A Picnic in the Snow

We spent much of the day in Montana---my first trip there. Lisa and her family were waiting for us at Three-Mile when we arrived. She had a big truck. We followed her for about 35 minutes to a lot she has overlooking the Yaak River. A neighbor, her boyfriend I think, had built a nice fire down on the lot. Lisa and her sister had made a lot of food for us to cook hot dogs and eat lunch. But Lisa had forgotten the hot dogs, not anything else. She was mortified, but we were fine. In fact, you had made yourself a roast beef sandwich just as we were leaving. You had it in your pocket. Lisa is good company. If you had made one friend while working at the law office, Lisa was a good one. There are no coincidences for Christians, yet I have tried to pass our meeting Lisa off as one. It isn't but I don't yet know why, and maybe I never will. We hope she can come to the sledding and fireworks at Luci and Lee's tomorrow. It would help her to get to know some of the people around here. We would like to see her again, too.

Mike and Joy made dinner. Spaghetti again but with a beautiful salad and delicious garlic bread. You and I had bought more things at Three-Mile on our way home. Mark prayed out the old year and I cried because much of the prayer was for you, and I didn't know if it was making you angry. Mark thanked God for the challenges this year has brought and asked Him to keep you healthy through this coming year. I touched me deeply that he would make this our family's prayer for the last evening of the year. Somehow that prayer has stayed in my mind this evening. God has given us this challenge, this burden to bear, this difficult test. I believe He has made me strong enough for it but I am terribly disappointed in the struggles I have with helping you in the area of faith. I spoke to you at length about the Rob Bell book and you were intrigued. You started to read it but of course you stopped. I want to push you on. I think it is a book that can take you to a place of faith that you'd find palatable.

It is almost midnight and you are just waking from a couple hours of sleep. You usually sleep through NewYear's. Maybe you'll be awake this time. And maybe God will keep you healthy for 2010 so it won't be our last.

A Full-time Job Plus Overtime

Today I wanted to stay in my pajamas, well actually Beth's pajamas, all day. I didn't sleep enough last night and maybe I had just a tad too many wine coolers. As our family numbers have grown, the bedtime has gotten later and later. Since the stovepipe travels through our room with lots of 'extra space' around it on its way to the roof, we get lots of 'extra noise' with the heat. The fam was up until at least midnight. I had a bit of reflux and had trouble slowing myself down and into sleep. Although the sun was still obscured by clouds, the light woke me up right after sunrise. Well, the light and bad dreams. I dreamt that the couple who had visited us from church were not in love, were separating, she had a restraining order on him, and he was stalking her. Was that really a dream about my first marriage? The people at church had no idea that marriage was falling apart either.

My sisters were up and cooking breakfast. You had gotten up early, as usual. I felt you leave bed at about 6 a..m. I spent a lot of time reading my book today. I like it. I like it so much I don't know how to explain it to anyone, afraid that my words would simplify the enormity of its message, would distill it down to something simple and therefore misrepresent its message. I worry I won't be able to communicate the major, phenomenal points the author makes. So I say nothing instead. I would rather not share it than risk sharing it incorrectly. This has been my way on more than one occasion. I don't think it's good. I would like to practice articulating how I feel about this book. I think I will ask Trevor if he has a study group going on this book. I really, really want to discuss it with someone. And at best, I could share my favorites parts---but then I'd have to read it again to mark them. But I might end up marking most of the book.

After you took a nap we went to the little bakery about twenty minutes away, still out in the middle of nowhere. We shared a huge sandwich with meat, cheese, lettuce and tomato on homemade bread. As we were finishing you said, "I know that woman." A woman was about to come through the door but I didn't know her. I said, "I don't know her." She walked in and said, "Bill!" She had been the secretary at the law office where you used to work. She moved up to this area last year, left her husband, took the two kids. Weird in this boonie place. But nice. She invited us to meet with her tomorrow and drive up to a lot she has in Montana. I think we'll go. I hope the weather is okay.

Your rash is a little better and you are not suffering quite so much from diarrhea. And you haven't done as much sleeping today. As we rested you said another cancer patient had said, "Dealing with cancer is a fulltime job plus overtime". I said I was glad you are in a position where you can do that. I don't know how my principal or assistant superintendent took care of themselves and worked too. You have made new appointments with doctors, have been researching the chemo drugs you have been taking, talking to the people at the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network, and looking at cancer and pharmaceutical websites. You are looking at building a list of criteria for whomever you will have as a new oncologist-----that is, if you decide to change oncologists. And I think you will.

Snow on the Ground

We woke to snow this morning! Not a huge snowfall but enough to give us two or three inches on the ground. It blocked the sun rising on my side of the bed thus allowing me to sleep until 8:00. It was so beautiful to watch.

Mark took 8 people up to the mountains with the quads. They were gone for several hours. I wondered how they were feeling. I have such a dislike for being cold. You and I tried to take a half-hour walk but five minutes into it you slipped and hurt your arm. We went right back to the house. From now on we'll try indoor activities. There was something about that fall that really frightened you. Was it your health or your memories of the searches you went on where veteran hikers had slipped on ice chutes, disappeared and were found dead several days later? There seemed to be a huge number of those your first years of search and rescue. You mentioned it several times today.

We had some women from church over for a spa afternoon. We had a nice time and one family stayed on through the evening for dinner and game night. Mike sang his songs: "Ginger and Buddy: the Mini-Wiener Dogs", "No Testosterone", "18 Frickin' Holes" (his golf song) and "My Joy", his song for his wife. He is good. I hope you enjoyed it.

You were uncomfortable today. You had a lot of fatigue and diarrhea again. You thought it was from the ham sandwich I made you for lunch. Your chemo gas is bad enough. You and I lie in bed with the can of room freshener and laugh, but I feel sorry for you when you get diarrhea. It weakens you and tires you out.

You went to bed before we started our game night. You don't usually play our games anyway so I'm not surprised when you disappear but I have always wanted you to join in and have some fun. Maybe it's not who you are or ever will be. We played Beyond Balderdash in pairs this evening. I was paired with Scott, and we did miserably. We didn't even spell LSD correctly. Seriously. Where are our brains? But we now know what a tulchin, a scopula and a butwink are.

Scotty has an iPod with a very long playlist. I don't know if the sound wakes you up or keeps you from sleeping. People are singing along tonight. You seem to be asleep.

Monday the 28th

It can be pretty quiet here in the mornings. Many of the fam like to sleep in, even some of the kids. You have been able to meditate. It means a lot to you but I have never understood it. I tried it years ago, before we got married and didn't take to it at all. It's your evening meditation that is fraught with interruptions and noise. I told you it would be better if you meditated in our bedroom.

I stayed in my pajamas so long today, it almost wasn't worth it to put clothes on . Getting on the LifeCycle kicked me into gear. I rode for over 30 minutes. I tried not to put any stress on my knees so I used the lowest training level. You didn't exercise today. Yesterday you did the stairs six times and then you and I took a half-hour walk. You were paying for it today.

Mike, Joy and Scott arrived late, about 7 p.m. Sue and I had made stew for dinner, and she had baked beer bread. They brought supplies we had called and asked them to pick up in Sandpoint. They were in a great mood. Scott had his iPod and played it until late in the night. They were up until about midnight. Sue's kids love to play with and tease Scott, and he has a good sense of humor about it. You and my brother had a long talk since you have both had serious abdominal surgeries. You told him you were concerned about quality of life with chemo. The intermittent diarrhea and pimply rash and the fatigue aren't making you very happy.

Today you made an appointment with a doctor/nutritionist at UCLA for the middle of January. You won't be going to Susan anymore. You might shift to UCLA or some other center for your treatment once you get on Medicare in March.

Something started falling from the sky but was liquid by the time it hit the ground. We haven't had any snow yet but the weather had said it would start on Wednesday. We saw clouds move in late today and hope to see snow very soon.

Laura's Twentieth

We had a good night's sleep and Beth had found one of those sleep masks for you like they give in first class on the airlines. The sun comes up right outside our bedroom window. It's a beautiful sight if you've had enough sleep. I know I can put the second pillow over my head and continue sleeping if I'm still tired. I just keep hoping I won't want to. Our room is above the kitchen and two things happen: 1) the heat from the stove keeps us warm and 2) we can hear people when they're in there. The voices are happy sounds for me; I love being with these people, my sisters, my brother and their families. This house often reminds me of the beginning of the first two 'Home Alone' movies when the families are coming together, calling to one another over all kinds of racket, kids running all over the house, and things are happy and chaotic. It's a rare and joyous time for me.

On Sunday morning we went to church. Sue, Dan, Chris and the kids arrived shortly before we left. They had driven over twenty hours straight through from Rohnert Park. Chris and Dan were exhausted and went to bed almost immediately. You and they stayed home from church. Beth, Mark and I went the seven miles in his truck. The services are a little long but engaging, and the social hour is always full of homemade cookies and treats. It's a rare happening nowadays; my church fuels its coffee hour at Costco. People are friendly and speak their minds. Many of them watch Fox News and dislike California. I find it interesting to see how attitudes vary from place to place. I found myself gently telling the pastor that I love where I live, the weather is always perfect, and I think it's beautiful. He kept talking about blistering heat, Death Valley, and how he couldn't wait to get out of California when he had been there.These folks are very literal about the Bible, and I wonder what they'd think about people like Rob Bell and Donald Miller, two of my favorite Christian thinkers and questioners. Would they be open to the questioning? Would they be uncomfortable? Would they consider the questioning heretic?

After sleeping while we were at church, you were up for most of the afternoon and evening. We went for a walk right about sunset:4:15. The days are short here. The sun rises at 7:30 and sets at 4:00. If you stay in pajamas too long, you don't need to bother taking them off. Beth made spaghetti for dinner. It was much like Mom used to make. You never knew my mom, and until recently, that hasn't mattered too much. But your judgments of what happened in my parents' marriage can't exist in the vacuum you've created. There is a complex story there. All marriages are complex; ours should make that clear to you. Both my parents contributed to its demise. And her spaghetti was very good.

Laura turned twenty today. It felt empty not to be with her but this was the price we had to pay in order to come up here this year. Laura only had Friday, Sunday and Monday off from school. She's already missed too many days and will have to stay extra weeks at the end of her program in order to get in the requisite hours to graduate. Since your cell phone is the only one that works up here, you called her and asked her to call you at 6:30 p.m. When she called, we ALL sang 'Happy Birthday' to her. She and Kyle were on their way to drive the go-carts in Azusa again, and then they were going to spend the night at our house. She was thrilled with our singing; it really surprised her to hear our voices together, all thirteen of us.

Dad is supposed to come home tomorrow or the next day. Carmi had called as we were leaving for church to tell us the physical therapist had done the home visit and said everything was okay for Dad to return. Carmi now has a week to get Dad trained on keeping the door and his mouth closed.

Mike, Joy and Scott left Sonoma this morning and should be up here for Monday evening.

Spokane

We arrived in Spokane a little after 9 p.m. It was complicated getting our rental car. You hadn't read the fine print that said we would get an Impala----or comparable model. When the agent sent us out to the lot to find space M-35, we had quite a hike. M-35 was hard to find, and when we got there, it was a Kia Rondo. A what? Was it a full-size, an SUV, or what? We went back inside. She didn't have an Impala; I had already figured that out. But we weren't comfortable with the Rondo. So she offered us a Prius (or a Ford F-150 pickup). We went with the Prius. I had forgotten about frozen windshields. You were waiting for me up by the terminal, and I was scraping, scraping, and making no progress. I had managed to get the car started------as if that was going to be the biggest problem. The agent came out in her fluffy coat and offered to help. She taught me how to use a scraper and got me a better one from another car. I had the heater blowing full-blast, the ice was melting very, very slowly. You were calling on your cell. "Where are you?"

The hotel, for $70 a night, was fifteen minutes away. I wondered what it was we were going to get for that price. It was really nice! Our room had internet, TV, a refrigerator, a microwave, and the biggest king-size bed ever, There was a pool, a jacuzzi, a gym and a beautiful complimentary breakfast in the morning. I would like to stay there again, and remember to bring my bathing suit.

The next morning you were tired. After breakfast you went to sleep for two hours. I did the usual: called the front desk and asked to check out later. After a good workout on the elliptical trainer and recumbent bike, I woke you up right before noon so we could get to Beth and Mark's before dark. I knew we'd want to make a couple of stops on the way and we had to be prepared for anything that might happen on the road.

We got 47 miles per gallon in the Prius, stopped at Walmart, a liquor store, and Safeway, and make it to Porthill with twenty minutes of sunlight left.

You stayed up from noon until 9:30. Everyone remarked at how good you look. You are comfortable, you can eat whatever you want, your rash is starting to diminish, and you are getting plenty of rest. You are getting better and better. I continue to feel you will have more than a year left now.

Boundary County

We left on Christmas Day. What a great day to travel! There was a long line at security at LAX but otherwise the airport was quiet and our plane left on time. It was another picture-perfect day in LA, the kind that makes you question why you're leaving town, and as the plane took off, we flew over our favorite place, the bike path on the beach. I looked longingly at it, wishing we could have had enough time in the day to have taken a ride before heading off to the airport. But I was grateful to have been able to see Dad and have a moment with Laura and Kyle at the house before the cab came to fetch us.

Our first stop was Salt Lake City. It seemed out-of-the way for a trip to Spokane. Our lay-over wasn't long and we took one of those little shuttles to our gate. I was glad we did because when we got there, the airline had given us the wrong gate information for our connection, and the shuttle driver had to take us most of the way back to get to our real gate. Those folks in Salt Lake were very serious about leaving on time. And, to be quite honest, I made a complete idiot of myself.

Since you are immuno-suppressed, I take sanitizing wipes and wipe down all of our seats, armrests, buttons and tray tables before you sit down. This time I went ahead of you to do that deed before you got on the plane. When I was finished, I sat down and waited for you to board. It made sense to me that you didn't want to have to wait in a line to get to your seat. But suddenly there were no more people boarding the plane and you were nowhere in sight. The flight attendants were starting to make announcements, everyone was seated, and you were not on yet. I jumped out of my seat. I tried calling you on my cell phone but my hands were clumsily missing ever third button. I had quickly moved into panic mode. I headed up the aisle, excusing myself, darting around people, zipping up to the front of the plane. dialing, misdialing, my hands now visibly shaking. Had you changed your mind? Were you sitting out at the gate lost in thought----or thinking that you still had plenty of time? I dialed and dialed; it was like a bad dream. Finally I was at the front of the plane. I scurried up to the head flight attendant. Breathless, I said, "My husband is supposed to be on the plane. He's at the gate. We can't leave without him. I have to go find him." She looked at me and said, "We still have fifteen minutes." And then, just then, you came strolling down the jetway. "Is that yours?" she asked.

The Night Before Christmas

Christmas as it has always been is not happening. You barbecued steak and we ate off the Christmas Tartan, my favorite dinnerware, just the two of us. Kyle had said he and Laura were coming out this evening but when I asked Laura, they had changed their minds.

This morning we went on a bike ride. It was perfect outside and we both had a nice time.

I met with June and Dolores. We exchanged gifts and June had culled through her clothes again. She brought me two beautiful jackets, one of which was 100% leather, and two pairs of designer shoes. I call this 'Shopping in June's Closet'; it's one of my favorite places to get clothes! I had bought travel mugs with inserts. I photocopied three shots of us singing, typed up names, and inserted them into the mugs. They turned out quite well. I have missed singing with them, and they said three other women from the choir tried doing a trio number in church on Sunday. We will need to get back to our rehearsals soon, and I think I might be able to do it after the first of the year.

You had your third chemo treatment today. They were waaaayyy behind schedule in chemo but the folks down at the flu shot clinic had already closed up and gone home. That left you getting chemo, and me missing the seasonal flu vaccine. I will try to get my vaccine after we get back from Idaho. While you were getting chemo, one of the oncologists got a prescription for a cream for your rash. You didn't get a steroid so maybe you won't be amped tonight, you might sleep well, and you will be sort of rested before we head to Idaho tomorrow.

Dad was okay but had taken it upon himself to 'meet with the business manager' at the health care center to talk about going home tomorrow. Oh, no!! They didn't believe him, did they? I went and spoke to the charge nurse. She said she has no discharge orders for Dad. Anyway, I was reminded that they have to do a home visit before he can be released, and no one is available to do that until after the 28th. It worries me when Dad puts on his 'logical, doctor's voice' and tries to do business. I told the charge nurse to deal with Carmi, that she is completely reliable.

December 23rd

Yesterday I woke at 8:33 with a start. I'm not used to sleeping in, getting up without an alarm clock, or letting by body finish getting the rest it needs. Ten seconds later my cell phone chirped, announcing a text message. Caro was picking me up at 9:00 because I was taking her to breakfast. I had to hurry and my hair was dirty. In the work with our neighbors, and the shock of their news, I had forgotten to tell you about my breakfast date, and you were unhappy, I could tell. You made your own breakfast and ate while I scurried around trying to get myself ready. But people like Caro keep me refreshed and keep my head in the right place; I need these friendships and the nurturing they give.

As usual, you napped a lot but you had a bit more energy today. We were able to resume intimacy, something I had sorely missed over the last two months. You felt good about it too. It represents another step toward normalcy. Which also reminds me... last month I told you I wanted more PDA. On Sunday you put your arm around me in the mall. Later, when Laura and I were alone, she commented on how sweet it was to see you do that. Sooooooo...keep it up!

I finished working in my classroom and got everything ready for a substitute next Monday. Then I visited Dad again. It still worries him that you don't seem to want to have anything to do with him. I see the pain in his eyes sometimes, and I find it hard to address. Today I said you were consumed with your issues of life and death. Other days I have pointed out the differences in your interpersonal styles, your need to be left alone and how it differs from his need to be liked by everyone. He will come home and Carmi will help him practice leaving the door closed. I will continue to pray the arrangement works out. I will ask others to pray for it too. I am tired of driving to the health care center, I am tired of the dearth of parking spaces around there, I am tired of parking meters, I am tired of the cramped quarters in Dad's shared space. When I go back to work, I will be glad to have him at home. And he may never understand why you don't want to see him; you two are hard-wired so unlike one another. He will have to accept it but I would like you to relax about him. He's 89 and his brain isn't working like it used to; you can't take him at face value, and sometimes he doesn't make sense. Sometimes he loses track of the conversation. Sometimes he just doesn't catch on.

It was our evening for cancer support groups. They were glad to see me again and again expressed their regret that I had to be in a cancer support group. "Good to see you. Sorry you're here." There I see how unpleasant our future can get. They are all ahead of me in this process. There I can talk about death and body functions. Poop is a common subject. They give me tips. Last night, as we discussed the coming year, the topic of hope and hopelessness arose. It is hard to be hopeful when cancer dominates your relationship. "We have cancer," is a saying. And when the cancer is gone, usually so is the "we". Right, "I" don't have cancer but "we" do, and when you pass there won't be a "we" anymore. The leader asked us if we were hopeful; I said I was very, very hopeful. But, then again, I'm new at this. You're not in pain and life hasn't gotten ugly.

December 21 and 22nd

Other people are wrapping up their holiday shopping, and I am relieved at not having to be part of it. We have completely forgotten about Christmas. Dad has been very accepting of our decision to pass on Christmas, but since we won't be leaving until after noon on Friday, I will have a chance to visit Dad for a while before we go to the airport. We do, however, have reason to celebrate. Before you started chemo, they ran another CT scan on you. When the doctor gave you the results, your tumor had not grown in two months. This was amazing news. Pancreatic tumors are known to double in size every three months, and here your tumor hadn't made measurable growth, even without chemotherapy. Now that you are getting chemo, we are hopeful it will either shrink or not grow any more. Can you imagine? I am having visions of you being the first person in history whose pancreatic cancer disappeared. They're just a fantasy.

Yesterday morning I told you I was disappointed not to have made the list of things that make you happy. You said you had been thinking of it during the night and had realized you had left me out, one of the main things that made you happy. So you did what I do: you omitted the obvious.

Today you had a nurse remove that last staple from your jejunal bypass. We had worried it would involve minor surgery but the nurse was able to do it, and now we won't have to worry about complications or infections while we're out of town.

Beth and Mark are already in Idaho. We are finally getting our reservations settled. This trip is something I need.

We had a big disappointment this evening. Our neighbor, who married a really nice woman in June, a woman who was friendly and sociable----unlike the former one----has decided the marriage is a mistake. They came over for dessert. She told me when she stayed later to help me fill out forms for your medical reimbursement. When I told you, you were really sad. We are going to have to find a way to still be friendly and accepting of him after she moves out.

Saturday/Sunday Early Non-Christmas

Laura and Kyle (Yes, that's his name. I am finally writing it.) spent the weekend with us. She colored my hair and cut yours. It was nice to have them here, and we had them sleep in Dad's room. He will be home on the 28th or 29th now. It isn't set yet; they have to do a home visit to make sure that the environment is safe for him.

We had breakfast together both days. The weekend flew. I had gotten my H1N1 flu vaccine on Friday afternoon, and I felt coldy on Saturday and fluish today. Today I felt particularly bad in the afternoon but that may have been because I rode my bike too long this morning. It exhausted me and made my muscles ache. By the time we were having our little gift exchange, I was very tired and achy. Laura and Kyle gave me an iPod Nano so I will have something to listen to (besides the music in my head) when I go riding alone.

We went to the mall to return gifts that didn't fit you and had dinner at the food court. It was good; we had sushi, Kyle had Mongolian BBQ, and Laura had a great focaccia sandwich.

On Saturday morning I met with our tax preparer. I wanted to know if there is anything I need to prepare in case you aren't here in April this year, next year, or the year after when I have to file taxes. He said to go over the trust and check beneficiaries. We don't need to declare any of the monies we get from the cancer and dread disease policy, and that could be substantial.

It seems that your pimply rash is from the Tarceva, the daily chemo you take in pill form. It is causing three things: diarrhea, fatigue and this rash. It isn't too difficult for you yet but we will see how the long-term effects work on you.

Laura asked you what you did to relax. She asked if you had ever tried yoga. You said yes. She asked you if you had enjoyed it. You didn't quite answer that one. You started talking about activities at the Wellness Community, meditation and guided imagery. She asked what made you happy. You said the dogs, comedy shows and movies. Apparently, I didn't make the list. Are you taking me for granted? Or are you like I am, and forget to mention the obvious?

And Winter Break Begins

A big breakfast, a pizza party for lunch and gifts. By the time dismissal arrived, I was more than ready to get on with the vacation. I am beat, and tonight Laura is arriving. Quincy is in the house for the week while we have his foot bandaged for an infected paw pad. Our gracious neighbor, the vet tech who knows as much as the vet, came by with antibiotics and wrapping tape. Laura's itty bitty pups will have to stay in their crate the entire time they are here. And that is fine with me. They empty their bladders and bowels on our carpets and hardwood floors. Every time they arrive, they tell us the dogs are now housebroken, and every time the dogs void themselves on our floors. But we are excited to see Laura. It will be fun to have a weekend in the house with her without Dad. We'll have a little non-Christmas together, just a few gifts, maybe some interesting meals.

Generous friends have extended so many kindnesses to me through actions, phone calls and notes. Yesterday a teacher copied all of your medical records for the cancer reimbursement policy. She also offered to run errands if I should need---just call her from Idaho. Another friend asked me to call her to go bike riding. It isn't the time of year; it's the people in our lives. People for whom I will be forever grateful. We are blessed.

A week from today we will go to Idaho. We have booked the flights but not the car rental or the hotel. I think it will all come together. But you never know. Two years ago the weather was freaky and the airport was closed for much of the time we were there.

Carmi came over and we talked about when we thought Dad should come home. We finally decided the PT would come to a home check on the 27th and then Dad could come back on the 28th. That will give him a week to get acclimated to keeping the door closed and keeping his nose out of here before we get back on the 4th. I still don't have a sub for that first day back but I know it will work out. But it is now vacation, and I am looking forward to the time at home.

In A Blur

There are three weeks every year that go by in a blur: the week school starts, the week school ends, and the week before we break for Christmas. Will I get all my cute projects done? Will I get enough money from the parents for the pizza party? Will I remember to get little gifts for everyone and not leave anyone slighted? And what about January? Now I have to get everything ready for January!

This year I just skipped the staff party. But then, this year we're not even celebrating Christmas. Everything is staying in the attic. No tree, no lights, none of my holiday sweaters. We're skipping Christmas because you have never liked it and maybe it's your last one. We're doing it just the way you want it. You dislike it so much, I've coined a new name for you: Scrinch.

Tuesday our neighbors came for dinner because she was going to help me do the paperwork for the cancer policy I have for us. We will get a good amount of money back from them. It will pay for our adventures. It is a very thin silver lining to this cancer cloud. We had a great time. Jim just married her after losing his live-in to a sudden heart attack six weeks after you had your triple bypass. This new wife is a friendly, joyous breath of fresh air, and she has a good heart. We had a delightful time together and barely got started on the paperwork. I hope you see how much these times liven you up. Maybe you'll want to do it more often.

Wednesday was my first time in a cancer support group. It was nice, different, much like other groups I've been in, like twelve-steps. You're glad to find a group of people with the same experience but you're all sorry you have to be there together. They foretell my future. I wondered what I'd be like when I'm an 'old timer'. How long will my 'old-timer' days last? I have to be accountable to them; it's why I had my interview on Monday. I have to let them know when I won't be at the weekly meeting. I had kind of wanted the anonymity of a drop-in group but you wanted to go on Wednesdays. But somehow it made us feel we could make our reservations to fly to Spokane on Christmas. We did it. We took the plunge. Now we're committed.

Today you had chemo again. You were fine. You drove yourself, you came home, you wanted to go for a bike ride (but we didn't), then you rested. But now you have a rash, a big pimply rash growing up your chest and on your neck. The steroid messed with your energy and you feel skittish, unable to focus, and you took an Ambien and are trying to sleep in the middle bedroom. A rash? What is it? Is it from chemo? Is it an interaction? Are you allergic? Will it lead to something more serious?

Monday the 14th

If I were to go to the Wellness Community for an interview to be in a support group (Yes, my husband has pancreatic cancer. Yes, it sucks. Yes, I have to deal with him and my dad. Yes, I am caught in the middle. Yes, I worry that it won't work out with my dad and I'll be running around seeing him, working and trying to help my husband----that is my current and worst scenario. Yes, my husband will use his cancer to drive his agenda hard and get whatever he wants. What I want to know is: what is it that I don't know that I need to know? How wretched is my life going to get if I think running around and tending to my sick 'boys' is my worst nightmare?), why would I feel more stressed and confused when I was finished?

My aunt says it's okay if I start overeating to reduce my stress. She says I can always lose the weight.

You are still sleeping and resting a lot. You wanted to go walking at the mall and return some clothes. Then it got late. I tried eating some king crab legs while you 'rested' some more. What a mess. Crab and shell pieces were flying everywhere. Thank God no one was there to see me (except God, of course) with all that stuff sprinkled across the table and in a circle around me on the floor. Geez! I'm not eating that again. I broke two crab zippers and am amazed I didn't puncture myself.

I hesitated to tell the interviewer I am already worrying about loneliness and the wisdom of retiring this year. When I did, she said I didn't have to think about either of those today.

The Weekend

I got up at 5:30 on Saturday morning. Sometimes your moving around at odd hours can wake me. I stayed in bed for almost an hour and then got myself going. I made us breakfast and then left to go see Laura in the desert. She washed, trimmed and blew out my hair. The weather was treacherous. I fought rainstorms all the way out. Sometimes the rain was so heavy it was hard to see the lines for the lanes, and I felt the car hydroplane a couple of times. The desert was cloudy but not rainy.

Our girl has a talent with hair! She is doing so well in her program and others look to her to see how to do things---and her classmates ask her to do their hair. She still has six months left and it will be a great opportunity for her to get up her speed on everything. She and I had quality time together. She broached some tender subjects, not just your cancer. I truly felt her happiness to see me. She wonders whether or not she has your disease and told me she has decided to be tested for it. She would rather know and start taking medications than not know and deal with the consequences. She also has a little tremor in her hands; she's always had it. I think it comes from not drinking water which she really dislikes. but she also wants to figure out what that is.

My trip home got off to a difficult start. It was raining about thirty minutes out of Palm Desert in the dark when I realized tule fog was starting to develop along the desert floor. That's very scary stuff and I considered turning around and going back to Laura's. But I gave it a few more minutes and there was no more.

You didn't come out with me, even though I invited you twice. Once I returned and told you about my day, you regretted not having gone with me.

Today we went for sushi at our favorite place downtown. They don't make it fancy but the servings are generous and the fish is always the highest quality. I don't think you're going to follow the doctor's orders not to have sushi during chemo; I hope it doesn't cause a problem. They still make a spicy yellowtail roll that puts me in heaven.

You have spent most of the weekend sleeping. I don't know what this means. We took a little walk this morning, about 25 minutes, and you are still having trouble getting your strength back in your legs. Muscle atrophy? I don't know.

Today I had my first tough spell. I fear these times. I fear my feelings of loneliness. I fear my need to have a companion. I fear the emptiness I used to feel when I was younger and didn't have a boyfriend will return when you're gone. They existed so long ago in a person I hope is no longer me. I fear them because they were always coupled with feelings of worthlessness. Am I different enough now to intellectualize those feelings away? Will I feel loneliness without worthlessness? What is loneliness like by itself?

At Long Last Friday

You were leaving to go to the grocery when I got up at 6:45. You had had a little trouble sleeping during the night. Then I remembered they had given you an anti-nausea steroid drug right before they started the chemo yesterday. Our neighbor had said she had been on steroids, too, when she was getting chemo for breast cancer, and that she had been amped. At 11:00 p.m. she'd be up cleaning out her attic. She got so much done that she didn't have anything to do for a month before Christmas. You have a weird cycadian rhythm as it is, I don't think you need steroids to start making it any weirder.

Today I dragged myself through the paces. It was raining and it was one of my students' birthday. He and his mom brought in little kits for everyone to make a gingerbread craft house. Fortunately it was foam and not real gingerbread. The children had a great time and I think everyone felt successful. They announced we would not have rainy day schedule for lunch. You can sure tell when the administrators are off-campus! No sooner did I start walking my class to lunch than it started to rain. Great! Fifteen minutes for lunch.

I visited Dad. I came home at 5:00. You were gone. You sent a text saying you were at Fry's and would be home in an hour. I think you have forgotten it's Friday, it's rush hour, it's raining, and you are in Los Angeles. I don't expect to see your little face for quite some time. I said I am so tired I could get in bed now. You said the same. We've done that a lot. We'll probably do it a lot more.

First Day on the Stuff

I woke at 5:00 with chemo nightmares. I don't remember the specifics; I just remember having dark scary dreams about IV's filled with toxic liquids. These nightmares, do they foretell our days ahead? Will your life begin to mimic my dreams? How weak, tired and ill will you get?

I arranged for a friend to watch my class so I could leave work 15 minutes early. It was tricky but we managed. How ironic it is that whenever I go hauling out of work at breakneck speed, we end up having to wait an hour. They didn't start hooking you up until 3:00 and then they had to order the bag of Gemstar from the pharmacy. I suppose they save a lot of money that way. Imagine them having all those solutions ready and patients not showing up. I think there's some FDA regulation that says they have to throw it away. When it arrived, the nurse, who was wonderfully kind and informative, told you it might cause a burning sensation as it went in. If so, and if it was really painful, you were to tell her. Ah, but not you. You have a high tolerance to pain. You never get motion sickness. You take DayQuil to go to sleep. You rarely run a fever. Your system is weird. You said it tickled. OK. Works for me not to see you in pain.

But the nurse gave a long talk about nausea, pill-taking, the other chemo drug you take daily in tablet form, preventive nausea meds, and fatigue. If we go to Idaho, you will be fatigued, really fatigued. Tres, tres fatigue. The only complaint she consistently hears is that patients are so tired. She said not to push yourself. Take the plane ride and go to a hotel. We will take the trip in two days. But I still haven't made the reservations. What's my reservation?

We stopped for tacos on the way home. You were working me for sushi but the nurse said no raw meat, fish or eggs while you're on chemotherapy. You will be taking three weeks on chemo and one week off for sixteen weeks. I shall be sushi-ing with my girlfriends for the next four months. Sad for you. I drove right past Miyako.

I went to see Dad at the health care center. It tires me out to run around like that. Carmi came by early this morning and we told you how she and I are prepping Dad to keep the door closed and keep his nose out of your business.

Three Days Gone By

This week has flown by. The time it takes to work, visit Dad, take care of other little errands and whatnot, eat up my days. Here it is 9:00 p.m., and I am slowing down for the evening. My days have started with early meetings as well. Yesterday I took off to go to the oncologist with you but went into work at 7:30 a.m. to meet with a tech person to set up my class webpage. I wanted to get it done then and there but that isn't quite the way my tech friend wanted to do it. He doesn't understand how a little glitch in remembering directions can totally unglue me. My webpage will go up but it will be perfunctorily done, at least for the time being. Human Resources called while I was there and screwed up my sub. They sent someone who hates kindergarten and hasn't really had a good time subbing for me in the past. I knew there was a reason I shouldn't go in when I've called for a sub.

Ah, the oncologist! The much-awaited appointment came, and we were there with our typed-up questions and tape recorder. We were introduced to the term 'standard of care'. Hmmmm, it's the one thing that stuck in my mind and made me just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. When the doctor said she used the 'standard of care', did she mean that was a bare minimum? Did she mean she wouldn't try anything edgy? Did she mean she wouldn't knock herself out to help you? She did spend a lot of time with us. She did sound as if she really cared. She did sound like she likes her work and is committed to it. But, like all others except the folks at the Wellness Community, she did sound like you are going to die soon, you have a death sentence, and she will use the 'standard of care' to slow it down. Gemcitibine is to be combined with Tarceva. I'm sure I will learn a lot more about these as time goes by. The treatment is not so much about the tumor size but how it affects the patient's functioning. She has had patients live outside the norms but not really any who have lived more than five years. It doesn't mean you won't be one. For practical purposes, you are about a stage 3 or 4, mostly because your tumor is inoperable. She worries about you getting blood clots and she wants you to keep your legs moving a lot. Blood clots! What does that mean? You will do three weeks on and one week off, going on Thursdays for a half-hour treatment. You will take Tarceva in pill form every day. It has a cumulative effect. You should be feeling quite the impact by the time Christmas comes.

We had a meeting with the head chemo nurse. She didn't want to be recorded. She told us what to expect and gave us a tour of the chemo room. I looked at the people in it. Did they look sick? Did they look thin and gaunt? Did they have circles under their eyes? Did they look nauseous, deathly-ill? No, they all looked very healthy and well-fed. Maybe you won't vomit; the doctor and nurse said it isn't a common side effect of this chemo. The only things they stressed were the fatigue and low white-cell count. As we spoke with them, I started doubting that we'd be able to go to Idaho. We would be too far from medical care, your white cell count will be low, we're supposed to avoid crowds and airplanes are notorious germ pools. I think there's going to be another holiday screwed up.

When we got home, you started feeling coldy. Wait! How could you get a cold? I've been well for two weeks! Who did you run into? Where did you go? You had a CT scan today, Wednesday, and you will go in for your first chemo treatment tomorrow at 2:00, even with your cold. I will leave work early to go with you. I don't know how this will impact your body within the next few days. I am nervous. Will this be the beginning of a really bad time for us?

Dad is in the Health Care Center. He moved rooms so now he isn't with a crazy former army colonel who yells that his wife needs a wheelchair. He is sharing a room with the president of the residents. He must be likeable. At least I hope he is. Dad really wants to come home. I keep prepping him that he needs to keep the door closed and leave you alone. He has always thought that if he didn't like someone, or they didn't like him, he could just be nice to them and 'kill them with kindness'. He doesn't get you. You want and need to be left alone, especially now. You don't need 'How are you?' 'What are your plans?' etc. It serves as a further annoyance to you. This makes me so nervous, and I find myself worrying about it a lot. You are using your cancer as the trump card for Dad. If he bugs you, I will have to find him a place to say, you say. That's funny because I remember telling you that the only thing that would push me over the edge would be if I had to run here and there to visit you and Dad. This is still eating at me. The one thing I told you would mess me up, and you are pushing for it.

Sunday, December 6

I almost got you on the bicycle today. Actually, you suggested that since the sun was out, we could go for a bike ride. Then when you were ready to go, it was cloudy and cool. You made it as far as the porch. When I went to get the van, you went back inside. What is it about you that does that? Am I supposed to intuit your change in plans? Just give me a final decision.

I rode by myself, and it was cold. I went for just under a half hour. It was exercise.

You are still tired. Unusually tired. You spent the day resting. It wasn't until I went to see Dad and go to Risen that you got up and did a little exercise.

I read a little on pancreatic cancer. I heard about a new pancreatic cancer treatment but couldn't find much reference on the internet. We are getting ourselves ready for your appointment on Tuesday morning. I have learned there are three ratings of pancreatic cancer: T, N or M and varying degrees within each category. T levels are for the size and location of the tumor, N are for evidence of spread to the lymphatic system, and M are for the types of metastasis. I think you are a T but we don't know whether or not there is any evidence of cancer cells in the lymph. We need to ask. There are other tests that can be given. We will have to ask about those too.

Saturday and I Don't Care How Many Shopping Days Are Left

Rereading yesterday's blog sheds light on the extent of my anger. You have stress; it's called pancreatic cancer. I have tried to help you get to a point where it is the only stress in your life. In doing so, I have assumed too much stress. You were offended I didn't think you had stress. I had left out the cancer part because I frequently omit the obvious. In my mind it goes without saying but I shouldn't make that assumption. My bad. We discussed stress twice this morning, and I think we both felt better. To not have dissonance now would be abnormal.

Today was the long-awaited trip to Bob's Big Boy, the original Bob's Big Boy, with S & L. It was more than I had expected and, except for you doing Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, we had a great time. That car is so sporty that riding in the back seat is uncomfortably bumpy. But I wasn't so nauseous I couldn't enjoy a cheeseburger and fries. I'm not a fries eater but those things were delicious! The excursion and the crowds-----it's a very popular place----exhausted you. Maybe you had had too much exercise in the past few days, maybe you weren't quite strong enough for all the excitement, maybe it's the cancer or being post-op, but you did some serious napping when we got home.

This evening was the annual neighborhood potluck. How I LOVE that party! You were too tired to go. Too many exercise classes at the Wellness Community and the trip to Bob's.. I had the best time. We have wonderful neighbors, and a lot of them have had cancer. Besides the great time, I made some great connections and got lots of cancer info. One of our neighbors even has the same oncologist you have.

For Friday the 4th

The Wellness Community has given you a place to go and things to do. It is exactly what you need. You have decided you will go to everything during the next couple of weeks to figure out what it is you want to do regularly.

I have been busy working on the inquiry project for mentoring, planning lessons for my own class, meeting with people over various things, and running to see Dad. He isn't happy in the care center but he's not really complaining. He shares a room with a former army colonel, a man who was married but never had any children, who lost his wife last week but lost his mind long before. The man starts each day at 6:00 yelling nonsense. (It's better than playing a bugle....) The space is small, I feel cramped there, Dad feels cramped there. How or when he comes home is not gelling in my mind and I worry I won't be ready for it when they suddenly announce Dad is released. You have already started making noises about putting Dad in a facility near our house, your needs being foremost in your mind now, the need for 'destressing' your life leading the charge. You said you only thought Dad was going to live six months or so when you invited him to live here. You said you have 'given him a year of your life'. You said you never liked him in the first place; we already know that. I just thought you were taking him in because it is the right thing to do. That's what you said back then. We were going to take care of my dad because he had always been supportive and helpful to me. We were going to model for our daughter how we wanted to be treated in our old age. Well, I guess that one is moot now for you, so why bother modeling for the kid? I'm the only one who might need to be cared for and right now I don't feel like my needs matter. How you are changing your tune, as my mom used to say. You are grasping for reasons to get him out. I just think it's wrong. As far as I'm concerned ---or compared to me, let's say----you don't have any stress in your life. You don't work, you don't pay bills, you don't have to give me a penny of your Social Security check, you don't cook unless you want to, you don't pick up after yourself, you don't clean, not even before you had cancer. When this all started I said the only thing that would push me over the edge would be if I had to run to a facility to see Dad and deal with you and my job as well. Now guess what you're trying to do......always standing around stop signs. Always pushing your agenda. I'm sorry I can't feel sympathy for your need to 'destress' while ramping my stress into the red zone. I am angry.

Wednesday

Despite Dad being out of the house, I don't feel there is much let up for us. My job has the occasional week where I have meetings and meetings. Even though I have dropped off just about everything I can at work, there is one mentoring obligation I must fulfill, and it involves work that can stack up. This week it is stacking in a way that requires me to spend several hours in meetings. So far I've been in four hours of work for this, and even with three more, I will feel like I'm behind.

My students are acting out and I need to do some reflection on why it's happening. I can't be too distracted by the need for outside problem-solving I need to do. I can't let it slide.

You want to get involved at the Wellness Community by participating in workshops, exercise classes and support groups. Today you called at lunch while I was sitting next to Julie. She gave you the run-down on what they have to offer. You want to attend a support group on Thursday evenings. You'll go to one group; I'll go to another. We'll get support. We'll feel like there is some hope.

The Power of the Mind

This is the first day of me working, running to see Dad, and coming home to you. Already I remember what it was like when Dad was in the health center last year, and I don't like it.

At work, things can be absolutely crazy, and yet it feels refreshing. My kids were wild today because we started a new art program, a teacher covered for me while I did an observation on my beginning teacher, and we did our first calendar. They were nuts. B was out of control hitting, kicking, bothering, you name it. But I love going to work; it is my connection with normalcy. Children are fascinating, even when they are being little turkeys.

This evening we went to an orientation meeting for cancer patients and their families. The overall message was 'you can use your mind as a powerful tool in your cancer treatment' and 'the right mental attitude can be a powerful companion to cancer treatment'. They have lots of speakers, meetings and activities, all for free. We are tired now. Time for bed.

Monday, November 30

As November ends, I can't help but wonder if this is the last November you'll have. What a strange feeling that is. I have always come to the end of a month without giving a moment's thought to whether or not I'll ever see that month again. Have you thought of that?

Today was the day you were supposed to give your working dog away. I had arranged for Carmi to drive with you in case you got tired for some reason. We brought the dog in last night, and you ended up leaving me in the bedroom with the dog while you slept in the middle bedroom. That animal woke me up twice during the night trying to get out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. By morning you had realized you couldn't give him away. It would have been like taking a part of you. Your initial altruism was being supplanted by your own needs. What had started as a desire to do what was best for the dog was now changing. The dog helps you, so he will stay. The woman who is taking him understood completely and will take him whenever you are willing to let him go. After all, she is a nurse.

I convinced Dad's doctor to put him in the care center where he was last year. It took all day to get the placement, but he will be there for a while and Carmi will go there to be with him every day. She will work shortened hours; we'll figure it out.

Principal J asked to talk to me today. I wondered if I was in trouble or if he was going to ask me to do something, He just wanted me to know that he knew about you. People are passing around the news. I know they think they are acting in my best interests but I feel uncomfortable about it. J said he wanted to be supportive of me during this time. I thanked him. We spoke for a long time. I told him about Dad. He was stunned. I worked with Caro on BTSA, the one thing that could slip through the cracks if I don't get back on the stick.

D's sister had recommended a place in Mexico she had heard about on some news broadcast. It's a place where people go to get 'detoxed'; I hope it's not one of those places that takes your money and promises you the moon. What we don't need is a snake oil salesman. I put some emails out to people asking if they had heard about this place. I am worried we'll get put in a position where we are getting taken advantage of by swindlers but going ahead and doing it because we don't want to miss out on the 'cure'.

Sunday the 29th

I skipped church. I wanted to go to the evening service, an outstanding worship experience I rarely get to attend, and because Dad was in the hospital I would be able to get there today. He doesn't like the service, the music, the crowd, the casualness, and can't go anyway because it's in the basement level and there are several stairs.

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. That's the downside to getting rid of the flu: the return of insomnia. I spent the morning doing the final phases of my housecleaning. The counter tops are done, at least in the kitchen, and there is enough clean underwear to last the week.

We went to the mall to try to get a zip-up hoodie for you. They had been on sale for $10 on Saturday but today they were $24.50. You selected three items while I waited in line, then I paid for the items and you waited for me in the car. You had made a whey protein drink for lunch and it wasn't settling well. When we got home, you had your first emesis in weeks; that whey protein stuff just doesn't work for you. Everything else has stayed down, and you've taken some risks with eating, always pushing the limits, always wanting to see how far you can go. I once had a therapist say you are the kind of person who's always standing around stop signs, her words for people who test the limits. And she was completely right.

The beauty of today was the quiet. It was the first day in over a year when we were alone at home. Just the two of us. No Laura. No Dad. No Carmi. No one. The quiet was a remarkable sensation. It was so still, so peaceful, so restful. Last evening, as I sank into the quiet, I felt the need for Dad to be out of the house for a while. This quiet could be healing.

I visited Dad in the hospital. Again, my disappointment in that hospital mounted. The controls for his tv and the nurse call button don't work. I had to use the one from the other bed for him. I had thought they would leave the other bed empty because filling it would put Dad in a situation where he wouldn't have any control over the tv or any way to contact the nurses for help. I was wrong. When I arrived this afternoon, another patient had been moved in. Dad was finishing his course of IV antibiotics. He is pretty lucid now. I brought him mail and lots of catalogs to read. He hadn't had any visitors----or so he thought----but it turns out that Pastor Rick had gone by while he was asleep. I want to get ahold of the doctor before he finishes his rounds tomorrow morning. He has been on vacation, and I want to let him know that I think Dad should go to a skilled nursing facility before he comes home. He has balance and dizziness. This could give us the peace and quiet we need for a while.

When I returned from the hospital I was too tired to go back to town for the evening church service. I am sad but getting up at 4:00 a.m. makes 6:00 p.m. feel like bedtime.

Is It Saturday Already???

Last night I posted an email to a lot of people I know, telling them about Dad being in the hospital. People keep asking how they can help me, so I thought one way they can do it is by visiting Dad in the hospital. And today he had five visitors. I couldn't get there until after 7:00 p.m.

I had tried to clean the house but my cell phone kept ringing. I got very little done. Tomorrow I will finally clean those counter tops, and then maybe I'll feel it's sufficient. You could care less about cleaning. When we met, you thought the brush attachment on the vacuum cleaner was for dusting. Your apartment was layered in dust and there were spots on the kitchen ceiling from you turning on the blender without the lid. You had worked hard to clean your place before I first saw it, so your normal clutter and dirt had been cleaned up. Since then, any cleaning has been my job. When Florinda started in 1993, she basically saved our marriage. Up until then I had done some house cleaning every day, and I was tired of it, especially since it only mattered to me, and if it didn't matter to you, you weren't going to participate in it.

I had also gone to the grocery, and then Laura and boyfriend returned, much to my surprise and joy.

Today you went shopping by yourself. You found clothes on sale, for great prices, and you had really needed them. After losing 48 pounds over the last seven months (the last 30 being more or less involuntary), you didn't own one thing that really fit you. You got two new pairs of pants and five shirts. I don't know if shopping is something I want you to do, but seeing you have the energy to shop is heartening.

Laura, Kyle and I went to the cell phone store to activate a new phone. It occurred to me that a motivating factor in their returning here was the new cell phone that had arrived yesterday. Hers had been acting up and Kyle, with his powers of persuasion, had arranged for the company to send out the newer model. She was really anxious to get it. The cell phone store wasn't much help; that particular store never is. They always seem to refer me to 'corporate' stores. The kids dropped me back at the house so we could go on a bike ride while they went on to one of the corporate stores. You tried your bike for the first time since early October. I took off ahead of you and you rode for 13 minutes. When I came back after 35 minutes, you were resting in the van. Your energy level tomorrow will let us know whether or not that had been a good decision.

The kids returned with Tito's tacos, I showered and washed my hair so Laura could blow it out for me, you showed Kyle how to use his new camera, and then I finally got to the hospital to see Dad. It's funny how a day off can get so short on time!

Turkey at Last!

I would be lying if I said I wasn't upset about our cancelled Thanksgiving plans. The highlights of recent years have included every time we've been with my siblings and their families. I see them far more than you because I have that 'chick thing' I do during the summers and those 'runaway weekends' when I just drive up north to see them. You have only joined me on the holidays, and Thanksgiving is your favorite. After a fabulous meal, we play games. We play Balderdash and Scattergories and Pictionary. There are other games too. Once my siblings discovered that Trivial Pursuit was the only game I could kill them playing, they were willing to play with me again. I don't win those other games, so I think they have lowered my status from 'most brilliant person in the world' to something more akin to 'kind of smart person'. I knew they would be doing fantastically wonderful things together and laughing so hard they would cry. I knew the conversations would be fun and interesting and the day would have been filled with love, comfort and laughter. Sitting in the hospital with Dad and having a highly salacious turkey pot pie by myself at 7:00 p.m. was not the way I had wanted to spend the day but I wasn't having a pity party. Here's where my faith comes in. I believe God loves me and has a plan for me. I believe He will stay with me and, if I am lucky, two things will happen: 1)I will be strong enough to withstand what is happening to you and Dad and, 2), this will be the most difficult trial He ever puts me through. If #2 is true, I will feel far more blessed that I do already. And I do feel blessed, extremely blessed.

Sometime during the day today (Friday) you mentioned that David had invited us to dinner. Then you said it was his Thanksgiving dinner. His children had spent Thursday with their respective mothers, and they were having Friday turkey dinner at his house. I called and asked if I could bring corn pudding, the dish I had planned to make for our own Thanksgiving dinner. I cleaned a bit, rode my bike, visited Dad in the hospital, and baked the corn pudding. I had to make a mayday call to Suzin to find out if I was supposed to cook it covered but the dish turned out to be delicious. Katy, Laurie, Nancy and David's more fun friends turned out to be there. We had a great time. The decor was 'hangloose' as always but it was fun and relaxed. David's cousin was there, and she works for a medical marijuana collective. She was quite an interesting person and filled me in on more medical marijuana information than I knew existed. She said that both my 'boys' qualified for it. You wouldn't get 'highs' from it; you'd both get pain relief, and you would also get some tumor shrinkage. When I left, she gave me her card. On it was a picture of the facility. It's beautiful. There's a lounge for people who want to use their 'medication' onsite instead of taking it home. I wonder if you'll go for the idea.

You went home ahead of me, not really saying your goodbyes when you left, as is your style. I stayed until almost nine. I was so glad to have finally had a Thanksgiving dinner and people with whom to share it.

Turkey Day

I woke to you saying, "Your dad wants you to take him to the emergency room." I looked at the clock; it was 6:00 a.m. "Why?" I asked. "He thinks he has pneumonia." Dad has had pneumonia at least five times, and his mother died of it when he was ten. We don't mess around with pneumonia in our family; we're all afraid of it. "He's ready to go. He and Carmi are having coffee now." Hmmmmm, I guess my Thanksgiving could get worse. It was shot anyway, so I wasn't going to stress over one more crisis. We got to the ER a little after 7:00 and he was in and out of lucidity. He would be docile and cooperative, then he would lie about his medical history ("I had a little stroke." No, you didn't!), then he would become agitated and start yelling for someone to take care of him, then he got off the gurney and dressed himself only to pee on his pants while trying to relieve himself in the wastebasket. Yikes! What a head trip. The PA came out to speak to me. She had run several tests and really couldn't find anything wrong with him. I explained that he had a cough for which he had been given codeinated cough syrup but he had refused to take it because it would constipate him. Then the relief caregiver had thought it was the antibiotics he was refusing to take, and didn't give him his antibiotics last weekend, so the cold and cough were back and keeping him awake all night----and he was on antibiotics again but still drinking a glass of chardonnay every evening. I said that in addition to the delusions, his balance had become increasing poor, that he has been wobbly and has to lean against the wall. She didn't know a reason for the crazy behavior but thought it might be something called 'sundowning', a type of confusion and agitation sometimes seen in the elderly that comes on at night. Then I told her my husband had just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had just had a duodenal bypass. Her eyes widened, and she 'got' it. She said she'd call the doctor and see if Dad could be admitted.

Dad was admitted. As soon as I found out, I called David to let him know so he wouldn't come over for Thanksgiving. I got his machine. My cell phone was dying and I told you that David might be showing up. He did, and you sent him on over to the hospital. By that time Dad was in his room in the new wing, and Carmi and I were worn out.

I came home. I made us some hamburgers and I fell asleep while you stayed out in the family room. When I woke up you came in to rest and I took the van to go (finally) for a bike ride. Thirty minutes was a good workout for me, and I will get used to riding by myself. Thanksgiving Dinner didn't happen this year but I believe I will have many more Thanksgivings in my future.

Dad might be in the hospital for three days but I hope they will move him over to the health facility again for some time in physical therapy and recuperation before sending him back home. That would give me time to be alone with you, and you privacy and time to heal. He's in and out of lucidity now.

T Day Minus One

For as difficult as my students were yesterday, they were angelic and cooperative today. They listened, they followed directions. What had been like swimming against a riptide yesterday was like taking a lap in a short pool today. Three students were absent but they weren't conspicuous, not the usual suspects. We had a minimum day. At lunch Laura and boyfriend came to visit, hoping to catch my students before they went home. She is such an astute observer of children. She can capture their little personalities in a matter of minutes. She gives valuable input. But there wasn't any classtime left, so she headed off to get some sandwiches. I left school shortly after the children only to notice that someone had scraped the car in the staff parking lot. Darn!

I got home right after 1:00. You were sitting in the family room waiting for Laura, not knowing where she had gone. I said she had gone to get the best sandwiches in the world. She came home shortly after that bringing me a roast beef, my favorite, which I tried not to eat too fast. You asked for a few bites and I gave you the last of it, but then your stomach started hurting. You wanted to go to the tee short store to buy some long-sleeved tees and then pick up some pain medication. First you needed to rest a while. When you lie down on your left side the pain will diminish. One of the three Roses in my life came by with some Ensure she had. We chatted and you were then ready to go. I guess Rosie stayed too long. As I was walking her out, another Rose drove up to see how you were doing. She had been ill and didn't know you were home from the hospital. As she was looking at you in shock, you went into the house to get some water. When you came out, one of the little teacups tried to follow you, and the security screen door slammed on her. She screamed like she was dying. Oh, it was horrible! The shrieking was unnerving and we were all worried she had a broken bone. At that point you became livid. You took off in the car, with me in the passenger seat, speeding down the street, rocking wildly over the speed bumps. and cursing. Cursing again. Blaming the dogs, blaming Laura for not watching them closely enough, blaming me for not perceiving your desire to leave when Rosie was here but never blaming yourself for not being careful, not accepting your pain and the how it makes you feel weak, frail, out-of-control, tired, and unable to concentrate. You railed that you shouldn't have counted on anyone (??). I guess that was to make me feel bad for not reading your mind. "Didn't you know I wanted to leave when Rosie was there? Why did you sit down and talk with her? And she was talking about hibachis! I didn't want to hear about hibachis!"

"Okay," I said. "You want to blame me because I didn't realize you wanted to leave then. But I didn't know it. I'm sorry but I know that won't be enough for you. You want to rail on me. So have at it. Go to town. Knock yourself out." I guess that deflated you. You couldn't do it. You were remarkably quiet for the rest of the ride. You need to watch your temper.

You didn't acknowledge me at the tee shirt store. It's your small attempt at being in control, at hurting me. That won't work anymore but you keep trying, probably because it used to work years ago. You bought a couple of shirts. When we left the store, I offered to drive. You declined. Then you started down Sepulveda. Turning left onto Slauson you ran the light. FLASH! Smile, you're on Culver City Camera. Those were a couple of expensive tee shirts you said. Yea, really expensive tee shirts, and I'll probably end up paying for your ticket. You better be taking your meds because I'm not signing on for another manic episode. This cancer is enough.

The evening was wacky. I told Laura and boyfriend they were my Thanksgiving celebration, and Laura was doing her best to rise to the occasion. They went with me to the store, bought me an ice cream at Rite-Aid, and even put the groceries away. Then Laura spent three hours recoloring my hair and adding highlights and lowlights. It came out beautifully, and she was exhausted by the time it was all over. Boyfriend took a picture of the two of us with my phone when we were done. Laura made it my screensaver, and I'm sure there's some way I can send it out to people now that I have photos and internet on this new phone. We didn't go to bed until almost 1:00.

Dad seemed to be hallucinating this evening. It was identical to when he was septic a year ago August. He kept clutching in the air for objects that weren't there, grabbing as if catching fireflies. Then he would close his eyes and we'd think he was asleep, then open them again and start talking in a string of non-sequitors. "We had to pay someone under the table to get Norbert in. A guy named Dave. We gave him a thousand dollars. No one in Spokane knows about it. They're not coming down for this anyway. That Carmi; she's great. Does she want to be cremated? Do you know what kind of arrangements she's made? What's that noise on the second floor? Mr. Moon is here. He's right in the room." And on and on it went. Norbert wasn't from Spokane, Carmi's very much alive, Mr. Moon has been dead for many years, and we don't have a second floor. At midnight he had Carmi get him up and bring him out to the kitchen where Laura was finishing my hair. He thought it was time for breakfast. He was still sitting in the front room awake, asleep, awake, asleep, talking nonsense when I went to bed.

It had been a very strange day.

Shattered Plans

What a tough and disappointing day this was! At work I felt I was swimming against a riptide. You know how when you get in one, you remember there's a way to get out of it but it takes a while for the memory to clear itself so you can do it? Don't swim right to the shore, swim diagonally. That's the way it is with kids. Don't come right at them about their crappy behavior, maneuver your way around it by praising the ones doing the right thing, bring them into your activities by engaging them and ignoring the inappropriate behavior. Today that was difficult for me. The principal came into the room and asked me to start a paper trail on one of my little guys. He popped up on their radar yesterday when he was hitting and slapping on the playground and wouldn't cooperate with the yard duty aides. Then principal J went out to get him and he refused to come with him. Principal J and the Assistant Principal told me my little guy was going to have to be in the office at lunch for the rest of the week. Today Principal P was in at lunch. She told my little one to come in to her office and he refused. She came in and told me she wants me documenting his behavior. The first grade teacher who has his brother is having a similar experience. Mom hasn't returned the consent for help for our onsite counseling to work with him. I am sending another one home with my little guy. My new, homeless child, is demonstrating the same oppositional defiant behavior. And the twins were at the top of their game with whining and tattling today. Is it the holiday? I really hope so because I won't be here as consistently as I'd like to this year and, if they're a group that needs babysitting all the time, it's going to be hell when I'm gone.

You had the woman come by who will be taking Matt. You were with her for two and a half hours. When you were done, you were so tired you couldn't even eat. By the time I got home at 4:00, you had been in bed for almost five hours and you were still weak. I called the hotel in Sonoma to verify our reservations and to tell them we were going to have dogs in one of our rooms. Fifteen minutes later you called me into the room, turned off the tv, and said we needed to talk. You said you couldn't go up north for Thanksgiving. You were so totally exhausted by the two hours with L that there was no way you would be able to travel several hours by car, stay in a hotel room with me, and be at my sister's with so many other people. You said your first priority now is to get strength back. You said you can't do anything that will get you off-track, anything that could confuse the issue, put obstacles in the way of you regaining strength and putting some weight back on. You told me you have continued to lose weight. You now weigh 156 lbs. You had been able to maintain 158 for a few days but you have started losing weight again. You said you can't go on the trip. You need to stay at home, rest, eat when you can, sleep when you can, and do whatever it is your body needs. Now you have to change your goal. Your goal is now to get yourself in a position to go to Idaho for Christmas. That's what you really want to do. You wanted me to go up north for Thanksgiving anyway; there was no reason why your health should keep me from enjoying Thanksgiving with my family. But this year Thanksgiving wasn't going to be about the food and the family. This year Thanksgiving was going to be for you, a time when we all gathered together and were there for you. This year we had set aside our own personal wishes to be supportive of you and your battle with cancer. There is no way I am going away at Thanksgiving and leaving you here. Yes, we've done that in the past. We've even had Christmases apart. But this time we need to be together. This time we don't have an unknown number of Christmases or Thanksgivings ahead of us. It is likely that this will be our last Thanksgiving with you on this earth. The number feels so finite, and I am not willing to waste it.

I called my sister, the hostess, and she understood. Being a paramedic, she has a tremendous grasp of health issues, and tuned into yours immediately. She was most gracious about your realization that you can't go. She seemed to accept it more easily than I. My brother and other sister also understood, and all expressed having had a concern that this might happen. Laura, on the other hand, forgot that this wasn't about her. She forgot that your health had been the reason for making the plans in the first place. She cried, she raged, she called you on your cell phone, and haranged you about this sudden, unexpected change in plans. She talked to boyfriend, called again, talked some more, called back. This is where she is still nineteen and can't get out of her own needs. How could we do this to her after she had made so many changes in her plans? Were we also going to do this to her at Christmas? I said it might happen then too. Your health isn't what anyone wants it to be. It's out of our control.

We will stay here and take things slowly. You will stay in bed. We will have a little dinner with Dad and David. Laura and boyfriend will go to his grandmother's in the desert after they spend a couple of days with us. We'll adjust. Cancer will bring many more disappointments, I'm sure.

Shattered Plans

What a tough and disappointing day this was! At work I felt I was swimming against a riptide. You know how when you get in one, you remember there's a way to get out of it but it takes a while for the memory to clear itself so you can do it? Don't swim right to the shore, swim diagonally. That's the way it is with kids. Don't come right at them about their crappy behavior, maneuver your way around it by praising the ones doing the right thing, bring them into your activities by engaging them and ignoring the inappropriate behavior. Today that was difficult for me. The principal came into the room and asked me to start a paper trail on one of my little guys. He popped up on their radar yesterday when he was hitting and slapping on the playground and wouldn't cooperate with the yard duty aides. Then principal J went out to get him and he refused to come with him. Principal J and the Assistant Principal told me my little guy was going to have to be in the office at lunch for the rest of the week. Today Principal P was in at lunch. She told my little one to come in to her office and he refused. She came in and told me she wants me documenting his behavior. The first grade teacher who has his brother is having a similar experience. Mom hasn't returned the consent for help for our onsite counseling to work with him. I am sending another one home with my little guy. My new, homeless child, is demonstrating the same oppositional defiant behavior. And the twins were at the top of their game with whining and tattling today. Is it the holiday? I really hope so because I won't be here as consistently as I'd like to this year and, if they're a group that needs babysitting all the time, it's going to be hell when I'm gone.

You had the woman come by who will be taking Matt. You were with her for two and a half hours. When you were done, you were so tired you couldn't even eat. By the time I got home at 4:00, you had been in bed for almost five hours and you were still weak. I called the hotel in Sonoma to verify our reservations and to tell them we were going to have dogs in one of our rooms. Fifteen minutes later you called me into the room, turned off the tv, and said we needed to talk. You said you couldn't go up north for Thanksgiving. You were so totally exhausted by the two hours with L that there was no way you would be able to travel several hours by car, stay in a hotel room with me, and be at my sister's with so many other people. Your first priority now is to get strength back. You can't do anything that will get you off-track, anything that could confuse the issue, put obstacles in the way of you regaining strength and putting some weight back on. You have continued to lose weight. You now weigh 156 lbs. You had been able to maintain 158 for a few days but you have started losing weight again. You couldn't go on the trip. You need to stay at home, rest, eat when you can, sleep when you can, and do whatever it is your body needs. Now your goal would be to get yourself in a position to go to Idaho for Christmas. That's what you really want to do. You wanted me to go up anyway; there was no reason why your health should keep my from enjoying Thanksgiving with my family. But this year Thanksgiving wasn't going to be about the food and the family. This year Thanksgiving was going to be for you, a time when we all gathered together and were there for you. This year we had set aside our own personal wishes to be supportive of you and your battle with cancer. There is no way I am going away at Thanksgiving and leaving you here. Yes, we've done that in the past. We've even had Christmases apart. But this time, we need to be together. This time we don't have an unknown number of Christmases or Thanksgivings ahead of us. It is likely that this will be our last Thanksgiving with you on this earth. The number feels so finite, and I am not willing to waste it.

I called my sister, the hostess, and she understood. Being a paramedic, she has a tremendous grasp of health issues, and tuned into yours immediately. She was most gracious about your realization that you can't go. She seemed to accept it more easily than I. My brother and other sister also understood, and all expressed having had a concern that this might happen. Laura, on the other hand, forgot that this wasn't about her. She forgot that your health had been the reason for making the plans in the first place. She cried, she raged, she called you on your cell phone, and haranged you about this sudden, unexpected change in plans. She talked to boyfriend, called again, talked some more, called back. This is where she is still nineteen and can't get out of her own needs. How could we do this to her after she had made so many changes in her plans? Were we going to do this to her at Christmas too? I said it might happen then too. Your health isn't what anyone wants it to be. It's out of our control.

We will stay here and take things slowly. You will stay in bed. We will have a little dinner with Dad and David. Laura and boyfriend will go to his grandmother's in the desert after they spend a coupld of days with us. We'll adjust. Cancer will bring many more disappointments, I'm sure.

Monday the 23rd

Welcome home. Sweetie! Yesterday you blew out the hard drive in the computer. I haven't heard so much cussing in a very long time. I feel disoriented with only the laptop, and I'm not able to print out copies of photos or upload anything on Facebook. I also had a heck of a time logging onto this blog. I went around and around with the user id and passwords, interpreting their Salvador Dali letters to prove that I wasn't some robot trying to crash Blogger.

Today was Friendship Feast day in my classroom. I had five parents helping, and I can't remember a feast going more smoothly. We made pumpkin pudding, cornbread, butter and vegetable (Friendship) soup, slightly less than we usually make but it all came together quickly. My new aide really knows how to get to work with the kids. She's fast and she's accurate. Each child brought an ingredient to put in the soup. With at least twenty ingredients, we get a pretty tasty concoction. It was a tiring day but I am okay.

Since you decided we will take the Lexus up north, you went and got new windshield wipers and put them on. You were going to have them top off the oil and check the air pressure in the tires, etc., but I think you ran out of gas. Again, you were in bed when I got home. You said each day is better than the one before, and I will take your word for it. If that's true, then each day you will improve, it will be less frustrating, and I can feel like you're getting somewhere.

Sunday Sunday

It isn't often I skip church when I'm in town. Dad and I were still not back up-to-speed from our ailments. I was tired, I felt I had too many things to do, and the pastor was out-of-town. I slept in, my guilty pleasure this weekend. Again, I woke at about 8:00 a.m. I needed to color my hair. I never want to be one of those women who walks around oblivious to the half inch of roots she sports. It's good to take care of coloring first thing in the morning. By 10:00 I was ready to go. This time we were going to make it to Costco to get king crab legs.

Well, we made it to Costco, and they were having their weekend Seafood Festival. The seafood, however, was meager. There were no kiosks of frozen ice laden with giant legs, ceviche and other seafood delicacies. There were just some packages of ahi and tilapia. It was very disappointing. You were not going to get to have your king crab 'fix'. We each found a pair of pants that fit our new bodies. We made a couple of returns, totaling $66 and managed to spend only $67. That means we got out of there for $1. You were exhausted.

I dropped you at the house and embarked on my journey to return the wireless connection and get myself a new cell phone. I went to two stores where I was told they couldn't help me. The last one, a company store, told me I had to go back to the Santa Monica store in order to be able to complete my return. So I made the trek. After driving around the block a couple of times, I was able to get a parking space. Thankfully, it was Sunday and I didn't have to worry about the meter. The Blackberry deal was not going to be in my best interests. I could get two for a total of $40 but my monthly costs would go up by $30. Instead, I got an aptly-named Reclaim, a 40% recycled phone, with internet and email and all the other doo-dads I wanted. It's cute, it's 'green', and it fits in the cell phone holder in my purse. Now I have another owner's manual to read. How I dislike those things!

It was a long time before I got back home. You were in bed. You have spent so much of the last two months in bed. This trip up north is going to take a lot out of you. We will all have to be patient. And you will need to be kind.

My day was energized by phone calls from friends and a dinner at C&O with Suzin, just the two of us. She convinced me to have chianti with her; Larry had sent her with money to pay for our wine, and it was nice to have something I so rarely drink. She said I should be drinking a glass of red wine every evening. I will entertain that idea but don't think I'll do it. I've got to be careful with alcohol. Sometimes Suzin can be so observant. She said something at dinner that struck me so strongly, I wrote it on the butcher paper they had covering the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. "You've got an infirmed father who's losing his mind. You've got an infirmed husband who's losing his life.....possibly. And they hate each other. They're running down the field toward you. And you're the goalie." It's kind of an incomplete metaphor, we couldn't really figure out what's wrong with it. But we had fun talking about it.

At another time, Suzin took the salt shaker, removed the lid and said, "This is how big Bill's tumor is." What? It's the size of a salt shaker lid? Can it be something that small can make you so miserable, can turn our lives upside down. can prevent you from eating? Something that small is going to cause your death?

You decided we are going to drive up north in the Lexus. I love that little car. It sits up off the road, I can see around the cars in front of it, and it's comfortable and roomy. I will be glad to take it. I haven't driven up in it for years. The only problem is that it doesn't have a gps. We better not do any tricky driving on this trip.

Again, we hooked up the J tube to nourish you before I went to bed, and again you unhooked yourself shortly afterward. It either fills you up or causes abdominal pain. Virtually everything you try causes your stomach to cramp up. You start each day feeling great and end each day with stomach pain. Is this because you are recovering from abdominal surgery or is it the cancer?

Saturday the 21st

I love the pleasure of sleeping in whenever I can. It harkens back to my teenage years when I routinely slept 10 - 11 hours a night. The once-in-a-while when I can do it feels like a victory. Today I woke up after 8:30, almost in disbelief, my whole being happy and satisfied.

You were up very early, which is your habit, but once you tired out at 10:30 a.m., you never got your energy back. We had hoped to go to Costco after I finished laminating placemats at the teachers' store. We never made it. I drained the hot tub and tried to return the internet card from the cell phone company. I looked at possible new phones and will probably go with the Blackberry curve because the company is having a great deal on them, buy one and after rebates you'll have two for a grand total of $49.99, not because it best suits my needs but because of the good deal. I'm sure it will more than adequately suit my purposes.

You had a little solid food today, and yesterday the visiting nurse showed you how to use Pepsi to both clean out your J tube and give you a couple of calories. I bought more Ensure for you at the store. Geez, that stuff is expensive! I wish you would start using up all those cans of nourishment the hospital sent over. We have almost a hundred of them.

This evening I realized I had drained the hot tub but little pools of water were still in the seats and on the bottom. So I got a big Shamwow and started cleaning them up. I wanted to disconnect the hose I had put from the tub into the yard because I was worried the dogs would chew it up. You saw me sopping up the liquid and told me to stop. The problem was that you didn't do it nicely. Not at all. You even cursed at me....something about how I wasn't taking good care of myself. That was completely unnecessary. What is this? One false move and I get cussed out? It came out of nowhere, and I truly don't deserve it. I wonder what is going on in your head when you skip 'nice' and go straight to 'very mean'. Are you happy now? I'm not.

Finally Friday

I am so glad I have had minimum days at work this week. The conferences are a joy, and I have felt I have real maturity and relaxed confidence as I have run them. I think my mood has relaxed the parents as well. Work is a blessing. Now I think I have struck a balance between my commitment to work and my desire to be at home. I don't think I can do one or the other right now. Work can be such a much-needed departure for me. The intensity my class demands precludes me dwelling on anything else. It breathes new life into me. You need me to have it, too.

My union rep investigated the possibility of me taking a leave. I can do it, and the district will continue my health coverage but the leave would be without pay. As the only wage-earner, this is not a practicality until your health dictates it. I believe there will come a point in time when I will have to take this kind of leave somewhere between now and June. Just to be sure I'm available for you in July and August, I will not take a summer school position.

I have missed three Leadership Team meetings at work now. As one was approaching on Monday, Principal J came to the K teachers complaining that I was going to be absent for yet another one. (I didn't know about it anyway, or I would have notified someone.) The way they described his attitude put me in some discomfort. My early years with this man were not the most positive in nature, and I didn't want to go back to him seeing me as 'unreliable' or something of that sort. I decided to share your condition with the other interim principal. It was a calculated risk but turned out to be the right choice. She then shared with me that she had had breast cancer four years ago, so she knows the drill. She got me out of any non-essential obligations I have, including the Leadership Team. The discussion greatly relieved me. Today Clara came up and said she had found out about you. She said something loving and my eyes welled up. Again, I was caught off-guard. Part of that was because I just miss Clara so much, and having her both back at work and then say something caring to me, got me emotional.

Your friend brought over hot pastrami sandwiches this afternoon. I don't know how that came about, but you could eat about two bites, minus the rye. I was pleased he came by because he has trouble with illness tending to greet it with a heavy helping of denial. This was a kind gesture on his part signaling that your illness, perhaps, will jolt him into reality.

We are readjusting to having you at home. I am sleeping in the middle bedroom because you are up and down so much during the night, and your machine is noisy when you have to connect yourself for some nourishment. We did, however, watch some tv in bed together.

One Day at Home

Today was your first full day out of the hospital. I can only imagine how nice it felt, how colorful and lively our overly-cluttered home must seem. I know you, and you wanted to get back to a normal routine. You wanted to return a cooler to Big 5, see the dietitian, do some things and try some solid food. And true to your nature, you overdid it. The words 'slow', 'gradual', and 'wait' have always come to you with great difficulty. By the time you were leaving the dietitian at 1:45, you were exhausted. Your last four weeks have been spent in bed, three in the hospital and one before that at home. Your life has been a long series of mini-naps punctuated by the occasional short walk or visitor. Today you tried it all: cooking, eating, going out, driving, unpacking. You couldn't handle it all. I think you will sleep well tonight as soon as you get rid of that chicken thigh you tried this evening.

I went to work. The children were very glad to see me, and it was clear that there had been chaos while I was gone. I am a little worried that this is one of those groups that really falls apart when the teacher is gone. They are high-maintenance and need constant 'wrangling'; a group like this happens every once in a while. This year just happens to be not a good one of those 'whiles'. I will be out a lot this year, and they will need to start rising to the occasion, yet they are only five, and some of them are so needy that they aren't able to play that game. The onsite counseling center is starting to come in once a week to work with small groups about conflict resolution, sharing, and working as a community. We had a minimum day and spent a fair amount of time getting some 'un-holiday' preparations completed for next week. I continued with conferences both before and after school. I am tired now. I came home and slept for two hours after taking some of the codeinated cough syrup. Tomorrow I have a very tough conference in the morning and hope it doesn't run into class time.

This is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month. It's a scary, scary disease that is not usually discovered until it is very far advanced, it has the highest fatality rate of all the cancers, and there is no screening test for it yet. It receives a paltry 2% of all federal monies spent on cancer research. You watched a show on Patrick Swayze and how he spent the last couple of years of his life. His wife and brother are starting to advocate for the need for more research on pancreatic cancer. He was in a lot of pain. That frightens you; it frightens me too.