Abigail Birthday Celebration Checklist

Dec. 30 is an important date. Radiation number 4, check. Chemo day number 2, check. Mark and Carrie have flown today and yesterday to see Mom, check. But they also came back for another reason, today is Abigail's birthday. As I said, Mom was a trooper - took down radiation and chemo like a champion, in the early morning for a change of pace this week. She also earned the right to move out of the ICU and into a regular hospital bed room. Typically meant for 2 people, but she lucked out into a room with no roommate for now.

As Luke said, life is good. We all talk or see each other on a daily, if not hourly basis. Abigail excitedly reported that Mom had her best morning of the week, alert and lively - good words for all of us to hear first thing in the morning. Fam hung out all day, the boys and Carrie did some shopping for sis (with some gift recommendations that Mom of course knew Abigail would love - Kate Spade and Coach to name a couple, check and check), and we had some good family bonding time with the cousins and a delicious Martha Stewart-esque chocolate cake from Aunt Amy.

Of course it's been a tough week and month. But we also have to celebrate and keep enjoying each other when we get such great opportunities as today. Thank you to all family and friends for everything you have done and continue to offer day in and day out. We are very blessed to have such amazing people in our lives. Congrats to Mom for completing her first week of radiation. And congrats to Abigail, you're officially closer to 30 than 25 (come on people, we love each other, but the little brother still has to throw a jab or 2 at his big sister, check). Love you, sis, and we love you, Mom. Goodnight.

Life is good

Being 1700 miles away from home when your mother is going through something that you don't wish on your worst enemy is extremely difficult. There is nothing worse than knowing that an outside force is trying to destroy the life of someone you love. It's not a hopeless feeling, but more a feeling of helplessness. You want to help, but the only thing you can do is hope and pray that the treatment she receives is what's best. Cancer completely sideswipes you in a way that you don't understand until you go through it.

I've had a lot of thoughts over the past few weeks that I've jotted down, so I decided to make a list of what I have either noticed or learned from this ordeal.

1. There is nothing, NOTHING, more important that family and friends. I am very fortunate to have come from a great family that is extremely supportive in good times and bad. We are a strong family and will only be stronger due to this battle. Coming from such a great family only leads to the amount of friends that we have. I can't say enough about the people that have come to lend a supporting hand. Whether it's in the form of prayer, food, housing, or car rides, words can not express the gratitude that we feel in this time of need.

2. It seems that the more people I talk to about cancer, the more people I find that have dealt with it. At first I was a little hesitant to let others know what we are dealing with. But, the more people I talk to about it, the more I see that others have been through it. I equate it to buying a car, and once you buy that car you start to see it everywhere. Cancer has, or will, touch everyone in their lifetime at some point. Someday, hopefully sooner rather than later, we will find a cure!

3. Life is good. Being in the hospital and seeing other people suffer only makes me realize how lucky we are to be in our situation. We have never had anything like this happen to us in our family. We have been dealt an extremely good hand in our lives. I wake up every morning knowing how good we have it in life. We are never given anything in life, and what we take from it should be looked at as a privilege and not as a right. We have had great lives and after seeing firsthand what can be taken away from you I absolutely have a different understanding of what life is about.

4. The word 'sick' takes on a completely different meaning when you get older. Abby touched on this is the previous post. When we were in Orlando 3 weeks ago we all noticed that something wasn't right. When I was golfing with my dad and brothers on Dec. 11 I asked my dad if she was still mourning the loss of our grandma or if she was sick. When I said 'sick' I wasn't thinking 'cancer sick', I was thinking 'miss a day of school sick'. Yes, there are different degrees of being sick, but only when you get older do you realize how serious the word 'sick' really can be.

5. Prayers, well-wishes, and positive thoughts DO have an influence. It is easy to be dragged down to cancer's level and have a 'woe is me' attitude. However, with the power of prayer and positive thoughts, and the sheer number of people that are giving them out, I can't help but have a sunny outlook on this situation.

Okay, that's all for now. It may be a little cluttered and rambling, but then again, I've always loved tangents. I'll post more thoughts later. But for now, get well mom. We know you will.

Love.

Luke

How's Dad?

Our parents met in a St. Louis hospital about 35 years ago. How they met is one of those stories I’ve had Mom tell a thousand times. She was a nurse, he was a medical student. Dad asked her out on a date, and she turned him down. She was dating someone else. His response, “When you get rid of him, let me know.” He says after that, he went and lit a candle in the hospital chapel and didn’t ask again. She came around not long after, invited him to dinner at her apartment. She dropped the other guy, and she and Dad were engaged six weeks later.

I was watching a couple of little girls play with their Barbie dolls the other day. They had Barbie and Ken in their full wedding garb at the altar reciting their vows. I remember doing that myself as a kid. But I can’t figure out for the life of me where little girls learn those vows. We all know them somehow, “For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health…” But I don’t remember ever saying those words, dolls in hand, and thinking of sickness beyond a cold or maybe a bout with the flu. I just wonder how many people realize the possibilities ahead when they make that commitment.

“How’s Dad?” It’s the question we all hear only second most often to, “How is she?” And it’s the one for which we have no respectable answer. “He’s holding up well.” “He’s in doctor mode.” Those tend to be the best we have to offer. Truth be told, I think he’s holding up well and in doctor mode because of his kids. We may be in our twenties and thirties, but we may as well be two, four, six, and eight again. He’s still our Dad. We’re still his kids. She’s still his wife.

To call the last two weeks – the last 48 hours – a roller coaster, would not only be cliché, but an understatement. The lows are lower than I could ever articulate, and every glimmer of hope lurches us back upward. That goes for every last one of us. I’ve said to a few people over the course of this, I can only imagine two things more difficult than being the child of someone who is going through this right now: being the individual in the hospital bed, and being the spouse of the person in that hospital bed.

Today Mom got through her second round of radiation. And while the markers aren’t huge, we can see moments where she’s starting to rebound from the challenges she’s faced – particularly since Sunday. As they wheeled her out of radiation this afternoon, she held up two fingers. Two down, 28 to go. Tomorrow doctors think she’ll be strong enough to start chemo, too. We have no doubt. She’s never settled for anything less than perfect before, she’ll approach this the same way.

When we were sitting with Mom in her room in the Neuro ICU at Barnes today, I looked at Dad and I wondered if he thinks back to meeting her in a St. Louis hospital all those years ago. Could they have ever even considered that they’d be back in this capacity? I don’t think anyone ever does. But as with so many moments in the last three plus decades, we are where we are. They’re adjusting. We’re all adjusting. But they have an added responsibility as parents – one from which they’ve never shied. They continue to teach by example. Ask any one of us. We understand those vows now. Over the last two weeks our parents have truly taught us what marriage means.

So how’s Dad? I think he’s every bit as scared as the rest of us, but as hopeful as any of us. Two down, 28 to go. One day at a time. Hour by hour. We couldn’t be any prouder of Mom. We couldn’t be any more grateful for both of our parents.

Excited for Mom to ring the bell

Today was a big day for Mom and the family as Mom had her first radiation treatment. She is currently resting at the Neurology ICU for the time being, happy to say that she is receiving the best medical treatment possible at Barnes Jewish and was resting peacefully at the end of the day. The treatment only lasts about 15 minutes, and we were shown the equipment and process in detail by the RN Mary Kay. While Mom was in the room receiving the treatment, we were in the waiting room per usual. However, we were witness to a man walking out of the room who rang a loud bell as he exited the room. Dad answered my bewildered face, "it means he just received his last treatment". The entire waiting room applauded as he proudly walked out. It was a really cool moment to see. Mom's treatments: 1 down, 29 to go. Can't wait until the day we get to see her ring the bell!

We love you, Mom. Goodnight.

First treatment done!

First radiation treatment done! (29 more to go). Too excited to wait until tonight to post. Congrats and good work, Mom. We're all so proud of you!

Long day

Long days equal short blogs. Mom wasn't feeling so well this morning, restless night of sleep and painful headaches. Mark and Maggie left for Cincy for the week, while the rest of us headed to St. Louis as Mom starts treatment tomorrow. But the sick morning continued into the afternoon, and we needed to check Mom into the hospital immediately upon arrival to Barnes Jewish. Helpful doctors, IV fluids, and some medication have thankfully led the long day in the car and ER to a peaceful night of sleep for Mom. Though I've said it before and I'll say it again, Mom has always been cheery, friendly, loving, and thankful for all of us around her throughout this entire ordeal. No stronger or more heroic person. We love you, Mom. Tomorrow, we start treatment. Keep Mom in your thoughts and prayers. Thanks and goodnight.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, everyone! Woke up to the traditional smell of Mom’s cinnamon rolls and sausage ring in the oven, but this year Abigail took the lead and breakfast was amazing. Good work sis. As is typical, hours + to make a meal, and gone in 10 minutes max. But who can blame us, Santa had visited and we had presents to open. Movies, clothes, books, cooking tools – not a bad haul for anyone this year. However, the annual tradition of a few scratcher lottery tickets was a complete bust. As Mark said, we made a donation to the local schools today.

Rest of day included grazing on leftovers, naps all around, and apparently a new tradition of watching a Man vs. Food tv marathon for almost the entire day. Most ridiculous show and food eating exhibitions ever. Which led the family to our own Man vs. Food competition, where no one needs to eat, but we of course save the biggest meal for last with a beef tenderloin and gnocchi. Tonight’s blog is all about the food. But that’s just because we all like to sit around and hang out with each other, and after a week we run short of things to talk about. So we watch a man eat a ton of food, as we make jokes while stuffing our own faces. We all had a great Christmas.

Tomorrow, the family will have to take a short break from being with each other as Mark and Maggie need to head back to Cincinnati for the week, and everyone else is heading to St. Louis. Mom starts her treatment on Monday, so as much fun as Christmas was, today doesn’t hold a candle to the excitement we all have to get Mom her ultimate Christmas present.

Goodnight and Merry Christmas!