patient.  But from here on out Hospice can just about take care of anything & everything.  Virtually all of it is even paid for! – through Medicare.    I can tell Mom & Dad were impressed because they’ve added Hospice to Mom’s Memorial. 

     So things seem to have stabilized for the time being.  My sis arrives a week from Fri., & I’ll be back out in a few weeks.  10”+ of snow since y’day!

     Mom did mention to me that – while she’s been sleeping very well – she’s having “weird, long dreams”.  Seems these dreams go way back – like to her days of being a child, growing up into young adulthood.  Interesting though a little bit un-nerving considering it almost sounds like God playing back a movie of her life for her(!) prior to her passing.

 

SUN. FEB. 10^TH

     Lots of mixed emotions today.  It’s my oldest daughter’s 7^th b’day today – the first one that Mom & Dad have not been here for.  I’ve found it to be surprisingly difficult on me.  Especially hard when my daughter opened their Christmas card with a check + a nice note written by Dad & signed by both Grampy & Grammy. 

      They called early this afternoon & both talked to my birthday girl.  Mom took a fall last night – either slipped or fainted.  She could remember the whole thing except for going from the floor to the bed where Dad carried her.  She bruised her nose – apparently from her glasses but otherwise seems to be o.k.  Of course, she took her shower this morning and made the bed.  Mom has sounded a little weaker the last couple of days, & I get the feeling she’s pushing herself to talk to us as much as possible now.  She knows the Lord is calling.

      Dad told me the other night that they still have prayed the Rosary every night since July 10^th (diagnosis day).  Pretty amazing…I can remember growing up & they said the Rosary every day – sometimes in the car on long drives, usually at night before bed.  Every day.

      The hospice nurse paid Mom & Dad a visit Fri.  They seemed to like her, & for now she’ll come by the house once a week – every Fri.  She’s just a call away if Mom/Dad need something or have questions.  Apparently the nurse asked Mom if she had any wishes.  Mom replied: “I’d like to get down to Florida one last time to say good-bye to my friends”.  Gut wrenching for Dad…& for me.  I’ve asked her several times if there was anything she wanted to do, to go, to see.  She’s always said no until this time with the hospice nurse.  I don’t know that this is a wish we’ll be able to grant given how weak she is & now that the cancer seems to be coming on strong.  I’m disappointed, but I think if Dad sees any window of opportunity he’ll jump on it & fly down for a few days up to a week.  Mom can board on a wheelchair & maybe she can be seated in a very front row where she’d have more room.  It sure would be nice to be able to do it for her, but it just might be too late.

     Mom has gotten in more of a routine on bowel movements & generally seems more comfortable.  Dad did say, however, that she’s not eating real well at the moment.  So after a relatively good few days last week, she’s struggling a bit now.  I’m guessing the good & the bad days will come & go in clusters in the coming weeks & that eventually the bad days will begin to take over as the decline becomes more dramatic.

     Sis arrives this Fri. evening…I’ll fly out in 3 weeks for a few days – March 1^st through the 5^th.

 

MON. FEB. 17^TH

     Another 6” of snow y’day at Mom/Dad’s.  But the good thing is that my sister & her husband are there for a week which will buoy Dad’s spirits at least.  Mom sounds a little weaker on the phone, but I’ll wait until sis leaves to bend her ear on exactly how Mom is doing.