Sunday the 31st

The weekend has come and gone. Yesterday morning we took Stevie for a long walk. I spent a fair amount of time visiting with Dad. We went to lunch with S and L to celebrate L's birthday at an Italian restaurant in the Marina. We did our imitations of food vacuums eating too much of everything: bread, fried calamari, rice balls, potato balls, and polenta ---- and that was before the entrees arrived. We took a lot of them home but you had overdone it. It all disagreed with your digestive tract and you were very uncomfortable for the entire afternoon and evening. But we were able to take a nap. I hadn't been able to take a nap for months, and it felt good. I woke up at 4:15. We didn't eat dinner, just hung out and watched some TV. We rented a movie but haven't seen it yet. Every time you tried to eat, it went right through you.

You woke up with a tense belly but as the day wore on, you were able to feel a bit better. I got Dad up and out, dressed in navy blue and hair all parted in just the right place. He didn't use the powder when he shaved like he did three weeks ago. Thankfully. That time he got powder all over his navy blue. He's so particular about his color-coordination that I have to hold things up to the light by the window to make sure I'm putting his clothes together to his satisfaction. We have stopped staying afterwards since they have started having coffee hour outside on the sidewalk. We were home by 11:45 and the caregiver arrived by 12:20. You had cleaned up the big computer desk in the family room but most of the things had migrated only as far as the dining table. Oh, well! You were eating again and feeling well. We took a bike ride up the creek in the marina. It was cold but the rain is coming this week and we won't have many opportunities to ride after Monday.

You have been rereading Suzanne Somers's book, Knockout. There is information on doctors who are trying new and edgy to cure cancer. You are talking about going to Switzerland to some doctor who is doing new things with pancreatic cancer. This is uncomfortable for me. I don't want to buy any snake oil. I don't want to go running all over the world, spending money from we don't have, to go see some quack or some doctor whose studies haven't been replicated. I am so hesitant to put us in situations where our desperation to save your life makes us victims of swindlers. How much do you spend to buy three more weeks of life? How much do you spend if it will extend your life by two weeks? Is it worth $100,000? $50,000? What strange, awful thoughts this brings up! How do you put a price on a day, a week, a month, of life?

This is your week off chemo and you will be feeling better and better with each passing day. I told you you could choose where you'd like to go for a vacation. We have talked about New York, Santa Fe, and Palm Springs. Laura said they could get us a model apartment at Kyle's work if we wanted to spend the time in the desert. The decision is yours. I will go where you choose.

Rears Its Ugly Head

To my few beloved readers:

Beware. This entry is a little edgier than others. But there are times when I have to stop thinking about who will read this, and get the focus back on the original intent of this blog: helping me through these times. Sometimes things happen and I react. It may happen more and more as time goes by.

I had a good day, a lovefest with the kids. It all was just good. Everyone was behaving. During lunch I happened to pop into the office to check the beautiful flowers on the secretary's desk only to discover that B had been brought in. He was riding the tricycle around inside our room and refused to listen to anyone---or leave. So they took him into the office. .......just as his father walked in. Perfect, perfect, perfect! Dad has a nice way of telling him to snap out of it, and he does. It's almost like magic. Maybe it broke the spell, the weirdness that has been going on with him the past two weeks. We'll see on Monday.

I stayed late after school and got all next week planned. I didn't get home until 4:20 and you called me while I was in the car. Did I want to go for a quick bike ride before it got dark.? But, sad for me, I picked up the mail on my way in the door. It's that W-2 and 1099 time of year. And there was a little goodie from Agua Caliente Casino. Just when I was beginning to enjoy life, I get a little reminder of ugly and painful times. Silly of me to think you would ever give it up. I know it happened back in March, long before you were diagnosed with cancer. Your diagnosis has been a sobering experience. But gambling has been a thorn in my side for almost the entirety of our marriage. And the reminder of it was like a thief, robbing me of the joy I had been feeling in our relationship, the joy of living in the moment with you, feeling cherished and adored as if I were the greatest love of your life. I could feel the muscles in my face descend. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad day with the kids?" you asked when I came in the bedroom. "I had a great day with the kids. I was fine until I got your 1099 from Agua Caliente Casino." Stupid, stupid, stupid of me to think you would ever give up poker. Stupid, stupid, stupid of me to think there would ever be a big enough loss, bad enough experience, to make you think '"This isn't very much fun. I'm going to quit this." On our way to ride I asked you if you were just going to gamble until you died. And you said you probably would. I heard sadness in your voice, not really sadness, more like defeat. We had a very quiet ride together. I don't expect anyone to sympathize. I didn't leave you early on because I didn't want Laura to grow up in a broken home the way I did. I knew she would never thank me for it but I was solid in not wanting her to have the childhood I had. I knew you loved the two of us and I always held the naive hope that you would someday realize how painful and destructive your gambling was and stop because you knew it was bad for your family. But you can't let go of this addiction. You have no bottom. I was upset. I was angry. You are dying and I am reminded of the competition that has occasionally existed, as if poker were your mistress. I rode my bike faster and longer than I had in months. I had lots of energy to burn out of me, just fueling me as I pedaled and pedaled. And still I was angry and quiet. I didn't want to say anything I would regret. Sometimes when I'm angry I want to say something to hurt. I am committed to resisting that impulse and I have done well. When we got home I sat out in the living room with Dad, I went to Costco and walked up and down the aisles. The 1099 hadn't robbed me of my joy; I had let it take the joy. There's a difference. The responsibility for my joy is mine. But I realized I had to pursue the conversation, had to have some kind of closure before your life ends, needed to be straightforward with you like I had never been. I have nothing to lose now. It had suddenly occurred to me that you have always held open the option to gamble. You're slippery that way; it's one of your 'unfine' qualities.

So I brought it up after dinner. "I am still angry and am hurting about the 1099 from the casino. It has cracked my veneer and I feel like I'm crumbling. All the strength I felt about myself is falling away. I was feeling so happy with you, and I was feeling so good about myself."

"Yeah, I can't believe how badly I've been feeling about that." Oh, yes, I know this game, Bill. You try to play the role of the remorseful gambler to throw me off track. You suddenly become the sweet little victim of his addiction. Because you got caught.

"I want you to know that what I really want is for you to throw yourself at my mercy. I have always been a good wife to you. I have never deserved the misery that gambling has brought. Your life is ending. I will be here with you through it all, and I want the gambling to go away and stay away. I want you to finally make me believe you love me enough to give up the gambling after all the pain, anger, and destruction it has caused. You have always left the door open to go out and gamble again. I want the door closed now. I want you to give it up for ME, to let ME know that in these final times together you love me enough to stop the pain this causes. That you will stop because I am asking you to stop the pain it causes ME!"

"It's not about whether or not I love you more. I love you more. It's not you against gambling."

"It has caused me more pain than anything else you've ever done. It has done the most damage of anything we have experienced. Or do you like the enormous wedge it drives between us? Do you like it when I shut off to you? Do you like the distance it creates? I don't. I never have. Do I have to watch you die and have this knife shoved in my back again?"

"Well, I don't think with my brain the way it is and considering the way you're feeling, ..."

"Don't be slippery with me, Bill!"

"You're interrupting me. Let me finish. I was going to say that considering how much pain it has caused you and how much it means to you, I will stop gambling for you."

"Thank you."

Ok, I had the conversation I have always wanted and the answer I've always wanted. I've shortened Bill's answer. But let's be real here. ... I know about addictions. I know this promise could be totally empty. Bill can do empty promises with the best of them, but this time, this time, I think he may have gotten my point. I think this time I expressed myself better than I ever had and his end-of-life mindset contributed to his promise. He also brought up how, with his chemo-brain, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on a poker game (as if impaired judgment had ever played a part in stopping him in the past). So, this conversation helped me. Me is the only person I can really be in charge of, and I wanted my joy back.

Thursday, January 28

Matt broke into the house again last night, the second time in a week. It's a good thing we didn't have any food out on the counters. Or pills. Something is happening with him and he wants to exert his alpha-male prowess. So we will put eyelet clips on the gates.

Kevin was in rare form today. He was in a good mood in when he came in, almost jovial. The first hour went well. But then, when I tried to do a writing assessment, he first made angry scrawls all over the paper, then crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, and finally ripped it to shreds. I made him retrieve every little piece from the trash and hand it in to me. He is so easily angered about work. And so far behind. At lunch I met with the principal and told him I wanted to have a team meeting with everyone involved in Kevin's education. I can't give him a slot in our intervention program if he's not going to try, and he won't learn much at all until his attitude improves. He needs help psychologically, emotionally and academically.

B. has also had another difficult week---funny noises, aggressive/antisocial behavior, and a strange distance that makes me worry about his emotional stability. It's not asperger or anything on the autistic spectrum; I think it's some kind of unbalance.

Sam and another had gotten it into their heads to hide every time the recess bell rang. They'd been doing it at daycare and experiencing some degree of satisfaction, so they thought they could have the same fun in regular school. After I left the entire class lined up outside the door to look all over the yard and the classroom for them, they were found in the first grade boys' bathroom. The first day it happened I told them they were off the yard until they could assure me they would line up when the time came. Sam had a real boring lunch in the office the next day, and it seemed like he had gotten the message. But as soon as I let them back on the yard, they did it again. I had to speak to parents and will most likely have a meeting with Sam and his.

You were called in early for chemo. I had planned on going with you at 3:30 but you called at lunch and asked if I wanted to go bike riding since you were already in the 'chair'. We had a nice ride. The sky was clear, they had done a preliminary cleaning of the bike path, and it wasn't cold. My new helmet and jerseys arrived in the mail, and it was exciting to get to wear them. We rode to the beach and then doubled back to the creek riding almost to Lincoln. A woman was throwing bread crumbs on the pedestrian side of the creek bike path, and the birds were flying all around her, including some beautiful pelicans. Two fat and handsome ones had perched on the end posts on either side of the bridge. Like sentries they were, bookends, lions guarding the entrance to the castle, stone still not even watching those who passed by. We stopped right by them and marveled at their majestic stoicism before we continued back up the jetty toward the creek path. I stopped and took some pictures of a pelican on the banks. As we rode on the number of birds diminished and, as we approached Lincoln, we spotted two dead pelicans on the concrete embankment. Did they choke on trash? Did they get poisoned by the polluted run-off from the rains? It was odd. We'd never seen dead pelicans before. My new favorite animal.

We had a farewell happy hour for Lael at El Torito. It was fun. Just as I walked in they all pointed to the table to the left. There sat one of my students and her family. What's a kindergartener doing in a bar? Eating dinner, that's what. I ordered a giant peach margarita and stood the menu up in front of it. Drinking from a straw, in a darkened room, at the far end from the kid, she never knew. Shannon was there and taught me and Yano how to play a card game called 'Golf'. So, I was therefore drinking and playing golf in a bar. And that's the only kind of golf I can handle.

You went to meditation at the Wellness Community and then out to dinner with David. Your chemo seems to be having less and less effect on you. Your body is stronger than we had ever thought it could be.

Cancerland

Oh, how this week has flown by! I can't believe it's Thursday already. I don't really remember much about Monday or Tuesday. You and I thought we had a Pancreatic Cancer Support Group meeting at the Wellness Community from 7 - 9 pm so Kyle and Laura left about the time we did. We arrived at 6:45 only to be told that the group meeting was almost over; they start at 5 and end at 7. So we've missed another month with them. They meet the fourth Monday of the month. We missed November because our initial visits came after the fourth Monday, we missed December because that's the week the Community is closed for holidays, and now we have missed January. I have written it down in my calendar so we won't miss the February meeting. We came back home. You went to sleep. I had an evening of 'unwanted aloneness'.

Tuesday it rained. Why did I save my errands for a day when it rained? I don't know! It was a quiet evening. We didn't have anything to do, and I like that. I spent some time with Dad and then chose to work on paperwork for our insurance reimbursement while you slept. Another evening of 'unwanted aloneness'. My students had been difficult, and I was feeling slightly frustrated. Fortunately, my new student was going to be gone all week to ski in Colorado. Kevin was going to be out all week because his mom wasn't feeling well; she just had a baby last week and is not sleeping much. She was going to keep Kevin and his brother home from school all week so she could catch up. I prepared a large packet of work for him to do at home.

On Wednesday it was not raining. Thankfully. I hope we have lots and lots of water for the dry months. That would make all this rain worthwhile. Kevin's mom brought him back to school; it wasn't worth it to keep him and his six-year-old brother home from school. I bet they were diving her up the wall. And it was no walk in the park having him back. He struggles with learning and has a low frustration level which, when he hits, puts him in an unapproachable and angry mood. He needs to be in school and he needs to try.

We went to our respective cancer support groups where we both had interesting conversations. I was quiet for most of my group's discussion but there came a time where the leader looked at me, and I shared. For me the dilemna is the disconnect I have between what they tell me is going to happen to you and what you are like now. You are healthy, you do things, you can work around the house, you go bike riding with me, shop for groceries, make breakfast every day, and so on. I don't want to be in denial about your diagnosis. On the other hand, I want to live in these moments with you, enjoy you while you're feeling well. I want you to do the things you want to do while you can. I don't want 'anticipatory grief'. Being sad because you are supposedly dying is unproductive. There will be plenty of time for grieving. However, I must also plan for the future, a future that will include your death------however long, short, painful or anguished it may be for us------the reconciling of your existence and its material evidence, and a future for me without you, a future that might be very, very long and lonely, I fear. Don't be in denial, live in the moment, and prepare for what I am told is your inevitable future. That is my dilemna. It is my life Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and every day for as long as we are living in Cancerland.

Monday the 25th

I have procrastinated on getting the paperwork in to the insurance company for the extra policy I carry that gives us money for every day one of us is in the hospital and pays a lump sum for a cancer diagnosis and for costs incurred during chemo and some other treatments. It seems to be overwhelming me----or maybe I'm in denial. We need to wade through the volumes of medical records we have and try to make sense of how to do this.

Today the kids were pretty good; I don't know why. They were good listeners and worked fairly well. B had a tough day and A was in the room hiding at lunch. He gave himself checkmarks on the incentive checkmark clipboard I have and was hiding behind the couch when I came into the room ten minutes before the lunchtime ended. I had meetings and then I came home. I am well-prepared for this week.

Tonight is the first time we go to a support group specifically for people with pancreatic cancer. They only meet once a month, they were off last month, and we missed their November meeting by two days. It will be interesting to meet others who have the same disease. If there are any. It's kind of weird to think that we might be the only people there.

Ah, but maybe I'm not holding it together as well as I thought. I got you up at 6:15, you had a bit of food, and we headed on over to the meeting. Laura and Kyle headed back to the desert. We got to the Wellness Community at 6:45. We walked in and a couple of women were there. They asked if they could help us and we said we were there for the pancreatic cancer support group. They said, "Oh, they're going to be finished in fifteen minutes. They start at 5:00." Oh, shoot! We missed it again. We missed November because we joined after the fourth Monday, they were closed on the fourth Monday in December, and now we have missed January. I have February written in my datebook; we won't be missing these again.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Laura and Kyle arrived late last night. They had trouble filling up at the natural gas station. The machine ate her ATM card and Kyle had to unscrew the front of it to retrieve the card. Then they tried to buy a Visa card to use in another ngv station but found out you can't use those Visa cards there. As soon as they arrived, one of the teacup Yorkies peed on the bed. It made for a difficult night for Laura.

But despite a late and frustrating night, she was up at 7:30 this morning asking if I'd like her to blow-dry my hair for church. I made a nice breakfast for Dad and me before we went to the dedication and opening of the new parish hall. They had folding chairs set up and the normal 90-100 people made it look crowded. Dad was very, very good. He didn't say one negative thing about the music. What a relief! On the way there he said he had been awake most the night thinking about how to help the place out (What place?) and decided they should have my ex sing a solo (I think he means church). I told him I didn't think it was a good idea. Macain said he really, really wanted to help somehow so I told him he could come over with another strong guy and set up the awning that's been sitting in our driveway since the UPS guy dropped it there and you tried to back over it with the car. He was pleased. People want so badly to help so the only thing can offer is to bring a meal. They don't know what to offer. I like it when they want to do carpentry or mow the lawn.

It was football playoff Sunday, two weeks out from Super Bowl Sunday, and this is about the time you get interested in football. Just the good things, the best teams playing the best teams. Laura, Kyle and I went to the mall, the grocery store and a 99-cent store. We made hamburgers. You had good energy again. We didn't go for a bike ride so you rode the exercycle before we got the burgers ready. I think you were disappointed the shopping ran over bike riding time. We had that chocolate cream pie for dessert and later Laura and I baked cookies. You were very sweet, very helpful, very easy today.

Is It Saturday Again???

I did make shepherd's pie for dinner, and it turned out really well. The only problem was Dad. We had invited him to eat with us as a way to have the occasional meal together. Unfortunately, he used our most unfavorite comment, "Did you taste it?" It's his funny/nasty way of telling you he thinks you ate too fast. Then he tried to defend it saying he says it to the pastor at men's group luncheons and the pastor doesn't mind. No, the pastor just doesn't know how to tell him it's an insult. Anyway, the meal was good; I even had seconds, something I rarely do. For dessert we had the incredible apricot almond torte Dad's friends had brought when they came to lunch on Tuesday. You excused yourself from the table before dessert. We pretended it was fatigue but it was really 'did you taste it'.

Friday morning was a gift. We still didn't have any coffee because I completely forgot about it on Thursday, and you don't drink it anymore. Thankfully I had bought a packet of 5 Starbucks $10 gift cards for the holidays and had only given one away as a gift. I had Starbucks again. Their coffee isn't as good as you make it for me but I'm sure that's more a personal preference than an industry rating. The best part was getting to work for Professional Development to discover I got to work in my room as my 'professional development'. I got a fair amount done and then I asked Sofia to help me set up my class with a special reading program we subscribe to. When the children came in we went to the computer lab. The day flew by. YAY! We had sushi for dinner and bought some coffee.

News reports were that there was high surf and big waves. We headed to Malibu this morning only to find high tide and rough little waves. Not what we had expected. On the way home we stopped by the food truck fundraiser for Haiti. There were 26 trucks, higher-end new additions to the roach coach industry, selling their foods on a side street. I don't know if the event made the evening news but a woman in my cancer support group had organized it. It was quite the culinary collection! There was fusion, thai, sushi, the grilled cheese truck, fancy dessert trucks, shaved ice, pulled chicken, a philly cheesesteak truck, Mediterranean cuisine, Vietnamese fare, -----a very exotic selection. I bought a variety of foods and we took them over to Jessica's new apartment. Jessica is new in our lives. She married our neighbor in June, and in August he decided it had been a mistake. What a strange situation. The entire neighborhood had liked her and had taken to her immediately. It was the first time he had ever come to neighborhood events, and we had the two of them over for dinner three times. We thought she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. How shocked we were when she told me he had changed his mind! So he helped her find and move into an apartment. We all had lunch together: shrimp and chicken tacos, carne asada wrap, chicken satay, chicken pesto panini, and lollipop chicken, staying and visiting much longer than we had planned. We will miss her a lot.

You took a nap, sleeping deeply and restfully, while I cleaned my bicycle. At 3:45 we left for a bike ride. The bike trails were a mess from the rains and the pelicans had taken refuge on the creek, over a hundred of them. They were beautiful, all sizes, with interesting variations in coloring on their necks and heads. We had seen a news report of pelicans not being able to handle the rains well because their feathers get so much oil in them from the runoff. Jessica said one had landed in their backyard last week. They were so surprised. We all said we were glad it hadn't landed in our backyard. It's bad enough Matt killed one of your favorite kind of animal; this is my favorite kind of animal. What a sad thing that would have been. We rode up the service road on the beach. The bike path along the east end of the creek was closed. That was odd but maybe it was flooded from the rains. After the ride we went to Carrow's because you remembered they have prime rib on the weekends. It was geriatric central but we enjoyed our meal. Since it is National Pie Week, we bought a chocolate cream. Laura and Kyle are on their way here. We'll have it for dinner tomorrow night. Maybe we'll have our other neighbors over; he was really wonderful during Quincy's health crisis this week. Your energy is good and you have very little side effects from the chemo. We are learning to make the most of the days like these.

Wet Wednesday

Because you had an appointment with the chief oncological surgeon at Kaiser Sunset Wednesday afternoon, I arranged to work only a half day. It went well. It was raining which meant my lunch started fifteen minutes earlier than usual, so I was able to get home quickly. We went to the animal hospital to see Quincy before we went on up to Hollywood. He was doing better today. After a fifteen-minute wait, we were ushered back to the ICU where he was. He was more alert and gave a sloppy tail-wag when he heard your voice. He was trying to move about today so the staff had closed the door to his cage. They let us get in and love him up. Then, after each getting a very sloppy, doped-up kiss, we happily left him there, unsure of when we would be retrieving him but relieved to see him recovering.

We got to Sunset early. You wanted to have lunch at Subway. I don't care for Subway but agreed to split a sandwich with you. We got one of the toasted ones. It was fair but didn't sit well with you, especially since you had already been having some gas from an ice cream sandwich you'd had at home. For the next three hours you suffered from very painful gas. You excused yourself from the examination room several times while we were at the doctor's.

The doctor we saw was the head of the big department although he couldn't have been even forty, and his associate was even younger. Both had trained at St. John's. The associate's smock still said 'John Wayne Cancer Institute' on it. He had just transferred from a rotation there. In fact, Julie told me today that he had worked with her while she was doing chemo. The short story is that, even if your tumor shrinks with chemo, it will still be inoperable. The resections you've read about, so they say, are being done on tumors around another, smaller artery in the pancreatic area, not the superior mesenteric artery. The doctor who is doing this work at St. John's is named Dr. Singh. Despite the discouragement, we will still pursue a consultation with Dr. Singh. We aren't ready to throw in the towel.

We came home. You slept. I had dinner with Dad. I feel the time with the door closed has significantly relieved the stress and lack of privacy I had been feeling before. I had a nice time eating with Dad. When Carmi had come in on Tuesday to find Quincy with the pills in his mouth, she was bringing you a plate of salmon, spinach salad and an herb roll. She had it in the refrigerator for you. It looked beautiful. I woke you at 6:20. I could tell you were toying with the idea of not going to your cancer support group, but you got up, ate, and we went. It was nice. It is so good to go to that place where they don't treat you like a dead man, a place where you can be with others who are struggling with their own cancer battles. And for me, I get to talk with people who are supporting a loved one with cancer. I don't like having to be in the group, but it's a helpful place.

We picked up Q-ball at about 10 p.m. He had been at the animal hospital for 29 hours, and the bill came to $2500. Add that to the $675 we spent at our local vet's yesterday, and you're looking at a pretty pricey prescription mishap. Quincy couldn't really walk. His front legs were working but his back legs were limp and his balance was off. I drove the van home while you knelt on the floor in the back with him. Holding him by his harness allowed you to hoist him around. I wrapped my arms around near his back legs, and we got him into the house. Once inside he was very agitated. We couldn't understand why he seemed anxious and whiny. By letting him guide us around the house, I had discovered a back-washer in the shower. It was long, narrow, soft and had handles on each end. It was perfect for slipping under Quincy's back end. We eventually discovered that he wanted to go outside----and eventually he peed and walked us right back to the house. Once we put him back up on the bed, he feel right asleep. I stayed with him until he fell off the bed at 4:45 and then you took over. We were out walking him up and down the street again at 5:00. Maybe he peed again, maybe he pooped. It was too dark and I was too tired to know for sure. I fell asleep until 6:45 and went to work on four hours' sleep.

We were out of coffee at home. I had Starbucks on the way to work. Kenneth had not done well for the substitute. She left me a big note in huge lettering. The cafeteria had served french toast with maple syrup for lunch and the kids who did a lousy job wiping their desks were greeted this morning by armies of ants. Rosie hadn't found the note in my lesson plans that told what the homework was, so she substituted something else. It was raining again. The day was tough. This class is tough. Why do I have a tough class this year? Why of all years, do I have another tough class this year? Lunch was truncated but I didn't have any food anyway. I had that IEP after school and then had to rush home to watch Q-ball while you went to chemo. I arrived home to a letter informing me that I have jury duty that starts during the second week of Spring Break. Apparently my note about your pancreatic cancer didn't change their minds about calling me to jury duty. I called and postponed it until August 30. Am I whining? Sorry. But you never have minded my occasional whining. You've always indulged my whining.

I will make shepherd's pie for dinner. I will eat with Dad and Carmi. Florinda is here doing her magic; I hope Quincy doesn't have a big poopy accident after she makes our house look so wonderful. But I forgot to pick up the cash to pay her and forgot coffee again. Guess I'll be getting another venti at Starbucks tomorrow morning too.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

A tough day gets tougher.

It rained and my kids were at their poorest. Brando had had an unsatisfactory weekend. He said his mom left him with her boyfriend. That gives me a creepy feeling. "Where was Mom? Where was your dad? Why did she leave you with Sean?" He didn't know, and it's hard to tell when he's telling the truth. I sat with him and talked for a long time but he was already over the edge and he wasn't coming back today. It was going to be Brando out of control. End of story. Kenneth was having a tough time too. He and Andrew had lost their playtime. We had lunch in the room and they had fun. After school I had a meeting that lasted until 3:00, and because I am taking off a half day tomorrow to go to the big oncological surgeon with you, I screwed up an IEP that was scheduled. It caused a lot of problems for the speech teacher and I felt terribly sorry because it had been my fault.

You called during my meeting but I couldn't talk so you asked me to call you when I was done. When I did, you told me that Quincy had gotten your meds and some aspirin and was now at the vet's. Are there words to describe how angry I am? How many dogs need to eat your powerful meds and die before you start keeping your eye on them? This is so careless of you! And the pain we endure as a result is overwhelming. Have I mentioned that I'm angry? Maybe you should pay the vet bills! Because right now my problem is that you have now let two dogs get your meds and I end up not only having a broken heart but paying thousands of dollars for it, too!! And it wasn't even my fault. I am angry, angry, angry----and you are feeling bad. You want to put medal locks on the bathroom drawers. Not happening. You are realizing this happened because you weren't paying enough attention. We had to transfer Quincy from our local vet to a facility that can watch him overnight. It was very hard watching him twitch and stiffen and have that strange, wild look in his eyes. We spent hours filling out papers, agreeing to pay for whatever they do, waiting waiting waiting for the doctor. I tried to gently explain to you that it's not just about this being the second dog to have gotten prescription meds; it's about you letting these enormous, scent-driven animals into the house and then not keeping your eye on them. I tried to remind you of how many times I come home and found food wrappers, or bags ripped open, or my closet destroyed because you had a dog in and didn't pay attention to where it was or what it was doing. I can't take the pain of seeing our beloved animals' bodies react to your lethal drugs. WATCH THE DOGS when you let them in !!!

And the Rains Came

Sundays I get Dad up, dressed, fed and then we go to church. This time he got up at 7:40 after having been awake until 2:30 or so. He was finished buckling his shoes when I went to get him up at 8:30. We were early for church. At least five people came up to me to tell me how they want to bring us meals. It seems to be an easy thing for people to do. They all seem to be aware that you have seen the cancer nutritionist and the ones who sign up will be willing to stick to your dietary guidelines. The advantage to getting to church early is that Dad gets to hear the organ prelude, which he loves. We all seem to like church the way it was when it became meaningful to us. It didn't become meaningful to me until I was almost fifty, so I like the rock band and the praise songs. This kind of music bothers Dad no end. He tries to keep his mouth shut about it but thinks it's okay to start running it down once we're in the car. I had to tell him to stop. I didn't want to hear it anymore. Next week I'll tell him I know he has a standing objection to the music and see if he can let go of it.

You were okay to go for a bike ride when I got home. You were watching the football games. Nonong showed up early so we took off. You wanted to buy tarps before it started to rain, I wanted to ride bikes first. I guess my 'no' was so strong you decided not to argue with me. We rode, got tarps, went to the grocery, and got the tarps over the things we needed covered just as the first drops of rain started to fall. Now we have to hunker down for seven to ten days of storms before we stand a chance of getting another bike ride. We need the rain but I don't need to be stuck in the classroom with this particular group for a whole week. These are supposed to be especially wicked and tenacious storms, ones that regenerate themselves off the coast, almost a pineapple express. This should be an interesting week, and definitely a test of roofs all over the state.

My phone rang with a couple of very long calls in the evening, during which you went to bed. I had made special lemon bars and ate them instead of dinner. Next time I make them I will really whip the eggs, the top had more of a 'fruit leather' consistency. And they were a strange color, almost light green. Beth is going to send me a better recipe. I went to bed at 7:15 and was asleep by 7:45. I didn't wake until my cousin called from Ohio at 7:52 this morning.

Suzin and I went for breakfast. You were up most of the wee hours of the morning. You went back to sleep and haven't woken up yet, and it's almost noon now. The chemo is only causing fatigue----and occasional diarrhea. I spoke with a nurse at church, and in our discussion she said your body might be accommodating for the chemo now. It knows what's coming, the chemo isn't a surprise to it like it was the last time, and your body has found some way to adapt to the foreign substances that being introduced, thus diminishing the side effects, and making you feel healthier. We are trying to be flexible and take each healthy moment and enjoy while it's there for us. Our bike rides this weekend have worked out well for us. You ride your electric bike alongside me while I ride my Schwinn Broadway. That way, you can keep up with me, pedal when you feel like it, and then use the motor when you're tired or to give you a power boost. I think we've found our 'new normal' for bike riding.

Saturday

What's nice about a three-day weekend is that I can treat Sunday like another Saturday except with church in the morning. The first Saturday can be something I do-over. And since this Saturday was such a nice day for both of us, I hope we can do it all over again tomorrow.

I slept in until 9:15 which was so amazing I almost jumped and screamed. You, however, were up at odd hours but not weary for having done it. I could hear the TV at various times during the night. You came back to bed at 9:30 just as I was getting up. That was okay because it gave me time to start my morning at my own pace. Stevie knows that if I sleep past a certain time, it means I am not going to work and there is a possibility I will take him for a walk. He got excited the second my feet hit the floor. I walked Stevie, I fed the jumbo dogs, I drank my coffee and ate my soft-boiled egg. It was a great start for me. You got up at 11:15, had a frozen lasagna and we went off to ride bikes. What a beautiful day it was, and with you on the electric bike, we could go for as long as I wanted. We rode for over 45 minutes. There was an R&B concert going on at the Ports O'Call and lots of people riding around the area. We didn't stop much and on our way back we stopped for sushi at Maki Yaki. You had a caterpillar roll; I didn't check to see if it had any raw fish in it.

We had our neighbor help unpack the awning that's been sitting in the driveway since September. It's in good shape, not mildewed or changed at all. It has so much plastic around it, it will be fine for a long time.

I cleaned, you rested. I showed you the pictures I had posted on FaceBook. I think the wetlands shots we took are beautiful. You are only a little tired, and we had a good, busy day together. Tomorrow we will replace the tarps we have over things and get ourselves ready for a stretch of storms.

Friday, January 15, 2010

Today I put the complete date on the post title. I think if I don't do that every now and then, I'll forget exactly when things happened. After all, you might be an 'outlyer' and I could be writing this blog for years! So, so much for the snappy titles.

You are starting to feel the side effects of 'getting' to take the IV chemo again. You are sleeping and have the runs. What's the euphemism for diarrhea, anyway? Speaking of that, my Kevin came to school today after having been out yesterday. He had the same thing, and today had what our nurse's office would call an 'incomplete recovery'. But it was the first time I'd ever seen a kid with the poop on the outside of his pants. His mom came and picked him up, and when the secretary told me, I raised my arms and said, "Praise God!" Then the custodian and I tried to rid my room of any evidence of it. I finally told him to take Kevin's chair away; I'd never be able to feel it was 'poop-free'.

As for my other little friend, Kenneth, he still is clueless about the rules being for him, too. He is off the yard at both recess and lunch until he can assure me he will do exactly what the grown-ups tell him to do. That goes for free choice in the classroom as well. I rewarded him with an alphabet cookie for getting in line and standing straight after lunch. Even though I had put him in the line, he didn't make that connection and I think the cookie had a big impact on him. I might see Kenneth in that line more often now. Andrew has been kicking Edward in the nuts and there is a certain thread of fear running through the class now towards Andrew. I will have to have a meeting with his parents, since I had already had the discreet and polite meeting with Andrew a couple of days ago. And here's the interesting part: Edward didn't want his mother to tell me because he didn't want to get Andrew in trouble. When Laura and Kyle gave me the rundown on their take on my students, they said Andrew was the one I really had to look out for, the scariest one in the class because he's so sneaky. And they weren't just whistling 'Dixie' either!

You are asleep, and I expect you to stay that way most of this three-day weekend. You wanted to go see 'Avatar' sometime. I want to see it too, and I've been told it's great in 3D. I will take one of my euphoric bike rides in the morning tomorrow and, if I'm lucky and it doesn't rain, again on Monday. There is a possibility I can take another one on Sunday but I will have to wait until after church and, most importantly, I will have to do it before 2:00 in the afternoon when the sun crests mid-sky and could be shining in my eyes if I try to ride. What is happening to you, I see, is an instance of the 'unwanted aloneness' my group leader spoke of on Wednesday evening. I would like to do things with friends when you are unavailable, but I never am sure when it is you won't be able to do something with me. I understand you feel alone, too, but in a different way, and what is happening to you is much more powerful and isolating than what I go through.

January 13 and 14

Wednesday: The webpage I'm supposed to have on the school website seems not to have posted but I may have misunderstood it. How can I ever remember the billion steps it takes just to update that thing? And I did the most perfunctory job on it. I barely got it done. But I have had to call in our gracious and patient tech guy to help me try it again. This is one of those small, annoying stressors that frustrate me, something I don't need at this time in my life.

I took the great pistachio brittle Laura and I had made and shared it with my grade level during lunch. It is beyond fabulous. I'm glad it's out of the house, especially since you met with the physician who specializes in nutrition for cancer patients in the afternoon. I was worried you'd come home with a long list of weird, specialized foods you had to eat and then insist we throw out everything I like to eat. Fortunately, it's not too obscene. We have to shop at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods because the main thing we have to do is not eat food with growth hormones or additives. We can do that. The hard part for you will be cutting red meat down to once a week. But in thinking about it, I remember how much we used to use ground turkey, and that isn't difficult. We barely noticed the difference in taste.

We went to our respective cancer support groups. You say you really, really enjoy yours. They look like a nice group of kind and intelligent guys. My group is full of nice caregivers but there's a small part of me that doesn't want to be in another support group because of an issue of yours. I have done that a lot over the past twenty five years. I also am not so thrilled about it because the ones whose cancer partners are farther along than you are, are suffering a lot. Their lives are unpleasant. They have to do things like change diapers and catheters. They have to advocate for their partners, make doctor appointments, fight with insurance companies, and do all the driving, meal preparations and cleaning. Those aren't pleasant. I don't like hearing about them. I don't want them to happen to me. After the groups end, you stay around and talk; I walk out the door and go home. I've had enough 'cancer talk' by then.

One couple in our groups was celebrating their forty-second wedding anniversary. They are so cute. Whenever they look at each other, you can see that they love each other so much, even after all these years. They have such tenderness and affection in their eyes. You found out that they were college sweethearts. I am glad he has a good prognosis; she would be lost without him.

Thursday: We were supposed to go pick up the car today. It's been at the shop for a week now. I got up early, showered, washed my hair, and woke you when I thought it was time. You said maybe you'd get Carmi to take you up to get the car. It was okay with me because I don't like the running around. You said you'd pick me up for lunch if you could but that you might have to get your blood tests redone so the results would be ready before you went for chemo.

You made it to get me. We went for pizza. While we were waiting for our food, you said you'd found out that 'chemo brain' can last for a year. You also told me to tell you to stop driving crazy if you start. (This is a big change. I call your driving 'Mr. Toad's Wild Ride'.) You said you are realizing that your chemo is causing your reaction times to be a little less sharp than usual, not bad, you're just not as quick as you have been. You also said you were driving with David the other day and you got a taste of what I feel like when you drive aggressively, although I don't think you'd ever admit to the term 'aggressive'. You were very nervous with his impulsiveness and quick moves. I think you really got it. I liked having lunch with you. I think maybe your cancer support group is giving you an appreciation for our relationship. My cancer group is giving me an appreciation for how independent you are. I am so glad you are such a strong advocate for yourself.

This afternoon you went for chemo. Again, it took a long time, even though you arrived really early for your appointment. I know that frustrates you. You are a little tired, there are dark circles around your eyes, and you look pale.

Things seem to be working with Dad here. I don't feel bothered by his presence, and I like it when I can go out to see him, and then just close the door behind me when I'm done. He is trying his subtle ways to control things, but I think the physical boundary created by the door is giving me the strength to construct other, non-physical boundaries. At the root of some of Dad's comments is a hidden agenda to know exactly where we are going and when. I have decided he doesn't need to know. My cancer group leader says I am creating all kinds of boundaries; I agree with her. I am creating them with Dad, with my students, and with you. She also told my group three things that happen to cancer patients and their families: 1) unwanted aloneness, 2) hopelessness and, 3) loss of control. They happen in different ways for the patients than for the families but to both nonetheless. We also talked about 'anticipatory grief' and 'new normals'. It is interesting and sad stuff.

There was a fundraiser at a local Mexican restaurant for school tonight. You didn't want to go so I went with Carolina. I am home and tired. I am frequently tired.

Tuesday January 12

I went into work today and set up some clear boundaries for lining up, for listening to me, and for moving about the school. I told them how many times I would give the signal to get their attention and how many reminders I would be giving for things they should already know and be doing without me having to remind them. I told them what the consequences would be. End of story. Then, of course, two of the worst customers came in late, and I basically had to say it all again. I told Kenneth's father I didn't want to be ignored anymore and that Kenneth needs to listen to me and follow instructions. Of course, Kenneth was hiding in the room during lunch and argued with me a little, although not quite as much.

We thought about going to a lecture at UCLA tonight by a psychiatrist who got cancer, developed some cancer-fighting paradigm. By late this afternoon you had decided you weren't feeling up to going. We stayed in. Tomorrow you go for blood tests again, and maybe you'll be able to take the IV chemo on Thursday.

Monday the 11th

I woke up late this morning. I had taken one of your Vicodin to help with my headache. There was no way I was going to be able to take a shower. Although I was able to give myself a quick sponge bath, I would have to go to work with dirty hair. When I went out to the family room, you were at the computer. I made coffee and asked if you could make me a soft-boiled egg. You said you couldn't because you had to fill out some paperwork for your doctor and you were way behind. I was angry inside. I went back to the bathroom to continue getting ready. What were you trying to tell me? That I can't count on you? That I better be prepared to make my own breakfast every day and consider myself lucky if you could help me? Is your paperwork for your doctor's appointment on Wednesday more important than the very little I ask you to do for me? I returned to the family room and told you I was upset that you couldn't help me for a few minutes, that I had a very long day ahead of me and it was now going to be tough since I was going to have to scrounge breakfast and lunch. Are we a team or NOT? Why do I have to drop everything to help you but not be able to count on you to help me? To my surprise, you apologized and got to it.

But the day was getting off to a bad start. I arrived at work to discover that I was getting a new student: a child from Korea who didn't speak a word of English. Julie was returning to work after being out with cancer since before Memorial Day. Lael was preparing to say goodbye to the children who had been her class since the first day of school. And Laura and Kyle were coming in to give me their insights on my kids.

My kids were at their almost worst. Kevin wrote all over his arms and jeans at writing time. He wrote all over his plastic envelope at math time. Kenneth was being oppositional and deliberately wasn't following the rules. By the end of the day, I actually yelled at him. Kyle put it succinctly: Kenneth lives in a male world. His mother has abandoned the family and he isn't used to a woman being in charge of anything. When I tell him to do something, he either dismisses it as if it hadn't been said or does a double-take because he can't believe a woman is telling him to do something. Whatever it is, I was at the end of my rope with it by 1:30.

I had some quiet time in the class after school during which I changed the class seating arrangement for the rug and tried to get the rest of the week in order. Then I went to a BTSA meeting armed with chocolate-covered espresso beans and a Diet Coke.

Laura and Kyle picked up Tito's for dinner, we had some more birthday cake, you were tired. The chemo farts and diarrhea had returned. You are preparing for another round of that and another rash. We will now look forward to the weeks when you don't have to take chemo and your brief moments of feeling normal. Again you are questioning whether or not chemo is what you want if your life will only be increased by two months.

Saturday and Sunday with the Kids

Saturday was a beautiful day for me. Oh, how I wish I could have more days like it! I took Rose Marie to breakfast. On our way, we dropped you off at the van so you could drive it home. We had a nice two-hour breakfast at our usual place. I feel so comfortable with her, like I could tell her almost anything.

After breakfast I went for a bike ride at the beach by myself. You were resting and taking more Vicodin. As I drove the van to the marina, I was listening to Live from the Met. This week's broadcast was 'Der Rosenkavalier', the specific scene was the incomparable "Presentation of the Rose". Ethereal, glimmery, other-worldy and one of the best scenes in all opera, listening to it lifted my mind to a lovely place. The weather was perfect. As I rode out the jetty, some pelicans flew along side of me at about eye level. They were big, healthy, beautiful animals flying six-abreast. It took my breath away. Pelicans must be some kind of good omen, a sign to me, I just don't know what. Could they mean happiness?

The day was filled with good times like that, phone calls from friends, visits with two wonderful neighbors and time spent doing whatever I wanted. June called and said that the choir really wanted to do something to help us. I said they could bring dinners a couple of times a week. But later I told you about it and you said not to because you are going to see a special nutritionist on Wednesday and it was possible you wouldn't be able to eat much of what people would bring. Laura and Kyle arrived after 10:30 but I was already in bed.

Sunday morning I got up early and took Dad to church. They prayed specifically for you from the pulpit. In fact, you were the only person mentioned by name. Dad was good until we started driving home. Then he started in on how much he hates the music in church. I told him he was being negative but he said he'd not been negative all during the service. Is it hopeless?

We went for a bike ride with Laura and Kyle. We rode for almost fifty minutes. You and Laura rode the electric bikes while Kyle and I rode the Schwinns. As we rode west into the sun, I started seeing the wavy lines again. This time they were making circular patterns, mimicking the sun which was moving down in toward the horizon. All those wavy lines mimic something in my field of vision. The ones on Friday were mimicking the lines the children had made on their New Year's hats. For a while it felt like I couldn't see out of my right eye and I almost rode off the bike path a couple of times. I was determined not to let a headache start and get the better of me. I spent a lot of time getting food for a birthday dinner but I was in a strange store and I didn't know where things were; Laura said she wanted a nice big juicy steak. It took me a lot of time and I got a couple of phone calls. I bought a new bottle of Aleve while I was there. You waited in the van and I apologized when I came out. You were a little peeved.

We invited Dad for dinner, He behaved but I can tell this new arrangement is a little hard for him. He would never, ever admit it but he likes being the center of attention and having the household revolve around him and his needs. This is tough for him. Again, he'd never, ever admit it but he wants to be in control and doesn't like not being able to control situations with his calm, quiet, doctorly voice. But things are different now, and he's going to have to adjust. These past few days with him have helped me realize how cutting so many of his remarks are, how he tries to disguise them with humor but how really unkind they are at the root. I see how what he says hurts you and Beth and are intolerable to you. I told June. She's known him for over fifty years. She said, "I know how your father's comments can hurt people. He's made me cry sometimes with his remarks".

Mr. Giddypants

Friday morning you made me breakfast and we ate together. I love being able to start my day with a soft-boiled egg. It can fuel me until lunchtime, and you make those and my coffee just the way I like them, and better than I can. You said you had read that the shots you are giving yourself have side effects: muscle and joint pain. I asked you if you were in pain and if you still thought you wanted to go for a bike ride in the afternoon. You said yes.

Work was a grind. We had the 'staff' meeting, full of fun and games. Not really but at least not full of tedious tasks. The two retired principals who are leading us this year have a calming effect on the assistant principal who is a nut case. We have finally found an office manager who we won't blow out of the water. God knows I couldn't do that job. I suggested she keep a little candy dish full of Valium on the side of her desk that's right next to the assistant principal's office. "Here you are, MaryAnna: two for you, one for me". Ahhhhhhhhhh, peace in the office.........and less tension in meetings.

Two of my anger-management kids were at their worst, and I was planning a surprise New Year's celebration for the class. We had made hats, we had read little individual New Year's books, and we had baked cupcakes. But one child had a real problem. He ripped his papers in half and threw them on the floor. He crossed his arms and set his jaw. Then, as always, he started muttering things about how he hates this school and this class and how he never wants to come back. He picked up his chair as if to hit someone, and I had to go over and quietly and calmly said, "It's my job to keep everyone safe. If you do something to make our room not safe, I have to remove you and take you to the office. I will count down from five. If you are sitting in the chair, you can stay. If you aren't, I will have to take you to the office. Five." He sat. The other child had just been breaking rules all day. Angry, angry little boys whose lives are out of control and whose parents are always in a state of 'transition'. As I was hurrying to put chin straps on all the hats, several wiggly lines started darting across my field of vision. They were unmistakable, and there were more than I had ever seen before. A migraine was on its way. Oh no! I haven't had one in years, and I know how to beat these things. Change my focus, get caffeine, take something for it. Be proactive. Don't let it get a toe-hold.

I finished the day and ran to the vending machine in the office. I downed the Diet Coke while I listened to the first graders read their writing in Mrs. U's room. I begged out of Pilates, took some ibuprofen, finished next week's lesson plans, and headed for home. Arriving at about 3:15, I expected to see you there. Almost immediately, you sent me a text, "Pain got so bad I went to the doctor for pain meds." followed by "Got Vicodin and am going to a movie. Can't exercise with you. Be home around 6:00." I sent you the following messages:"Then you shouldn't be driving a car!" and "Do you have the van? My bicycle is in it." And never got a response from you.

I had entered the house through the back, had gotten into bed and pulled the shades. I looked like a sheet and felt worse. I closed my eyes, rested, then read my book and finally started talking on the phone, beginning with a call from Laura at 5:00. At 7:45 you were calling in. I hung up with Kathy and punched you in. "Can you come and pick me up? I'm at the Marina Theatres. They gave me two bottles of pills. I thought one said acetominophin and the other said Vicodin, so I took two of each. Then I realized they were both bottles of Vicodin. I don't think I should drive."

When we got home, you said you felt almost giddy. You were very happy, very pleasant. You were feeling no pain. You started talking about maybe having dinner with Dad once a week. Then I knew you'd had too many pain pills.

Home Again

After our late night arrival, I was up and at work on Tuesday morning. It was good to see my kids again but I am reminded how much energy it takes to do my job. This class is a challenging group. Today two of my most difficult returned. With lives in transition and parents unsettled, these kids have a lot of anger. They are obstinate and don't want to follow rules. And both have ways of throwing fits. It wears me out and every evening at 7:00 seems like 10:00. I hope I will get back up to speed soon.

Dad is at home and is staying in the front part of the house with the door closed. Carmi has been here but will take off the next three days. I really want this arrangement to work out. It is a type of stress to live under Dad's nosy eyes, but I prefer it to the running around I would have to do if he were elsewhere.

You were tired on Tuesday. Monday had been a big day and the effects of jet lag can't be discounted. You went for a thirty-minute bike ride with me after school. We both needed that. But Wednesday was another day of 'resting' for you.

Wednesday we went back to our cancer support groups at the Wellness Community. That made for a long day for me, and you had chosen to take the computer in for repairs at Fry's. The good news was that they were able to get our computer fixed for free. The bad news was that the Crown Victoria threw a spark plug on the freeway coming home, you had to get towed, and you were over forty-five minutes late for your group meeting.

Today you were to start chemo again. You did your regular blood work yesterday and when you were to start chemo this afternoon, they said your white blood count was too low. Apparently it's a common result of chemo, and when it happens, they can't administer your chemo. They sent you home with four days of some kind of shot to boost your whites. They hope your numbers will be high enough to resume intravenous chemo next Thursday. In the meantime you have the Tarceva tablets you will take daily.

Going Home

It was snowing when we woke. The temperature hovered around 38 degrees. It snowed, it rained, it decided to keep snowing. The valley was covered periodically by drifting fog. Like the snow, it came and went, not ever really choosing what it was going to do. We saw no more elk, and we were sad. For us, our wilderness highlights were the herd of elk on Saturday morning, the five white-tailed deer by the road on Thursday, and the beautiful bald eagle taking off right next to our car on the Yaak River Road. We had to forgo today's photo adventure. The roads would be too slippery in the Prius. Maybe we should have gotten the big old Ford F-150 pickup from the rental place instead. But the Prius was a sweetheart of a car and a new driving experience for us. Somewhere you had read that next to the Corvette, the Prius has the highest owner satisfaction and loyalty of any other car. We 'get it' now.

We left the house at about 11:15. We stopped by the recycling and trash center, dumped everything, and learned we were supposed to separate out the aluminum cans from all the rest. The fellow there was just as friendly as so many other people we have met in the valley. We drove on down to the Bread Basket for lunch and then on down towards Spokane. The weather was tough the entire way. My eyes got tired of trying to watch all the snow, rain, other drivers and water spraying up all the time. The roads aren't striated like California freeways and water is constantly spraying up from rear tires of the cars in front of you. I was glad when we finally got to Post Falls and had our mandatory Cabela's stop. I text-messaged a friend that I was at Cabela's who wrote back and asked me why, did I need a shotgun?

We had time to spare but it made for a very long day. We were able to make our fast connection in San Francisco but unfortunately our luggage didn't. We spent an hour waiting for it and filling out the paperwork for them to deliver it in the morning. We got home a little after 11:00 p.m. Steve was beside himself with joy.

Choose This Day!

Ater Rebecca called you went to church with me. I had to tear around pretty quickly so we could get there by 10:30. What a place! What a warm, welcome feeling we got as soon as we walked through the door. We knew almost everyone. It felt so good. Lee asked for prayer for 'our friend Bill from California'. Oh, to be prayed for like that by name! Later, when I asked you what you thought of the church service, you said, "I was humbled that they prayed for me". I'm so glad.

Steve spoke on the verse from Joshua, Choose this day whom you will serve.....as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. He delivered the message so powerfully, so tenderly, so lovingly full of conviction that I cried through most of it. I couldn't hide it from you. The occasional tear is easy to touch away with my hand but when tears are dripping off the end of my nose, all subtlety is gone. What power Joshua had in his dedication to God. Steve said that is the resolution we should have for this year. My words now cannot do justice to the message he gave. As he gave the benediction you leaned over and said, "I'm really crashing. I've got to go to bed". We went downstairs to 'finger food and linger longer'. I've decided that they use the word 'finger' as a verb there; it makes sense. We stayed a long time and when Luci invited us over to their house for soup I had to turn her down because I knew you were exhausted. A minute later I wanted to apologize for declining her sweet invitation. I walked over to her and suddenly tears were spilling out of my eyes again and all I could say was, "I'm having a tough time. I just wanted you to know what a blessing you and Lee are to all of us and how much we appreciate you being in our lives." Not anything at all what I had planned to say. She comforted me and spoke soothingly to me as I calmed back down. She truly is a blessing; I've even started thinking of her and Lee as angels. You were in no hurry to leave, as exhausted as you were. It's not often that you sit and talk with men like you did then. We ended up leaving with Pastor Steve and being almost the last ones out of the lot.

We cleaned some and ate leftovers for dinner. We tried to go up Farm-to-Market Road but the sun had already gone down. Back at the house we sat upstairs in the dark and watched the sky go from indigo to black. We packed and decided that, in the morning, we would take advantage of as much sunlight as we could. We'd go up behind the mercantile and down the road with the camera.

No more hunters darkened the doorstep. Maybe they're not allowed to hunt on Sundays.

Late at night, after the dryer finally stopped, I heard coyotes yipping. They called to each other for about an hour. What a wonderful but eerie sound.

January 2/3 - Peace and Quiet

The whole family left on Saturday morning, 14 of them. They were all driving and had 10-hour trips ahead of them before they were stopping for the night. Sue and Mike's groups left by 9:45 and Beth and Mark left at 11:00. Everyone stops at Cabela's in Post Falls, a two-hour drive. It was hard to watch them go. Before they took off, I had you photograph all of us. First you took pictures of me and my three siblings. Next we did the four siblings and their spouses. And finally we had the grand finale: all of the kids and adults. With the camera timer set, you were able to be in the photos. I hope my siblings were as happy as I was. We sure looked happy in the photos. Except for Chris. She looked grumpy and was grumpy for most of the time

At 8:30 we had a special treat. We finally saw the herd of elk. They came walking across the field on the other side of the road. There were about forty of them. They walked leisurely across the field and then, after a few minutes, went into the woods beyond. We were so excited! This was the first sighting we'd had all week. About five minutes later, five juveniles wandered into the field. The leader seemed to be calling out as if looking for the main herd. Then they quickly ran across the field and went off into the woods.

When all the family had left, you went for one of your mega-naps. I sat down at the kitchen table to illustrate some reading books for my classroom. Within a half hour, there was a knock on the door. I was surprised to see two young men dressed in hunting gear. Since the door is glass, and I am a city girl, I spoke to them without opening it. They said they had seen elk tracks nearby and wanted to know if they could have my permission to hunt on the property. "It's not my property," I said, "so I can't give you permission." They wanted to know if I knew if the neighbors were home. I didn't. They left. I went back to my illustrating. Twenty minutes later, there's another knock on the door. It's another pair of hunters. This pair is in their forties. They tell me they are in the 'elk contest' and thought this looked like the kind of place elk would like. They wanted to know if I had seen any elk on the property or in the field across the road. I felt like hit men from the Mob were asking me where my little brother was. No way! I thought. This can't be happening within minutes of everyone blowing out of here. This was definitely creepy. I lied like I haven't lied in ages. I told them I couldn't ever remember seeing elk around here. They left.

You slept until almost 2:00. You had wanted to do so much during the day, but it's hard to get a lot done when the sun goes down by 4:00. We went to Three-Mile for lunch at the Bread Basket but they were closed. Then we headed into Bonners Ferry because Lisa had said there was an Italian restaurant that made good soup. We couldn't find it. You asked a woman coming out of the post office and she said there aren't any Italian restaurants in Bonners. Then we went across the highway to the Indian casino. They had a restaurant that looks over the river. We had a good meal. We came back home and had a quiet evening. This house is great when it's full of people and great when it's empty.

On the way home from dinner, I asked you if you would go to church with me in the morning. You said you would.

I felt the bed move in the middle of the night. My breathing must have changed because you said, "Are you awake?" That cracks me up Why would you ask that if I were asleep? I didn't answer. You turned and put your arm around me, turned again, tossed. After about five minutes I said, "I'm just messing with you". We were up for about a half hour to forty minutes.

In the morning I woke having slept well but not knowing what the time was. We had moved into the master bedroom and it had neither morning sun nor a clock. When I went downstairs I saw it was after 9:30. Oh, no! I thought. Church starts at 10:30. I have to shower, do my hair, my makeup and we have to eat. We'll never make it. You had been up since six and had already added an electrical outlet to the microwave in the pantry. I thought you would be going back to bed. The phone rang. You said, "I suppose you want to answer it." I said, "Yes". Then you got up and answered. I heard you say, "Yes, this is. Yes, we're coming to church." By then it was 9:45 and Rebecca was on the phone. I hadn't shared my internal monologue with you. And now I know why.

Happy 2010

Ah, the ways we bring in the New Year! Four of us went to church, two fell asleep, one tried to fall asleep (that would have been me), three stayed awake, and two celebrated the new year by riding quads across the fields in the dark. Bailey left church shortly after midnight and made a snow angel. Beth, Mark and Sue prayed in the new year. We all had our reasons. We all had our special memories of 2009.

New Year's Day: I woke at 9:30 to you climbing back into bed. I recognize now that I am frequently awakened this way. You have your crazy 5 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. period of wakefulness, then you come back to bed. I had so much trouble getting to sleep last night that I was successfully able to ignore sunrise with a pillow over my head. New Year's Day brought us lots of snow. It started subtly then rose to a great crescendo about noon. We were worried that Lisa and her family wouldn't come up for the party at Luci and Lee's because of the weather. But they showed up in her friend's four-wheel-drive truck. She had spent most of the night in the ER with her father, who had been unable to pass urine. The hospital had sent him home with a catheter and some antibiotics and Lisa had gotten four good hours of sleep. We were so glad they came! They met us here at the house first, then we all drove over to the party. Luci and Lee's driveway is at least a quarter mile long. When we approached it, we saw that Sue and the kids had been unable to get up it in the Odyssey. So they all piled into the back of Mike's truck. We all had a great time. The food was delicious and the people so warm and welcoming.

We played the best game. We always seem to play this game when we're outside. We got into a snowball fight, and then we got on the quads and continued. It was fun. Starting by just throwing snowballs at each other, then throwing them at the people driving by on the quads, then jumping on the quads, armed with mountains of snowballs, two people on each quad, driving, waiting, aiming, throwing, laughing, hitting the right person, hitting the wrong person, driving off, circling back, lying in wait.....And each time, each person was someone I loved and who loved me back, someone who loved you, someone united to us by blood, marriage or friendship. I remember once reaching down to make a snowball and thinking, "I am so happy now. I am with people who I love, who love me, who I accept and do not judge and who do the same in return. We are having a great time. This is my family, and I am happy when I am with them." Later there were fireworks in the early darkness. It was a good show. Luci and Lee were excellent hosts, so generous, so welcoming. Lisa and her family had a good time and I could tell you were really, really happy they had made the trip. Good people, good times. We can't ask for too much more.

In the evening I helped Sue and Chris a little as they packed to leave in the morning. I told them how I had changed my mind about retiring, saying I didn't want my entire life to change all at once, that if you were gone, then soon Dad would be gone, and finally I would be retired, and I didn't want that to all happen at the same time. Sue said she and Mike had already had this conversation. It always ends with me moving back up to Northern California when they talk. My mind frequently goes there too. We talked about me allowing myself to rent up there without cutting my ties in Los Angeles, without me selling my house, just renting.