Streaks

I'm not sure why, but with the new cut I notice my gray hairs so much more. Maybe it's because I am still super critical of the cut when I look at it, so I pick everything apart about it, who knows. So when Randy jokingly said, "I'm not sure who has more white hair, you or Caden," I rolled my eyes and smiled. By the way- Caden's hair has started to change. Where before you could see it coming in dark, now it just looks really blonde. We have been told many times that it will eventually be mega white, so the blonde is just the beginning. He is going to look so regal with the stark contrast between his golden dark skin and white hair.

Last night as we were playing duck, duck, goose with the kids, I quickly sat down next to Shelby, grateful not to be it again. 

"Mom, you are starting to have some sparkly white streaks in your hair now!!!"

My first thought was that if my nine year old daughter notices them that much after I had just been running like the wind, maybe they are even more pronounced than I can even see. I started to think maybe I would just grab a box of dye and just cover my whole head. 

And then I remembered a conversation I had with Caden two years ago. As soon as Caden was cleared to swim after his first major surgery, we were at our membership pool. As we were driving home, Caden asked me if we could stop by Target and buy him a Surf Shirt. He told me that some of the young kids would swim up to him under the water and then swim back to their friends and tell them to go look at Caden's scar. He was embarrassed and humiliated. 

Long story short: I cried telling him that he was my hero, that he was so many people's hero, and not to let a few young kids change how he felt about himself with their ignorance. I told him that I would buy him one if he really wanted, but that I wanted him to remember that I was proud of his badge of courage and strength. He cried, hugged me long, and told me he didn't need the shirt. 

I am not comparing my gray hairs and my own experiences with those of Caden, but I realized that I am weirdly proud of these "white streaks."  In a way, they are my own badge of courage and strength. This go-round was so much more emotional and hard than the last intense fight. In truth, he was still doing chemo at this time 2 years ago- his surgery was May 7th, and then he did two more Rounds of chemo after. This 6 weeks of chemo felt longer than the entire 6 months last time. 

So I am not going to grab a box of dye to cover them up. I am not going to try and hide them just yet. They help me remember (as they sparkle in the sunlight) that I fought a hard fight, holding the hand of my hero. 

Full

I happened upon this receipt this morning and felt a surge of gratitude for both GlaxoSmithKline for making this chemo and for Blue Cross for making it so we don't have to settle for anything but the best option right now. My heart is so full. 

Clean!

There is a period of time when we come home from Seattle where I don't care too much about cleanliness. I would rather play with my kids than clean. I also don't have the energy to expect them to clean. 

Last time we were away for an extended period of time, the cleaning bug attacked me about a week out. I must have squashed that bug with my cleaning jag two years ago, because I still just don't care about cleaning as much. This means that you can't see the kids' floor in their room for toys, clothes, school papers, and towels. 

Because of other commitments, each of the kids has gotten to bed late all weekend. Can you say crabby pants? I was just done with their ridiculous arguments, so I turned to the one thing that always makes me feel better: a clean house. However, I was not really caring about them actually making their room spotless. 

You see, because they were asked to clean, I knew they would play. It is a fact that if you tell them to play together there is bound to be an argument. However, if you tell them to clean, they are bonded by the shared secret that they are all not going to clean. They play best when they are supposed to be cleaning. I got what I needed at the time: silence. 

Sometime soon the bug will bite and I'll be bothered by the absolute dive that is their room. But for now, I love hearing the smothered giggles as they pretend to be doing what I asked. 

One hour later:

I need to repent. They actually played and cleaned their room. I am shocked. I really do have the best kids!!

Order

It is so funny how the order of things can change something from ordinary to extraordinary. 

Last night I finally got my feelings put into words that even I could understand.  I have been mulling over them for weeks, trying to comprehend the emotions that I was struggling with.  After all, it's easier to fix something that is defined.  If last night and this morning would have been switched, they would have been two separate incidents.  But they weren't switched, they were placed in the order that would give me the most insight.  Insight that I needed to help me cope.

Last night I wrote about being afraid to have this new normal taken away from us.  Things have been going so well, yet things are so up-in-the-air still, that I am afraid to just let loose and be free of the emotional wall I have built.  This morning, I got to watch one of my most favorite little boys of all time, Caleb. 

While snuggling on the couch, he used a Nerf gun to shoot all of the bad guys on Sword in the Stone.  He would "shoot," then look up at me, and we'd laugh and laugh and laugh.  It was fun because he knew my laugh was forced, and I knew his laugh was fake, which made it that much funnier.  Our fake laughs eventually turned into real laughs.  He brings me joy.

He always gets a packet of fruit snacks from our pantry when he comes (and truth be told, I stock our pantry with them just for his visits) so when he was climbing down to go get his packet, he looked at me and said in all seriousness, "Will you hold the gun so Clara won't get it?"  Clara is the 6-week old baby in my arms, his little sister!

As I was looking at this sweet little boy, in love with the sweet innocence that endears him to me every time, I had a distinct impression come to my mind.  I remembered my words and feelings from the night before about being afraid of having this life and my son taken away from me, when the word, "You are just the same" came to my mind.

I have pondered this from many different angles throughout the day.  Maybe I am just as adorable in my need to keep my "gun," when in the grand scheme of things, it does not matter.  Maybe my Heavenly Father looks upon me as I looked upon Caleb and thinks, "Child, the "gun" is not important.  I know you think it is, but it is not.  It will be ok if you don't get to keep the "gun.""  I know this life is a Test, that there are greater things in store for us.  I know that I want to do well in this life to better learn for the next.  And just like Caleb, I really like the "gun" I have.  I love the happiness it brings me.  I love the laughter that it evokes.  I love the people that I get to share my experiences with. 

But I need to remember that I am just a child in my understanding of Eternal principles.  I need to have the childlike faith that Caleb had when I said, "Oh, honey, she won't take it.  Just lay it down and go get your fruit snacks."  He looked at me with his bright blue eyes and placed the gun on the couch.  He trusted me without a moment's thought.  He knows I love him.

The order of that 12 hours was a tender mercy for me.  I am still being watched over.  I know He loves me.

Glad Tidings?

While talking with a friend recently, she helped me put my confusion to words.  She asked, "So, are things going well for you, or do you kind of feel like a beaten dog, waiting for the next fight?"  Trouble is, both are true for me.  Things are going well, and I do feel a bit beaten.

This weeks' visit with Sue was marginally better than last week.  She was much encouraged by the news we had to tell her: He is eating a little more than last week- which is more than two weeks ago, he is up to walking at least 2 miles a day now, he has had significantly less diarrhea and vomitting this week, and his emotional state is improving.  Things are just going so, so well.

Yet, that's a struggle too.  I am afraid to let my guard down.  I'm afraid to hope.  I'm afraid to let go of the strength needed to shield my heart from how much it hurts when things get tough.  I feel like I am still waiting for the next blow.  I am happy, but I can tell I am holding myself back a little bit, waiting.  I am scared that this amazing, wonderful, beautiful euphoria we are in right now is going to be taken away again.

I'm trying to have faith.  It is hard tonight.  It's weird that I feel my most strong when I am faced with hardships and extreme sorrow.  It's when times are so good that I have the most fear.  Caden's recovery has become a bit of a trial for me, it seems.  It is nowhere near as hard as January 20th- March 23rd, but it is confusing that it is this hard.

I'm still growing.  I still have more to learn.  They say that we should not let rain clouds wash away our dreams and happiness, but that we should learn to dance in the rain.  The downpour of my rain storm is done with, it's just a sprinkle now.  My hope is that the storm is finished and that the sunshine will come back to stay.

Important?

I tend to put importance to things that others would think are weird. I know this, yet I just can't help myself. I am a nerd!

Yesterday, I noticed that the odometer on our Yukon was quickly approaching a pretty cool mileage. I clearly remember where I was when our Nissan Sentra turned over 111,111- I was in the last parking space in the North West parking lot of the Brigham City Walmart. I was sad that I didn't have a camera to take a picture. What did we do back in the day to document our every moment and meal?!

While driving home from across town, I realized that I would get home 9 miles before it turned over to the number I was watching for. I told myself that I would watch it later as we drove Brennon to a birthday party, and went on with the rest of our day. 

Later, as Randy and I came home from our date in our Charger, the memory came back that I had forgotten to watch. I know it is completely dumb, but I was sad that I may have missed it turning over. As I was telling Randy of my lame desire, he looked at me in all seriousness and said, "Let's check it when we get home!"

So we did. I breathed a sigh of relief (again, I know I am lame, but I can't help it) when I saw that we were two miles away. With an eagerness that dispelled my own fear of being ridiculed, Randy said, "Grab the keys. We'll drive around the Loop ten times."  So we did. 

And as we both watched it turn over, I was once again reminded of the fortunate life I live to be married to a man that embraces the craziness that others would think is ridiculous, and enjoys the simple pleasure along with me. 

And, unlike last time, I was fortunate enough to have my camera. 

I love watching the mileage climb and climb. It gives me a weird sense of pride knowing we are running this beloved vehicle into the ground. I will be truly sad when it is past the point of no return.  And when that day comes, I'll capture the mileage on my camera while I cry on the shoulder of the man of my dreams. 

Drastic Change

From the time I happened upon the St. Baldrick's event in the cafeteria ofSeattle  Children's last month, an idea took root and grew. 

After watching women shave their entire head for childhood cancer, I knew I wanted to donate my hair. In fact, I have wanted to since my best friend in second grade donated hers. It was always a goal, even before my own child got cancer. Since this was the first time I had long, healthy hair, I decided to check off another item on my bucket list: a pixie cut. 

Before. 

During. 

I'm not in love with it yet. In fact, more times than not I don't like my reflection. It is such a drastic change, that I think it is going to take a long while before I like the look. 

I do not regret it, though. Locks of Love has always been something that I admire. And now I am a contributor. I also do not regret my decision for the pixie cut. It has always been something that I wanted to try- and now I have!

Take Off

It is becoming a fun part of my day to go on walks with Caden.  Today we tried a new route, one that took us down a newly paved road next to what used to be untamed land.  On the edge of the new road, hanging just off the side of the dirt was a dead snake.  I, regrettably, didn't realize it until Mira was right on it.  Caden, however, had seen it and had tried to tell me, but his words were lost on me.  As I realized what it was, my scream literally caught in my throat.  I was yanking Mira away, ready to run, run, run away from that snake.  I don't care that it was dead- it gave.me.the.creeps!

After a few minutes of walking (and, let's be honest, panting as if I'd run a marathon and a half) Caden and I started to laugh.  And I mean hands-on-knees-tears-streaming-down-your-cheeks-pain-in-the-ribs laugh.  I could barely get out words, I was laughing so hard.  I admitted that I almost peed my pants, I was so startled by that stupid snake!  While I hated the fear and adrenaline spike, I loved the brevity of the rest of our walk.  We reminisced times past, laughing with each other about fun and funny shared memories.

As we were retracing our steps on the way home, I thought I'd let Mira walk in the dirt, sniffing out the newly groomed land.  At one point, she sniffed the ground, jumped a mile high (may be slightly exaggerated), and then took off running.  The leash was around my wrist, so she didn't get away, but I did get a good yank of my own.  As I was trying to calm her down, she did the exact same thing again, this time giving me a second unexpected yank of my arm.  I ran with her from the dirt, shushing her, trying to calm us both down (adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, it seems).  We walked on the paved road the rest of the way home.

A little ways further, Caden and I passed what can only be described as once-stuck vehicle tracks.  There were dug-deep tire indentations, void of the tire tracks leaving the ruts behind due to time or weather.  Without thinking, I asked Caden what he thought they were from, feeling stupid that I had asked an obvious question.

"Mira probably got scared again.  Those are her take-off tracks."

And we were laughing once again. 

The weather was sublime, the walk was invigorating, and the company was strong and fun. 

And the snake was just as dead when we passed it on our way home, so life was good.

Perspective

Caden gained weight this week.  He was 38.1 kg last week and is 38.9 kg today.  I was overjoyed to hear this news...until Sue started picking our week apart.

Apparently, I should have been giving him more medicine to help with the diarrhea- diarrhea that I thought was being controlled pretty well.  I don't like hearing that I should have done more, when I thought what I was doing was good.

Also, I should have been giving him more nausea meds so that he had a better chance of gaining more weight.  However, it's not as if he's sat around feeling nauseous all week; pretty much every single time he has thrown up it has been a surprise.  Playing Xbox, feeling great... puking into the bowl that once held your breakfast strawberries.  Walking around the Loop with dad, feeling great... puking in the gutter of the friendly neighbor that wanted to ask how you are feeling.  "Well, I was feeling fine until just now!" 

So, here's the struggle.  I'm supposedly supposed to give him nausea meds to help with the throwing up, however, nausea meds make him tired.  So, what, he sleeps all day so that he may not throw up, or has some sort of life, occasionally throwing up?  Which life should I choose for my son?  Because, everything that happens here at home is my choice.  Everything.  The medicines that pass his lips are given from my hands.  Do I make him sleep when he could be playing with his brothers and sisters, or do I make him sleep so that he can gain some weight?  I want him to gain weight, sure, but I also want him to have a life.  What use is there to have a healthy body that doesn't live a life?

Sometimes it is easier being in Seattle.  Their choices, their results, they're the bad guys.  I'm grateful to be home, but it's not like I get to just be his mom.  I'm the one that has always had to follow their rules, that has now been given free reign over something that I don't feel qualified to make decisions for. Where it was once, "Give him one pill to stop the diarrhea and see how it goes, making sure that you don't give too much, in case you go too far and stop him up," to "You can give it as much as you see fit, making sure that you give it to him enough to stop him up just enough, so that the diarrhea doesn't go too far." 

Being home is a whole new level of hardships.

Progress Report

Thing have been going really well on the cancer care front.  Caden has had more and more days where he is actually living some semblance of a life.  It's not to say that he has had zero side effects and all has been 100%, but we know the alternative.  This is better. 

He does most of his activity during the time that he doesn't need to be hooked up to his TPN- 8:00am-4:00pm.  He has worked his way up to about one mile a day.  When we first got home, he could barely make it across the street to our mailboxes.  His energy and endurance weighs heavily on him, since he wants to be able to do more, but it is coming.  He was able to sit in a metal chair for the entire hour Sacrament Meeting on Sunday, which made him happy since he hasn't been able to sit that long since surgery.  Time will bring his physical strength back.  And right now, we have plenty of time.

Nausea and vomitting has been significantly less, although he still gets slammed with it once in a while.  Most times it completely surprises him, which can be a little bit hard.  Yesterday it surprised him while walking around our Loop.  He was doing well, feeling well, and all of the sudden was hit with it.  It embarrassed him that neighbors had to see him filling the gutter, since he wasn't feeling sick to begin with.  We're all grateful that he hasn't been as nauseous, but it has still been somewhat of an issue, regardless of round-the-clock nausea meds.

His hair is starting to come in; you can see dark fuzz on his head.  It's fun to see him feeling his head more and more.  That has always been a Caden trait- he plays with his hair.  For now it is still the dark from before, we're just waiting for the day that it starts to turn white.  Pazopanib's major side effect is white hair.  Grandpa white hair.  He's pretty excited about it.  I think it will be even more distinguished because of his tan skin.  We're all excited for him to get his hair back.

He still does not have any sort of appetite.  He barely eats enough to function.  Truly, without that TPN, Caden would be dead.  Even if he didn't throw up at least once a day, Caden doesn't eat enough to survive.  We're not sure exactly what it is, whether it is a side effect of the Pazopanib, his shrunken stomach, the surgery, or psychological ("I don't want to throw up, so I am going to eat as little as possible" kind of thing), but he doesn't eat much.  In any given day, if I can get him to even chew one thing, I consider it a success.  He's getting 2,300+ calories from the TPN to help him gain weight, but not much else.  Food is still forefront on my mind.  Must be why it is so easy to stuff my own face- I'm trying to be a good example!

Things are going well at home.  It feels so wonderful to be able to be a family again!  I still find myself just staring at each of my kids in all different settings, grateful that I get to be their mom and I get to live this life.  I don't feel as if we have hit the point where we have a groove, but we are settling into a nice middle-ground.  Who knows, maybe there will never be a groove; maybe this is our new normal.  I think things will be more telling in June, when he has his first post-Pazopanib scan.  Man, I hope this chemo is stunting the growth.  March 9, 2016 started our five-year scans over.  June will be Scan #1.

Here's hoping it is clean.  Please, oh please, oh please!

Friendship

It's funny how people come into our lives sometimes.  Friendships can be forged through a lot of different situations- even sorrow.  I have made some friends at the hospital- both other patients' parents and medical staff.  Some people are brought into our lives from friends we already have.  In fact, that is how I met Randy.  My cousin, Josh, was a friend of Randy's from high school that happened to work with Randy at the time we met.  He introduced us on a September night and 9 months later we were married.  Friends come from many different places.

One such friend came to me because my Richland bestie, Jamie, married a guy named Cameron that has a cousin with Lyme disease.  She is not my friend because we have actually met, but because I have read her story for over a year and know that if we ever happened to meet, we would be good friends.  I like her writing.  I like her personality.  I like her humor.  She is my friend.

Her story is one of the most heartbreaking stories I have ever "known."  She has been on death's doorstep for as long as I have been reading her story.  The way she lives her life and writes about it inspires me.  She recently posted about friendship that has had me thinking for many days.  It is something that I have been feeling more and more since coming home to our new normal, something that I struggled with the last go-round too.  

She wrote of how she always tried to maintain friendships, but through life's different circumstances, friendships have fallen away.  She went on to say that with her recent illnesses and hardships, friendships have fallen away because she doesn't have the strength or energy to keep them up.  However, she writes, "Our relationships are defined in such temporary, earthly ways here...but if we zoom out to look at eternity, the best parts of our relationships still live and breathe."

I have been feeling a little isolated and selfish recently.  I had people reaching out, people bringing meals into our family for weeks, and people taking my kids for breaks away from monotony, yet have not had the energy to send out Thank You cards or return favors and kindnesses.  I have friends that I haven't done much with because we are either stuck in Seattle, Caden isn't feeling well enough to leave for very long, I have crashed at home from pure exhaustion, or I am recuperating from the life we are currently living.  Friendship is something that I would like to be a part of, yet don't have the time and energy to do right now.

My friends, if you have felt snubbed, forgotten or left behind, please forgive me.  I think back on the times we have shared (the things that we have done that made us friends in the first place) with fondness, most times remembering them to bolster my heart during my hard times.  Our friendship is still important and precious to me.  I will be back as soon as I can.     

Confused

With seven people in the family, it makes for a nice little prayer schedule.  Randy- Sunday, Stephanie- Monday, and so on.  Because the kids have Taekwondo at 5:00 and then Tyson had baseball practice from 5:30-6:30, I decided to have dinner ready as soon as the kids got home at 4:00, so that we didn't have to wait until 6:45 or so to eat.

In my rushed plans, I sat down, told them to quiet and then said quickly, "So, what day is today?  Oh, yeah, Monday.  I'll pray."  We all bowed our heads to pray and then proceeded to dig into dinner.

Keilie, "Mom, it's not Monday today, it's Wednesday."

This got me thinking.  It's not Monday?!  Wait, it's not Monday.  It's Thursday!

We, at the Dirks' house, are a bit confused it seems!

Wednesdays

I slept horribly last night.  Or didn't sleep, would be a better term for my night.  I'm not sure why, really, only that I knew today was going to be a super long day.  I went to bed last night at around 9:45 after giving Caden his Pazopanib.  That didn't mean that I fell asleep before Midnight.  When I woke at 3:00am, I just got mad at myself.  I wasn't tired, I just knew I needed my sleep to sustain me through the day.  When I woke again at 6:00 (20 minutes before my alarm) I had written the night off as a total loss. 

6:35-10:05 Drive to Seattle Children's
10:10 Appointment time for Labs
11:00 Appointment time with Sue
12:00-3:45 Drive home
4:00-5:15 Prepare TPN and hook it up to Caden, do dishes, vacuum floors, make dinner, clean up dinner, water flowers, remind kids one hundred times to get their uniforms on for Taekwondo without once raising your exhausted, Wicked Witch voice once
5:15-5:25 Drive Shelby, Brennon, and Tyson to Taekwondo
5:30-5:50 Drive to get gas from Costco
6:15-6:30 Drive kids back home, pick up Keilie, drive her to church for YW- they had Mini Missions tonight.  They had a lesson to prepare from Preach My Gospel, and went into homes to teach their lessons.
6:45-7:15 Make myself dinner- eat it over the sink and immediately wash dish by hand
7:30-8:30 Take Mira to the vet to check out spay incision.  (All is well, it is just having a bit of a reaction to the sutures.  Nothing to be concerned about.  I can give her Benadryl- yes, the human kind- for her allergies.  I wonder if she is allergic to cuteness like Tyson says he is?!)
8:30-9:30 Walk throughout the house collecting random things, while cleaning to give tomorrow a "rest" day.

The appointments went well.  We are all sighing a big relief breath that things are continuing to go well with Pazopanib.  Caden told Sue he would like to continue, thank goodness, since he was asked if he would like to continue with it.

One note of concern I have: The vet told me that AKC Golden Retriever dogs are prone to Lymphoma.  Ummm.... that would kind of be a cruel irony if our Cancer Therapy Dog ended up getting cancer.  Yowsa!!

I'm heading to bed approximately the same time tonight as last night.  Fingers crossed that I can actually sleep.  Truth be told, I probably learned to sleep with my eyes open today. 

(Laced with barely veiled sarcasm with a touch of anger) "Super excited we get to do this all again for the next three Wednesdays.  At least!" (Insert epic eye roll {here})

Life

I love to read.  It hasn't been since early childhood that this has been true, but I have found myself to be a voracious reader since being married.  I used to go through a book a day when I was waiting for Caden to be born- in that month between working and his birth.  From there, it just kept going.  I may not average a book a day any more, but I do tend to go through spurts, probably averaging a book every three to four days.  At one point, in the time between all kids going to school and Caden's cancer returning, I was back to a book a day.  It got so bad that if someone would ask for a recommendation, I would horribly mix all of their plot lines up, probably writing my own novel from a mixture of ones that I had read.  And anyway, sometimes it feels that that is how it works anyway.  I don't know, I'm not really a published author.  Unless you count my 10 blog books.  Which I sort of do.  But, I digress...

I just finished a book that is kind of my favorite type.  No, not a Young Adult novel that doesn't have torrid love scenes, or even an unpredictable character that loves to use the F-word every other word.  No, this was a book that has had me thinking about life.  The book is What Alice Forgot, by Liane Moriarty.  In the book, the main character falls while at the gym and forgets the last 10 years of her life, not even liking the person she has become.  She wakes up remembering that she is pregnant with her first child, not that she already has three, and that she is madly in love with her husband.  Except they are about to get a divorce.  The story line was very poignant.  I was flying through the pages, wanting to know what eventually happens.  And, let me just say, when the book ends (before I read the Epilogue) I was not happy.  Eventually, though, it ends in exactly the way I had hoped.  It is a happily ever after, after all.

At the end of the book, there is a Discussion Questions page that has me thinking even deeper about the book and my own life.  The entire time while reading, I kept asking myself what I would do waking up thinking it was still 2006.  What I would do if I heard Randy swear at me (which would be even more disturbing at all, since I have never even heard him swear!) and see absolute hatred for me, enough to want to divorce me.  What would I do if I couldn't even remember Shelby, Brennon, and Tyson?  It is unthinkable.  I wouldn't remember Bar Nunn, Wyoming- we had just barely moved to Casper two months before.  I wouldn't remember Richland, or the hardships we have faced since 2014.  That may sound nice for a minute, but there have been some amazing things realized and seen because of cancer that I could never comprehend without actually living them.  Things would not be the same, and it hurts to even imagine.

The question that struck me the most from the Discussion Questions is this: What would surprise your younger self most about the life you are living?

While pondering this, I had to look at the calendar to see exactly which day it is today.  Approximately ten years ago, I was walking into a friend's hospital room to see her new, sweet baby son.  While walking into her room, I steeled myself from the feelings that I knew would assault me as soon as I entered the room.  You see, I should have had people coming to see me in the hospital.  My second miscarriage was due to be born on April 5, 2006.  I was so excited thinking the birthday would be 04-05-06. Such a cool date!  And yet, here I was entering a room to hold a new baby that was not my own.  As she placed him in my arms, my heart hurt so much yet was so happy for her.  I looked at this sweet, tiny baby, hoping that I would not continue to have miscarriages, that I would never again become part of the statistic saying 'You have less than a 3% chance of losing this one, since you've heard the heartbeat.'  I knew I was lucky to have two babies at home, my 4 year old Caden, and 2 year old Keilie,  but I also knew, deep down, that I was not done having kids.  I did not understand why I couldn't have such a righteous desire.  Oh, how my heart ached.

It seems foreign to me that the pain that I felt 10 years ago, pain that was the hardest thing I had ever endured at that time, is nothing to the pain that I have felt now.  It would almost be a relief to feel that same pain, to be blissfully naive.  I'm not saying that my current pain is any harder than that of a woman that desperately wants a child.  No, not at all!  I'm simply saying, remembering that pain, and feeling what I have endured these last two years, being as tired and somewhat disenchanted as I am now, makes me yearn for those "simpler" times.  The times when I thought doing laundry for four people was a challenge.  The times where I had no idea what we would have for dinner, because my two kids were pretty picky.  The times where my living children were all healthy, happy, and thriving.

I also wondered what my younger self would have thought about my life.  "What do you mean Caden has cancer?  That he has survived three times?  That you have to practically set up house 300 miles away, leaving your other kids at home with someone else?"  Would I feel it deep that I could do it, or would I shrink back, sure that I would never have the strength and courage?  How do you comprehend something so huge happening to your child ten years in the future?  You just can't.  Truth be told, I wouldn't want younger Stephanie having to deal with this right now, anyway.  I have become proficient in all things Caden.  That Stephanie could never take care of Caden the way I do.  And laundry for seven people?  Forget about it.  She would give up and say nudist doesn't sound too bad.

This morning, while helping rush the kids out the door, I caught sight of Tyson lying on the floor, facing Mira.  (Singing a tune of his own invention) "I love you.  You are the best dog.  I'm so glad you live with us.  I love you, Mira.  I love youuuu!!!!"  My heart melted.  I looked around the kitchen that is always a mess after breakfast/lunch prep, caught sight of the blankets and card games strewn about the front room, and the snot-smeared sliding glass door, and thought, "It's a good life!"  One that I am grateful to live, happy to remember, and anxious to look back on when Randy and I are old.

The best thing about Memories...is making them.

I'm not sure what the next ten years of our lives hold, but if I wake with amnesia with memories of only this day and before, I plan to make sure that my future self knows that it is a life to be proud of, a life that holds no regrets.  It is a life worth living.  It's a good life.

Cautiously Optimistic

Hope is such a surreal thought for me right now.  During some of the roughest times over the last few months, it was much easier to feel any sort of hope when things were going relatively easy.  The five days that he was feeling well when it was least expected was an easy time to feel hope.  The night that I gave him extra medicines to knock him out due to pain was a hard time to feel hope.  The last few days have been an easier time to feel cautiously optimistic.  Things have gotten better each day, it seems.  I am really starting to feel more hope that things aren't going to be as hard as they have been.

This morning, Caden sat upright on the couch and spoke out a list of things that have been getting easier for him.  It had a surreal feeling to it, watching this boy almost light up telling me how much better he is feeling as days go by.

"I have been able to eat a little more.  Food doesn't sound as disgusting as much of the time. I slept through the night without needing any sort of sleep aid.  I haven't thrown up every day (although he did throw up about two hours later). I have been able to walk more.  My hair is starting to grow back because my head is getting softer.  My abdomen doesn't hurt as much as it has been...."

He was alight telling me all of this.  Moments before, he'd been on his iPad watching Life Hack videos and other videos that make him laugh.  It was amazing to hear him giggle again.  It has been too long.

Hope- I feel it. 

It almost felt like we have turned a corner, that things were going to start getting a little easier for us.  I feel cautiously optimistic that things are going to be ok for a while.  I am not saying I don't expect to see something on his next CT scan in June, just that I don't feel a crushing weight of worry about making it to June with awful side effects every single day.  I need a break from his agony.

I hope, I hope, I hope...

Extreme Case

While having a relaxing day with the kids, I decided to order The Peanuts Movie from Redbox.  I have never been a huge fan of Peanuts, but it was the only kid movie we had not seen together, so I got it.  It turns out, I liked it.  Not a buyer, definitely a once-from-Redbox kind of movie, but I'm glad we saw it.  

At one point, Charlie Brown sees the new kid come into the class and instantly falls in love with the little red headed girl.  She happens to look at him, and he gets all anxiety-filled and runs from the classroom to the nurse's office.  While sitting and waiting, the kid next to him asks him what's the matter.  He explains the common symptoms of love and then says, "It seems I have come down with an extreme case of inadequacy!"  His statement struck me deep.  An extreme case of inadequacy.  I have come down with it too.

Caden's appointment on Thursday went well.  He's gained weight, which was almost cause for cartwheels down the hallway!  He still has to gain about 10 pounds before we will approach the subject of ending TPN, but any weight gain after the last two months is cause for celebration!  He also has had zero pain for a while, so it was nice to say that the only medication from the list of 18 (no, I'm not kidding.  Caden has had 18 medications prescribed since January- not including the chemo) was a regularly scheduled anti-nausea med, Zofran.  Even that was kind of taken down from every 8 hours to ever 12.  Things have been going well.  Not great when you compare it to the last year of his life, but not as hard and awful as the last two months.  Things have kind of settled into a chaotic "normal."

She was super happy to see that he wasn't puking up his toenails, although he has thrown up at least once every day.  She helped me remember perspective, since I was kind of downtrodden thinking that he had to throw up at all!  Without Chemo and a massive tumor, shouldn't he be done with throwing up?  That was my mind set.  She quickly helped me remember that it could be worse.  I needed someone to help me remember, it seems, because I set myself up to fail when I got it into my head that things would go back to our old "normal" once chemo and surgery happened.  I knew he would be weak and more than a bit frail, I just didn't expect nausea and vomitting to follow us from Seattle.  It is hard when the mind is set and reality doesn't follow the script.

Thursday night started the first day of our new cancer chapter.  We were promised that he shouldn't feel all of the same side effects of this drug, since it is not normally one that makes people puke up their toenails.  However, since this is Caden, I don't think we should be promised anything.  We were promised that Vincristine was the easiest of any of the chemo's they give, yet it was still quite hard every single day.  Nothing should ever be promised with cancer.  Nothing is ever sure enough for a promise.  I guess all cancer promises are like Mary Poppins's Pie Crust Promises: Easily made, easily broken.  I think the only thing that can be promised about cancer is that it is going to feel like the seventh circle of Hades.

I didn't expect the side effects to hit him on the first dose.  Again, my mind...  The diarrhea hit him less than 12 hours after taking the three pills.  And the vomitting was never far behind.  As I watched him heave and wretch for like the sixth time yesterday, I was struck just as violently as his vomitting with my own extreme case of inadequacy.  I think it has finally hit me how serious this is.  We have moved from an intense stand to one where we are looking for more time.  We are simply trying to stunt the aggressive monster that threatens the very life of The Boy In the Bed.  I was seized with worry that I wouldn't be enough for this boy anymore.  That it may come to a point where there is truly nothing left for his mother to do.  That I will have to watch him violently vomit every single day for the next stage of this cancer fight.  That I will slowly lose my mind to his suffering.  Can I be enough?  Will I be asked to endure this heartache while my son endures this suffering?  How can I possibly be strong enough?

And then {this} article was brought to my memory.  I had read it a few weeks ago, and once again was struck by the truthfulness of it.  My favorite part of the whole thing, and I love it all, was this statement...

Just when we thought we couldn’t, just when we were sure that there was no way we ever could, we discover that we had it in us all along. Because we have Him.

I don’t know what can’t you’re facing, but whatever it is, remember this with me. Each can’t you overcome becomes a sentence in your heart that tells the story, “She did.” And just when you are sure that you can’t handle it… that it’s too big for you… that it’s too impossible or you’re not strong enough or equipped to face it… Remember that you were never designed to do it alone.

And once again, another mother helped me realize that things could be worse.  This has not been easy.  It will never be easy.  My son has cancer, and it breaks my heart.  But I have help from my Heavenly Father.  So I will renew my courage, grab a green vomit bag and some tissues, and draw near to Caden's side while he ventures through the unknown journey of this new chapter of our fight.  We both, he and I, are not alone.

Agency

I have loved everything about having Mira home.  Everything but her scent.  She stinks right now!  We have had her outside, running and playing ever since she has been home.  She has been such a joy to have.  Each kids whines and complains if they haven't had alone time with her, most times saying they haven't had any time at all.  She has five little Masters and play mates.

Today, Caden and I went to Petco to grab some Shampoo and Conditioner that I had googled was the best for Golden Retrievers.  We then scoped out the Dog Wash that is around the corner from our home.  Deciding that I would try doing it at home, since we have a seriously nice shower head that retracts, I got all of the supplies ready and prepared myself mentally to wash a dog.  Only thing missing was a dog that wanted to take a bath.  We had heard that she was very tolerant of bath time.  I guess they got their facts wrong, it was probably another dog in their Service Training that is tolerant.  So we packed up and headed over to the Dog Wash, since it had a leash-type thing in the basin.  Again, I prepared myself to be a wet, sweaty mess by the end, but I was determined to have a clean smelling dog.  Oh the silly jokes I tell myself.

She walked into that Dog Wash like I was taking her to her death.  I pulled out the big guns in that tiny, wet-dog smelling sauna-room.  There is a treat that Brigadoon recommended, one that costs a pretty penny, but that they said she would absolutely go crazy for, should we chose to gift her with it.  Um...they must have gotten their facts wrong- it must have been another dog that loves those expensive, gifting treats.  She pulled back on her leash, unwilling to even put a paw on the ramp that leads up to the basin with the leash-type thingy that would have held her fast while I quickly washed her down.  I did, in fact, come home a sweaty mess... with a dog that still wreaks.  She must have smelled my fear.  Mira is not tolerant of baths!

I imagine Free Agency is a lot like my Dog Wash Dilemma.  Sometimes a situation may feel a little scary and unknown, no matter that a loving Master has brought you to it.  Sometimes it may seem like something that we do no want to do.  Sometimes, no matter the desirable reward, we are just stubborn and short sighted.  Sometimes the Master comes to realize that He won't force you to do something, no matter how much He would like it to happen.

Sometimes our choices just stink.

(Sorry, I couldn't help myself with that one.  I left myself wide open for that gem.)

One Second

A couple of days before the end of March, Randy said that I had a few bills that needed to be tended to before the end of the month.  One such bill was the licensing of our car.  Or so I thought. 

While the kids were at school, Caden and I went into Richland City to pay the fees and get the 2017 sticker.  There was no line this time (surprise, surprise- I always go when there is a line of 1,000 people) so we were in and out of there in less than five minutes.

I had thoughts of making a little video made specifically for Randy.  I remembered that he'd put the last sticker on the car crooked.  For someone that likes total order, it bothered me that he didn't take more time to line up the corners perfectly.  He actually did it to bother me.  He put it on, brought me to the back of the car, and asked if I saw something a little off.  Then he laughed and laughed.  Each time I saw that crooked sticker, it brought a smile to my lips and an eye roll to my face.  He is sooo funny!

So, here I was with the perfect opportunity to fix his little "mistake."  I planned to pull out my phone, and talking as if speaking to a three-year old, I was going to explain how things needed to be done just so, to make it look good.  I had it all planned out in my head.  However, it was such a nice day outside, and Caden was feeling sooooooo good, I just wanted to get to the rest of my errands.  I placed the sticker perfectly straight over the 2016 sticker and got into the car, giggling at myself and how fun it would have been to show him my clever video.  That was when I saw it... the registration was for our trailer.

I could feel my cheeks flame red from embarrassment.  Here I was all high and mighty, showing Randy how to put a sticker on straight, only to put it onto the wrong car.  And so I laughed and laughed.  I came home, pulled off the sticker without any problem, stuck it on the trailer, and went about the rest of my errands feeling a little less smug.  The reason I remembered the less-than-perfect sticker was because it was in December.  It felt like a lifetime ago!

It reminds me of a part of Alice in Wonderland.  Alice asks the White Rabbit, "How long is Forever?"

"Sometimes just one second."

We have had many one seconds.  Some that make us smile just a little bit, coloring our cheeks with the memory.

No words

There are no words. My heart is so full. 

Mira: Day 1!

Tyson: "Mira is like our heart!"

She fits as if she has always been. We are so happy to have her. 

Caden has had a little bit of a decrease in his energy and stamina. He feels a bit more tired. Things have still been good, but he still has his limitations. We're not complaining. Things have been heavenly!