Spring 2014

 It has been so beautiful since we've been home.  I wanted to get the kids pictured by the white trees that I love, but found the grounds to the temple locked.  The pictures may not have turned out like I'd imagined in my head, but that doesn't mean I don't LOVE them!!!

 

As you can see from Tyson's face, we've had sun!

Thank you Darwin and Jackie for their Easter outfits this year!

I was hoping to get more of the bushes behind them without being able to see the church.  No such luck.  I've never professed to being a photographer.

 I love the white blooming trees, the fresh green, and the beauty of a new Spring.  I love these kids!!!

The reason we don't have a Spring family photo, you ask?  Because I used up all of my energies to do Shelby's hair.  I was ecstatic when she asked if I would.  Umm....do I not beg you to do it like all the time?  YES I'll curl your beautiful thick golden hair!!!  And, per the norm, Keilie asked if I'd leave her's straight.  She's lucky I allow her that one choice in pictures.  And like the amazing husband that he is, Randy dressed up so I could take his picture with his girls.  I had other plans, but the locked doors kept me from capturing the moments I wanted.  This one turned out cute, so I'm happy!

Happy Spring!!!

Lash out

Before

After

Cryin' shame, I tell ya!!

Home sweet...

HOME!!!

Caden had his blood drawn on Wednesday, but his platelets were too low to allow us to come home. We instantly called my parents to come up to Seattle from  Richland to spend time with Caden at RMH instead. Sue wanted to see if he could get his platelets up by himself. He had another blood draw this morning to check. 

Doctor appointments mean a whole different thing to me now. It is not unusual for us to sit in a waiting room for hours. Today was no exception. We got to the Clinic at 10:00AM, blood drawn at 10:20AM, and waited...until 12:00 for the results. Just sitting in the same hard chair for hours. Seeing some of the same kids we've seen many times before. Meeting new kids whose lives turned upside down about the same time ours did. And just waiting. Gets very boring. And then the news- his platelets are rising, we're free to go home. And just like that our hearts are lighter. 

We made it home at four to find a spotless house (Thanks Mom and Dad!) happy kids, and a family ready for time together. Even though this was a stressful Round, I am SO glad he didn't get a fever!! He didn't have to stay in the hospital any longer than necessary. He had more freedom in the RMH. After a few days of sunshine, I can now say I have a mantra going through my mind. 

"One more Round! One more Round! One more Round!!!"

On Sunday, during Testimony meeting, Jan Salisbury gave a metaphor of speed bumps and Himalayas. Sometimes in life we are given trials the size of speed bumps, others the size of the Himalayas. Undoubtedly this is a Himalaya of a trial! And right now we are at a plateau on the way up. But you know what? The view is beautiful. We are pretty high on our upward journey. We are close to our summit. But the view is still beautiful from here. To look back would be to see sorrow, yes, and hard times, but also great beauty. Friends that I haven't talked to in forever came forward to say hi. People came out of the woodwork to give of their love and support. People have come to our aide with helping hands, words, and prayers. We have been truly cared for from the very first steps of our journey by those we love dearly. You! Our view has been steep at times, but we have never been alone. Our week (well 6 days now) of rest will be full of kisses and hugs, much like our other home weeks, but this time with a new perspective. A grateful heart for our climb. Because there has been JOY in our journey. President Howard W. Hunter said, "There is happiness to be found in this journey." and we plan to find it no matter how steep our climb!

All is well at the Dirks' house!!

Victory

We are less than 12 hours from checking Caden's numbers. If his Absolute Neutrophil Count is above 500... we are headed home. Without being re-admitted to the hospital for a fever!! I feel like copying Tyson by doing this...

And mimicking his movie quip from Mr. Peabody & Sherman,

"Smell My Victory!"

I'm hoping we get to go home as early as possible tomorrow. He got a platelet transfusion followed by a blood transfusion yesterday. However, soon after the second bag of blood was started he got a nose bleed that lasted 35 minutes. He's had a few instances of dripping blood today, nothing as bad as yesterday, but he may need a platelet transfusion before we get the heck out of Dodge. I mean Seattle. But hey, let's not forget that this is the first time we've not gone to the ER after a Round!!  Woot-woot!! 

VICTORY!

Brave

It seems ironic to me that so much of my life right now reminds me of my first time at an amusement park. We often think of the fun we have on the rides, rarely looking at the scary and frightening side of the event. And when the ride is over, the adrenaline spent, we anxiously look forward to the time we get to go again. We forget, in our excitement, the fear that we felt before the experience. We either love the ride, or hate it. There is hardly ever a middle ground on rides.

The first time Jenni and I rode the Musical Express we had been talking during the previous rides. I didn't really know what the ride did, I just knew it wasn't a ride a shorter child could ride, and since I was now an "adult" rider, I was going to do it. We found an open car, got all buckled in, and began talking some more. The ride operator gave their memorized mono-tone required speech and the ride began to move. It was a circular track that started slow and picked up speed at an incredible rate. I was on the outer seat and was holding on for dear life, not wanting to lose my grip and smash Jenni, who was plastered to the opposite side of the seat than I. I was laughing so hard at how weak I felt holding on to the rail. I would never have been able to hold out normally, and my laughing wasn't helping the matter any. Eventually my strength gave out and I careened straight into Jenni's hip. I know it's not possible, but it felt like we became one person as close as we got in all of that speed. The ride eventually came to a complete stop. I looked over at Jenni. With a smile in her eyes, she said, "Let's do that again. I get the outside seat this time." I was a bit breathless and dizzy, so I said we should go on another ride and give me a bit of a break.

 The real reason was because I was just scared. That ride whipped us around so fast, that it was almost painful. I was worried about being the one that was smashed. I knew I was a complete wimp, I just didn't want Jenni to know. What if I didn't smile after the ride? What if that made her feel bad? What if I broke a hip and we had to leave to take me to the ER?! I'm a bit of a worrier. Always have been, always will be. Anyway, I just needed a break to clear my head, take a breath, psych myself up, and head back in for more. And guess what? It's one of my favorite rides at Lagoon. 

This last Round was pretty hard to watch. I felt like we were being whipped around at a too-fast speed. I felt worried that I was going to let go of the rail, squishing Caden with my worry and anxiety. That I was going to let him down. I wasn't prepared for the ride. It's not like I could have watched to see what was coming so I couldn't prepare, but I still felt unprepared just the same. And, obviously he's not asking to go on the ride again, but another ride is coming. And I'm scared. So...I took a break. I left Randy with Caden on Saturday morning and came home to be with the younger kids. I surprised the girls by being the mommy and not the daddy that came to get them. I rested as I waited for my Mom, Dad, and Grandma Fuller to come for Spring Break and a visit to Caden. I chilled all night, laughing at the antics my kids wanted to show off. I got emotionally uplifted at an amazing Sacrament meeting this morning, where it felt like every song and comment was just for me. I got to hold my favorite 7- month old and a tiny 7- week old, and then came home to take a 3 hour (deep) nap. Sleep that I desperately needed. I will head back tomorrow to trade places with Randy and hope to come home with Caden on Wednesday for our week away from Seattle. I'll continue my break, take a much needed breath, psych myself up, and begin our last Chemotherapy ride. And I'll make it to the other side of that ride with a smile on my face. Not because it was fun, by any means, but because we conquered that ride in amazing fashion! Wind- blown hair and all!!

After the feeding tube was placed on Friday, the nurse looked at Caden and told her how proud she was of him and how brave he was. This started a fresh wave of tears as he said, "I wasn't brave." Even if I wasn't an emotional wreck, this comment would have still felt like a bullet to the heart. Caden saw his fear and tears as weakness. He didn't feel brave. I collapsed at his side, took his wet cheeks in my sweaty hands and implored him to see the real situation. It doesn't matter that he was scared, it doesn't matter that he wanted to lock himself in the bathroom, it doesn't matter that he cried. The thing that matters was that he sat in that chair and allowed that tube to enter his tender nose one more time. He faced his fears. I had seen this saying on Pinterest just a few days before, so I easily quoted it for him. 

I'm going to be like my son. I'm going to remember his example. I have allowed myself a good cry. I have taken a step back and found myself again. We are halfway done with this whole thing. Not just chemotherapy, but the surgery as well. Only 2 more months (if all goes well) and our ride will come to a full and complete stop. I can be brave. Because I know that doesn't mean I'll be without fear, but that I do it anyway. I will try a little harder to be a little better. I will smile more and complain less. I will hold on to that rail. I won't let go. And maybe, when he's cleared for activities, we'll go to Lagoon and ride these rides for real. For fun! And smile at the end. 

Expectations

It seems to me that the actual act of Chemotherapy  is pretty darn easy.  They access his port one time and all other medicines are administered through that one needle.  Easy Peasy!  It's the side-effects that make it such a nightmare.  For this last Round it was the side-effect of a side-effect that made it so.  The feeding tube being thrown up four times.  By the last time I had snapped.  We were both done.  I put my foot down and bought Caden some time with it out.  And that caused a huge problem.

Caden is old enough to understand things that younger children don't.  However, he's just young enough to not understand some things.  This raised some expectations about how Clinic was going to go today which then delivered a serious blow when things didn't work as predicted.  In Caden's mind, Mom told the Doctor's that he wasn't going to get a tube once, so she can do it again.  She'll fight on my side, we'll get what we want, and all will be good.  Until he got weighed...

There were so many procedures at the beginning that he went without food and water for a few days.  They'd allow a drink here and there between, but it wasn't ever enough.  By the time that he was done with procedures, he'd lost a lot of weight.  On a body Caden's size, that just isn't an option.  Hence the feeding tube.  We finally got him up to 32.4kg (71.4 lbs.) and felt pretty good about our progress.  Round 3 took care of that for us.  With no feeding tube delivering 2,200 calories day and night into his belly, Caden lost 1kg (2.2 lbs.) in two days; bringing him back down to the lowest he's been since arriving in Seattle.  This is 3.4kg away from the cutoff point of the feeding tube and 5kg away from his ideal body mass; a weight he has never hit in his life.  As soon as I saw that number I knew there was no chance of us walking out of that office sans feeding tube.  It was like boulders in my stomach knowing I had to tell him.

Caden spent Thursday worrying about how much he was eating, getting all anxious about the possibility of having it placed again.  He made sure to count every calorie, feeling like he was doing a good job, when it all actuality, he wasn't even close to eating all that he needed.  There was just no way that he was going to be able to do it alone.  As the time grew closer to going to bed, we talked to him about all of the scenarios.  He looked a bit worried, but also had a air of calm about him too.  I learned the hard way what this air was.  It was his expectations.  Something that would get blown to bit with just two words.  I'm sorry...

Dr. Lux talked to Caden about the need for the tube.  Talked about the benefits.  Tried to impress upon him the importance between now, Round 4, Surgery, and Recovery.  Caden just sat on the table crying.  Wiping his sad eyes, and just kind of nodding.  After a few minutes, it because starkly clear that he'd tuned us out.  He was done listening.  Dr. Lux left to go find the nurses.  And the flood gates came.  And the words.  "I don't feel like I was given enough of a chance.  I only got two days to prove to them I could do it.  They weren't even listening to me.  It seemed like you were on Dr. Lux's side."  And with each word my heart fell.  It is the WORST being the sensible parent.  Because, just like Caden, I wanted to whisk him from that room.  Run like mad to take him from the torture we knew was coming.  Ask them to give him just a few more days.  Days that he wasn't getting enough calories, but was the happiest we've seen him in a long, long time.  His food intake was down, but his spirits were soaring.  He thought he'd be able to go home to his friends with his "normal face."  And now that wasn't an option.  I had failed him.  I hadn't fought enough for him.  I wasn't the savior he wanted me to be.  And it killed me.  He thought for sure that I was going to look at them and simply refuse to let them put it in.  And they would cower and give in to me.  But I just couldn't.

On one hand, I see the emotional damage Caden has.  The tears, the begging, the anxiety these last few days have caused.  On the other, I also see my son wasting away.  He may have swollen cheeks from so many stickers being placed and ripped off, but I see the ribs and spine jutting out and feel sick to my stomach.  I also see how hard his body works simply to survive.  The last week before Round 3, he didn't throw up one time, his feeds were going 110% of the time sometimes, and he didn't gain a single ounce.  He lost 2.2 pounds in two days!!  Even when he's sitting down, his body is running a marathon.  He's always been lean, but now he's fighting for his life.  Literally!  And I can't do anything about it.  I walked into that office with a two-edged sword.  One side leaves my son happy and starving, the other side leaves my son fed and hurting.  And I ultimately chose to crush his dreams.  That's not the way that I see it, but the way that he sees it.  And it breaks my heart.

As she was getting ready, tube in hand bringing it closer to his face, he started to really cry.  He begged harder than I've ever seen.  Each time has brought more of my heart to it's ultimate breaking point, each time has made me die a little more watching him suffer.  He finally put his head in his hands and just said, "Mom, PLEASE!"  What do I do?  I am so tired.  I am so broken.  I am so done.  There is no chant running through my head, no "one more round, one more round."  By now I feel numb.  I feel fragile.  I feel like a sponge that absorbs his "My nose hurts just thinking of it." "When will they listen to what I want?" "You didn't fight for me."  I feel myself drying up with each word spoken out of desperation, pain, and sorrow.  I hope I make it to the end.  At first it felt like all would be well after a good night's rest.  I've had plenty of those, it's not feeling better.  I feel like my wound is bleeding out.  And he's the one that has to endure the physical pain.

Being an adult is lame.  Having to be the sensible parent is so draining.  Knowing that your son was disappointed with you today and sees your actions as a betrayal is like a knife to your heart.  He never said anything hateful.  He didn't have to.  It's what he didn't say that hurts the most.

Chemotherapy isn't hard.  Side-effects are hard.

I mustache you...

Shelby- 7

Evelyn- 6

Brennon- 6

Ruth- 6

Tyson- 4

Will- 4

Cassidy- 3

Claire- 2

Caleb- 7 Months

Caden

Jamie & Yours Truly!

First see Tyson

Then Will! Love that sequence!!

Saved

On his way up to Bellingham today, Randy dropped off these cuties for a few days. It was a MUCH needed distraction! Look at those faces. Caden and I laughed SO hard. Not with them, AT them.

I took them on a walk to the Gift Shop to get them a little treat while Caden napped. They were so much fun asking all of their questions and finding things in the halls that I have overlooked these last 8 weeks. I love their endless chatter and questions. 

When we got back to the room with their treats, they wanted to share the rocking chair and watch a show. Tyson chose Mambas (smart kid, huh Ash) so he was up and down throwing his garbage away. Each time he would ask Brennon to "Save My Place." I guess they think the rocker is a local hot spot in high demand. How lucky I am to have sole use when they aren't here!!

Caden is being discharged in about a half hour. He's been drinking often and eating as much as he can. He will have to have another tube placed on Friday. The weight cutoff for him is 33.8 kg. He's 32.4kg now. He's NEVER weighed 33.8, so there is no chance he'll be without it after Friday. Unless he throws up four in 48 hours, that is! Nutrition stopped by to show us the new nutrition system they are implementing soon. And let me tell you, it's NEEDED. The food here is THE worst. They had him tell them everything he likes to eat. When we were halfway through the lunch choices he said, "I like this talk. All I've been able to say about food recently is which NG Tube nostril I wanted to use." And then he laughed and laughed. Because he's a jokester, that's why. And he's the only one that can joke about that. 

Today is my new favorite day of the week. 

Worth it

True story! I'm just confused as to how Pinterest captured my picture in the wild when I've been stuck indoors for 5 straight days!

I have been thinking of this quote for a few days now. I realize it means our mortal existence, but it can be applied to other things as well.

*Marriage, for example, is not always easy. You swoon, and date, and put forth your best self right at first and then BAM-out comes the gas, snoring, belching, compulsions, and selfishness. See, not easy, but worth it in the end. 

*Childbirth-Need I say more?! Nope!

*Raising those children- Slit-your-wrist-threes comes to mind. Or potty training. What about sassy-mouthed-mess-makers?! I haven't had a teenager, but I remember being one. Yikes! And yet, looked how wonderful I turned out. Ahem, did I say that out loud?!

*Chemotherapy...

While yesterday wasn't as full of outside stuff, we still had the same problems here at the hospital. Caden threw up two more feeding tubes. He had it shoved in his nose 5 times the day before and 4 times yesterday. Each time with more tears, more begging, more anxiety, and more dread. By the time that fourth one was violently being expelled from his stomach, I had already snapped. When the nurse came in, I looked at her with what I imagine as crazed eyes and said he would not get it again. Please, it was for my benefit as much as Caden's. I was broken by the end of the 24th and past numb last night. And through it all, I kept thinking this would all be worth it in the end. Chemo is HARD! Watching your child SUFFER is hard! I would not wish this in anyone! But in the end, it's going to be worth it. 

One of the nurses told Caden that she wanted to see how it felt, so one night she did it to herself. She looked him in the eye after it was placed and told him how strong he was, how proud she was, and that he was her hero for handling it so well. I asked him if he wanted me to get one to better understand how it feels. He vehemently rejected that offer. I asked him why not, to which his reply was, "Because you help me through it. You KNOW how bad it is. You don't need to feel it to know." Again, this boy surprises me with his maturity. I don't know why it is always such a surprise-he is Caden Randy Dirks after all!

And then he gave me a mischievous smile and said that he would let Randy get one. 

Hard Days

It's hard to get your hopes up, sometimes. Because when those hopes are dashed, it makes it that much harder to see good. Recently our days have been filled with words that make it hard to see the light.

Pneumonia*CTScan*MRI*Biopsy*Procedure*Oncology*Cancer Care Unit* Malignant*Mass the size of a large grapefruit*Fever*Life Flight*Tumor*Ambulance*ER*PICC Line*Port*Tubing to heart*Surgeons*Cancer*Mortality Rate*Statistics*Research*Rare*Sarcoma*Chemotherapy*4 Rounds*Weeks*Internal Bleeding*Decreased Lung Capacity*ICU*Risk Nurse*PET Scan* Feels like Lava*NG Tube*Transfusions*Nausea*Decreased Muscle Mass*Endurance*Side Effects*Bald*Infertility*Surgery*Shrink*Bowel Movements*"Punching"*Disgusting Taste*Nurses/Doctors*Beeping Monitors*Bad Food*Cold Bath Water*Needles*Hematocrit*ANC*White Blood Cells*Hematology/Oncology Clinic*Prognosis*Morphine*Make-A-Wish*Treatment*Support*Diagnosis*Echocardiagram*Heart Anomaly*Stage*Blood Cultures*Vomiting 

The last one is the one that makes today hardest. During rounds this morning, they asked Caden how he was feeling. Almost in tears, he responded, "I just wish I feel better. I just want to go home!" In that second the Doctors started ordering more on one nausea medication, and one to come sooner than every 8 hours. It is not being controlled as well as we had anticipated. He's starting to grow a tolerance for the medications themselves. He just doesn't feel well. It hits him pretty fast this time. He'll feel well enough to go on a bike ride and then be shrinking to the floor, clutching his stomach as he wretches. 

They had us scheduled to be discharged this afternoon, but they pushed us back to see how he's doing. If he can't keep things down with IV medications, there is no way he'll do well at home. I am SO glad to still be here!! 

This morning Randy informed me that we are seeing effects of the Target Card Scandal. We have been compromised. He's taking precautions to stop what is happening, but it's still just not a good time. No time is ever a good time to have your credit attacked by crooks/thieves/criminals, but it's particularly hard when you're sitting by your child's bedside during a cancer treatment. Why do people have to steal? Why do people feel like they have the right to take what isn't theirs? Why do they feel entitled to take hard-earned money from innocent people? How do they sleep at night? 

And since we know that bad news comes in threes, I wasn't too surprised to hear his next phone call. Our family vehicle, the one that fits all of our family, died. And it's not the battery. The car that we've put countless dollars into this past year and a half. Dead as a doorknob. Man, I hate that car!! 

I was recently talking to a friend about hard days. She sent me this text... "Think of all your very worst days. How many of them did you get through? 100%!" We've had some rough days. Some days that I'd rather just sleep instead of be present. Some days that would constitute as our hardest days, to date. Today is one of those days. The sun is shining. The day is beautiful. The day is HARD! And we're going to get through it 100%. Maybe looking a little more worse for wear, but 100% just the same!

Tender Mercy- when Autozone checked the battery, they said it was just fine. Randy got a second opinion (kind of sounds medical now) and they said it was the battery and that one of the cells is dead (again, sounds medical.) So Randy called Autozone back up. He was able to take it back in and have it replaced for free. Good news!! Much needed good news!

And the fun continues... He threw up his feeding tube. Again. At one point I thought I'd look back on the day he got flown to Seattle as the worst day. You know in movies where the character gets bad news and the camera zooms in quick to their face to catch their reaction? I swear it feels like that in real life. "We found a large mass in your sons liver." Zoom in to Steph's face to see how she's going to take this news. In case you were wondering, it felt like a torch set to my heart. That moment has played back in my memories and a few times in my dreams ever since. The feeling of fire isn't as intense, but the anxiety still remains. Other times it just doesn't seem real. I have a son with cancer. How did this happen? Where has the last almost-two months gone? I feel like the Carrie Underwood song, "This is just a dream."  And then something happens that inevitably brings me back to our reality. Vomiting. Anxiety. Crying. And begging. The words spoken by the Dr. that fateful day in January used to haunt me. Now they are replaced by the words spoken by my suffering son today. "Mom, please don't make me get that back in! I promise I'll eat. I promise I can do it. I'll eat anything, even if I don't like it. Even if I don't feel like it. Please, Mom. Please!" Today was the first time he's seen me cry. Today was the first time I've lost it in his presence. Because I hated every second of being the sensible parent. Forget the reasons he absolutely needs that tube, forget the benefits of having it, I wanted to look him in his tear-filled eyes and say, "OK!" I can imagine the hope I'd see on his face. Akin to the look he gave me yesterday when I said he could ride the bike. I wish I could have said the words that would give me that face. Instead, being the sensible parent, I cried while telling him we didn't have a choice. He had to get it placed again. I got the most heart-wrenching deflated face instead. And my heart burned. Hotter than before. Because this time he was asking me, not the Doctors, and I couldn't give him what he desperately wanted. And it broke my heart!

So tonight I say, "Good-bye March 24th! I hope the sun singes you on the way out!!" And then I do something I have never done in real life. I've thought about doing it, but never have. 

I flip this day a bird. Possibly with both hands!

I take it back. I hope you are not only burned by the sun, but also frozen on the dark side of the moon. Because when Caden threw up his NG Tube for the SECOND TIME TODAY, making for a total of 6 times now, and his nurse tried three times to place it before giving up, I really don't care what happens to you March 24th! I hate you more than I've ever hated anything! I don't think I can take anymore tonight!

Ride

Caden has had more nausea than I would like. It has been pretty hard. Not as hard as Round One, but not as easy as Round Two. There is just no "normal" with Chemo. He is almost as bored as I am. Almost!  He's been reading his book, but with a beautiful Spring sky peeking in the massive window, the bed just isn't a place he wants to stay. This finds us in the halls more than both Round One and Round Two combined. Much needed change. And then we found this...

He made the off-hand comment that he wished he could ride it. I asked him why he couldn't. The look of sheer excitement was priceless. He thought I was the one that would say no. I felt like a Million Bucks being the one that said yes!

I caught him at the perfect moment. He didn't realize I was taking pictures and I caught his "annoyed" but oh,so cute face. 

You can see we got going pretty fast. Look at that smile! It reminded me of the first few days here. There was a little girl, about 4- years old, that was running up and down the halls with a helmet on. She'd scream "Hi" to everyone that she passed and was just such a JOY to see. And there behind her, pulling her IV pole, was her Dad. I respected that man for not keeping his daughter contained, for allowing her to run free. As free as you can get in a place like this. And today, it was my turn. Caden looked up at me (and maybe looked up to me, too) and said, "This is the most fun I've had in this place!" All the while having Chemo pumped through his veins. He may have been throwing up his guts the last few days, but this boy is a silver-lining kind of kid. The love of this mother's heart!

They're flushing the last of Round Three now and then he'll be done. 3/4 of the way done!! Gosh, that feels so amazing!  Only one more horrible-awful day two! I think a funky, embarrass-your-tween-son dance is in order. Yep, I'm that type of mom!

Sunshine Kids

Sunshine Kids is an organization committed to children with Cancer. Their mission statement is "Helping kids with cancer smile." A husband/wife team stopped by our room and invited Caden to a Frozen party that started in 5 minutes. Since Chemo started at 11:00 and the party started at 10:30, Caden decided he wanted to go. I am just SO happy to see him up more this round! He's walked around the wings of Cancer 7 and has just been looking more alive.

First order of business was to differentiate between boys and girls. He made himself an impressive rack of Sven antlers. Since there was 10 girl volunteers and only one male, Caden helped bring a little more balance to the stats. 

While he was making his new "hat" I sat down and made Shelby a Snowflake hair clip. While making it, I talked to one of the volunteers that had actually been a patient here over five years ago with a very rare brain cancer. She remembered how BORING weekends can be here, so she made sure they did an event on Saturday. Weekends are very quiet around here, so I understand where she is coming from, but I am learning very fast that any day just sitting in the same room is boring. No matter if you have a good book or not!  Caden finished his project and came to make a clip for Keilie. I ALWAYS copy exact, but I like his rendition better. I'm glad the bows are different so you can tell them apart, but truth be told, I would have copied his if it was done before mine. 

Like all of the crafts, he could have done them all on his own, but you could just tell the volunteers were so happy and wanting to help. Caden was SO good to allow their help and endure their condescending/well-meaning comments. 

"Oh look, you know how to put Olaf's arms on better than I do!"

"You don't need help with that glue stick, do you?!"

One thing about Caden...He may feel like rolling his eyes, but he doesn't!

They even had Frozen playing. Everyone asked him if he'd seen it. As if we wouldn't see the number one movie of the decade! I pre-ordered the movie from DisneyMovieClub the day after opening night. I was on pins and needles hoping it would be in the mailbox on Tuesday. Squeals of rapture and running home faster than if I was being chased by a bear found us having a Family Movie Night instead of packing for our trip back to Seattle. I haven't been so excited about a movie in a long time. Maybe since Beauty and the Beast. Or Enchanted. Love Disney!!

I am so grateful for organizations that strive to make a normal day a Happy Day. To have something fun planned in-between horrible procedures and treatments. To bring kids of all ages, battling many different Cancers, together to play. And one day, possibly when Caden is five years Cancer Free, we'll make difference in a child's Chemo Day!

Interesting

So far, things are going really well with Round Three. He had one rare instance yesterday with a medicine that makes it so he doesn't throw up that actually made him throw up. It was fast, but left a bad taste in his mouth. Literally and figuratively. He's been walking around, doing well, in but a little tired when he gets back to our room. Today is the day I am worried about. Last time I was saying just how easy it was, how I hoped that the rest of them would be that great, and then ate my words when he got so bad that all he wanted was a hug for comfort. Today I just hope that day two is better in Round Three than in Round Two. He's up this morning, sitting in his bed, looking a bit pale, but otherwise doing great. We'll see how the day plays out.

I am in no way a scientist. I don't understand DNA or blood at all. I do, however, find it very interesting. No time more than just a few weeks ago when I found out information that may be linked to all of this Cancer stuff. It's all just drivel in my mind, but it may hold something more. I'll never really know, but I do find it very interesting. The first time Caden had a blood transfusion, I was getting stuff from the Ronald McDonald house, so Randy was the one that was there as they were hooking it all up. When I walked in, the first thing I notice -after the drip, drip, drip of blood- was that Caden has the same blood type as me. This got me thinking. My Dad had Cancer, my little sister, Keilie, died of complications from a Liver disease, could I be the connecting link to Caden? Is there something in the same blood type? So I asked my Dad what his blood type is. He couldn't remember, but a couple days later got back to me. It's the same as mine! Then I asked my sister, Brooke, who is having some serious trouble with her liver right now, what he blood type is. You guessed it, the same as Wayne, Stephanie, and Caden. Here's the thing. My Dad's sister, Lynne, had Thyroid Cancer a few years ago. I have asked him if he would find out if she has the same blood type as all of us. Wouldn't that be something. Because so far, the Cancer and Liver genes that have defects have been passed between us that have the same type. Again, this is in no way scientific fact, but I do find it very interesting.

Randy has called me "Mud Blood" for years. It's from Harry Potter. He thinks it's so crazy that my family is FULL of history that has to be reported at each and every doctor appointment. Heart defects, Diabetes, Cancer, all that jazz. And now to find out that we all have the same blood type. It has to be, right? Or not. Either way, it did give me a jolt to find out that my dad and sister have the same blood type.

Here's to a better Day Two!!  It's going to be a great day!  

Fabulous '50's

The kids have a big performance every year called The Big Shoe. Don't ask my why it has that name because I have absolutely NO idea. Last year (our first year) the theme was Pioneer. I didn't realize that people would go all out with the costumes. Needless to say, my kids were a little under dressed. Not this year! Nosiree, Jamie found a pattern for Poodle Skirts, found the best time to buy the materials, and we made the most amazing skirts. It was FUN and oh, so easy!! I'm sad that I missed the show, but revel in the fact that they were perfectly dressed this year! I can't wait to hear first-hand how well they did. I love it when I can give my kids something so small that means so much to them. There were squeals of delight when they heard they got to keep the skirts forever. Love innocent kids!

I have the BEST support for my kids! When all of this began, I knew that the best thing I could do for my kids was keep them at school with their teachers. Here is proof...

Shelby with Mrs. R!

She has sent me multiple emails throughout this time letting me know Shelby's progress and just letting me know she is loved.

Mrs. W with Keilie and the Pink Lady entourage.

All of these were sent with love because I was not able to go. With all that was going on -and believe me, it's BIG- they thought of me!  I love all of their teachers SO much!!!

Mrs. W with Keilie during a hard time at school. She has been a ROCK for Keilie.

Because of Mrs. W, Keilie is excelling at all she puts her mind to. I could never have survived the school year without her!

To Mrs. W, Mrs. R, and Mrs. L, Thank You for all you do for my lovies!!