Yesterday, we received news that the cancer has spread to Dad's bone marrow. That was not the case when he was diagnosed in February and it is really hard to comprehend how it could spread so quickly. He was just declared "cancer free" back in March or April. We've only been waiting for his blood counts to go up to where they should be so he could have the bone marrow harvest and transplant. This is all just so hard to wrap my mind around. The past couple of days I have found myself continually in a pool of tears. There just seems to be no way to control my emotions.
I feel bad because both Jaycie and Nikelle are noticing my sadness. I don't want them to experience life like that. Jaycie looked at me yesterday and made a sad face. I watched her expression and said, "Is Mommy sad?". She shook her head and walked away. Nikelle continually gives me hugs and last night as she was getting ready for bed, she came into my room to check on me. "Are you going to be o.k., Mom?" I tried to muster a smile as I said, "I will be. God gave you and Jaycie to me and that makes me happy." She walked away only to come find me in my bathroom a couple minutes later. "I just wanted to give you another hug." As I hugged her tightly, I was reminded of how much I truly have to be grateful for.
Today I pulled out my journal to write down some thoughts and pray. I found an entry from back in Februrary when dad was first diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic lymphoma. Here is that journal entry:
"No matter how bad things are in your life, there is always something good you can thank God for. The goal is to grow [deeper] in character, in Christ-likedness." - Rick Warren
"You can focus on your purposes, or you can focus on your problems. If you focus on your problems, you're going into self-centeredness, which is 'my problem, my issues, my pain.' But one of the easiest ways to get rid of pain is to get your focus off yourself and onto God and others."
There are times that the gravity of Dad's disease hits me so hard that I feel sick to my stomach. I need to remember where my hope lies. Stay focused on God!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Illinois v. Western
I find myself continually struggling with my emotions and my thoughts. I can be distracted for a while -- especially with sleep. It seems like for a few minutes I can forget about the fight dad is enduring and just rest. I told Rod on Saturday that there is no better feeling than my head to a pillow and that is so true!
Rod and I attended the Illinois v. Western football game at the University of Illinois in Champaign on Saturday. Often, he and his dad will attend the Illini football games together. For this game, his dad is on an Alaskan cruise with his mom. Knowing how important it was to him to attend this game, I volunteered to go along.
Western Illinois was the first college Rod attended. He met a lifelong friend there who impressed upon him the importance of having a relationship with Jesus. Macomb, Illinois is where Rod’s life changed for the better. After two years, Rod transferred to the University of Illinois. The U of I was where he had first applied and where there is some family loyalty.
To say Rod was thrilled to attend this football game is an understatement. We sat down in a section surrounded by orange. One man turned to us with a look of disappointment. Trying to evade the question, I pointed to Rod’s purple Western, Illinois t-shirt and his University of Illinois baseball cap explaining, “he’s confused”.
I had no idea who to cheer for. Rod has taught me in our 11 years of marriage to root for the Illini but he just clapped for every play on the field. The Illini won 21-0. Rod would’ve liked the underdog to win but was content with a win for his Illini team.
As we sat and watched the game, there was an older couple sitting in their bleacher seats two rows in front of us. The woman had her arm draped behind her husband’s back and just rubbed his love handles (do they call them that with a man?) with her fingers. I think she did this for the entire second half! Pointing it out to my husband, I thought about the future. I pray that Rod and I have a sincere, deep and lasting love that would put us at a football game enjoying one another’s presence when we are old and gray. He’s my best friend and I am so grateful for the love God has given us.
Rod and I attended the Illinois v. Western football game at the University of Illinois in Champaign on Saturday. Often, he and his dad will attend the Illini football games together. For this game, his dad is on an Alaskan cruise with his mom. Knowing how important it was to him to attend this game, I volunteered to go along.
Western Illinois was the first college Rod attended. He met a lifelong friend there who impressed upon him the importance of having a relationship with Jesus. Macomb, Illinois is where Rod’s life changed for the better. After two years, Rod transferred to the University of Illinois. The U of I was where he had first applied and where there is some family loyalty.
To say Rod was thrilled to attend this football game is an understatement. We sat down in a section surrounded by orange. One man turned to us with a look of disappointment. Trying to evade the question, I pointed to Rod’s purple Western, Illinois t-shirt and his University of Illinois baseball cap explaining, “he’s confused”.
I had no idea who to cheer for. Rod has taught me in our 11 years of marriage to root for the Illini but he just clapped for every play on the field. The Illini won 21-0. Rod would’ve liked the underdog to win but was content with a win for his Illini team.
As we sat and watched the game, there was an older couple sitting in their bleacher seats two rows in front of us. The woman had her arm draped behind her husband’s back and just rubbed his love handles (do they call them that with a man?) with her fingers. I think she did this for the entire second half! Pointing it out to my husband, I thought about the future. I pray that Rod and I have a sincere, deep and lasting love that would put us at a football game enjoying one another’s presence when we are old and gray. He’s my best friend and I am so grateful for the love God has given us.
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Banco Popular Chicago Half Marathon
Yesterday, my sister-in-law, Fiona and I ran the Banco Popular Chicago Half Marathon. I had run this marathon back in 2004 but it had an entirely different feel to it this year. In 2004, I had Rod and my parents, sister, niece, brother, Fiona, in-laws, and Nikelle all there cheering me on. This year, Fiona was running with me and we had no one on the sidelines because this is just another training for our big event in October.
Running the half felt good. We did a 6:2 interval (ran 6 minutes: walked 2 minutes) throughout the event. At 2 miles remaining, Fiona was not feeling well and told me to go ahead and we’d meet at the finish line. I remember wondering where the finish line was in 2004. I was so exhausted and couldn’t wait to get done. How different to be able to speed up and complete the event strong this year. Even though Fiona wasn’t feeling well, she only finished about 2 minutes behind me. What an incredible feeling to have this event down and know the marathon is only 4 weeks away.
Stretching before we got in the car to go home, I struggled with my emotions. Running just for the fun of it would be nice. With Dad back in the hospital right now, our inspiration is all to clear.
I’ve been imagining the completion of the marathon. Everyone there cheering me on: Rod, the girls, my brother, possibly my sister and some of her kids, some friends, my parents, Rod’s parents, more family.
Dad hugging me at the finish line of the marathon is something I continue to picture in my mind. Not likely. Now he’s fighting for his life.
Currently, Dad is in the intensive care unit. Mom said it’s a good thing that he’s there. If he’s in the heart ward they’re overly concerned about his heart. If he’s in the cancer ward, they’re not concerned enough about his heart. In the ICU, they’ll be giving both the cancer and his heart the attention that is needed.
Fluid continues to build around his heart. As Fiona explained it to me (she went to school for nursing), with the lymph nodes working so hard, that is where the extra fluid is coming from. They drained the fluid a couple of days ago and complications followed. Now they are telling him if the chemotherapy he is currently on doesn’t reduce the amount of fluid, they will have to do open heart surgery to fix the situation.
I find myself shaking my head a lot. How can the cancer be back? He seemed so healthy for a while. This really is an aggressive disease. It’s scary. I refuse to be consumed with it and I am so glad that I am able to invest my energies into the marathon to cope with the situation.
There is a big concern with what is going on with his eye, too. We know something isn’t right because his eye has been protruding out of the socket. However, doctors just don’t give many details. They still haven’t said directly, “the lymphoma has returned”. They just tell him that they’ve found “blasts” in the fluid around his heart. He was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic lymphoma so the blasts must be part of that cancer.
Mind-boggling. Complicated is the word my mom uses to describe the situation. Everything is just complicated. We really don’t know what is going on. So I look up Bible verses on hope. In Romans 5:5, the Bible says that hope does not disappoint us because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. And Romans 12:12 tells us to be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Joyful in hope.
Patient in affliction.
Faithful in prayer.
Pretty applicable for my life at this moment.
Running the half felt good. We did a 6:2 interval (ran 6 minutes: walked 2 minutes) throughout the event. At 2 miles remaining, Fiona was not feeling well and told me to go ahead and we’d meet at the finish line. I remember wondering where the finish line was in 2004. I was so exhausted and couldn’t wait to get done. How different to be able to speed up and complete the event strong this year. Even though Fiona wasn’t feeling well, she only finished about 2 minutes behind me. What an incredible feeling to have this event down and know the marathon is only 4 weeks away.
Stretching before we got in the car to go home, I struggled with my emotions. Running just for the fun of it would be nice. With Dad back in the hospital right now, our inspiration is all to clear.
I’ve been imagining the completion of the marathon. Everyone there cheering me on: Rod, the girls, my brother, possibly my sister and some of her kids, some friends, my parents, Rod’s parents, more family.
Dad hugging me at the finish line of the marathon is something I continue to picture in my mind. Not likely. Now he’s fighting for his life.
Currently, Dad is in the intensive care unit. Mom said it’s a good thing that he’s there. If he’s in the heart ward they’re overly concerned about his heart. If he’s in the cancer ward, they’re not concerned enough about his heart. In the ICU, they’ll be giving both the cancer and his heart the attention that is needed.
Fluid continues to build around his heart. As Fiona explained it to me (she went to school for nursing), with the lymph nodes working so hard, that is where the extra fluid is coming from. They drained the fluid a couple of days ago and complications followed. Now they are telling him if the chemotherapy he is currently on doesn’t reduce the amount of fluid, they will have to do open heart surgery to fix the situation.
I find myself shaking my head a lot. How can the cancer be back? He seemed so healthy for a while. This really is an aggressive disease. It’s scary. I refuse to be consumed with it and I am so glad that I am able to invest my energies into the marathon to cope with the situation.
There is a big concern with what is going on with his eye, too. We know something isn’t right because his eye has been protruding out of the socket. However, doctors just don’t give many details. They still haven’t said directly, “the lymphoma has returned”. They just tell him that they’ve found “blasts” in the fluid around his heart. He was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic lymphoma so the blasts must be part of that cancer.
Mind-boggling. Complicated is the word my mom uses to describe the situation. Everything is just complicated. We really don’t know what is going on. So I look up Bible verses on hope. In Romans 5:5, the Bible says that hope does not disappoint us because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. And Romans 12:12 tells us to be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Joyful in hope.
Patient in affliction.
Faithful in prayer.
Pretty applicable for my life at this moment.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
It is Hard
This morning I missed a phone call from my mom. She left a message that my dad had an “eventful night” last night. I tried calling her at the hospital to see what was going on and she informed me that he had an allergic reaction to the morphine. His blood pressure dropped to 40/30 and at some time, he had no pulse. She couldn’t talk because the doctor had just come in to the room and said she’d call me back.
When she returned the call, Mom put Dad on the phone to relay the events of the night. I have such mixed emotions when I listen to him. He always speaks with such doom and gloom. He said, “I thought I wasn’t going to make it last night”. I told him, “but you did”. “We don’t know what the future holds” was his response. It’s so difficult to remain positive around him. I love him but wish my heart could go back to the way it was when I was younger. I was always “Daddy’s little girl” and he could do no wrong in my eyes. It was always my goal to please him and holding his hand and being with him was such a highlight for me when we’d go out somewhere. My struggle now is with seeing him as a husband to my mom and a son to my grandma and just the flaws that are highlighted in his being a human being.
All the details are scary. There is fluid around my dad’s heart. They have to do a cardio echogram to determine where the fluid is coming from. A needle biopsy will be done of the lymph nodes that are swelling which could mean the cancer is back. The biopsy will determine if it is “Sweet’s Disease” or if they need to do more testing. He also has a tiny blood clot in his lung that would’ve killed him if it were larger. It’s still a waiting game as we look to hear the results of all these tests.
My focus right now needs to be on thanking God that I still have a dad with me rather than on the fact that he could’ve died last night. I was told this weekend (by an extended cousin of Rod’s that lost her husband to a sudden heart attack a couple years ago) that it’s just hard. Every day is hard. It gives me some comfort to know that although I’m finding it difficult accepting this reality of life, it is hard and that is o.k.
When she returned the call, Mom put Dad on the phone to relay the events of the night. I have such mixed emotions when I listen to him. He always speaks with such doom and gloom. He said, “I thought I wasn’t going to make it last night”. I told him, “but you did”. “We don’t know what the future holds” was his response. It’s so difficult to remain positive around him. I love him but wish my heart could go back to the way it was when I was younger. I was always “Daddy’s little girl” and he could do no wrong in my eyes. It was always my goal to please him and holding his hand and being with him was such a highlight for me when we’d go out somewhere. My struggle now is with seeing him as a husband to my mom and a son to my grandma and just the flaws that are highlighted in his being a human being.
All the details are scary. There is fluid around my dad’s heart. They have to do a cardio echogram to determine where the fluid is coming from. A needle biopsy will be done of the lymph nodes that are swelling which could mean the cancer is back. The biopsy will determine if it is “Sweet’s Disease” or if they need to do more testing. He also has a tiny blood clot in his lung that would’ve killed him if it were larger. It’s still a waiting game as we look to hear the results of all these tests.
My focus right now needs to be on thanking God that I still have a dad with me rather than on the fact that he could’ve died last night. I was told this weekend (by an extended cousin of Rod’s that lost her husband to a sudden heart attack a couple years ago) that it’s just hard. Every day is hard. It gives me some comfort to know that although I’m finding it difficult accepting this reality of life, it is hard and that is o.k.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
The Farm and Prayer
This past weekend we went camping at “The Farm”. The farm is the name my dad affectionately gave some property our family owns in Iroquois, Illinois. It’s so peaceful camping there. The stars as so vast and beautiful. The kids can be as loud as they like because there are no neighbors to bother nearby. Pup can come with and run free because there is so much land to explore. We haven’t had many trips there but the few taken have been quite enjoyable.
This weekend, Rod, the girls and I were the only ones camping overnight with my parents. Saturday night left a lot of room for thinking. I can never sleep very well when we are camping. Waking around 11:30 p.m., I heard moaning and groaning. When I realized where the sounds were coming from, holding back the tears was next to impossible. Dad was outside trying to walk around and work out some pain he was feeling.
I have to admit that I’ve wondered how terrible the pain is that he’s been experiencing. It is somewhat of a family trait to complain and look for sympathy. This night was a revelation for me because I knew he had no idea that I was awake inside my tent listening and praying. That’s all I could do. Mom had already informed me that nothing could be done to help him so I didn’t even attempt to go outside and offer. Praying myself back to sleep, I thought maybe he was able to get some rest as I awoke again earlier in the morning.
Numerous times I was up comforting Jaycie as she just could not get settled until I snuggled her in between Rod and I. Each time I prayed for my parents.
Early Sunday morning around the campfire, Dad talked to me about the pain he endured during the night. He informed me that on a scale of 1-10, this pain was “off the charts”. He didn’t get rest as I had hoped. Rather, he kept himself inside his van so he wouldn’t wake us with his screams from the pain he suffered.
In some ways, I suppose this was a good weekend for me to experience. Once again, I am impressed with the weight of what my parents are dealing with on a daily basis. I am often able to go home and live my life as though all were well. Not at this time, however. The moans, his swollen eye, his shaking hands and legs; they are all embedded in my mind. All I can do is pray for him.
So as I fall asleep at night, that’s what I do. I pray for my dad. Selfishly, maybe: I don’t want to think about how my life will change if Dad is no longer here on this earth.
This weekend, Rod, the girls and I were the only ones camping overnight with my parents. Saturday night left a lot of room for thinking. I can never sleep very well when we are camping. Waking around 11:30 p.m., I heard moaning and groaning. When I realized where the sounds were coming from, holding back the tears was next to impossible. Dad was outside trying to walk around and work out some pain he was feeling.
I have to admit that I’ve wondered how terrible the pain is that he’s been experiencing. It is somewhat of a family trait to complain and look for sympathy. This night was a revelation for me because I knew he had no idea that I was awake inside my tent listening and praying. That’s all I could do. Mom had already informed me that nothing could be done to help him so I didn’t even attempt to go outside and offer. Praying myself back to sleep, I thought maybe he was able to get some rest as I awoke again earlier in the morning.
Numerous times I was up comforting Jaycie as she just could not get settled until I snuggled her in between Rod and I. Each time I prayed for my parents.
Early Sunday morning around the campfire, Dad talked to me about the pain he endured during the night. He informed me that on a scale of 1-10, this pain was “off the charts”. He didn’t get rest as I had hoped. Rather, he kept himself inside his van so he wouldn’t wake us with his screams from the pain he suffered.
In some ways, I suppose this was a good weekend for me to experience. Once again, I am impressed with the weight of what my parents are dealing with on a daily basis. I am often able to go home and live my life as though all were well. Not at this time, however. The moans, his swollen eye, his shaking hands and legs; they are all embedded in my mind. All I can do is pray for him.
So as I fall asleep at night, that’s what I do. I pray for my dad. Selfishly, maybe: I don’t want to think about how my life will change if Dad is no longer here on this earth.
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