Thursday, July 25, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
And now? A summary of Lake Powell via iphone pictures...
Every trip to Lake Powell carries with it an abundance of blissful moments, however we almost always come back with at least a few tales of woe. Somehow, this year the bliss and the woe both reached an all time high.
bliss: After years of pep talks and bribes, the kids finally took to skiing. Watching them pop out of the water over and over again was a bit nostalgic.
woe: We forgot to check and see if the plug was in place before launching the boat. It wasn't, which made for an interesting first day.
bliss: Spent many hours on the deck of the houseboat with a cold drink and the worlds most entertaining humans.
woe: Said humans all assumed everyone else would bring Diet Coke. Consequently, nobody did. Diet Coke is something of a Lake Powell essential (I say that with my self-respect completely in tact thankyouverymuch). Red Vines too. Must have Red Vines.
bliss: Mom found us a choice spot to park the houseboat, complete with a big sandy beach, "kangaroos" (aka rabbits with ginormous ears), rocks to climb up and jump off of, and our very own stream.
woe: Mom threw out her back. Thankfully Dr. Mason managed the situation with Ibuprofen and some Hello Kitty ice packs (4 out of 5 doctors recommend them).
bliss: We roasted cinnamon rolls over the campfire while we discussed the meaning of the word ha-boob. My parents have never been so proud. And now you all know the intellectual well that is my family.
woe: We witnessed something of a, um, horrific...amphibian vs. campfire incident. Suffice it to say that frogs, if left unsupervised, will in fact jump directly into an open fire. Believe me. They will. We tried to cry. Really, we did. But it was too damn funny. Don't tell PETA.
You guys, this was the trip that will be talked about for the rest of forever. And the best part, aside from the frog jumping to his fiery death, was that cancer was nowhere to be seen. It was the first time in 7 months that our family felt like, well, our family (minus the ones who couldn't make it). Sure there were injuries, and crap that broke down, and kids we wanted to send out to sea. But those are the things we went home laughing about. Those are the things that have been missing over the past several months. Those are the things that make us a family.
Until next time.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
I'm not going to try and cough up a reason for my lack of updates. Seriously, I can't even think of a good excuse. But here's a picture my husband took of a squirrel eating a Butterfinger...
The excuse well has runneth dry. Obviously.
So. Chemo. For now, our boys are done. Dad officially finished chemo about a month ago, and Sam finished about 2 weeks ago. They'll both have scans in a few weeks to see exactly where they stand tumor-wise. We're really REALLY hoping that the chemo they've had has trampled their cancer crop fields for good. I can't tell you how awesome that would be. Like, miracle awesome. But until we know for sure, they're both just trying to recover from having received 6 months worth of cell killing infusions. You'd think that once chemo was over, life would just go on. I wish it could be that simple. I assure you, it is not.
First of all, you've got the side effects from all those drugs. Side effects that have built up over time, which makes them exponentionally more hideous to deal with. Secondly, and this might be the worst part, you've got the worry. Worry about whether or not the cancer is really gone. Worry about whether or not the side effects will be long term issues. Worry about whether or not your body can take over the job of eliminating those pesky wayward cells like it's supposed to. You don't necessarily trust it's ability to perform that seemingly simple task anymore. Sometimes I catch myself giving Sam's and Dad's lymph nodes the "mom" look. You know, that look of death you give your kids when they're screwing around. The one that doesn't require any words whatsoever. The one that could melt steel with it's laser precision. I wonder if lymph nodes respond better to that look than kids do. Let's hope so.
The good news is that energy levels and appetites are improving. Slowly. More slowly in Dad's case. But considering the strength of the chemo he had, a slower recovery is definitely to be expected. We went up to Park City for the 4th of July, and just in the 4 days we were there, I noticed a definite improvement. I'm starting to realize that it's kind of a 2 steps forward, 1 step back type of thing. One morning I caught him riding up a mountain on his bike though, so maybe he took 3 steps forward last weekend. And the hair! The hair is coming in so nicely. Sam has already reached his normal state of brillo pad-ness, and Dad's head is looking like a giant grey tennis ball. I think he's secretly hoping that his leg hair won't grow back. Not me. I'm so not cool with my dad having sexier legs than me. SO not cool.
Things are getting better. Things are getting more normal. I mean, not that we were ever very normal, but we're getting closer to our version of normal than we've been for a very long time. It feels good.
Proof of our normal-ness...
Lake Powell is next on the agenda. Perfect place to be right before the PET scan that will determine the next 6 months of your life.