Gifts

I love the anticipation of the 20-week ultrasound.  I LOVE to organize and get things ready for a new baby.  Finding out the gender is top of my list for favorite things of pregnancy.  As soon as we find out the gender, I start to plan at least two things.  Name and nursery.  I love being able to say, "I'm due...It's a...and we'll name it..." It just makes me so happy.  And, oh mama, those sweet little newborn diapers?! I die!!  If I had a hard day, I'd shut myself in the nursery, pull out a diaper, and imagine my new bundle of joy.  It's funny that I'd imagine a new bundle of joy, when most times, it was my other bundles of joy that was causing me to have a bad day.  Anywhooo, I love the planning that comes with that 20-week ultrasound.

Caden finished his last day of chemotherapy today.  

It was an emotional time.  As the pump blared incessantly that it was "End of Infusion" I bawled like a baby!! 

It was probably the only time I haven't been bothered that it was beeping.  He is DONE!!! 

When the tears had run dry, I sat down and looked back over the last few months.  And then it hit me...he started his last Round of chemo exactly 21 weeks after this all started.  21 weeks!! It has gone so fast and SO slow at the same time.  I decided to take this time and make some plans for the "new" family we are soon to have, to get excited for things to come that will make our lives happier.

I recently read an incredible story of a mother than caught her son just moments before he drown.  She talked about taking her kids to the pool after a week of family visits.  She wanted to get them good and tired to take a great afternoon nap.  I found myself relating to so much that she was saying, I know we would be friends.  When her son wanted to continue swimming, but her younger daughter didn't, she put his floaties on and told him to stay close to the edge, allowing him to get in without her.  She watched him for a while, but then turned her attention- for a moment- to her little daughter.  She was taking pictures and planning posts, thinking of ways for the world to see her as an amazing mom (much like I've done sometimes), only to look up and see her son bobbing just below the surface.  So many things happened in just a short time, but the fear stabbed fast.  In just a moment, her life was changed forever.

She continues the story, telling us that she ended up taking him to the ER to be checked out.  As she was sitting with her son, smelling his hair and touching his sweet cheeks, the tears started to flow.  She thought about the scenario if her son would have drown.  Telling her husband his son had died while she was looking away, having his last memories be a hurried goodbye at the door that morning, and worrying that CPS would come to take him away.  Although Caden didn't drown, I know how she feels.  Things happen, sometimes, so quickly that it leaves us breathless.  We barely have time to process what is happening at that moment, let alone think of what would happen if things had gone differently.  Being so grateful for just one more touch, one more breath, one more minute.

It's hard to think back on the beginning of our journey.  I was so scared, I could barely breath.  My son had cancer!  My SON!  How did this happen?  I thought it was just pneumonia.  I knew he was sick, but that sick?  What happened to the pulled muscle I thought he had?  Or the viral infection that we were certain it was just two weeks before?  Cancer?  What was happening?!  It hurts too much to dwell on it.  My heart is still bleeding from it all.  It's just too soon to remember.  But, I can relate to this mother.  My son was close to death, had been through something so scary, and for reasons I am thankful for, Heavenly Father has given us more time with him.  I don't want to take this time for granted.  Ever!

The title of this article is The Gift of Presence.  She says, "What I mean by being present, is to be involved, aware, in-tune, and connected.  To not just physically be there, but to really BE there.  Soaking it all in.  Participating.  Adding to whatever it is.  Enjoying.  Not just being around, but being...present."  These words have played in my mind for a few weeks now.  I remember the first few days looking for anything I could; to remember just how my son was at that moment and many before.  I looked for things to make him laugh, to hear it just one more time, in case it happened to be his last.  I found myself remembering all of the fun stories that Caden used to tell, the funny things he used to come up with.  I wanted to remember everything.  I often left my cell phone on vibrate to concentrate on only Caden.  I was just so scared that he'd go downhill too fast to stop.  The nights with ICU stopping by almost every hour, I was in a state of overdrive.  I remember what the nurse was wearing, what smells were most prominent that night, and just about everything that littered the walls/floors of our room in FA.7.303.  I can't remember every room we've been in, but when I walk by that room (a room I will never forget) I can bring up many memories of things we did in that room.  It was the room that our lives changed so much.  The diagnosis room.  The First Round room.  I never took a moment in that room for granted.  I cherished every laugh, going out of my way to make it heard, feeling a poignant pain of sorrow when I didn't.  There was nothing that could have taken my attention from the boy in the bed.

While I am SO grateful that I don't have to worry (as much) about my son dying, I don't want to slip back into my old life.  I know that my habits will come back, that I will never be a person that cares absolutely nothing about the cleanliness of my home while spending every second with my kids, but I do want to make more of an effort to be present when I am with them.  To watch the movie that they are watching.  To play the games that they are playing.  To put my phone away, get off the computer, walk away from the book, and be there.  With them.  Enjoying them.  She closed her post, "Presence is a gift.  I plan to give mine to others, and to enjoy every moment of my children's gift to me.  If people are left hanging? That's ok, they will survive.  And guess what?  So will my son."  Beautiful.

Tonight, I don't plan to scour baby-name books, or purchase sweet newborn diapers, or look for baby bedding and perfect paint colors to decorate a room. Tonight I make plans to remember the last 21 weeks.  Not where I look back at the stories of tragedy and remember.  No, I'll never forget those stories, even if I wanted to.  No, I plan to remember the feelings of absolute helplessness watching my son suffer and be grateful for the days of health that we all enjoy.  I plan to remember the sense of loss I felt each time I had to say goodbye to my babies, knowing I wouldn't see them for weeks, and be grateful to be with them every second.  I plan to hug them longer, kiss their cheeks daily, to tuck them into bed until the day they ask me not to.  I plan to enjoy taking them to school, making their lunches, making homemade meals and sitting around the dinner table, watching the Family movie they want.  I plan to not just watch a movie with Randy after the kids are in bed, but to snuggle and hold hands each time.  I want to remember the hard times we've endured to make the together times better.  This 21 weeks has not begun a new life in my belly, but a new gift in my heart.  A family that will grow in love from our experience.

This experience has been a gift in more ways than one, I refuse to take it for granted. 

Go!!

"On Three."

One: His ANC is only 674. We were told it needs to be 750 to begin chemo. We thought we'd be sent home until Monday. I didn't know if I wanted to go. I'm sick of that drive!!

Two: Sue walked in and asked us to guess his ANC. It wasn't a surprise- our nurse had told us the number. What was a surprise?! When Sue said, "I'm gonna admit you anyway!"

Three: We'll make our last dive into that deep pool tomorrow morning!!

And then we'll have another Three. Three days of chemo and then NEVER AGAIN!!

Jump!

In 2010, Randy and I celebrated our anniversary in Kauai.  It was amazing!!  Our favorite place explored was called Kipu Falls.  I had pictures of my own, but they wouldn't download, so these are from the internet.

To get here, you walked through grasses taller than you on either side.  It opened up to this... a two story waterfall into a beautiful pool.  The locals have put up a rope swing and ladder to make the place a local hotspot.  It was amazing.  Randy knew immediately that he would jump and do the rope swing.  I was just fine watching it all and taking pictures.

However, my resolve to stay dry crumbled as I watched a seven year old child jump.  His dad was treading water in the pool below and was calling to his son to jump.  With pool-noodle tied around his tiny waist, he jumped without a moments hesitation.  Man, if that kid could do it, so could I!  I asked Randy to hold the camera and walked on Jell-O legs to the jumping spot.  I was beyond terrified.

I made it to a spot that was closer to the water below.  As I was looking over, contemplating just turning back, a local teenager started counting.  With her encouraging words, I felt my confidence grow.  "On three.  One!" I could do this.  That little boy didn't waiver.  "Two." Man, that is SO far.  I hope I don't somehow do a belly flop.  "Three." GO!  And I did!

We have all heard that even though falling only takes a couple of second, really, it feels like an eternity.  That is correct, my friend.  A terrified scream caught in my throat, not one whimper passed my lips.  As I hit the water, I was surprised by just how cold it was.  It, literally, took my breath away.  I kicked to the surface as fast as I could (I'm not a confidant swimmer) and doggy-paddled my way to the ladder.  If I thought that my legs were Jell-O before, it was nothing compared to how they felt now.  As I pushed myself up from water to rock-platform, I reveled the fact that I'd just jumped two stories!!  I had done it.

As my feet pressed into the rungs on the ladder, I remember thinking that after doing something so brave, my ascent shouldn't hurt so much.  I guess I'm just enough of a diva that I expect an elevator to make my life easier.  Almost as if I should have been rewarded for doing something so difficult.  But, as said in The Fault in Our Stars, "Life is not a wish granting machine."  Sometimes we get painful ladders when we wish for luxurious elevators.

Caden's numbers are still too low to begin Chemo.  I feel like I am at that low spot once again.  We're poised to jump in that pool for the last time.  We're tired from a journey that has brought us to this beautiful spot- our LAST Round!  We've made up our mind to jump.  I look at Caden, the boy that has jumped without hesitation, and think to myself, "If he's not nervous, why should I be?" But this jump, one where I need someone else to encourage and count, has a different kind of  counter.  Instead of one that says, "On Three," we are waiting on something that is giving us no indication.  We don't know when we'll jump- we'll actually be pushed this time.

As with the previous four Rounds, we expected his numbers to be above 500 (to go home) on June 11.  I had it all planned out that we'd be home the day after school let out for Summer Vacation and just play for a week before starting week 6 on June 20th.  That did not happen.  We got sent home last Wednesday at 380, with instructions to come back on Tuesday to begin on Wednesday.  If we were shocked to see that he hadn't changed a single bit from Monday to Wednesday, it was nothing to seeing it go from 380 to only 466 in six days.  It was a blow.  When will his ANC rise enough to begin this last Round?  With each day that passes, it pushes our time back.  Our finish date and our family-together-at-last date.  We'll make that jump, but the anticipation is hard.

I'm anxious for the day that we doggy-paddle our way back to our real life.  Who knows what our "ladder" will feel like.  I hope for smooth rungs, ones without as much traction, that will quickly take us to the open arms, and stunned/exhilerated faces of our loved ones.  Never in our lives did we ever think we'd make this jump!  And just like my real jump, I don't ever want to do it again.  Falling has felt like forever, even though, in life, it was a short time span.  I've done it once, that's enough for me.  I know that one day, we'll walk away from this beautiful experience holding strong to the ones we love, happy to have found it.  Because we are happy we did this.  We'll look back on this and marvel that we've done something so huge in our lives.  We just need to jump!

Please pray for Caden.  His body is just so tired!

Influence

Tomorrow, Randy and I will celebrate our 14 year anniversary.  We decided to go to a matinee and lunch on Thursday to celebrate.  Indian and a movie was just what I needed to unwind from the stress of the previous week.  And, man, did that Indian hit the spot.  It has been a toss-up the last three years between Indian and Greek being my favorite.  Wow, I love them both.  So glad we have the best of both here in Richland!!

Lunch was great, but the movie was better.  I read 'The Fault in Our Stars' and instantly fell in love.  Like I said before, I was recommended to read it before all of this happened to Caden, but for some reason ended up reading it while he was going through chemo.  It hit me so much harder than it would have had I read it in December.  I read it three times in three days, highlighting the parts that affected me, in green.  On my calendar I am keeping, green days are his chemo days- it just seemed important to me, somehow.  I was going to go with my girlfriends on Tuesday, but with Caden's numbers being too low on Monday, I was in Seattle on Tuesday.  I'm sad I didn't get to go with them, but I'm SO happy I saw it with Randy on this day for our anniversary date.  It was magical.

With it being a matinee, on a Thursday, a few weeks after opening night, the theater only had four other couples.  I was emotional watching the previews.  I knew what I was going to see. I had been waiting to have it come out, I was just so excited.  As the movie progress with the amazing acting following the book so well, my heart was filled with happiness, once more, over this amazing book.  Again, because of the situation we find ourselves in, this book has such meaning for me.  It touches my heart so much differently.  As the movie credits began to roll, emotions fresh, the tears just started.  In the dark of the theater, I cried.  Hard.  As I leaned on the man of my dreams, remembering that we were celebrating 14 years of perfect happiness, it struck me afresh how much cancer sucks.  It takes people too young, robs of so much, and changes lives so fast.  We are changed, for good, because of this disease.

That night, as we were putting our angels to bed, Randy asked if I wanted to go see it again.  He'd already recommend family members go see it.  It meant a great deal to him as well.  We sat down with my copy of the book, something that is included in my decorating now, and poured over the things that I'd highlighted in my book.  Just as the first time I read it, I cried during her speech telling Augustus Waters how much she loves him, how she is grateful for the Forever he'd given her in their short time together.  That movie, while sad and completely raw to all that watch it, will be one that we buy the day it comes out.  Because, it means something to us now, as we deal with our own story of cancer, but because it is one that reminds us both of the love we get to have.  The privilege it is to simply love.

Last night, with the kids gone (for the last time!) and with Caden in bed, we decided to go see it again.  Making up for the lack of date nights we've had in the last few months.  Going from once-a-week to once every two months has been hard.  Not because our marriage has suffered, but because I miss my husband.  As the theater dimmed, my heart swelled thinking of this man that I love so much.  I almost cried reaching over to hold his hand.  I love him so much!  As the first few minutes of the show came onto the screen, my excitement grew at being able to see this amazing movie, one more time, with the man that I love.   Unfortunately this experience would not be as magical as the last.  In fact, it was 100% awful.

A few minutes into the show, a group of girls came into the theater and sat four rows in front of us, slightly to our right.  They were talking.  Loudly.  As the movie was going.  I was appalled that they could clearly see that the movie was going and still decided to actually talk!  Then, the mother handed them their drink and walked out.  As in, leaving five young girls by themselves.  And the talking kept going.  The giggling at parts that weren't meant to be funny, showing their total immaturity.  As the movie progressed, and my anger was flaring, I kept thinking that I should go ask them to be quiet.  But, with the progression of the movie, I thought they'd finally get into it and shut their mouths.  Come on, this movie is a drama, it's difficult not to get into it.  They'd quiet down for a moment, making me think they'd finally gotten into it, but when they'd start talking or giggling again, I'd feel heat radiating my body.  Then they all got up at different times and left.  It was as if the whole audience gave a sigh of relief to have them gone.  If only they would have stayed gone.

At one of the most heart-wrenching times, we heard laughing coming from the entrance.  They were coming back in.  Together.  Laughing and talking as if they were at a concert.  And following close behind...was their mother.  Someone behind us yelled, "Would you be quiet?!" And they did...for a minute.  The mother, once again, dropped off their drink (after talking, herself) and left.  What?!  The kids were obviously not into the show, why did they want to be there?!  I could feel the tension raise as they walked across the front of the screen.  At a part that had touched me so completely just two days before, was something completely different this time.  I tried with everything in me to simply put them from my mind and just listen.  But I couldn't.  I had thoughts of anger going through my mind.  Things I wish I could say.  Things I would like to do.  The magic of this amazing movie had been ruined.  I was crushed.

As the movie credits began to roll, instead of tears of gratitude for the favorable circumstance we found ourselves in, there was anger.  I told Randy that 'I wish I could follow those girls out.'  He looked at me and said, "I am!"  We followed them to their mother, sitting outside the theater on her phone.  Randy walked up to her, waited for her to end her call, and asked if she was the guardian.  She looked apprehensive and answered that she was.  Forcefully, but without raising his voice, he told her, "Don't leave children in a movie theater unless it is a cartoon.  These girls ruined the entire movie for everyone in that theater."  She was stunned, to say the least, that he was actually complaining to her.  She asked them what they had done, to which their reply was that they had just 'cried at the end.'  This pushed me over the edge.  Because, at a part that the whole audience should have been crying at, they were laughing.  They were laughing at something that is NOT funny!  The acting was so amazing at this part, that you could feel the anguish as if it truly had happened to her, that somehow we were witnessing real life.  And they laughed.  I added my words, said almost in tears at their lies, without raising my own voice.  At this point, another group of people were coming out of the theater complaining about them.  The mother heard, and Randy pointed at them and told the mother to ask anyone coming out of there how they enjoyed the show.  We could have, maybe, done things a little differently, but we felt like we helped them realize what they had done.  The mother leaving her young girls (one of which was about 7!! Remember it is Midnight by this point!) and the girls for actually treating that time as happy hour.  It was awful!

I have pondered on the two scenarios.  We went to see the exact same movie, together, but each one was so starkly different.  One was a complete dream, the other a nightmare.  Sometimes, in our lives, the outside world affects the outcome of our experiences.  We were the same people that had seen it days before, we had the same love for one another, we both wanted to feel the same emotions and grow in our love for one another and our experience.  But, because of something outside of our control- an outside influence- it made the experience one that we hated.  No matter how much we want something to happen, sometimes what other do affects our happiness.

It has been has been hard for me to forget the anger.  If the second date would have been our first, we would not feel such love for that movie.  We probably wouldn't have been so excited to see it again so soon.  The feelings that I try to focus on are that of the first movie.  But it's hard not to feel like we were cheated.  Outside influence can make all the difference.  And just like in the book, there are two ways to tell a story.  Sometimes, it's not who is telling the story, but who is reading it, and what is happening around them that shapes their impression on the matter.

Miracles

Dear Stephanie,   

I want to share with you my experience last Sunday. I won't go into details about my own health trials, but suffice it to say I really struggled last week to even get up and go to church. I talked myself into going to Sacrament meeting - knowing that even if I felt lousy while I was there I would feel worse if I didn't go. Normally I sit in the SAME place every Sunday (don't want to change the rotation of the earth you know ~ Smile) Last week I came a little late so sat in the back. Well - sure enough the Lord had a powerful message to send to me in the form of Caden. First, he administered the Sacrament to me. I felt like I had the Sacrament brought to me by an angel, AND the Spirit sort of slapped me up side the head and said "See - What are YOU complaining about?" and then to hear him speak in church was an added blessing. I wish I could wave my  mother's magic wand and make everything all better for you, Caden, (and honestly myself) - but your willingness to share your experience has been like a  breath of fresh air in my life. Please let Caden know that I pray for him (and for you and your family) morning and night. His (and your) strength, help those of us with our own (though lesser) trials to be strengthened.  Love you!

I received this email on my birthday.  Jan probably didn't know that it was my birthday, or that her words were a gift to me that day.  She was a miracle to me that day.

I was talking to Caden about it on Sunday.  Since his counts were not high enough (still are not high enough), and since Randy had to go out of town on Monday, we met in the middle of the drive.  Randy got into my car and drove away, again, with my four youngest, while I got into his car and drove the rest of the way to Seattle.  I was in a particularly meditative state as I drove and ended up talking a good deal of the drive.  I told Caden about Jan's email, asking how he felt about being an inspiration to so many, simply by being him.  He asked me questions about it, saying that he "didn't feel like much of an inspiration- he just felt good enough to go to church that day."

Sometimes in our lives we are given the extraordinary gift of being someone's miracle.  I have reflected much in the past few weeks on this word, "miracle."  In Biblical times, miracles were things such as raising a man from the dead, giving sight unto the blind, feeding a multitude with only a few fishes and loaves of bread.  These were some of the miracles our Savior, Jesus Christ performed.  We also read about a Samaritan man that stops to help a man that has been left for dead.  He tends to this man with the love of a father, giving him food and water, binding his wounds, placing him on his own donkey, taking him to a comfortable inn.  Not only does he make sure to have him cared for while healing, he promises the inn keeper more for continued help, should the man need it.  This Samaritan saw someone that could not help himself, that needed the love of another to simply survive.  This Samaritan was a miracle to that man.

I have seen and felt many miracles in my lifetime, but none more than the last few months.  Love has been given to us, people in desperate need to simply survive, by so many.  Some we know, most we don't.  Whether it was through prayers, money, time, gifts, or words, you have been a miracle in our lives.  These things may seem like small acts at the time, but to those in need, they are the world.  You never know when one act will make all the difference, when you will be someone's miracle.

Polish

These last few days have felt like one disappointment after another. It has been hard not knowing what to do about almost everything. We didn't know why the medicines were making him so loopy. We didn't know where we were going to stay each night while waiting for RMH. We don't know what made him so sick. We're not sure why his ANC is taking so long to rise. We don't know if, or when, Caden will be able to go home. It feels like one thing after another to bring us to another low. 

Our journey has been a definite period of growth. Just when we thought we had a handle on all that was expected, we're hit with something else. Something that makes us realize that we are not finished- we have something more to learn. We are so tired. I hope we come out of this better than when we entered. 

I took a pottery class in High School. It didn't take long for me to realize I would never be a master potter. I had no skill! I enjoyed working on the wheel about as much as I like seafood. Which is to say...not at all. I don't like wet hands, so it was always a struggle to keep myself focused enough to work the clay as needed. I came close to making a vase- once. I had it formed, thinking I'd make it just a little bit taller. Starting from the bottom, using just the right amount of pressure, I started making my way up the length of my sculpture. As I neared the top, my finger caught on an imperfection I hadn't seen and ended up ripping a hole through the vase. This caused the whole thing to start teetering which eventually made the clay spin out of control, off the wheel and onto the floor. Tears and frustration made me change my project from a beautiful vase to small bowl that held my earrings. 

Like my vase, we come with many imperfections, some that can be seen and others that can't. We just have to have faith that our imperfections can be polished out. That we will be made more beautiful by the Master's hand. And become a vessel to hold something beautiful. 

Father's Day 2014

I have had some of the best examples of what it is to be a wonderful father. There are five men in my life that exemplify fatherhood to it's fullest. 

Grandpa Fuller

Grandpa Fuller married my Grandma just two days before I was born. I have many happy memories about this amazing man. While. I have many wonderful memories, this example actually was told by my dad at Grandpa Fuller's funeral two years ago. During the courtship years of their relationship, my dad remembered Grandpa always saying how beautiful Grandma was. He thought this was something that Grandpa said to win approval from the now-grown youngest son. However, after waking from a particularly long unconscience period just days before his passing, Grandpa focused on Grandma and said, "Hello, Beauty." Grandpa Fuller lived his life to love my Grandma. Oh how I miss that amazing man!!

Grandpa Kimber

Just like Grandpa Fuller, I have many memories of my Grandpa loving my Grandma. This memory is from the year I worked at Zale's The Diamond Store, before I met Randy. I had many men that came to buy something for their sweethearts, but none that was as special. My Grandpa had said he was planning a surprise, so when he came into the store, I kind of had an idea what he had planned. However, I was not prepared for the emotions that were waiting. Grandpa spent about 30 minutes looking at many different pieces of jewelry, looking for the perfect thing. He kept telling me that Grandma wasn't much for jewelry, but he couldn't resist giving her something that sparkled. He finally decided on some diamond earrings. He got the size that would "compliment her perfect ears," and as he was paying for his purchase, choked up telling me how excited he was to give his gift to his "best friend." Tears stung my eyes as I hugged him that day. They do often, to be honest. He lost his sweetheart three years ago, and to this day tears up just thinking of her. Their 50-year romance is an example I plan to follow. 

Darwin Dirks

I am the luckiest girl in the world to love my new dad as much as I do. He is such an amazing in-law. This memory happened while we were living with them. We'd gone to the mall with them and ended up in Kay Jewlers. Darwin had Jackie try on the Past, Present, and Future diamond ring of her choice. She found the one that she liked best, but that was as far as it went. A few days later, Darwin went back to get the exact ring. On the way home, MasterCard called to make sure the purchase was not fraudulent. However, it was not Darwin they called. It was Jackie. My heart burned with sadness- his surprise had been foiled. However, when he found out- after he'd presented his gift to Jackie- he didn't seem to care. He had eyes only for his sweetheart. He watched her face as she admired the beautiful ring on her finger. I have seen many more moments of him simply admiring his bride. In six short years, they'll make it to their 50-year anniversary. Their love story is one I get to witness close up, and take notes for my own happily-ever-after. 

Wayne Burrell

My whole life has been shaped by a man that adores his wife. My dad has always supported my mom in all of her endeavors. The first time I was able to see my mom cross the finish-line of one of her many half-marathons, it was my dad's reaction that was so fun to see, and her perseverance that was so inspirational. While waiting close to the end, my dad seemed to look at his watch every minute. He'd been to a few of her finish-lines, so he knew approximately what time she'd be coming. As the time drew near, he was bursting with anticipation. We all drew as close as we could to watch her come around the bend. With camera poised, I heard my dad's excited proud-husband voice, "There she is!" I found my mom cruising to her end, and quickly looked back to my dad, in excitement. There he was, camera clicking away, proud of his bride for beating her time. We all drew close and started to scream for the one that we loved. Our wife/ mother/ grandmother was racing to beat her time with those she loved cheering her on. But it was my dad that beamed brightest in our circle. It was written on his handsome face the love that he has for my amazing mother. That is the love that I hoped to find for myself. 

Randy Dirks

I have been loved like a queen since February 16, 2000 when Randy first said, "I love you!" Our daughters have an amazing example of how a man should treat a woman. Our sons have a perfect example of how a man treats his bride. I have had more memories in the last 14 years than can be documented in 1400 books. Some that make me laugh, cry, swoon, and frankly, roll my eyes. But in all, I have never wondered whether everything he does is to make me happier. So much of his energy goes into making my life easier, so this memory makes me laugh because nothing he could have done would have helped, but man, did he try. And looked quite manic doing it. 

It was Brennon's birth birthday. We had been bumped on the induction list from morning to afternoon, so he put down the ultimatum that I had 11 hours to push him out. He was dead set on Leap Day, after all. We got into the hospital around 12:30, got all hooked up by about 1:15, and  started IV, pitocin, and epidural by about 2:00. However, it soon became glaringly clear that the epidural was not kicking in. Like, at.all!! I was frantic with pain as Randy ran around to all of the nurses, asking why it wasn't working yet. Brennon was pretty much flying out of me, I was beside myself with pain (actually scaring myself, literally, with my scream) while my sweet husband pressed my epidural button with an intensity that would cause smoke to rise if we were cartoons. And let me just say, it was pretty darn funny. Even through the most pain I have felt in my whole entire life, I remember looking at his face and thinking, "I love him so much!" Because through it all, he was doing everything in his power to get me relief, to bring me release, and to get me the fastest medical care. I'm not sure the nurses appreciated his efforts, but I loved him even more for trying so hard. 

My world is made better by the men that surround me. The Father's in my life set a high bench-mark for the world. And one day, when my own daughters are mothers of their own, I hope they feel the same. Because they have the best examples, ever. How lucky I am to have their love. And see what it means to be the girl of their dreams. 

Brennon

I love the end-of-the-year backpack. I love all of the stuff that comes home (except kid scissors that chop little sisters hair! 2010 nightmare!!).  My favorite this year was a bunch of pictures Mrs. L sent for Brennon. I was in heaven looking through them all. I missed so much of this year, so I loved seeing all of the parties I missed. And now I get to keep all of his sweet smiles. Here are my favorites. 

So worried! What do you do with this?

Baby chick. Look at his happiness!!

Baby bunny. He has ample experience with bunnies. Remember all of the fun we had with bunnies? In our window well, under our riding lawn mower, in our front flower garden, and behind our fence. We saw and caught plenty. He know his way with bunnies. 

I love the happiness that radiates from his smile. He is such a joy!!

Oh, those lips!!! I love that he does that when he is concentrating. Love me some fish lips!!

Brennon has made a few things to give to Mrs. L- next year. He understands that she won't be his teacher, but he said, "Mom, she will be there next year. I'll give her loves then, too!" One thing about my Brennon- he'll love you forever!! 

I am so grateful for this gift. I enjoyed looking at them in the hospital. It was a light shown on a dreary day. Tender Mercies are all around. 

Of course

His ANC dropped. I didn't cry this time. I didn't stop my feet or have a tantrum. I just came home with the kids, instead. Randy is staying with Caden in the hospital tonight, hopefully getting discharged tomorrow, and home, home on Sunday. We'll see how things work out. There are no plans made, we're just taking it day-by-day.  Because I'm a cry-baby when I don't get my way. And let me tell you...it ain't pretty! I love my men in Seattle. Life will be SO good in just a few more weeks. For now, Caden's numbers need to be 750 to start the last Round. I'm torn between wanting to push it back (even if they are above 750) just to have a break, and just wanting to get this thing over with. We'll see what this break produces. More whining like a baby, or perseverance to just get it done. For now, I'm home, in my own bed, with my own pillow, and fresh red marks where my children hugged me as hard as they could tonight. They all accepted the challenge with giggles and glee and just about bent my neck out of shape. Perfection, I tell you. Those red marks are the most beautiful accessory I have ever worn around my neck. No question! How lucky I am to have a husband that knows what I need and is always looking for ways to shower me with love, an amazing boy that hasn't complained once about being re-admitted (good thing he hasn't learn how to throw a tantrum from someone I know), and sweet Keilie, Shelby, Brennon, and Tyson that adorn me with love when I need it most. I don't deserve them. But I'm gonna live the rest of my life showing them how much they mean to me. 

Irony

After my post last night, less than 12 hours ago, I find it ironic that I'm writing to say I feel like I've been slapped in the face. And let me just say, I just want to be mad. 

I had plans. His ANC (the first-defense cells) need to be above 200 to leave the hospital, and 500 to go home, home. Previously (with all other Rounds) he'd be about 100's on Tuesday and above 1,000 on Wednesday. It was nice to know we'd always go home on Wednesday. Clockwork is wonderful. So when he was still 0 on Tuesday, I figured that we wouldn't be able to go home on Wednesday, but Thursday for sure. Wednesday's ANC was 48, so I knew they were going up. Again, previously they were low one day, fine the next, so I packed my bags last night in anticipation of today's departure. I got slapped in the face at 9:00. His ANC is only 90! We are not going home, we are not even getting discharged!

So many times I've thought this Round felt so much longer. Maybe it was sleeping in a different place each night, or the surreal admittance just hours after our fist-bumps, or the endless fever watches, or even knowing that the next Round was scheduled a day sooner. Either way, I have felt more trapped, more hopeless, more tired, and especially more frustrated this time around. To hear that I would be away from my kids longer was like a knife. It kills me that their first official day of summer break was spent playing without me. So much of the last few months have been spent without me. I do not like that!! I want to be with my kids!!! And so does Caden. 

Our first construction experience together came with our first home in Casper- the green house. We had such a good time designing the basement how we wanted, working side-by-side, and seeing our home transformed because of our own hands. As the finish day came closer, I found myself getting more and more frustrated with things upstairs. Where one would think I'd be happy to be done, I found myself being bothered by items I knew would be moved downstairs as soon as we could. It felt like my house was more crowded than ever, that we were tripping over things that never bothered us before, and I couldn't wait to be rid of their presence. It was as if we knew how wonderful it was going to be, so we resented the time we had to wait. That's how it is for me now. 

I know we are almost done, I know that it could be worse, I know that we are just being cautious, and I know that things are pretty darn good for the Dirks' family, but I am bothered!!! I know how wonderful life is going to be without cancer. I know how wonderful it is going to be to be with my kids 24/7. I know we are going to get back into life, arguing and all. So right now, on the cusp of his LAST Round, I feel frustration, and anger, and hurt, and mad, and tears, and depressed.  I just want to cry. I just want to run away. I just want to be mad! Boiling, raging, punch-the-wall mad. I just want to be DONE!!!

I know one day we'll look back on these few months and see just how short our time was here at Seattle children's. But at this moment, with this childlike temper tantrum (kicking and screaming), I am just not wanting to see reason, not wanting to think rationally. Sometimes I want to act in a way that would earn me a time-out if I was the mother of such a child. Because a time-out is what I want. And, frankly, what I need. 

Blindsided

I love books that make me think, that give me an idea to ponder. Books that stay with me long after I read the last word. A question that I read yesterday has me remembering days passed, days that meant enough to remember, but didn't feel meaningful until now. 

"I wonder if we are ever truly blindsided by misfortune. Or, somehow, somewhere, in the form of empathy or worry or a premonition deep within ourselves, do we feel it coming?"

Months before the first of the year, Jamie and I went for a long walk after the kids were in bed. As we picked up our pace, talking about anything and everything, our conversation turned to a mutual friend. Her little boy had been born early due to a birth defect picked up on an ultrasound- Down's Syndrome. With this came a defect in his heart. He had had many surgeries during the first two years of his sweet life. The week before I met this amazing mother, she'd gotten the fantastic news that he did not have to have another heart surgery. News like that needs to be celebrated with a whole day of girl-time shopping at Ikea, of course!! Life seemed to be good for our friend...until everything changed in September. Her son was diagnosed with Leukemia. 

Although I hadn't gotten together with her again, I had thought about her and her adorable son often. As Jamie told me of the new diagnosis, I felt a burning in my heart and a falter in my pace.  How could her family manage without mommy for six months? How was she handling this new challenge without going insane? Why do kids have to get sick? How horrible would it be to watch your child to through treatment of cancer?

I thought about that scenario many times over the next few weeks. I found myself talking a little sweeter to my kids, kissing their cheeks a little more frequently, and just loving the moments of their lives. I found myself missing Randy a lot more when he was out of town, wanting to sit just a little bit closer, and found such enjoyment in just holding his hand. My life was altered because of her story, my life made sweeter as I put myself in their shoes. And then it happened to me. 

Another memory I have includes Caden himself. Summers in Wyoming tended to make it above 100 quite regularly. Man, we had such extremes there. 100+ in the summer, -50 with windchill in the winter, yikes! Not my favorite!! One such summer found Caden a bit shaggy. I admit that I don't remember to get my kids' hair cut as often as they need, sometimes. Case-in-point when people asked us if Tyson was a girl. So when Caden came to me scratching his head, cursing his shag, I wasn't surprised to hear him say he wanted me to shave his head. He held the clippers in his hands, making me do it right then. He said he wanted it as short as possible, so I grabbed the "one" and went to work. One massive pile of hair, one massive smile, and one shaved-short head sent a thought through my head. "Well, at least we know Caden looks good bald."

Lastly, with the faith that we are here on earth to be tested, Randy and I look at times in our lives with a different view than some. We are grateful for times of plenty, times of prosperity, and times of peace, however we know there needs to be trials. So, a few months before the first of the year had us analyzing what might come. Life had been going so well. We were in a good groove in our new town, new schools, new friendships, and new job. Where I had been plagued with headaches in Casper, I'd found relief with a doctor in Richland. We were all healthy and happy. We knew something was coming for our family, something that would bring us out of our present comfort. We had NO idea it would be so paramount, but we felt a trial was coming. 

Each of the examples here (and believe me, there have been a few more) fit right into that initial question. Empathy, premonition, and worry (although I would categorize it as worry as much as expecting). In this "misfortune" it could be said that we were not "blindsided" per se. Apart from the fact that cancer is a far cry from the pneumonia we thought he had, I'm just sayin. However, in my heart I believe it to be a tender mercy. We believe that we will never be given a challenge that we could not handle. But I know my Heavenly Father placed these people, these thoughts, and many other things in our path to prepare us for the blow. The rug was pulled from below our feet, but our landing was made soft from our Saviors love. 

Not all of our trials have had this much foresight, but even the placement of this question right now is proof that we are being taken care of. Because I can see the love and protection we have been given- even now as I type in the hospital after a particularly worrisome weekend of dangerous fever and virus. Trials are not given to make us miserable, they are given to show us the way back to Him. The One that loves us most.

Suddenly Summer!!!

The first hug of the night. 

Wish I could have captured Caden's smile. 

Feeling the fuzz!

My baby boys lookin all big. *Sigh

Looking so tall and skinny. From Budha Baby to Lanky Lad. 

Love their facial expressions:)

Snuggling my Shelby-kins with her new specs. 

Happy Summer kick-off day!!! We are ready for a B-R-E-A-K!!!!!

Alexis

Close to the beginning our our Journey, I woke to an email box full of comments about a Facebook Post I hadn't seen. I should have gone to the first email I received, instead of reading the top one on my list, because with each comment full of surprise, love, and adoration, I got more and more confused. Finally I got to the email that started them all. 

Some of our friends had gotten together the night before to create "Caden's Crew in Casper." As I looked at the many pictures of the event, tears streamed down my face as it became increasingly hard to breathe. I marveled at the love we continue to feel from a place we will always consider home. I ran to Caden and we poured over each picture, remembering stories we remember about each child. My heart was full to overflowing. And then came the biggest surprise. Standing adorably posed in the front of all the boys was Lexie Worthen. I was shocked to see all of the love and support for Caden from his buddies, but I was stunned to see a girl. 

I have thought of her many times over the last few weeks, now months, wondering how she was, how long her hair is, etc. I decided to simply ask Beth if she would share some pictures with me. She did more than that. She shared their beautiful story with me and gave me permission to post it forever in our family book. 

Back then, I joked that because of her sacrifice, I wouldn't mind a betrothal between Caden and Lexie. Alexis Worthen Dirks has a nice ring, after all. However, after reading her story, it is no longer a joke, but a hope. Any boy would be lucky to take this girl to the Temple to become his Eternal companion. But, not just anyone will do. She is an amazing little girl. Caden would be lucky to have her look his way. (In a few years, that is!)

The first picture is of Lexie before her baptism exactly one year ago. 

Here's how it all happened: We decided to do a shaving party just a short time after we heard about Caden’s diagnosis. I remember that it was a Wednesday, because we eat out on many Wednesday nights (with back-to-back piano, art, dance and violin lessons, it’s about convenience!) and we were sitting in a restaurant, unable to think or talk about anything else. I think we were reeling from the news, since we had just seen your family in September.

We wanted to do something to just make Caden smile, something that might help him through the initial days of chemo and hair loss (Kind of a “see how cool this is…join us!” message to him), so we started texting different friends with boys who were Caden’s friends, asking if they wanted to get together with Connor to do it. We set a date for mid-February that evening.

 On the way home from the restaurant, Lexie was pretty quiet. As we approached home, I heard her speak up from the back seat and say, “Mom? I think the Holy Ghost is talking to me. I think I should shave my head too.” We talked about it as she got ready for bed that night. She knew that she would look different for quite a few months, and that it might make her feel different from her friends. She was absolutely certain of the decision, so we added her to the shavee list! 

At the shaving party, we all had fun eating waffles and talking, then trooped to the garage where everything was set up with stools and shaving equipment. The kids had a great time posing for pictures and making a poster for Caden. 

Before

After

The missionaries were there for dinner too, so it was quite the party – a ton of kids running around, missionaries circling, and hair flying! 

The after-effects: After Lexie’s head was shaved, it was interesting to get comments and looks from people. When we were at classes or birthday parties, other moms would approach me tentatively and ask about Lexie’s health. I know she felt different from the rest of her friends, but I really think she enjoyed being a bit apart from the rest. 

She also had to let her dance instructors know that she wouldn’t be able to have the required hairstyles for her spring dance performances. (And for some reason, her hair seemed to take SO MUCH LONGER to grow back in than her brother’s – we’ve cut Connor’s hair three times since the shaving party, and her hair is just now getting to a similar stage!) 

Quite honestly, we’ve kind of enjoyed doing fun things with hats and hair bands. Right after Lexie made the decision to shave her head, I called my mom and told her to get knitting! I knew Lexie would need some hats to wear – both to keep her head warm, but also to make it fun (what girl doesn’t want more accessories?!?:)). My mom immediately researched patterns for cute knit caps and spent hours making caps of all styles and colors – caps that slouched in the back, caps that fit close to the head, caps that were soft and fluffy, caps that had boot cuffs to match, caps that had buttons with a variety of knitted flowers to attach to them. Lexie ended up with quite an enviable knit cap collection, and has become more comfortable wearing hats than being bare-headed, to tell you the truth!. 

Headband

Hat

We also found a place in town that makes the cutest hair bands, and they’ve been a lot of fun to wear as her hair started growing out. 

The impact: I think because the kids shaved their heads, it’s made them feel so much more connected to Caden’s journey. Connor and I each have your blog as a permanently-open tab on our tablets, and one of us is always sharing the news of the day – at dinner time or in the car or at bedtime prayer. Fasting has become easier as we've fasted multiple times for your family, and we've felt more unified in our fasts -- and more strengthened in our testimonies of its power. Our family has prayed for Caden and for your family – every prayer, every day. And it’s helped us make our prayers more specific, as we’ve prayed that Caden would be receive nausea relief, that he would be okay with one more feeding tube placement, with one more chemo round -- that Keilie, Shelby, Brennon and Tyson would have happiness, comfort and peace each day -- and that you and Randy would feel strength and peace as well. 

Here’s Alexis’s take on her experience: It felt weird at first, not having hair. Sometimes I didn’t feel normal and was a little jealous of girls who had hair. People would always ask, “Where’s your hair?” But I’m really glad I did it. It made me feel good to follow the Holy Ghost. And now I realize that I look good with a pixie cut! 

I know that there have been many “ripple effects” from Caden’s journey, and so many of them center on your family’s ability to teach us all about the tender mercies of the Lord, about the power of fasting and prayer, about the meaning of eternal families. Alexis has learned about following the promptings of the Spirit. She has learned that when we follow the Holy Ghost, it makes us feel good – even if it makes us a little different. I am so grateful that she is learning this lesson, as an 8 year old girl – and I pray that she will continue to live it! Love, Beth

This post is not to detract from the sacrifice of the other members of Caden's Crew. We love and appreciate all of the support, but Lexie will always have a special place in my heart. And one day, if Caden is lucky enough, she could even hold a special place in our family. 

Alexis, Thank You for sharing your amazing story. Thank you for your example of following the Holy Ghost. You inspire me to be a better friend, person, mother, and woman.  I love you so much!  You are an astounding young woman that will always touch the lives of many. We are lucky to know you, and blessed to call you friend. Thank you!!

Murphey's Law

We enjoyed another night at the brand new Homewood Suites in Lynwood. Although we weren't able to enjoy the pool again, it was nice to have such posh accommodations. Caden has been quite a bit more tired recently, so he went in to sleep at 8:50PM. This left me plenty of time to read to my heart's content. Exhaustion came sooner than I thought, so I prepared the couch after finding Caden sprawled in the exact center of the King-size bed. At an angle, no less. Hey, after months of hospital beds, I was more than happy to take the couch and let him hog the comfy bed. He's more than earned it. 

That is until I couldn't fall asleep due to screamed conversation in the room next door. I imagined them to be college age, loud, drunk males. As their party grew in both decibel and time, my patients grew quite thin. I had spent three hours sitting at a park waiting for RMH only to end up sleeping next to some party animals? So the lessons continue. Patients is the subject. 

I subtly nudged Caden over onto his own spot and curled up onto the very edge of my side. He was still quite sprawled, but had moved enough to give me a sliver of quiet from those uncaring males. Don't they know to be quiet? A hotel is no place to scream that late at night. Or ever, for that matter!! 

As I was drifting off, with the door closed between the room and front room/kitchen, I hear more screaming. My patients was now gone. I called the front desk. Even camping in the wide outdoors asks you to quiet down after 10:00. It was after midnight. And I was tired. The list could go on to name all the reasons I needed a good night's sleep. And here they were, all macho testosterone, screaming as if they owned the place.  It took a few minutes, but it got pretty quiet, pretty fast. I love being listened to. Especially when I'm a crotchety old miser ready to pound on the door myself. They should be grateful I got someone else to do my bidding. I envisioned using my fists and my words to make them shut up!

I watched the clock change to 1:00 but don't remember anything after that. Until Caden woke me with nausea. In a bucket. Near the bathroom. As I was grabbing him medicine, towels, and water, my mind kept screaming how tired I was with how long his nausea has held on. By this time, he's usually done. And here he was at 6:50AM throwing up what little he had to eat the day before. I started the day more tired than the night before. How does that happen? Oh yeah! You have a sick kid. Got it!

Since we had Clinic this morning at 9:00, we headed back to Seattle at 8:30. I had left the thermometer in the car, so Caden took his own temperature as I loaded up. Nothing of consequence! We fist-bumped and happily talked all the way there about how awesome it was that this was the only round that he hadn't had to go back to the hospital with fevers. Little did we know we were jinxing ourselves. Because just 2 hours later we found ourselves sitting in the ER, fresh from Clinic, fever raging. 

We figured that he'd need platelets, so we expected to be there for a few hours. Sure enough, the results came back at 9:40, it takes about an hour to order them, so we were looking at about 10:40 start time, 11:40 end time. At 10:20, our nurse came in to get base vitals for the transfusion. That way, 15- minutes into the transfusion they can take vitals again to monitor adverse reactions. This was the first indication that we might have a problem. He wasn't too high, but it was getting kind of dicey. She said she'd check again in 15 minutes. Shortly after that she wheeled us down, personally, to the ER. Where it could have felt like déjà vu, it only felt like a dream. Just two hours ago we were happily talking about this very issue. And here we were- getting admitted for the very thing we felt fortunate not to have happen. 

Three antibitics were ordered after blood cultures were drawn. As his fever edged higher and higher, my fears grew just as much. This is the very reason we need to stay close. Because in just two short hours, Caden went from feeling great to 102.0. That is dangerously high for a child with absolutely no immune system. ICU was dispatched and asked to watch his progress. Or lack thereof. 

Obviously this solved the problem of not knowing where we'd sleep the next few nights. I was even anxious to get off of the hard, plastic things they like to call chairs. It was not pleasant. However, as the last antibiotic was administered, Caden started to itch. Bad! He was literally trying to claw his skin off. This...

And this...

Had us pressing our nurse button with fervor. As the hives pressed on, adding more places to not-scratch, Caden became a wide-eyed mess. You could just tell he wanted to run. The intense urge was strangling him, pushing him past his limits. Limits that have been tense since January. And there was nothing to do but wait. And in the ER, wait could mean hours, sometimes. Anxiety is a funny thing. You feel like you can't possibly have any more, and then you get some and realize how little you felt it just moments ago. It has a way a building to fever pitch. And then growing some more. Now I had to worry about fever, immune system, antibiotics, admittance, lack of appetite that leads to feeding tube, and now hives. And we had no idea how long it would take for relief. 

She finally, finally brought the pill. And it blessedly started working fast. And then his fever spiked again to a new high while his blood pressure dropped to a dangerous low. And in rushes the ICU. And in rushes my emotions. And out rushes the last of my patients. Clearly, I am not learning fast enough. 

They finally got his fever contained enough to feel comfortable to move him to cancer care. We got the best view, again. The one that looks over the river with views of downtown, the Space Needle, Washington State arena, and trees for as far as the eye can see. And peaking out above some clouds, Mount Ranier. Beautiful! It's so nice to be able to turn from the gloom and see the sun shining on someone else's day. I can appreciate that kind of beauty. 

Once he was switched from ER bed to cancer care bed, the shakes came on with a vengeance. The fever was climbing. And fast. He went from 100.5 to 103.0 within 15 minutes. The highest yet. Again, ICU and Oncology were called to come check on him. His blood pressure was also dropping, not too much, but dropping. And once again, as doctors were taking turns looking over my son, I looked over the expanse of nature and man. Because just as houses can be present but not detract from the beauty of nature, so can dread be present and not detract from the beauty of sunshine. 

He is sleeping now, tucked up in bed with minimal blankets to stop the increase in temperature. I am ready for bed, waiting for the nurse to bring him his last antibiotic of the day. Sleep will hopefully be a needed distraction from the reality we find ourselves in. 

As I was making the long walk to the car that we parked this morning on the opposite side of this labyrinth hospital, I  passed by a display that changes every few days, adding different responses to this question, "What I want to be when I grow up______." Again, being in the right place at the right time, and this time, in the current state of depressed, exhausted mind, I saw a 12-year old girl, Audrey's response. "Alive." It hit me with such force that every moment in this hospital, and around the world, someone is simply wanting to be "alive" when they grow up. My worries faded to gratitude for the "health" of my son. Fever or no fever, Caden is alive just one more day. And the prognosis is good that he will stay that way for many more. Today was long. Today was exhausting. Today is nearly over. Tomorrow is another day. And we're going to make it count. 

Homeless

Let me just begin by saying we are doing just fine. Caden has had a few days of feeling quite nauseous and exhausted. This leaves little time for him to eat, which shows by the small amount he's lost since we were discharged on Wednesday. Not too much to worry about an absolute feeding tube, but enough to make me want to shove anything down his throat. Things are really good for us right now. Except lodging. 

I put our name on the RMH list the night we found out we have two more rounds to go. This gave us weeks of priority for when the time came for us to need a room. Our first night before being admitted was spent at a friend of my dad's, from high school. Then we had five days of admittance at the hospital. I was hoping to hear from RMH before we got discharged, only to find out that we were third on the list. We are made more of a priority over people with Medicare, because they get special rates at a hotel nearby, but that doesn't mean we will get a room because we need it. They are full right now!! The people ahead of us on the list are in our same position. 

We got discharged at 8:00AM Wednesday morning, but didn't have a clear plan where we were going. Since Caden's numbers weren't expected to drop before Friday, we decided to use more hotel points so Caden could relax and go swimming. I knew that check in was at 3:00PM, but we didn't have anywhere we could go, so I asked if we could check in early. This actually got us a bigger room because they didn't have any smaller rooms available that early in the morning. It worked out to our advantage. That night we went swimming twice and enjoyed the pool to ourselves. We stayed until check out, not knowing where we would stay that night. 

During the summers of my childhood, I spent time in Everett/Lake Stevens, WA with Jamie, Brennon and Aunt Jeannie. These were some of the happiest memories of my life. I wanted to show Caden a few of my favorite places. We headed North with no idea what to do other than just drive. As I pulled into their neighborhood, happy memories flooded my mind. I felt like I was home. 

I was able to point out so much of this house to Caden. I may have looked like a stalker if anyone was peeping out their windows. We walked around the neighborhood, Caden listening to story after boring story about childhood crushes, funny restaurant orders, and laugh-fests with cousins I admired. Next we went to the beach. Lundeen Park.

If I felt a little choked up at the site of the house, it was nothing to this remembered oasis.

And swimming just under the dock was my favorite site of all...

A mother with her five little ducks. I refrained from singing, "Five little ducks went out one day, over the hill and far away. When the mommy duck said, quack, quack, quack, quack, four little ducks came waddling back."

That song has an amazing end. "But when the daddy duck says, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, (faster than you can almost speak) five little ducks came waddling back."

I'm certain all of the little kids would have clapped, I would have curtsied, and Caden would have rolled his eyes. It would have been awesome. But since Caden was already feeling nauseous, I thought of him first and stopped myself from making our day at the beach a musical. I'm so thoughtful of others' feelings, aren't I?

Randy called me at that moment and asked if I'd been called by RMH. I said we were now second on the list, that we probably wouldn't have a room that day, but that we were enjoying our afternoon in Lake Stevens. He remembered that his sister-in-law, Natalie's brother and sister-in-law live in Lake Stevens. He called them and asked if we could take them up on their earlier offer of staying with them. Crazy coincidence, they were leaving the exact park we were at!! And they would be happy to have us stay. It was fun to tell all of the kids that we shared the same cousins, but we were not related at all. Krystn and Lyle were so generous to allow us to stay with them when we had nowhere else to go. 

Friday, Caden's scheduled appointment, where we expected his numbers to be zero, went just as we planned. However, with his platelet count being so low, we were encouraged to stay as close to the hospital as we could. Both houses we were offered are 45 minutes away from the hospital, without traffic. So, once again, we are left wondering where we were going to stay. 

Caden was feeling especially sick, so we rested for a couple hours at the hospital, hoping once again to hear from RMH. By 4:00PM it didn't matter anymore, we needed a real bed for Caden. He was just not feeling too great. One of the perks of Randy's travel is the hotel points, so we used more to get another night. His numbers were too low, so we couldn't swim, but the beds were comfy and the roof over our head was appreciated. And, again, we stayed in our room until check out time. This leaves us doing this...

Right now. With no idea where we'll stay tonight. And a better empathy for the homeless, in one respect. Although we have more hotel points, we know we are next on the list, and we know we will not be sleeping under a bridge or in a shelter, we don't have a clear plan as to where we will go. It's been hard to bounce around each night, hoping for security that comes from home. We have a better appreciation for the amazing safety, security, and absolute blessing the RMH is for people in our position. How lucky we are, and have been, to be able to enjoy the blessings of having a place to go. McDonald's Charity is amazing. It just goes to show that "home" is not one place where you sleep each night. It's a place where you feel safe and happy to come back to. 

RMH told us that if we don't hear from them this afternoon it will probably be tomorrow if a room opens up. We are so close!!  But without a plan, I feel tossed in the wind. 

Caden told me about a funny picture he'd seen. A woman prayed to be taught patients. She was placed in heavy traffic. I had to giggle. We must have needed to be taught the same principle. Patients with diagnosis, with nurses, 11- hour surgery, haughty nutritionists, Seattle traffic, and now with finding a stable place to stay. By the end of our cancer journey, we should be pretty darn patient. So let's get there already!!! Cause I'm still an instant gratification kind of gal! That obviously has more to learn.