My Aunt Linny

Last Sunday, as I was putting the finishing touches on the post I was about to publish, Dad called.  It was about 12:40 pm.  He told me that my aunt Linny (his little sister), who was in a rehabilitation center due to her failing health, had fallen the day before and was now unresponsive.  He said that it didn't look good and that she might only have days, or maybe just hours to live.  He told me that it would probably be a good idea to go over and see her sometime that day.  I made the decision that we would go see her right after church was over, at 3:00.  My husband Ryan strongly suggested we go right then.  I resisted at first because I was supposed to say the closing prayer in sacrament meeting.  When I came to my senses and realized that not only would I get out of saying the closing prayer (and yes, you'd better believe I thanked her for that one), but would also increase my chances of seeing my aunt alive one more time.  I agreed to go.  And I'm so glad that I did.  It was awesome to be able to see her, and talk to her, and hold her hand one last time.  As far as I know, I was the last one to have that privilege.  She died about an hour after I left.

The memories I have of my aunt Linny are mostly of laughing so hard I would pee my pants, which if you know me, isn't all that surprising.  When I was a little kid, she would pretend to make a loaf of bread out of me.  She would lay me on the floor while she "kneaded" me like dough.  She would then go through all the various steps of bread making until I was ready for the oven.  Then she and Dad would carry me over to the oven and convince me that they were actually going to put me in.  I can't remember if I peed at that point out of laughter or fear, but either way, the bread game made a lasting impression.  

Aunt Linny was my aunt, but she was also my friend.  We've had some awesome conversations about various subjects throughout my adult life.  You hear people say sometimes that someone "lit up the room" when they walked in.  I've always thought that phrase was cliche and just non-specific enough that it could pass as a thoughtful compliment, kinda sorta.  But honestly, I can't think of a better way to describe my aunt.  She was the person I'd wait by the door for at all the family parties.  I bet my cousins know exactly what I'm talking about.  There was nobody who could bring excitement and entertainment like Aunt Linny.  The life of the party.  Every.  Single.  Time.

This picture of she and my cousin Jesse says it all

Another Update, and More Excuses As To Why It's Taken Me So Long - a very exciting post indeed

One of these days I'll pull my crap together and get back to my regular blogging schedule.  What is it with the month of May?  It's like my kid's school teachers think I have nothing better to do with my time than help my children with their end of the year projects.  Last week's project?  Building a model of the Colosseum out of sugar cubes (no kidding).  It only took us seventy two tries.  Next up on the agenda is (and I quote), the "county road trip report".  I have to take my kid on a road trip to a different county.  And then help him write a report about it.  Can't.  Wait.  Throw dance recitals and soccer games into the mix, and May becomes December on roids.  Oh the joys of parenting.  Anyway, I do believe my paragraph on excuses for neglecting this blog is now complete.

Things regarding cancer are good.  Good as in, not getting worse.  Sam and Dad both had their chemotherapy treatments about 10 days ago.  Sam is up for #10 this week and Dad will have his last scheduled treatment next week.  Then he (he being Dad) will wait for about 3 weeks before going in for another scan.  We're hoping for him to be cancer-free at that point, in which case we'll party like is 1999.  If not, he'll be advised to get a few more chemo treatments and/or move on to radiation.  That's a tough hypothetical pill to swallow, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.  If there's one thing we've learned so far, it's that this cancer thing is pretty freaking unpredictable.  You really just have to take it one day at a time.  Everyone is getting better at accepting that.  Especially our lymphoma boys.

So, I have an exciting little nugget of information for you.  Mom and Dad just celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary.  They managed to escape for a few days to their favorite hideaway in Carmel, California.  Once again, I was granted the honor of babysitting the dog.  And once again, she went home a total fatty.  I don't get it.  I was vigilant this time.  She must have gotten chubby on dust bunnies and cracker crumbs because I fed her nothing but dog food.  I refuse to be held responsible for a yorkie's weight problems.  Luckily they had a great time on their vacation and chemo was scheduled for the morning after they got back, so nobody really had time to be concerned about the dog situation.  Mom?  Dad?  Happy 40th anniversary.  Hugely inadequate, I know, but if I get into the nuts and bolts of what an inspiration you've been to so many people, I might not recover tonight.  Besides, that topic deserves it's own blog post.  But for now, just know that your marriage has influenced my life in a way that's impossible to describe.  Thank you for being crazy about each other over the past 40 years.  And I forgive you for ALWAYS making out in front of my friends when I was in high school.  Wait...no,  I'm not over that one yet.  Maybe by next year.  But don't hold your breath.  

Here's the other cool thing that happened.  Mom's friends threw her a 1/2 way done with chemo party.  They gave her 1/2 of a cake, 1/2 a balloon bouquet, 1/2 a bra, 1/2 a book, 1/2 a carton of eggs, and a bunch of other useless 1/2's.  When she told me what they did for her, first, I laughed my butt off.  Then, I was overcome with gratitude for her amazing, thoughtful friends.  It was so very very cool of them.  Thanks to those awesome ladies. 

Thanks to all of you for checkin in on the boys.  I know I've said it a million times, but we feel your love and your prayers every day.  That's what makes this all bearable.  I promise more frequent updates in the weeks to come.  I just need to survive the next 5 days or so.

Boring = Awesome

There I go again, not updating for an entire week.  I'd apologize except that my lack of blogging actually means things are good.  Well, not good.  More like...boring.  And in the cancer world, boring is good.  

Sam is up for round 8 tomorrow.  He can't wait.  Oh, I almost forgot to mention that he had surgery last Thursday (maybe things haven't been quite as boring as I thought).  His port was all wonky so they ripped that sucker out and installed a shiny new one.  It's even a new kind!  It was kind of like trading in a crappy old Fiat for a Mercedes Benz, only not nearly as thrilling as that.  But look what I got to do...

My life is now complete.  Seriously, I enjoyed that WAY too much.  I'm in very real danger of becoming a heroin addict purely to indulge my injection fetish.  Hopefully they'll keep me on the straight and narrow by letting me assist them with their meds for the next 6 months. 

Dad had chemo #4 on Thursday.  So far, I would say it's been pretty smooth, but that's also taking into consideration that the Prednisone crash probably started today.  That part never goes very well.  I'll be able to tell the extent of the damage from the sound of his voice when I call tomorrow.  I'll report back to you.  But until then, keep praying for boring.  We love boring.  Boring rocks our world.

The Good, The Bad, and The Globby

So the weird just keeps on coming.  Remember how I told you that Sam would be having his mid-treatment CT scan?  Yeah, he had it.  Good news, no visible cancer.  Bad news, gigantic blood clot in his heart.  Like, size of a cherry gigantic.  Additional bad news, he is now responsible for giving himself an injection twice a day for the next 6 months.  So far, Mom has been the only one who can tolerate administering the shots.  I'm hoping to get my turn.  But that's not the weird part.  The weird part starts here.  Dad moved up his mid-treatment CT scan.  He had it last Friday instead of tomorrow when it was originally supposed to happen.  The results are in.  Good news, cancer has reduced by 1/2, which sounds less exciting than Sam's results on the surface, but remember, Sam was on his third treatment by the time Dad started his 1st.  Bad news, not one, but TWO blood clots (he's kind of an over-achiever) were found on his scan.  One in his lung and one up by his port.  Additional bad news, he has to give himself injections twice a day for........wait for it............the next six months.  Mom is out shopping for her nurse get up as we speak.  That last sentence sounds mildly inappropriate, but I think I'll leave it.  I rather enjoy making people squirm just a bit.

Let's further examine this blood clot thing.  See that white arrow pointing to the dark glob inside the white glob?  That's what they have going on.  You don't want to have dark globs inside white globs.  It usually means there will be lots of needles in your future, as we have discovered.  But if you do happen to discover dark globs on your CT scan, you'll want to be sure you have a family member who also plans to have dark globs.  It's like getting cancer together, only funner.

Really, the good news outweighs the bad on this one.  As long as these blood thinning injections do their job, the blood clots probably wont become a huge issue.  That's the hope at least.  Cancer is getting it's butt kicked, and that's the most important thing.  Dad goes in for treatment #4 on Thursday.  Here's to taking out the enemy.  

Boo-yah!  

Counting Down

Our boys have been a little run down this week.  I usually find one or both of them looking something like this...

The next few days should be at least a little bit better.  

I think we've reached that point in the game where Dad and Sam are sick of being sick.  They both seem pretty worn out from the whole thing.  The tiredness, the throwing up, the pain, the lack of appetite, the brain fog, the worry, it's all taking it's toll.  It's hard to know how to help, or even what to say sometimes.  "Hang in there, you're totally going to beat this", only works so many times, you know.  They have battle fatigue and it's hard to think of things to combat that.  But the good news is that we've reached the point where we can start counting down instead of up.  Like when your running a marathon.  Okay, I have no experience to base this off of whatsoever, but I'm guessing that for the first half, you probably count up (mile 1, mile 2, mile 3, etc.).  But eventually, it probably becomes too mentally strenuous to count up.  So you start counting down (only 8 miles to go, now 7, now 6, etc.).  Folks, we're counting down.  And for some reason it feels huge to be able to do that.

I can't tell you how instrumental you've all been in helping us...them get to this point.  I've never seen a support team quite like the one my family has had.  I've been especially touched by the people who've gone through this before.  Cancer has an interesting bonding agent, if you will.  There's something about having gone through an experience with cancer either themselves or with a loved one, that teaches them exactly what another cancer patient might need at any given time.  There are conversations that they are uniquely qualified to have.  They can relate in a way that most people can not.  They know what to say and do when the rest of us feel helpless.  I would never have thought that the cancer community  could have inspired me in such a profound way.  It's love on a completely different level.  Talk about making lemonade... 

Hump Day

Dad and Sam ended up having chemo on Tuesday.  Good, because one trip to Huntsman Cancer Institute is better than two.  Bad, because, well...chemo.  Interestingly, it was kind of a big day.  It just so happened to be the half way point for both of them.  For Sam, it was the sixth of twelve treatments.  For Dad, it was the third of six treatments.  All day long on Tuesday I kept thinking that we needed to do something significant to commemorate this point in their journey.  You know, like go base jumping or get a tattoo or something.  Oddly enough, nobody seemed too hip on my ideas.  My family doesn't understand my sentiment.   But we did manage to get together on Wednesday for an Easter party.   Did it get out of hand?  Why yes, yes it did.

My sister Minda and her husband Scott sent Mom and Dad a box of wigs to play with.  It's all fun and games until Dad is too tired to go to work and just so happens to have an excellent disguise sitting in his closet..  Really, I blame Scott and Minda for Dad's resorting to other tactics to pay the bills.    

I think it's the shoes that give him away.  They're much too shiny.

Thanks Scott and Minda for providing us such fabulous entertainment.  Not to mention the fodder that we will have for years to come.

On a more serious note, Easter is one of my favorite holidays.  Like, on the same level as Christmas, favorite.  I used to love it because it meant that my birthday was coming up (which it is...just sayin), but now I love it because of what we celebrate.  The Atonement of our Savior Jesus Christ.  His story is not just a legend passed down through time.  It is the truth, and it's the greatest miracle the world has ever known.  It brings me such peace.  Especially this year.

HAPPY EASTER!!!

My "serious notes" never seem to last very long...

Oh I'm in so much trouble.

Calm Before the Storm

Chemo tomorrow.  He's ready.