I Want My Mommy

I Miss You Most At Thanksgiving Time

2014-11-22T15:56:00.003-07:00

Dear Mom,

It's that time of year again. That time where everyone is hustling and bustling about. They're buying their Turkeys and baking their pies; in anticipation for the day where one can pretend calories don't exist and it is socially acceptable to eat gravy by the spoonful. Every year as this day approaches I feel my funk move in. It hangs over me like the cold cloudy days that often accompany this time of year. I try to shake it off, bury it down deep, and try to focus on the things I'm thankful for. Truth be told I don't do a great job. I'm cranky, and in general probably not easy to be around, but I like to pretend that I'm hiding it well, until some silly thing reduces me to a puddle of tears.

Today was that day. I woke up feeling less than chipper, but I decided I was going to make the day good. I got the kids and myself dressed, and decided we'd head to Target to buy our Holiday outfits that we use for pictures, recitals, and parties. We buy our Holiday outfits with same excitement I remember having when picking out my Easter dress. I decided that even though we're trying to spend less while Jason builds up his business that this tradition would stay complete with the stop at Starbucks on the way. I bought the kids breakfast sandwiches and myself a Grade Soy Chai Latte, my first one in 3 weeks, and for those that know me well that is a small feat. We enjoyed our splurge and the Christmas music that came from the radio as we headed to our final destination. (I know your solid rule of no Christmas music until you see Santa in the Macy's Parade, but I like to cheat; it makes me feel rebellious.)

We arrived at Target happy and ready to shop, but not long after we had picked a pretty red dress for Kennedy and a cute flannel shirt for Jake things began to deteriorate. The kids couldn't stop bothering each other while I browsed for a cheap shirt for myself and Jason, and soon their fighting was becoming disruptive. I told them to knock it off, and if they didn't we were leaving. The fighting escalated, and I headed for the register. Their screams that had once been directed at each other were then spewed in my direction. As I stood in line calmly listening to their rants I felt disappointed in their behavior, and that this little holiday adventure had been spoiled by poor attitudes.

We arrived home, the kids settled down, and moved on to other activities. I tried to move on too, but the events of the morning loomed over me and ate me. I went about my business folding and sorting laundry. My mood not improving and the disappointment not softening, and as I bent down to pick up a load of laundry I bonked my forehead on the corner of the bed frame. It hurt, but not bad, but that didn't stop the tears from coming. I plopped down in the pile of dirty black laundry and sobbed. As I cried I realized it wasn't the bonk on the head or even just the events of the morning it was everything. This morning I was trying to desperately feel that holiday cheer that I felt for so many years around Thanksgiving, but what I realized among the dirty socks and shirts was that no matter how hard I try to create a magical feeling I will never feel the same way I did before you died. The thing that is missing isn't lattes and sparkly dresses. It isn't Turkeys, potatoes, or pies, and isn't Christmas music. It's you.

The one time of year where we're supposed to focus on all we're thankful for I focus on the one thing I'm not. I'm not thankful you had cancer and died. I'm not thankful you're not here. I know it's probably taboo to say this, because I'm blessed beyond measure, but it doesn't change the fact that I hold a sadness in my heart. It doesn't change the fact that I ache to know what Thanksgiving would have been like at your house with grandkids running around. I can only imagine the fun the kids would have had making Thanksgiving dinner with you. I hate that I can't feel the same joy I felt for this day before you passed, but I suppose I've learned to live with the new normal. I've learned to eat my turkey and gravy with a certain sadness in my heart.

Your death changed me in ways I can't explain. In a lot of ways it made me a better person. I'm more compassionate, empathetic, and it made me want to love more and judge less, but it also left a hole in my heart that I can't get to completely heal. Because of this I vow from this year on, 12 Thanksgiving later, I will no longer pretend until I'm reduced to tears in a pile of dirty laundry that I have holiday cheer and that I don't miss you terribly. I will just own the sadness instead of trying to hide it by forced holiday cheer. I will allow myself to just miss you. I will still eat turkey and count my blessings, but along with that I will remember Thanksgiving pasts and the memories they hold. I will miss you forever, and that's okay.

My Mommy's Back! Email 11

2014-05-01T17:16:00.000-06:00

Here is the next email. Sorry it has been so long. Life has just been busy. I hope everyone out there is doing well.

My Mom

Email #11

Here we go! I woke up this morning with my left hand numb and tingly and
going into spasms. Off to the doctor I went, hoping it was a side effect
of the carboplatin. (Numbness and tingling are listed as a side effect.)
They put me through all of those neurological tests (touch your nose,
now touch mine...walk backwards on your heels...press on my hands...that
kind of thing.) I tested fine, but Dr. Scott still decided to order an
MRI. (Keep in mind we are supposed to leave on vacation the next day.)
So, I had the MRI and nervously awaited a call, Katy and Wendy doing
their best to keep me from freaking out, but even when you know God is on
it, the waiting is THE WORST!!!!!

We waited and waited. Tom came home to lend support and to run some last
minute vacation-related errands. Finally, I called and the nurse
promised to call the MRI center and call right back. We waited and
waited. Finally, the phone rang. It was Amy, the nurse practitioner.
She said, "We got your scans back. You only have two small lesions left.
We'd like you to take two mgs. of steroids a day...that might help your
symptom." Well, I got upset. Two lesions! I thought the radiation was
supposed to take care of that! Do I have to go back on radiation?
AAHHHH! Amy said, "Let me get Dr. Scott and have her call you." This
time I didn't have to wait and wait. In about a minute the phone rang.
Here is what transpired:

"Hello, Debra. This is Dr. Scott." Give her a Japanese accent. It
makes it funnier.

"Yes!"

"I thought we call you with good news! We all happy here because you
only have two small lesions. We thought we call with good news, and here
you are all freaking out!"

I said, "But won't I have to go on radiation again!? The other
doctor I switched from had said that chemo didn't work on the brain. Now
what do we do?!?!" I must have sounded frantic.

She said, "For large lesions like you had before, that is true.
However, after radiation the blood-brain membrane becomes more porous and
chemo can take care of lesions like this. I have successfully treated
patients this way. We will continue your chemo as it is now. Really,
you have just gotten very good news. We are sorry if we scared you.'

I thanked her and hung up. First, I cried...tears of relief. Then I
looked up to heaven and said, "Thank you God!!!!!!!!!!!" Next, I
explained everything to Wendy, Tom and Katy, who also cried and thanked
God.
We are going to beat this thanks to God and all your prayers. It is a
long slow battle, and very scary at times. This morning, Tom stayed
home to play Scrabble until Katy got there (it was her day off and she
had been visiting a friend in Denver Thursday night.) because I was so
scared about the strange symptom I was having. (I still feel the hand
thing is a result of the carboplatin because it came on so suddenly and I
never experienced anything like this when my brain was full of lesions..)
Faith gets weak, but thank the Lord for good Christians like you who
keep me in you prayers so that I never feel like giving up. This has
just strengthened my faith...I know that God is with me, Keep me in your
prayers. We're off for a vacation! I'll be in touch when we get back.

Love,

Deb

Stop! Just STOP!

2014-03-30T10:46:00.000-06:00

I'm long overdue to write this post. Honestly I was having a hard time coming up with something to write. All that really came to me was that even though my mom was positive through most of her journey you could sense her annoyance in this email, and got the idea that cancer was inconvenient. While she was grateful for the treatment and health professionals trying to make her better; she also found it obnoxious to spend all this time driving from here to there just so she could be pumped full of a drug that was going to make her tired, nauseous, cause loss of appetite, and a slew of other undesirable side effects. That's the thing about cancer it's not a walk in the park. It's lots of doctor's appointments, drugs that make you weak, and side effects that barely make you recognizable to yourself and those around you. Cancer is a majorly sucks for anyone forced to deal with it.

What I'm about to write may seem bitchy. It may seem unkind, and I promise I'm not trying to hurt feelings or make anyone feel bad, but I'm trying to open eyes and make people think before they act. In the last couple years I have seen things surface on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram that I will admit make me roll my eyes and sigh. I meet women through out the year that have had surgeries to remove their breasts, surgeries to remove cancer from inside them, or at the very least a surgery to have port placed so they can receive chemo. They are left with scars and their bodies have be altered forever. Their bodies will never look the same again. They are coming to terms with their new appearance.

Along with the surgeries usually always comes rounds of chemo either before or after the surgeries, and sometimes it's both. Chemotherapy a drug so strong that it kills both the good and bad cells. Meaning that these women lose their hair and usually not just the hair on top of their head, but the eyebrows and eyelashes go too. Many people with cancer develop a host of other side effects including mouth sores, nausea, tiredness coupled with the inability to sleep well, hot flashes, pain, and loss of appetite. In an attempt to help these symptoms the patient is often given more meds to help, which in return can these meds cause side effects of their own, such as bloating, fogginess, and fatigue.

I had one women tell me after she lost her hair and the drugs had taken their toll on her that when she would pass by a mirror or window and catch a glimpse of herself she would have to remind herself that that was what she looked like now. A bald, puffier, and more tired version of herself. Many women express that they have a hard time feeling attractive or beautiful during this period. I saw the rawness of losing ones physical beauty with my mom and see it with the women I meet through Haircuts 4 Hope. These woman with cancer watch their physical identity being striped away layer by layer until they only feel and look like a fraction of their former self.

So when I get on Facebook and see campaigns like "Go Braless Thursday for Breast Cancer Awareness" or "Take A No Make-up Selfie For Cancer Awareness" I sigh and feel instantly annoyed. Sorry, but healthy women walking around in a shirt with their breast hanging free isn't raising awareness for cancer. It may get attention, but not the kind of attention these well meaning women were aiming for. In fact I can't imagine being a cancer patient who has had to go through the trauma of a mastectomy and is just beginning to deal with her loss only to see photos of healthy women with their perky breast poking through a T-shirt claiming to bring awareness breast cancer. I can't imagine anything more hurtful. To me it's just a slap in the face. These women need support not to be reminded of what they lost.

The no make-up selfie falls right along the lines as this no bra idea. Seeing healthy women who still have their hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, who are sleeping well, who don't have mouth sores, and aren't puffy from all the drugs isn't bringing awareness it is reminding them of all they have lost. It's reminding them they no longer look and feel like that. I have had a unique privilege of being in the room as a woman loses her hair and I can tell you it in heartbreaking. As soon as I bring the clippers to the top of the head the room is silent, hands are being held, and often tears are being shed. A women who is experiencing the side effects due to cancer treatment doesn't need to log onto social media sites and see a bunch of fresh faced healthy woman not wearing making. For them they'd give anything to look and feel like that again. Some of these things that are meant for "cancer awareness" seem so self indulgent to me. It's like saying look how great I look without make-up or look how perky my boobs are? And everyone applauds it because after all its for "cancer awareness!"

I always find the cancer awareness cause strange most people are aware cancer exists these days. Yes, there was a time where cancer needed to be brought to everyones attention, but now cancer research needs money to continuing working on cures and better drugs. Local and national non-profits that work with cancer patients and research could usually use volunteers or money to help further their campaign. If you want to help cancer get involved or donate money. Stop posting pictures of your healthy self in the name of cancer awareness on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Stop reminding these women of all they have lost during their fight. Stop making a traumatic time even worse by participating in campaigns that do nothing to really raise awareness.

I know everyone just wants to do their part, but I can guarantee these silly things are not helping. They are doing nothing for cancer. If you don't have time or money to donate at the very least instead of posting a picture of your braless make-upless self post facts about cancer and how early detection is key, or post where others can go to help or donate.

http://www.cancer.org

http://www.relayforlife.org

http://www.hopelives.org

http://stbaldricks.org

Okay I'm stepping off my soapbox now. Just think before you post. Ask yourself is this really helping cancer awareness? And if it's not put the camera down, step away from the computer, and think of a better way to help.

My Mommy's Back! Email 10

2014-02-11T16:46:00.000-07:00

Here is the next email, and I'll have a response up as soon as I feel inspired.

Email # 10

Well, I made it through two more chemo sessions and feel pretty good.
Those drugs they have for anti-nausea are great. Biggest complaint is
being a little tired, but nothing too debilitating. Actually, the worst
part of the last treatment was the fact that it took ALL DAY. It wasn't
supposed to. Here's what happened.

When I went in for my last treatment in June, my pas-port wasn't working
right. They could get medications in but they couldn't draw any blood
out. They gave me my treatment by standard IV and sent me to get an
X-ray. Of course, I couldn't get the X-ray at the imaging center at the
south hospital. I had to drive all the way north to the main hospital.
(Why, I don't know). After the tech took the picture, she asked if I was
supposed to wait. No one had told me to, so I assumed they would call
me. Well, what I found our later was that they were supposed to flush
the port and open it for the next treatment, which is a very strong
chemical that they don't like to give through a normal IV. I went in on
Monday, the day before my treatment, for blood work and asked about the
port. There was much hemming and hawing. They promised to check into it
and call me that afternoon.

Tuesday morning came, and I assumed everything was go for chemo since
they hadn't called. Well,. Dr. Scott decided she wanted the port opened
before doing therapy. (Oh yeah, I waited an hour and a half before they
told me this, so by now it was ten o'clock.) Of course, they couldn't
open the port at the cancer center. Nooooooooo...I had to go to the main
hospital. So, off I went. (I was very careful when I left the message
with Kellen.)

They were expecting me, but the biggest problem was that the computers
were all shut down and they couldn't access any pharmaceuticals until
someone came around with the key. Two hours later, they finally got the
drug they needed to flush the port, but it was frozen, soooooooooo, I had
to wait for them to thaw it. Finally, after waiting for the IV team to
get there, they got it into the port and let me go find something to eat.
(It was two by this time.) They predicted it would take a half hour to
two hours to open the port. I was supposed to get back to the Cancer
Center for two or three hours of chemo. I didn't want to miss it because
the next day was the Fourth and it would throw the schedule off. Praise
the Lord, and I did verbally, that port opened up on the first try.

SO, I raced back to the Center where they were waiting and got my
treatment in the nick of time. Here is what I learned...always ask
exactly what is going to be done and if I need to stick around for
results or other procedures. ASK QUESTIONS!!!! If you are under a
doctor's care for anything, ASK QUESTIONS!

It was a good thing I didn't have any other plans that day!

I had the opportunity to sit next to a woman who was having her final
treatment. She was so excited. Everything seemed to be going well for
her, her cancer in remission. We got to share about our faith and how
important it is to believe God will take care of things. We both agreed
we couldn't do this without him. We promised to pray for one another, so
I will add Sandy to my list. It was a blessing to see how happy she was.
It's amazing how many of the people you meet in cancer treatment rooms
have a strong faith in God...and some of them have come upon it because
of their disease. All I can say is Praise God and thanks for all your
prayers!

Love,

Deb

Moments of Joy

2014-02-02T20:16:00.005-07:00

I didn't know what to expect. I never really do when I arrive for a Haircuts 4 Hope appointment. Of course I know I will be giving a haircut that is unwanted, but other than that I never know exactly how the appointment will go.

I had spoke to Cheryl a few days prior to her appointment. Our conversation was like others before. She was recieving Chemo and her hair was going to fall out due to the treatment. I have never had anyone call excited about this haircut. The conversation is always slightly somber. The reality of about what is going to happen is setting in. Cheryl asked if there was a way to make this moment (the one where she would announce to the world she was sick by adorning a certain haircut) more up lifting. She asked had I seen it transform from something sad to something better. I told her that yes I had. I recommended she invite a support system. That she should surround herself with people important to her. We set the time and date, and then there was nothing to do but wait.

I arrived that night at Cheryl's house. It was cold and dark outside, but as I approached her home I could see through the kitchen window and inside warmth, family, and friendship shined through. At first I thought I might have made a mistake. Perhaps I had typed the wrong address into my GPS, but my fear lasted only a moment, because the door opened and Cheryl's daughter, Erin, smiled and said, "You must be Katy." I smiled shook her hand, and soon I was introduced to Cheyl's husband and then Cheryl. I shook her hand and said, "Nice to meet you. Sorry it has to be under these circumstances."

Cheryl explained that she would have her hair cut in her room with just her daughter. Then she'd come out and with the rest of the group to eat. She didn't want a big ta-do when she came out. Those who knew her well nodded and went back to talking. I followed her and her daughter to the room. They brought a chair in, and I told her to face it in whatever direction she was comfortable. If she didn't want to face the mirror that was more than fine. I didn't need it, but she decided to face the mirror head on. She sat down and we began to discuss how short she wanted to go. Cheryl decided to leave some, but to cut it short enough that she wouldn't have to watch clumps of her hair come out, but just enough left that she could ease into to her new look. The look that scares cancer patients the most. The bald head. The very symbol that says to everyone, "I'm sick". I knelt down looked at her and told her, "I know it feels like this haircut will define you, but one day, it may not be tomorrow or a week from now, but one day you'll wake up and decide you'll define it. You won't let cancer patient be what people see about you. One day you'll find away to show them who you are, but until then it's okay to be sad." Then I started the haircut, and before too long it was done. Almost immediatley there is a sense of relief for the cancer patient that their head isn't lumpy liked they feared and they don't look as bad as they imagined, and Cheryl was no different there was a small bit of relief. She then put on her hat and was ready to go see her friends and family. Erin wanted her to go without the hat, but Cheryl wasn't ready yet. I cleaned up my stuff and followed them out of the room.

I was getting ready to say goodbye when Cheyl's family offered me food. Not wanting to impose I declined, but then Erin said, "Have a glass of wine and talk for a bit." Those who know me well know that I never turn down a glass of wine and chance to socialize with it, so I accepted the invitation. I took my glass and sat at the table. A moment or two later Cheyl's husband handed me a plate of Eggplant Parmigiana. Not those fried discs of eggplant they like to serve at chain Italian restaurants, but true eggplant parmigiana. I have only had it once before at a little Italian restaurant in Greeley ran by a man from Italy. The eggplant almost serves as a noodle and is layered with delicious sauces and cheeses. As I ate the amazing food and enjoyed the company I noticed Cheryl disappeared into the bedroom only to return without her hat. She had made her first brave step. Showing those she loved the new her. The different her. She sat back down, and I watched as her family supported her. Showed her love and made sure her smile stayed on her face. Soon Erin read a writing Cheryl had written earlier in the week. Then a few brave voices talked about what this cancer diagnosis meant to them and what being there in this moment meant to them. I watched as a family bonded together in a moment of darkness and watched how their love and support turned what could have been another really bleak moment into something better, brighter.

As I sat amongst this moment surrounded by a family I had just met I was reminded of moments like these in my own family when my mom was sick. With my mom, as I imagine with all cancer diagnosis', everything happened quick. The diagnosis, the plans for treatment, and then treatment begins. It's hard to really comprehend what is going on let alone let all of it sink in the way it should. Things feel dark, bleak, and scary. My family like Cheryl's family had our big moments like they had the other night. There was the night of my mom's diagnosis on her 45th birthday that we went out for mexican food, and filled ourselves with chips and salsa, tacos, enchiladas, and sopapillas, and some how found some laughter in the heaviness of the situation. Or there was my mom's very own "head shaving party" ,as she called, where I took the hair off both her and Wendy's head. There were a few moments of quiet followed by laughter as her and Wendy cracked jokes about their new do's. We then spent the next several hours at the mall trying to find the right hats, scarves, and dangling earrings to accompany their bald heads. Once again finding a bright spot in a dark situation.

Of course, as my mom's cancer journey progressed not every moment could be monumental. I had to look for the moments of joy in smaller forms. I learned to rely on these moments of joy to carry me through the rough spots. That day she describes in the email I had never been so scared and worried. It was not like her to have trouble breathing while exercising, usually I was trying to keep up with her, but that day she could barely breath moving at a snails pace. After several blocks of this and some serious insistence on my part I got her to sit down and not move. I ran back to the house like I was trying to win an olympic gold, which says a lot because I am not a runner. I quickly found my keys and hurried back to pick her up only to find her walking again. I firmly told her to get in the car, and then helped her into the house once we arrived home. I made her sit on the sofa and suggested she call her doctor. Her being the stubborn woman she was said she'd call in a bit if she wasn't feeling better. I got ready for work and knew I had to play hard ball with her before I left. I came down handed her the phone and told her to call the doctor or I was staying home and calling in sick to work. I knew she wasn't going to have that, so she dialed the numbers and I heard her begin to tell the receptionist what was going on. I had to leave to make it to work on time. I kissed her head, and mouthed to her that I'd call in a little bit.

I called, and of course had the same phone conversation with my brother Wendy had, and from the sounds of it many others had had. I called her cell phone, and by some miracle she actually had it on(Remember this was 2001 cell phones were really just starting to be something everyone had. My mom for some reason never left hers on in fear of draining the battery. No matter how much I explained that was what her charger was for.) She told me she was fine. That she had a blood clot and Wendy was there at the hospital with her. I relaxed a bit, but I was still worried and scared. I finished my shift at work, and I went directly to the hospital. I needed to see with my own two eyes that she was fine. I sat and talked with her my nerves starting to relax just a bit. She got up to use the restroom and a few moments later I heard her call for me. My heart rate spiked for the millionth time that day. I was certain she had fallen or something was wrong. I quickly barged into the bathroom only to find she had dropped the edge of her hospital gown in the toilet and could I go get another. I did and brought it back to her. She then asked if I could help tie it on her. Sure, I mean how hard could it really be.

My first attempt was miserable it looked like I had tied her up in a straight jacket. We began to chuckle. I tried again and once again I did wrong. We started to laugh harder. She tried to guide me the third time and still something wasn't right. By now we both had tears of laughter streaming down our faces and our sides began to hurt form laughing so hard. There we stood in the sterile tile bathroom in a complete moment of joy. That day had be scary, dark, and horrible. I kept imagining the worst and my stomach had be in knots all day, but there for a few moments trying to tie that silly x-large gown on my petite mother the fear was gone, and only pure joy existed as we laughed away the trauma.

As I sat around Cheryl's table watching her family and friends talk I saw smiles on everyones faces and I could tell for a brief moment they were experiencing the small bright spot in their dark. That they had spent most of the last week scared and sad, but in this moment of togetherness filled with food and love they were finding a small bit of light in their dark.

Watching them find this reminded me of what it felt like to have those moments, and while it might seem like a sad thing for me to remember. It's not. Even now when I have my dark days the days where I miss my mom so much I can feel the hole in my heart bleeding for her I try to go back to these moments where I felt joy, comfort, and love with her because they still carry me through, and to be reminded how precious these moments were by such a kind family is a blessing.

Cancer sucks. It's scary and horrible for both the patient, family, and friends. It brings a darkness to a person and family, but it also allows for moments of joy that will shine brighter than ever before to carry them through.

It was you

2014-01-14T14:03:00.000-07:00

I know I owe everyone a response to my mom's email, but this I have to write. Its on my mind and I need to let it out. I will have a response up soon!

Dear Lacy,

It's January again, and this January seems very reminiscent of the one when you went missing. It is cloudy, windy, and cold. Of course maybe I just remember that January 11 years ago that way because that is how my heart and mind felt. Eleven years? It is hard to believe it has been that long since you were here. Sometimes it feels like only yesterday that all of us who loved you lived through the nightmare of your disappearance and death. Of course, I have evidence that reminds it has been that long. I'm married, I have a five year old and a three year old, and when I look closely or not so closely in the mirror I can see the early stages of wrinkles appearing around my eyes from years of laughter and tears. I can see myself aging, while you'll forever be 20.

Most of the year I can shove the horrible memories of that January in 2003 to the back of my mind. I can picture us as little girls riding our bikes, playing in the snow, having tea parties, and giggling together as we fell asleep on one of our many sleepovers. I can think about how grateful I was for our friendship when my mom died and you went out of your to see Kellen while my dad and I were stuck in New York or how you seemed to understand the pain Kellen and I were going through like many kids our age didn't, but in January I have a hard time pulling up the happy memories. I am often haunted by the terrible.

On the days like today when the wind is blowing and the clouds come over I can still feel what it was like to sit in church that Sunday morning. The gnawing feeling I had felt all weekend that something was off, not quite right in my world, was now screaming at me. I tried to focus on the music and prayers, but I couldn't shake the feeling. After the service I met my dad and Jason for lunch like always. We sat down in our booth in the empty Applebees, and my dad not sure how to say what he was about to say spit out the words quickly and swiftly, like ripping off a band-aid, "Lacy's missing. They can't find her. She's not answering her phone. They're hoping she ran off with a boy or something, but . . . . . . . Wendy just wanted me to tell you before you saw it on the news." The tears started immediately. I tried to dry them and quiet my sobs with on of those non-absobant napkins that restaurants have. His words hammered around in my head. It was hard to focus on anything, but what he had just told me. I ordered food and picked at. I was anxious I wanted to go see your mom. When I arrived at your house the yard was flooded with people. Your mom stood on the front lawn in a long fur coat. I ran to her the tears filling my eyes again. She hugged me and said "Don't worry we'll find her."

I remember volunteering to walk fields and neighborhoods with groups of people hoping or not hoping, not really sure which, to find something that would link us to you. I went home that night hoping for more tears, but they just wouldn't come again. The next few days I checked news reports and sat by the phone hoping and praying for a happy ending, and then on the Wednesday morning news it was confirmed your body had been found. The anchor woman with her flawless make-up and perfect hair continued to give details of what had happened to you, but once again words were swarming my head over and over all I could hear was, "Lacy Miller's body has been found." Your funeral was planned and your obituary ran in the newspaper. I sat at your service still not finding tears, but desperately wanting to. I was in shock I just couldn't believe this was happening. It wasn't until a couple nights later as I lay wide awake in the early hours of the morning that the tears finally found me. I sobbed and sobbed. There in the quiet of my apartment your death became real. I had been so in shock and all the news coverage made it seem like another story about some missing girl, but it wasn't another story and some girl it was you. Lacy Jo Miller, the little freckled faced blue eyed girl that was such a huge part of my childhood. It was you, the one friend that I knew would be there no matter what even though we didn't talk everyday like we once did. It was you.

January is so hard. The haunting memories no matter how I try to ignore them are there. It's a hard month to forget the bad and not think about the what could have beens. I know you're happy and at peace. I know you feel no pain or hurt where you are. I know you are safe in the arms of Jesus and all who have loved you and joined you in Heaven, but I hope you can see how much you're still loved and missed here. Keep smiling down on all of us who miss you, because we will never forget you.

I love you,

Katy

My Mommy's Back! Email 9

2014-01-07T17:15:00.001-07:00

Here is the next long overdue email. So sorry I'm such a slacker posting these and responding. I'm gonna try and do better.

My Mom

Email #9

In case you have been wondering where I've been (or maybe you're
relishing the time off from my diatribes), I just spent a week in the
lovely Poudre Valley Hospital hooked up to a line of heparin, dissolving.
Not dissolving all the way, just some blood clots in my lungs that came
from a thrombosis in my leg. It came on pretty suddenly...well, I guess
I had been having what I thought were leg cramps on and off for a month
or so. The doc thought I might need calcium, so I started taking it. It
didn't help, but I still didn't think anything was seriously wrong. On
Monday morning, Katy and I got up to take our walk. We got about two
blocks from home and I said, "I can't catch my breath." Katy suggested
we slow down a little. It didn't help, so Katy (my saviorette) ran home
to get the car and picked me up. I called the doc, and she suggested it
might be a blood clot in spite of the fact that I had no swelling in any
of my extremities and my lungs sounded "so good". They sent for a VQ
scan (a scan I haven't before had the pleasure of knowing) and a X-ray
and told me I wasn't going to be going home for a while. I tried to call
Tom, but he wasn't home, so I left a message with Kellen to tell Tom I
was in the hospital...not to worry, but to call because I needed some
things. Of course, here is how all the messages (including the one Wendy
got when she had a "feeling" something was wrong) went:

"Kellen, where's Mom."
"In the hospital. Bye."
"NO WAIT! Why?"
"Don't know. Bye"
"NO WAIT! Did she drive herself?!"
"Don't know. Bye."
"WAIT!!! GO SEE IF HER CAR IS THERE."
"No, it's gone. Bye."
"NO WAIT! Did she say anything else?"
"Uh-huh. Bye."

You see. Kellen is always in the middle of a computer game that is even
more important than the hospitalization of a mother or father...possibly
even more important than death, so he is always trying to hang up. One
friend understood that I had had a brain aneurysm and thought I was in a
coma. So, the moral of the story is: don't leave messages with a teen
age boy.

Anyway, they did an ultrasound on my leg and found out I had a thrombosis
from which some clots had come loose and gone to my lungs...hence the
clots they were in the scan. So, I was given a week of heparin in an IV
drip and started on oral coumadin (a medicine that keeps your blood from
clotting) and told to lie there for a week. I got lots of reading done,
did some crosswords, meditated and prayed, played Gameboy (graciously
lent to me by my son) and rested. I was on the telemetry floor (heart
floor) which is very nice with private bathrooms, showers and one bed per
room. Still, it's good to be home and to not have someone poking me for
blood all the time. I have to say, it did make me feel good when every
time they listened to my lungs they said, "Wow! You have great breath
sounds! Are you sure you're missing half a lung?" Now, it's just slowly
getting my wind back and getting back into the swing of exercise again.

I wish I had more exciting stuff to tell you. The most exciting thing
that happened was when I dropped the corner of my gown into the toilet
and asked Katy to get me another one. The nurse at the nurses station
said that was the first time she had heard anyone use that as an excuse
(which means a lot of people are lying because those gowns automatically
float to the toilet bowl.) So, they got me one but Katy and I couldn't
figure out how to snap and tie it. We got to laughing so hard I was
afraid my heart monitor was going to signal a code blue and we'd have
everyone on alert! That didn't happen, but Katy and I had a pretty good
yuck.

I want everyone to know that when you send me a Bible verse, I look it up
and highlight it in my Bible. I read and pray every morning, and love to
read the passages sent by all of you. Thank you for being diligent in
you prayers for me. I know God is listening. I am still waiting from
him to reveal the purpose in this and waiting for his healing. Patience!

Keep in touch!

Love,

Deb

An Angel In Tie-Dye

2013-12-24T09:44:00.001-07:00

I loaded my 2 weeks worth of groceries onto the little conveyor belt at the the grocery store. I set my stack of coupons on the counter, pulled out my reusable bags, and loaded the other discounts I had my phone so they could be scanned. I'm pretty much a cashiers worse nightmare. Large order, lots of coupons, and the annoying reusable bags that don't stand up well, but I do what I have to to save money and the planet.

I smiled and said, "How are you today? Sorry about all this I know it's a pain."

The girl behind the register smiled back and said, "It's alright. I have to be here for 8 hours I might as well be busy."

I laughed, "True. I used to cashier. Nothing worse than standing here with nothing to do. I never knew time could go so slow."

She laughed back as she worked on scanning and bagging. The conversation then morphed into one of how crazy the holiday season was and what we would both be doing for Christmas. As I pushed my cart away I thanked her and wished her a Merry Christmas. As I headed to my car. I realized how much I turned into my mother.

There was a point in time where I would roll my eyes as my mom talked to the cashier, bank teller, my school bus driver, the Schwaan's man, really she'd talk to anybody like they were long lost friends. I would always ask, "Why do you have to talk to everyone?" She'd laugh and say, "Because I like too!"

What I have realized as I have gotten older and slowly find myself sounding and acting more like my mom was that she really did enjoy talking to people and she did for herself, but she also did for them. Like me, she had a history of customer service work behind her. She knew what it was like to barely be seen by the people as they come through your line. Only really noticing you to voice a complaint. Many people can barley be bothered to say hello let alone anything. I get now that she really was just trying to brighten their day to show them that they mattered. Her years of talking to whoever carried over into talking to those around her during her chemo therapy treatments.

I went to one or two of her chemo appointments with her, but they were always in the mornings and I was often working. The same was true with my dad and Wendy. I always felt kind of bad, but somehow I think by us not being there it was a blessing in disguise. My mom unlike most (I'm sure I have written about this before) had a whole chemo day routine. She would get up and get dressed in her shirt she bought in Jamaica. It was tie-dyed in bright primary and secondary colors and on it said "No Worries Man". She had found a crocheted hat on the hat stand at cancer center that had been crocheted out of the same colors that she wore with the shirt. She'd get in her car, and listen to Bob Marley, Disco, or Gospel music on her way to the appointment. Once there she would talk to whoever she was sat next too. I remember her telling me about the people she chatted with for the couple hours she was there. I vaguely remember her telling me about a woman who was having a difficult time, and her asking my mom how she could be so positive. My mom said she talked with that lady the whole time and by the end the woman seemed happier and more joyful. Then there is the woman she mentions in this email who she told about the medicine to bring her appetite back. I know there were so many more she talked to, and offered support, advice, and love.

Her choice to be upbeat and positive in a time that was acceptable to not be made it easy for people to reach out to her and for her to reach out to others. I always think that if myself, my dad, or Wendy had been there she would have spent more time talking to us and less to those around her. By us not being there she was able to be a light to those who needed her. Whenever the guilt creeps in that I didn't go with her I like to believe that somewhere out there there is a survivor that sits around with their family and talks about the woman in a bright tie-dyed shirt and matching hat that gave them a little more strength to make it through the next day or week. That this woman reached out and talked to them not like a sick person, but like a friend. I like to think that she was Angel for so many that needed a little positivity and happiness in a dark moment. I like to think of her as an Angel in tie-dye waiting to spread a little joy to whoever she could.

My Mommy's Back! Email 8

2013-12-10T15:06:00.000-07:00

Here is the next email. My response will be up in the next week or so. Have a great day.

My Mom

Email #8

I hope this letter reaches everyone. I got into my address book to make
some additions and I think I may have goofed some things up. Tell you
what, if you don't get this letter, let me know! Ha!

Well, I had my second round of chemo today and now get two weeks
odd...from chemo that is. Of course, there are all other reasons to make
me come into the office such as blood tests and hydration therapy, but
hey, I ain't complainin'. At least we're finally doing something!

So far it hasn't been too bad. My blood count is low, so they have given
me a couple of shots of that Procrit stuff that they advertise on TV.
There are all of these incredibly healthy looking people dancing around
and extolling the virtues of this drug. They all have full heads of
hair, and recommend that if you are on chemo and feel tired that you get
a shot of this stuff too! One person even says happily, "Today, I caught
a fish!" Well, I haven't caught any fishes but I don't feel too bad so
far. They give me anti-nausea medication before they start the chemo
drugs and then send me home with some in tablet form. So far, so good.

Today I got my feet massaged and listened to live classical guitar music
while I got my dose. It really is a pretty nice atmosphere. I guess if
you have to have chemo, this is the office in which to do it! I can
think of worse things than lying in a big, soft chair with a book and
having people wait on me hand and foot. It does take a while, about
three hours on average for the double days and two for the single days.
Everyone is very nice, and it's kind of comforting to be with other
people who are going through the same thing you are. It's a good place
to share info, too. The lady next to me had no idea there was a
medication that could help bring her appetite back. I just hope her
insurance will cover it because she was quite excited about it when I
shared the info.

Tomorrow I go back for two hours of fluids. I don't think they realize
how much water i drink everyday, but then again it may be because the
Carboplatin is a pretty heavy duty drug and they want to make sure my
body has enough fluid to handle it.

Gee, that's about all I've been doing lately. I am managing to do some
housework here and there...not too much cooking, however. I pray a lot,
rest a lot and visit the doctor's office a lot. I still feel God is with
me, and that He is going to bring me through this. I pray for healing
every day and read certain passages from the Bible that I have marked
that relate to healing. If you know of any, please send them along and I
will add them to my list. Most important, I feel hopeful almost all the
time. God is holding me up and always manages to find a way to lift my
spirits if they do start to sag.

I hope you are all fine. I pray for all of you daily and thank God for
your prayers. Thanks for being there for me!

Love,

Deb
I hope

For That I'm Thnakful

2013-12-03T13:27:00.001-07:00

When I read this email I thought, "How in the world am I going to make a Thanksgiving post out of this?" I mean my mom talks about storing her pee in jug, which is not the most inspiring thing. But then, I got a Haircuts 4 Hope call. After I cut this sweet lady's hair I sat and talked to her for awhile, and at some point in our conversation she said, "I'm so sorry about your mom. That just had to be so hard." I nodded my head and said, "Thank you. I just try to find the blessings in the tragedy." And there out of my own mouth came the words I needed to feel inspired to write this post.

It was hard when I was in the midst of my mom's cancer battle to find things to be thankful for. I found small things to be thankful for, like a clear test result or no trips to the hospital or a day where the drugs weren't taking a toll on her. Overall it was hard to see the big picture things to be thankful for, and then after she died finding joy and thankfulness out of her death felt like I was saying I was happy she had died. Because of that feeling it took me awhile to realize that even though I would give anything to have her back and healthy that I could still find some positive things out of her sickness and death, and that by doing that I was in fact honoring her life. That's why this year for my Thanksgiving post I'm going to share the things I consider blessings out of my very personal tragedy.

The first thing that I am grateful for is that at a very early age I learned to appreciate the beauty of life. I realized the fragility of it and that I wasn't promised another moment beyond the one I was living at that very second. I learned to find joy in the simple things, like how great that first sip of hot coffee is on a cold morning, or talking and laughing with my husband over a glass of wine, or the beauty in my children's laughter. I'm not always perfect and sometimes let the stress of life invade on this, but I always ask myself when I start to worry too much, "Will this problem or stress matter if I die tomorrow?", and if the answer is no I let it go and focus on the beauty of the moment I'm in. This was a lesson that took my mom 45 years and a cancer diagnosis to learn, but because of her I learned it at 20 . . . for that I'm thankful.

The next thing I am grateful for is my mom's last words to me were "I love you Honey." Because I was with her when she lost consciousness I didn't get a hug good bye and an "I love you" at the house or airport like my dad and brother did. By some sweet miracle after days of unconsciousness and confusion when I said goodbye to her in New York to come home to get some affairs in order those were the last words I heard her say. I know how special it was to have those words be the last words she spoke to me, and because of that I remember to tell those I care about and love what they mean to me. My children probably think I'm crazy, because I tell them so much, but I always want it to be right there in the front of their minds if something ever were to happen to me. I am the same with Jason too. I try to make sure that the rest of my family knows I care as well. I figure letting people know their loved is never a bad thing and I'll never regret saying it too much I'll only regret not saying it enough, so had it not been for my mom I wouldn't have realized how wonderful and necessary those 3 little words are . . . for that I'm thankful.

The third thing I am forever grateful for is that her death changed my dad's and my relationship for the better. My dad has always been a great dad. He was there for every school play, Ice skating show and competition, he helped with homework, and came home for dinner every night. However, my mom was the one I always confided in and looked to for comfort and problem solving. It's not that my dad wouldn't have listened, but I just felt more comfortable going to her. When she died my dad was such a source of strength. He handled her death with a peace and grace I can't even describe, and at the same time managed to be such a support system to me. I can still remember just holding onto him and my tears soaking through his t-shirt on numerous occasions, and he sat so patiently embracing me in a hug as I let my pain out. As we tried to find our way in this world without my mom I went to my dad with my silly work problems and life problems, and what I found was my dad gave really good advice and as time went on it was easier and easier to open up to him. By the time we went to Disney World for Kellen's high school graduation and a year after my mom's death it was like having a really good friend and not just my dad along for the trip. If my mom was still here she probably still would be the one I would primarily go to for support and comfort, because of her death I learned what a wonderful confidant and source of strength my dad is . . . for that I'm thankful.

And finally her death taught me to be compassionate and empathetic. It taught me to look beyond myself and realize I never know what someone else is going through or dealing with, and that I should take the time to show them kindness, love, and peace no matter what they choose to show me. Her death showed I only have one life to live and I can either be a blessing and joy to others or I can show them judgement and hate. Her death humbled me and taught me how to be a kinder person . . . for that I'm thankful.

There they are. The blessings out of my tragedy.

My Mommy's Back! Email 7

2013-11-21T14:52:00.000-07:00

Here is a long over due email. Sheesh! I seriously thought my kids getting older would equal more free time, but somehow that does not seem to be the case. I will try my hardest to have a response up before Thanksgiving, but if not it'll be right after!

My Mom

Email #7

Sorry I haven't written in so long, but I've been waiting for something
to happen. Finally, this week, a lot went on. More tests, more
appointments. Such fun! On Monday I stayed home for two tests. One was
a twenty-four hour urine test. Now, I don't know how many of you have
had the privilege to save twenty-four hours worth of your pee in a bright
orange jug and bring it into the hospital for testing. Not only that,
but you have to keep it cold so they recommend the refrigerator. I don't
think so. There's something about a big jug of pee greeting one in the
morning that's a little unappetizing. I chose a bucket and ice. It
worked well. I wrapped the jug in plastic bags in case I had an accident
on the way to the hospital. Wouldn't that be lovely to have it break
open and spew all over the car and me! I guess whatever they were
looking for is okay (something to do with creatine levels) because Dr.
Scott hasn't said anything. I also got the pleasure of a blood draw
when I turned in my jug. Gee, I never knew bodily fluids could be in
such great demand.

My next fun thing was a thyroid biopsy. When they did the ultrasound
last week they found a couple of nodules. Dr. S. decided to have them
analyzed, which entailed having a needle stuck in them and some cells
aspirated Now, I don't know about you, but I can stand to be stuck just
about anywhere but in "crunchy" areas...and the spot where your thyroid
is is cartilage, thus, crunchy. It didn't help that Dr. Pacini kept
falling off his chair because it was broken. Luckily, Wendy was there to
help, so with the nurse he was able to draw enough fluid to get a good
test. He said it didn't look malignant, and Wendy and I thanked God. It
was good to get some good news for a change! I do think Dr. Pacini ought
to requisition a new chair for that room!

On Wednesday, I got my pas-port. No, not the kind with the ugly picture
that brings a new meaning to the term "Ugly American", the kind through
which they administer chemo. It's a little button-type device with a
long (about 8 inches) tube on it that they insert into a vein in your arm
or chest. Then they can draw blood or administer drugs through it.
Since I'm not fat enough, I got mine put in my arm, which is okay because
it will show less there. At least the doctor wasn't falling out of his
chair during this procedure.

The stitches from the pas-port come out on Wednesday, just in time for my
first dose of chemo. I will start on a drug called Gemzar, then a week
later I will have another dose of Gemzar and a dose of Carboplatin.
Then, I get two weeks off. They have already given me a prescription
for anti-nausea medication, and it looks like my hair will grow back
during this chemo. If this course of treatment works, I'll stay on it
for six cycles. If it doesn't, we'll try something else. The biggest
problem with chemo is keeping the blood counts high. I'll have to eat
lots of protein and make sure that I eat enough. I'll also need rest,
but since school is almost out, I won't have to work anymore, at least
for a few months. We'll see what fall brings.

Again, I would like to thank all of you for your prayers. They are
working. Kellen even survived his first fender-bender this week which
proves my family is covered in prayer. He got a ticket for following too
closely, but thank God he wasn't hurt. His ego is bruised more than
anything!

Well, it's getting late and I better put my tired body to bed. I think
of you all constantly and pray for you in return everyday. I love you!

Deb

Hope

2013-11-07T14:21:00.000-07:00

I am so sorry about my delay in a response. I have sat down several times thinking I know what I want to write, and then it just doesn't come together right. Finally after struggling I sat down and reread the email and one word really popped out at me.

Hope. Hope is the word that I would use describe my mom's battle with cancer. It was a gift she gave herself and to those who chose to be around her. She knew her diagnosis was considered terminal and all of us who loved her knew it too, but there was something about being around her that made you forget that she really could die. She brought hope to every situation. We never really sat around somber wondering if this was going to be our last time to chat over a mocha latte and a blubbery muffin. When we had a great talk on a walk it was the furthest thing from my mind that we may not be able to do that for much longer, because my mom chose not live in world where things seemed hopeless. She chose to live in a world where thing seemed hopeful.

She would talk about a future where Wendy's hair was long and she was there to trip over it or a world where she got to see her grandkids or my brother graduate from high school. She talked about the future like it was attainable for her and like she really believed she'd be here. She brought all of us along on this journey allowing us to be hopeful for her and with her. We talked about what we'd do when she was better and all the fun we would have. It was easy to forget her prognosis, because she refused to let it dictate her life. It may sound like I am describing a woman in denial, but she was aware of how serious her sickness was but she refused to let it define her and squash her hope for a beautiful future.

Of course her story doesn't have the happy ending we were all hoping for, but the thing is the beauty of the lesson she taught so many of us is still here. When you are living the your day to day life it is easy to let the hopelessness creep in. It doesn't take long to begin to feel deflated. Every time the news comes on there is story of another shooting or missing or abused child. We can read things on social media and watch as people bicker and sling hate over political points of view. Its hard not to feel a little bit hopeless when the government shuts down leaving people without pay and risks sending us into another recession. It's so hard not to see the ugliness that surrounds us, which makes it hard to picture a bright happy future when the media seems hell bent on showing us the opposite.

I would be lying if I said things hadn't felt hopeless lately. That I hadn't felt beat down by all the drama that seems to surround us, and the I reread my mom's word and I was reminded of the gift she had given me so many years ago. A gift of being able to believe in brighter better things amongst the sadness. Of course her hope didn't change the outcome of her diagnosis , but it certainly changed the way she lived her last days. Because she had hope she was able to show love for all she came in contact with she wasn't wasting energy on worrying about tomorrow or feeling angry about things she really couldn't change.

As we approach another holiday season and the end of another year I realize I have spent too much of this year allowing the hopelessness that is so wide spread affect me. I have allowed it to seep into me and it has caused me worry, it has made me judge when I had no right, and it has stopped me from spreading love and joy. I needed to be reminded of how my mom lived her last days. These last few weeks every time I start to stress or worry I remember my mom's hopefulness and tell myself if a woman with terminal cancer can believe in a brighter better tomorrow so can I, and the worry starts to slip away and the hope starts to come back in.

My Mommy's Back! Email 6

2013-10-17T13:32:00.001-06:00

Here is the next email. I hopefully will have a response up within the week. I hope everyone is enjoying their fall!

My Mom

Email #6

My first words of wisdom to anyone going through a serious illness....get
a doctor with whom you feel comfortable. Don't worry about hurting
anyone's feelings, you have to do what is best for you. When Tom and I
started this journey, I was under the care of Dr.M. His words when he
diagnosed me the second time were, "This is incurable. It doesn't look
good." All of a sudden I felt I had become "A patient with lung cancer"
instead of "Debra Moss who has special needs and is an individual."
Dr. M. then outlined one treatment plan, scheduled me for an MRI and sent
us home, where, of course, Tom and I fell apart. The MRI showed, as you
all know, brain metastases, so I was forced to put any other treatment
(chemo) aside to get my brain clear. This gave me time to reflect. A
little voice in my head kept saying, "You need a new doctor. Find a new
doctor." I tried to ignore it because I didn't want to hurt Dr, M's
feelings, even though he didn't seem to worry too much about mine. (I
felt his bedside manner was callous.) Of course, that voice was God, and
just as he had directed us to M.D. Anderson, he was directing me to find
another doctor.

My friend Wendy kept telling me about the doctor (Dr. Scott) of a friend
of hers, urging me to switch. Finally, I could no longer ignore the
voices (Wendy's or God's) and decided to call Dr. Scott. Tom and I saw
her Thursday and what a difference a doctor makes! She was so
encouraging. She said there are many treatment options available and
that my youth and otherwise good health would be a real help in our
battle against this disease. It also turned out that lung cancer is her
area of expertise. Now that isn't coincidence...that's God! Also not a
coincidence was the fact that she was scheduled to leave the next day for
a conference in California where she would be attending workshops and
seminars on lung cancer. She will meet with us next week to outline a
treatment.

Not only is Dr. Scott warm and encouraging, but the office staff is
great. When I walked into Dr. M.'s office, the first thing they did was
thrust a stack of insurance papers at me to make sure they got their
money. My brain was very foggy at that point and I remember having Tom
fill them out for me because I couldn't. At Dr. Scott's I was asked for
my insurance cards, but no extra forms were pushed at me. I was also
told of some great resources. The most fun one is a foundation that will
pay for me and a guest or my family to do one fun thing a month at their
expense. I can choose a massage, theatre tickets, dinner out, a trip
down the Colorado River...just about anything. (I don't think I could
get a trip to Hawaii, but that's okay. The other things sound pretty
neat!) This program is open to anyone with cancer, regardless of
financial status. Dr. Scott has also instituted foot rubs for her
patients while they are getting chemo. She believes in treating the
whole person, not just the disease.

The difference between he two offices is night and day. Dr. M. wrote me
a letter expressing his "concern" that I had left in the midst of
radiation treatments. I wrote back and explained why I had done such a
thing. Hope is the most important thing a doctor can give a patient.
More important in some ways than medicine or treatment. I told Dr. M.
that I felt fortunate that Tom and are a strong in our faith in God and
that we felt there was more than just a death sentence for me. Think of
the people who never question their doctor! If I had been one of those,
I would have come home and prepared myself to die...and for no reason! I
said other things, to which he replied in another letter rather
defensively. I will never again be afraid to look out for my needs or
the needs of someone I love when it comes to choosing a doctor. Hope and
trust are so important!

My cranial prosthesis has been trimmed for the final time and looks
great. It's so funny...I want to tell everyone that it is a wig, which
kind of defeats the whole purpose of wearing one. It looks so real that
I can't resist amazing everyone by telling them it's not mine. I have
decided to draw the line at medical personnel since they usually know I
have had radiation. I do feel more like a real person again. I am happy
that when people look at me they no longer see a "sick person". Wendy
is now going to grow hers again and never cut it. That way, when she is
tripping on it we can laugh and remember that she was once bald years ago
when I was sick. ("Was" is the operative word there!)

I hope all of you are happy and healthy. This week I have truly learned
that there are no coincidences in life. God orchestrates everything.
Sometimes we don't see the reason right at the outset, but eventually
things will be made clear. We just need to keep our eyes open and on Him
so that we don't miss anything. So, the next time you say, "What a
coincidence!" ...think. What is God trying to say to you? If the answer
isn't clear, keep praying about it. The answer will come.

Love,

Deb

The Hair-do

2013-10-05T09:42:00.001-06:00

For most of my life I remember my mom with short hair. I actually remember the two times she let it grow longer. As soon as her hair reached a certain length she ran out and had it spiral permed(good thing it was the late 80's and early 90's) insisting if it wasn't permed she couldn't do ANYTHING with it. She would usually put up with this style for a few months and then insist it was just too much work and off the salon she'd go to have it chopped short.

I feel as if my mom spent most of her adult life completely unsatisfied with her hair, because even when it was cut short it still wasn't short enough for her. She sported a little mushroom hair-do for a long time. She would come home from her haircuts and say, "I just wish I could find someone who would cut the top shorter. I remember I had this great pixie cut once. I wish I could find someone who could give me that cut again."

The Mushroom Do

She tried different stylists, but it didn't matter no one would cut her hair short. Being a stylist I now know why she had a hard time getting them to cut it shorter. Every stylist has lived through this scenario. A client comes in and tells you they want their hair short, like an inch long all over. You, wanting to make sure you understand, go and get pictures of really short hair cuts, show them what an inch looks like to you, and then left up their hair to show how much will come off. They tell you yes that's what they want. You finish the haircut, they look at it and feel it, and then their face begins to look disappointed and they say "Wow! I didn't realize it would be that short!" They leave displeased and you the stylist feel like crap, because you thought you had asked enough questions and understood what they wanted. So when my mom went in and said she wanted it short no stylist believed her because they had lived the above scenario enough times, so for them leaving extra hair was a better safe than sorry defense mechanism.

Once I started beauty school I needed willing participants to practice on. It isn't easy finding people that will let you cut their hair when they know you have no experience. Jason who was cutting his hair himself was easy to talk into being a guinea pig and my dad was pretty easy too(he even let me practice highlights on him. That's love!) My mom after seeing a few of my dad's haircuts and what I had done on mannequins agreed to let me give her haircut a try.

She decided she would come to the beauty school to have hers cut, so if I had questions my instructor would be right there. She sat down in the chair and I asked her how much she wanted me to take off. She said, "What I would love is an inch to and inch and a half left all over, but just go ahead and trim it." I had recently learned how to cut hair with the razor, and I was feeling a little brave. After all it was my mom if I screwed up her hair I knew she'd still love me.

I looked at her and said, "Well if you want I just learned how to do this really cute short haircut with a razor that I could try. It would be shorter than what you have now."

She didn't hesitate at all and said, "Lets do it!" I washed hair and started in on the razor cut. It took me some time, but I finally finished. I grabbed some styling goo, styled her, and turned her to the mirror, and the world's biggest smile appeared on my mom's face, "This! This is what I have been trying to get people to do for years! I love it!"

The hair-do she loved!

I felt accomplished and happy. I had given my mom exactly what she wanted. After that she was bugging me for haircuts all the time, but I didn't mind. I got more practice and I liked the fact that I had been the one to make my mom feel better about herself. Giving her the haircut is one of my favorite memories I have of her and I together. I think its because I can still she her smile reflecting back in the mirror. It was a smile of pure joy and it is just a great way to remember her.

My Mommy's Back! Email 5

2013-09-24T16:31:00.002-06:00

Here it is. The next email. I will have a response up in the next week. Hope everyone is enjoying the fall weather!

My Mom

Email #5

For those who haven't had the pleasure of dealing with insurance
companies and their little idiosyncrasies, a cranial prosthesis is a wig.
Why they can't just call it a wig, I don't know, but I was informed by
the man who sold me mine that I needed to call it a prosthesis or the
insurance company might refuse payment. Now, if they are exactly the
same thing, why does it matter what it's called? Anyway, I now have a
wonderful head of hair that Katy helped me style for church this morning.
It needs one more trim, but the man who sells and styles the wigs only
trims up the front when he sells it to you. He asks that you wait and
work with it for a week before he does the final trim. Katy is going to
take me for the final trim so that she can give him ideas since she knows
how I like to wear my hair. It was pretty expensive, but it was the most
comfortable and the most natural looking. I can even pull the front up
in fancy little clips and the scalp looks completely natural. It's
longer than my won hair, but he said it's pretty hard to cut a wig an
inch short all over. (I guess then I'd be getting into men's hair
toupees or things like that run even more expensive.) It's also a little
redder than my own, but Wendy, the wig guy and I all decided it is more
flattering than plain dark brown. If I get pale during chemo, it'll
complement my skin more. It's nice to look normal again!

The last trip to Texas proved unfruitful. In fact, they could have saved
me $368.00 by calling me on the phone! They don't have any research
studies for which I qualify right now, so Dr. Oh sent me back to Ft.
Collins to begin chemo here. I see the doctor this week and will let you
know when I start and what they are going to use. This could be a
blessing in disguise, though, because I might be able to enlist the help
of my oncologist in getting insurance coverage should they call once I am
in her care chemo therapy-wise here. We'll see. Right now, the goal is
to shrink the tumor and hold it at bay until a cure comes up. I still
have faith that God will take care of it whether the doctors expect a
cure or not. God has a way of doing what he wants despite what a whole
lot of educated people believe. He's good that way.

It is good to be in Fort Collins with my family and churches. I am
feeling pretty good, still a little tired and still no appetite, but able
to work. (Yes, I am eating anyway. I am maintaining my weight like a
good little girl!) Thank you all for your prayers. I know the only
reason I am doing so well is because there are so many people praying for
me. Keep it up and the cure will happen...it just takes a little
patience. Or maybe a lot. I think maybe that is one of the lessons God
has been trying to teach me for years. He's got my attention this time!
I hope you are all well! May God bless each and every one of you.

Love,

Deb

A Truth

2013-09-18T10:42:00.001-06:00

As you know by now I was just entering adulthood when my mom's cancer came back. I was 18 and only a few months away from 19 when we got the news. My parents being the great parents they were tried to make things seem less scary for me and my brother. They didn't try to hide the truth, but only offered up what they thought we needed to know. My dad had taken on the role of primary care giver to my mom putting all of the burden on his shoulders. Of course in the beginning my mom was capable of caring for herself, so he mostly was her shoulder to lean on. He listened to her fears and comforted her. My mom put on such a brave face for me and Kellen. She didn't want us to worry and my dad shouldered a lot of the stress, because he didn't feel it was our responsibility to worry. I respected and appreciated what they were trying to do, but I had always been mature beyond my years. I simply demanded a truth from the situation that my brother didn't. I had spent several months trying to fall in line with how my parents were handling things, but the second trip to Houston was my breaking point. I forced myself in and showed my dad and mom that I could handle some of the stress, that I wanted to help, and they were not burdening me.

We were at home a few evenings before my mom was scheduled to leave again for Houston. She was going alone, since we had no idea how long she'd be gone my parents thought it was best for my dad to stay behind and be here for me and Kellen. We were sitting around after dinner and my parents were discussing getting her to the airport on Sunday. I was queitly listening to their conversation, and when there was a pause I said, "I can take you to the airport. I'm going to Denver to see Jason anyway, so I'll already be making the trip."

My dad, "No, that's fine. I can take her."

I sighed, "Dad, really it's okay. Why should two of us drive that direction when I'm already going?" I wanted to help. My dad was worn so thin not only had he been shouldring my mom's illness, but his very own mother had been sick in the hospital for months. My dad spent quite a few nights there as my Mamaw was confused and thought the hospital staff was going to hurt her. She only remained calm if she had someone she knew in the room. I knew my dad was tired, and I just wanted to help in anyway I could. I could see my dad getting ready to refuse again, but my mom spoke up.

"Tommy let her take me. It'll be fine." She looked at him and smiled.

My dad caved and said, "Okay." I could tell by hid tone and body language that he still wasn't completely on board. He knew what would happen at the airport and was trying to protect me, but he let it go.

A few days later it was time for me to take my mom to the airport. We loaded her bag into my blue Chevy Cavalier and headed down the highway to the airport. We chatted and laughed the whole way there. Once we arrived I parked, grabbed her bag, and we headed for her gate. This was a few months before September 11, 2001, so I was still able to wait at the gate with her. We sat and talked some more, and then they began announcing it was time to board the plane. My mom stood and could tell she was trying to be brave, but her tears won the battle. As she started to cry she whispered out, "I don't want to go alone. I'm scared." As I saw her break down I wanted to go buy an insanely priced ticket and get on that plane with her, but I knew my mom would not allow it. She would not let me miss work or even worse risk losing my job because of her. I instead grabbed her and held her tight in a hug. I reminded her how much she like Jeannie and her cats. I reminded her how much she liked Dr. Oh and how wonderful it was that he might be able to help her. I told her she could call whenever she wanted, and that if she needed someone there myself or my dad could be on a plane and in Houston in no time. Her tears slowly stopped and she wiped her eyes. She looked at me and said, "You're right. I know you're right. Leaving is just hard."

"I know." I said as I held onto her hand

"I guess I better get on that plane." She said squeezing my hand and offering a smile.

I smiled back and said, "You can do this."

"Will you do one thing for me?" She asked as we began to move closer to the gate.

"What's that?" I asked

"Will you wait to leave until the plane takes off?"

"Sure." I said with a small smile. She leaned in and gave me one more hug. Her tears had started again, but I knew she was going to be okay. I kissed her cheek and watched her walk off down the long hallway to her plane. She looked so small. She looked back waved and then turned a small corner, so I could no longer see her. I stepped back and sat down in one of the small seats in the waiting area. I watched the other passengers board the plane. Once everyone was one the plane I got up, stood at the window, and waited. A few moments later the plane pulled away from the gate and made it's way to the run way, picked up speed, and lifted itself into the sky. I waved even though I knew she couldn't see me, and then I turned and made my way out of the airport.

As I drove to Jason's apartment I thought about what had just taken place in the airport. There had been a small shift in the way my mom viewed me. I was no longer just her little girl, but a support system that she could rely on for the battle that laid ahead. She had let me into a place that before she was hesitant to. I had shown her and my dad I could handle some of the burden. That I was capable. After this trip to the airport there was an a truth that I received about doctors visits and daily happenings that I hadn't been given before. This small act opened the door to me being treated and respected like an adult. I'm so glad I forced my way in and my parents allowed it, because it allowed me to have a closeness and bonding I would not have had that last year with mom if my parents had continued to shelter me. Some of the memories are sad and some are happy, but because I was allowed in I was given a gift of more time with my mom and that's what mattered most.

My Mommy's Back! Email 4

2013-09-07T08:59:00.001-06:00

Here is her fourth email, and as usual, I'll be back to post my response at some point. Why is it that the older the kids get the less time I have? I thought it would be the other way around!

My Mom

Email #4

Hi Everyone!

Tom and I have returned from Houston already because Dr. Oh would like to
start me on a new experimental drug (which has worked on a particularly
aggressive from of breast cancer) but he needs the results of a blood
test before he can know whether I am a candidate. The results won't be
back for 48 - 72 hours, so we flew home for the five days in between this
visit and the next. I wanted to see the kids. I will go back on Sunday
and Jeannie, the friend that we are staying with, will pick me up and the
airport and take me for treatments. Tom will stay here with the kids. I
will have to stay for two treatments, and then hopefully the rest can be
administered here in Fort Collins. I may be there for ten days to two
weeks.

The friends we stayed with, and who I will be staying with, Jeannie and
Derek, are wonderful people. Before we met last Sunday, they were people
we only knew of through my mother-in-law. We became friends right away.
They have a daughter, 18, and a son, 12. They also have two cats, one
who looks just like my Willow and one that looks like my old Pete. I
felt right at home. Anyone who lives in an area with inflated home
prices will appreciate this. We were talking about houses and their
costs, and Jeannie looked around her 3100 sq. ft. house (on a golf course
with a private, built in pool) and said, "Oh, we could probably get
one-sixty for this place." Tom and I almost fell out of our chairs.
Here, a home like theirs would cost four-fifty, minimum! I guess no one
wants to live in Houston. Jeannie said she loves having us because no
one ever visits them in Houston! I thought it was rather pretty, but Tom
said in the summer when it is hot and more humid it isn't the most fun
place to be.

So, here's the scoop. (Keep in mind I am transcribing this off a tape
recorder, and I have no idea how these drugs and medical terms are
actually spelled. You will see the phonetic spelling.) First, the good
news is that I am very healthy except for this cancer. Dr. Oh seems to
think the cancer is only in my adrenal gland and that the spots on my rib
and pelvis are due to something else, probably nothing to worry about.
He said anyway that they would treat me the same even if there was cancer
there, so it doesn't really make sense to do a biopsy or anything. My
good health should aid in my recovery.

The first suggestion is to treat me with two chemo drugs, Cisplatin and
Gemzar. These would be used in conjunction with a drug called Hercepton
which is an antibody that has been used in breast cancer for the last
four years. The tumor cells are opportunists, and there are growth
factors that circulate in the blood as natural hormones. The tumors have
receptors that respond to those cells much better than normal cells, and
they happen in much greater numbers. One of these receptors is called
hertenue. Someone came up with an antibody that would bind it and block
the growth factors that help the tumor grow. It has worked better in
breast cancer than anything they have so far. Now, we just need to know
if I have the receptor...hence, the blood test. I also had a CT scan
(which I was almost given an enema for. Luckily, the radiologists saved
my...hide and told the technician who was about to give me one, "Oh, no.
She doesn't need one. Just the barium milk shake. Which was, I might
add, a pretty disgusting breakfast.)

The next protocol (if I don't have the receptor) involves a drug called
TNT470 (I like that TNT thing...let's blow up this cancer!), a drug that
has been isolated from yeast and has been shown to block blood vessel
growth to the tumor. It would be used in combination with chemo. There
are also some things that may open up within the next week.

Sounds like I would have six courses of chemo (6 months), so I am really
hoping they can do this in Fort Collins. If they can't, I am not sure
what we will do because I don't think I can spend six months in Houston
and, of course, our insurance company is giving us some problems.
However, I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

I really appreciate all the prayers that are going up for me. Believe
me, they are helping. People constantly ask how I stay so positive and I
tell them I am only this way because I have God in my life. I don't know
how people do it otherwise. By the way, I have an excellent book to
recommend. It's called "Love, Medicine and Miracles" by Dr. Bernie S.
Siegel, M.D. I wish I had read it years ago before I ever got this
illness. Dr. Siegel talks about the connection between the mind and the
spirit and the relationship to disease. I particularly like the fact
that he does not discount God. A lot of the current self-help and
healing books don't like to address God in any way, Dr. Siegel is not
afraid to. Great book.

I am going to send this now. I have trying to get it done for hours and
the phone keeps ringing and people keep stopping by. If I don't send it
now, I might have to wait until tomorrow!

I love you all!!!

Deb

A True Friend

2013-08-27T21:40:00.000-06:00

My mom was so grateful for her friends while she was sick. She had so many people praying for her and doing little things for her just to make her life easier. Every act of kindness and act of friendship was not lost on her.

I on the other hand felt so lonely. It was hard to find people my age who understood or at the very least empathized with what I was going through. I was a young adult, and instead of partying and living my new free life I was spending time in hospital rooms, doctors offices, and at home with my mother. Sure, I moved out and tried to be independent and live the life of a newly independent young adult, but I knew I had choices. I could choose to spend what little time my mom had left with her or I could worry about clubs, boys, and where the next party was. Not that any of that behavior was wrong, in fact most of my friends were living the life you'd expect a 18 to 20 year old to be living, but I wanted to be there for my mom. As a result I didn't have many friends who were willing to sit in hospital rooms and at home with my sick mom. Jason did, but other than that I really had no one, except my roommate Sandra.

Sandra and I became friends in Junior High School, had a falling out during High School over some silly high school drama, but after graduation we began to hang out again and decided we should get an apartment together. Our first place was hardly what you'd call nice, but we liked it. It was ours and we could do whatever we wanted. Living with her was fun, but we both worked quite a bit, so there were times where we'd barely see each other except in passing, but we'd try to hang out as much as we could.

I remember coming back from New York with news my mom was going to die, and that my dad was going to bring her back to Colorado so all her friends and family could say goodbye. I explained to Sandra what was going on and she from that moment was by my side. Jason had to work and didn't want to use all his vacation time up before my mom passed away. He wanted to save it so he could be with me after. I think Sandra saw how scared, alone, and sad I felt and knew she needed to be there.

In order to get my mom back we had to fly her back on an ambulance plane and the night she arrived at the hospital looking weak and not in good shape Sandra was there by my side. She stayed at the hospital as late as I did, and the following days and nights she continued to go to the hospital with me. She sat and talked to my mom's family and friends. She never appeared worried about being somewhere else and she never rushed me out the door of the hospital. She always stayed as long as I wanted no matter how early she to work the next day or how tired she was from that days work. It was nice to have her there. To have a friend by my side.

I still remember the night my mom died. Sandra and I had spent most of the night at hospital by my mom's bedside. We had left late and came home only because we were both supposed to work the next day and we knew we needed sleep. We had only been asleep about an hour or two when I heard my cell phone ring. I picked it up and saw my dad's name on the caller ID. I knew what he was about to say. I didn't want to hear the words, but I knew I had to. "Hello" I said half asleep and shaking.

My dad spoke softly and quietly, "The nurses called. They think she doesn't have much longer."

"Okay. I'll meet you at the hospital." I replied. I hung up the phone and then called Wendy to deliver the news to her. After I hung from talking to her I began to fumble around in the dark searching for the shorts and tank top I had been wearing earlier that day. I was trying to be quiet. I didn't want to wake Sandra. As I felt around the floor for my shoes I looked up and saw Sandra's silhouette in my bedroom doorway.

"What's going on?" She asked through a small yawn.

"The doctors think it's time. I have to go to the hospital."

"Okay. I'm going with you." She said starting to walk back to her bedroom to put her clothes on.

"Oh . . . that's okay you don't have to come." I called after her.

She turned around and gave me a look that I knew meant there was going to be no arguing with her and said,"Katy. I'm coming." I let it go. I didn't have the energy to argue. I gathered my keys, phone, and purse as Sandra came out of her room. "I'm driving." she said. We loaded into her car and rolled the windows down. We sat in silence as the warm summer breeze blew through car both of us knowing what we were heading for. Knowing no words could possibly ease the sadness.

We got to the hospital and made it to my mom's room. I went to my mom's side and grabbed her hand. Sandra took a seat in a chair at the end of the bed. A few minutes later my dad, my brother, his friend, Wendy, and her husband arrived. We all sat around my mom's bed. My dad prayed and read scriptures. The rest of us sat in silence and cried. When my mom took her last breath I stood there sobbing for what felt like forever. When I finally managed to stop there was Sandra at the foot of my mom's bed her eyes puffy crying. She was still there. She hadn't left. She had stayed right there through my darkest hour. She stayed in the room with me while my mom had died. She left the hospital with me. She napped next me that morning after we came home from the hospital, and then she came over to my parents house and sat with us while we made funeral arrangements with the pastor. She sat through every crappy moment of that day. Never once worried about what else she should be doing.

How do repay someone for that. In fact I don't know that I ever said thank you to her, so this is my thank you to her 11 years late. I have no idea how much work you missed to be there with me, but thank you for calling in when ever you had to so you could be there. Thank you Sandra for being there when so many weren't. Thank you for being the friend I needed in that moment. Thank you for loving me and my family enough to offer your support and love. You are a true example of a friend and I will never forget what you did for me in those moments. Please know that even though we don't see each other often I will always do anything for you or your family, and will always be grateful for your friendship.

My Mommy's Back! Email 3

2013-08-20T11:33:00.001-06:00

Here is the next email. I should have a response up Thursday or Friday. My blogging should start to get better because two mornings a week my kids will be school and I will have time all to myself!

My Mom

Email #3

Finally, it's time to head to Houston and the M.D. Cancer Center. I

can't wait to get some definitive answers and get started on treatment
for the rest of the things going on in my body.

I am so thankful to God that I have remained healthy during the radiation
treatments. I am still experiencing the side effects of the treatment,
but it sure is nice not having to go and get zapped every day. My
appetite is totally shot, and I have to just sit down and blindly eat.
Now, those of you who know me well know that this is a very strange
development because normally I LOVE to eat. Even Dairy Queen sounds
relatively disgusting. My boss is so sweet. She always fixes a special
lunch for us and sits down to eat with me. Today, she fixed a bean
burrito on her homemade tortilla with her husband's green chili. We
talked while we ate, and before I knew it, my plate was empty!
Appreciate your friends!

I have received so many inspiring books...stories of people with cancer
and other deadly diseases who through prayer and meditation are healed or
at least treated to the point that they carry on their lives quite well
in spite of the disease. I continue to pray everyday, a number of times,
and I visualize Jesus taking the cancer from my body. It's very
comforting. Keep praying for me. Maybe God will be like the King in the
Parable of the Persistent Widow (Luke 18:1-8...go look it up.). Let's
"wear him out"!

I laugh everyday, and try to see the positive side of every situation.
You know, none of us really knows how much time we have. I could get hit
by a car or choke on something and be gone by tomorrow evening. What a
disease like cancer does is make you face your mortality and realize that
we have no guarantees. I am NOT planning on dying, I'm just trying to
say that those of us who are faced with life-threatening illnesses are no
different than those that aren't. We're just a little more aware of our
temporary status on this earth. Don't worry, I am going to fight this
with every cell in my body and God will be with me every step of the way!

Update on Tom's mom: She is still in the hospital. They are doing
dialysis because her kidneys are not functioning well enough to clear out
the bacteria. She is still disoriented much of the time, and Carl, Tom
and visiting uncles have been taking turns staying with her all night.
She is afraid to be alone because she sees strange things in the night.
I haven't been able to visit because she gets agitated when I am there.
She's afraid that I'll catch the staph infection, so I am staying away
until she is more stable. She is slowly getting better, but it will be
long recovery. Pray for her.

Advice for the day (thanks to Rev. Williams!): If you're going to worry,
don't pray...If you're going to pray, don't worry!

I love you all!

Deb

Smile

2013-08-09T16:29:00.002-06:00

Sorry for the delay in response. I thought I knew where I wanted to go with these emails. I was just going to elborate on each email, but then I decided that that would be a snooze fest. I already wrote out her cancer journey from my point of view and here she is telling it from hers. I realized that I didn't really have a desire to write out the mundane details, and that you probably didn't really want to read them. So, I decided not to post until I knew where I wanted to go and what I wanted to say. I decided I would treat each email the way I treated each column. Whatever I felt inspired to write about I would.

I can feel the positivity in her voice as I read her words in this email. She was still feeling great and the thought of complete healing still seemed possible. As I got ready to post the mundane details about her radiation and upcoming trip to Houston to see the doctors at M.D. Anderson I looked at the picture of her and Wendy at her last day of radiation. In that picture she is beaming. Happy to be done with one treatment and ready to start the next, but more of what I see is pure joy. My mom next to her best friend happy to be alive in that second. No worry about what we should have for dinner or if the laundry was done. No worry about how the chemo would make her feel or if there would be good or bad news at MD Anderson. In that moment infront of a cake to celebrate the end of one treatment she found away to forget anything else and just live.

As I began to look at every photo I have of her during her fight I notice the same smile, sure her hair may be gone or the steroids making her puffy, but when I ignore all of that I see the same joyful smile. A smile reminding her family and friends, those she passed at the grocery store, really anyone she met to live for that very second they were in no matter how boring, frustrating, sad, or happy it was. Her smile seemed brighter and wiser when she was sick as if she used to remind all of us that life is worth living no matter what.

Radiation Graduation. You can see the cake at the very bottom!

My Mom and Brother in Chicago a month after she was told her cancer returned.

My mom and dad at her last Christmas.

My mom and another friend showing off their bald heads

Proudly displaying new hats after I shaved her and Wendy's heads.

My Mom, Wendy, Lacy, and me on Easter. Our last group photo.

My mom and Wendy on that same Easter.

If you have ever questioned whether my memory of my mom's positivity and joyfulness is exaggerated you now know its not. All of these pictures taken at different stages of her battle cancer all with the same hopeful and joyful smile. A reminder to everyone to live in the moment and not worry about what's next.

I apologize for the quality of some of these photos. I have a poster board that has a collage of photos of her and some of these photos are photos of the photos on the board.

My Mommy's Back! Email 2

2013-07-25T16:13:00.000-06:00

Here is my mom's next email. I unfortunately don't have dates for these, so I can't tell you exactly when she wrote them. I will have a response up in a few days, week, or you know when life isn't crazy! Hopefully it will be up sooner than later.

My Mom during her battle with cancer

Email #2

Ahhhh....what a relief! No more radiation treatments! It's a good
thing, and God did bless me with continued good health through the three
weeks. The Doc says the treatments will still be working for another
three to four weeks and that I might experience more tiredness, but
otherwise I should begin to slowly recover. I'm glad, because my ears
and scalp are getting rather crispy. The funniest thing is that my hair
has gotten VERY SPARSE except for a little fringe just at the base of my
neck. The top of the fringe is a perfectly straight line, and it looks
like I left it there on purpose. Mmmmm....I may have to have Katy trim
it up for me! It's the topic of conversation at work, that little
fringe. On my last day, I got a graduation cake and they took Wendy's
and my picture. I even got to blow out a candle and make a wish. I said
a prayer. Everyone at the clinic said they'd miss Wendy and me. We were
kind of cheer leaders. Everyone there was sick or escorting someone
sick, and let's face it, they don't do radiation for a cold. Wendy and I
decided to get people talking, telling jokes and having fun. It worked,
and by the time I was done, we had gotten to know one another pretty
well. I hope those people that are still under treatment will carry on
the tradition of Radiation Fun.

We are preparing for our trip to Houston. I am excited because everyday
I read or hear of new treatments for cancer that show great promise. Tom
and I just know that God has a purpose for us, and that He wants us at
the M.D. Anderson Center. I am feeling good, and the other cancers (in
my adrenal gland and whatever is going on in my left side) don't trouble
me. I still Nordictrack every day and make it through a full day at
work. I do lie around a lot in the evenings, but that's good for
recovery. Food still tastes yucky, but the doc says that should begin to
improve soon. I am now on 2 mgs. of that steroid, and in a day or two I
can cut it out altogether. Yea!!!

God continues to bless me with positive thoughts and lots of peace. I
don't know how anyone could make it through something like this without
Him. He is truly the rock and is holding me and my wonderful family up.
Thank you all for your prayers...I feel them constantly. Even in the
hardest of circumstances, God can bring true blessings. I am thankful
for every day that I get out of bed and get to see the sun rise. Life is
so good.

For those of you who know my wonderful mother-in-law, Mildred, I am happy
to report that things are improving for her. She has been laid low by a
serious staph infection that necessitated more surgery on her recent hip
replacement. She will be hospitalized for a week or more and then in a
nursing home for six weeks to administer IV antibiotics. Today the
doctors said there is no sign of infection in her blood and her kidneys
appear to be functioning again. Please add her to your prayer list!

Thank you all for your concern, prayers, cards, letters, books, etc! I
love you all!

Deb

Sharing Her Story

2013-07-21T16:15:00.000-06:00

When my mom was diagnosised with cancer we lived in a strange world for awhile. A world where everything was moving so fast, but not fast enough. Doctors and nurses begin to throw all sorts of information at us, there were more scans for my mom, and appointments set for chemo, radiation and/or surgeries. We tried to take in everything that was being said to us in, and understand what was going to happen next. While I tried to concentrate on the information being given to us my brain was simultaneously screaming at me, "What do you mean we have to wait 2 weeks to start chemo? and What!? We have to wait a week for the surgery to take place. That's too long. Why aren't you hooking my mom up to chemo now? Why aren't you strapping my mom to the desk and cutting that nasty tumor out of her. Every day, minute, and second we wait that tumor grows, gets bigger, and continues to attack her!"

As we tried to process everything, and take in what was going to happen next. The word about my mom's cancer returning began to spread. Friends and extended family we calling daily to see how my mom was doing. Offering names of doctors and hospitals that were supposed to have the most up to date and quality care. Everyday we arrived home to a handful of messages and several emails from concerned people who were all offering their thoughts and prayers and wanted to be kept posted on my mom's health and treatment.

It was amazing to see how many people cared. To know so many were worried and wanted nothing more than for my mom to get better. At the same time it was overwhelming. Trying to keep everyone posted and returning phone calls became exhausting. It wasn't that the concern wasn't appreciated it was just that my poor mom would go to work, come home try to call as many people back as she could, research the doctors and hospitals so many had told her about, go to her appointments that had already been set, and then try to find some time for family and rest. Finally after about a week of this she decided that she just couldn't keep everyone up to date one by one. It was taking too much time to call everyone back and write each person an email, and how was she suppose to decide who she called back and who she didn't. The care and the concern were all equal. And so this email series was born.

It was a way for her to keep everyone who wanted to know how she was doing posted without running herself ragged trying to call everyone back. It became away for her to hight light both the good and bad of her journey, and for those who loved her to respond and help in ways she never imagined. Her emails were born out of necessity and soon became something so many looked forward too. They made people laugh and inspired people when things didn't look desirable. She became a positive role model through these emails reminding many that no matter how horrible the situation is there is always joy to be found. These emails were my mom's blog before blogs were popular. These emails were her way of sharing her story.

My Mommy's Back! Email 1

2013-07-11T15:39:00.000-06:00

I am posting the first of my mom's emails that she sent out during her battle with cancer when it returned. I will try and fill in gaps if I feel there needs an explanation, but in order to not have to repeat and bore people who have been reading my blog for awhile I am not going to go into great detail if it doesn't seem needed. If you are unfamiliar with my mom's cancer story I have written it all out in detail and you can read it under the cancer journey tab at the top of my blog.

I also will not be editing her emails. I am going to post them exactly as I have them. Please remember that these, unlike her column were sent out to keep friends and family up to date on her health. They have not been edited by an editor like her column was, and that they were written by a woman with brain tumors and on pain meds, so there are mistakes, please just ignore them.

I am not exactly sure how my responses will be. They will probably be more memory related as opposed how they relate to me now. I would also like to say that these are not sad or discouraging emails. If anything they are entertaining and you are going to get a good feel for the positive attitude she had on her journey with cancer. Your going to really understand why she was a light to so many.

So let the email posting begin! And this first one isn't so exciting, but they get better I promise!

My mom during her fight. In the place she found the most comfort church.

Email #1

Sorry this is so impersonal, but so many people have written or called it

is impossible for me to respond individually. Please know that your

prayers and concerns are very much appreciated. Keep those prayers

coming!

I had my first radiation treatment today. I didn't feel anything, but

did hear a lot of whirling and clicking. Lights were flashing, too, so I

guess something was going on. I guess I'll really know when my hair

falls out, which it will do in about two weeks. That doesn't bother me

as much as not being able to drive until this brain stuff is all cleared

up. Being dependent on others for everything is hard.

After we get the radiation done, Tom and I will head to the M.D. Anderson

Cancer Center in Houston for a complete evaluation. We have heard

excellent things about this center, and they have the largest thoracic

oncology dept. in the country. It anyone is up-to-date on the latest

research, they are. We don't know if there will be any surgery involved,

but there will definitely be chemo. What the extent of it will be, we

don't know.

I want everyone to know that I am in good spirits and going to work after

being zapped. I am counting on God to heal this. I know He can. What I

have to endure during this healing is entirely in His hands. Please pray

for me whenever I pop into your mind! Thank you again for your concern

and love!

Love,

Deb

Ballon Up to Heaven 2013

2013-07-03T07:40:00.002-06:00

This year was similar to last years Balloon Up to Heaven in the fact that I want my kids to know about my mom. I want them to know what she enjoyed in life and who she was. I hope as they get older to take them to art museums, musical productions, and other fun things my mom liked to do on June 29th, but right now because they are so small most of Balloon Up to Heaven day revolves around eating, which is okay because my mom loved to eat.

One of her favorite things was to go out for breakfast. The kids had been asking to go to one of our local breakfast places for weeks, so we decided it was the perfect day to take them. If I had stayed completely true to my mom I would have ordered french toast and bacon, but I have never really been a french toast fan, so I ordered biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon. What can I say I have my dad's southern blood running through my veins, at least I got bacon. It was fun and yummy.

After breakfast we went and picked out balloons. Jake picked out a green, blue, and yellow, and Kennedy decided on pink and purple. I picked yellow, because that was my mom's favorite color. Poor Jason didn't get a balloon because Jake didn't want to share his, but it worked out good because Jason was able to be the photographer. We went out to the lake at Windsor again this year. I like it there, because it is so open and the water is calming. We counted to three, said "we love you Grammy!", and let balloons go.

The balloons are there just really really small

We watched the balloons float away for awhile and then we came home to relax for the afternoon. Once everyone rested for a bit we got ready to go to dinner (I told you lots of eating). We chose the Olive Garden because my mom loved the salad there. We had a nice dinner and some family time, which was something my mom was big on. As a kid we always ate dinner as a family, so going out and connecting over dinner was nice, especially since I didn't have to cook it and Jason didn't have to clean up after. After dinner we came home, put the kids to bed, and the Jason and I enjoyed a piece of Tiramisu we brought home from the restaurant in peace and quiet.

It was a good day, but I am always happy when June 29th passes. Hopefully for my kids it will always be remembered as a fun day where they learn new things about their Grammy.

She Didn't Miss It All

2013-06-29T16:11:00.002-06:00

It seemed perfect that the last column I had to post of mom's came this week. It was as if all my delaying of posts happened for a reason, and wasn't just me being busy or lazy.

My mom did not want to stop writing her column. In fact, months prior to her last column she asked her boss if she could possibly write for another two years or could he find her another spot to write for in the paper. Friends, family, and fans of her column petitioned for her as well. They wrote letters and made phone calls telling him how much they loved her column and hoped he'd consider letting her stay for another few years. While her boss read the letters, took the calls, and considered her request when the time came the simple answer was . . . No. Although, he enjoyed having her the deal had always been a two year writing stint, and her time was up. My mom had expected this to be the answer all along, but she knew she would have regretted not trying to keep the job. It was hard, but she held her head high and wrote her finale column. I'm sure she had a private moment where she cried, but I never saw it. She had moments of sadness for awhile after the column ended, especially when she was getting no where with publishers and having a hard time getting her writing in the door elsewhere. However, she slowly picked up the pieces and began to let the sadness of no longer writing for the paper go.

When I look back at her battle with cancer this whole column experience is almost symbolic of her fight for her life. My mom got the news that her cancer was terminal and at that at that point in time very few people with the kind of cancer she had survived. She never looked up the odds or asked to hear them, but she had been informed the odds were against her. After letting the news sink in she decided to fight for her life. She found a doctor who agreed to help her and she began to ask family and friends to pray for her or meditate positive thoughts for her. People prayed, meditated, and put out positive vibes for her but in the end even though God(or whatever greater being you believe in) had heard the pleading from her and her loved ones, and had listened to every single request the simple answer was . . . No. He loved her, but her cancer was terminal. My mom knew that the outcome was most likely death, but she had to at least try to fight for her life. Once it was obvious that the cancer was not going to go away and it was about buying some time she came to terms with the fact that her life was going to end. A realization that I can't even imagine coming too, but like her column she held her head high and lived out her last months with happiness and joy. I know she had her moments where she cried, but I never saw them. She was a ray of light up until the very end. Unlike her column when her life ended there was no sadness for her and no pieces left to pick up.

My mom is eternally happy now. No more pain or sorrow. When I picture her I picture her just like this.

The sun shinning off her hair and the same happy peaceful smile that exudes from this picture. I found this picture, in a box of photos I have, a little over a year ago. There are a series of pictures of mom, her sisters, and some friends. I stopped at this photo and stared for awhile, because she looked so happy. I took the photos to share with my aunts and they informed that they thought these photos were taken just days after my parents married and my dad was the photographer. Her happiness in this photo makes perfect sense. She is a young woman in love looking back at the man who stole her heart. Her smile comes from a place of perfectness and dreams. They had just embarked on their life together, and dreams of a small house, a family, and life together were what they were living on. The stress of adulthood and children had yet to hit them. There was no cancer diagnosis and an early untimely death in their perfect future. My mom smiled the smile of a young bride who was living on love and the promise of a bright future.

I sometimes think what it'll be like when I get to see her in heaven again. What it will feel like to finally see her. On the days I miss her the most I'll close my eyes, and I imagine myself pushing through thousands of balloons. Every balloon me and my children have every sent her will there. Every Red Robin balloon, grocery store balloon, and old birthday party balloon. They'll all be there. In pinks, purples, greens, blues, and mostly yellows (we send that color the most, because it was her favorite). As I push through the thick wall of balloons that still bounce and float with enthusiasm, even though it's been years since they were filled with helium, a bright light will began to a appear. I won't be blinded by the light just guided by it and as I get closer to the light I will see her. There my mom will be looking exactly the same way she does in this photograph. The light will be radiating off her and her smile will be that of the young woman living off love. She will hug me and it will feel like we have never been apart. We will pull a part and I'll begin to tell her about my life. I'll try to tell her about Jason, Jake, and Kennedy, but she'll hug me again and tell me she already knows, and in fact she knows them as well as I do, because she has been there for it all.

I'll quietly listen as she begins to recount the most precious moments of my life. She'll tell me she was there when Jason got down one knee in my living room and asked me to be his wife. She'll tell me how pretty I looked on my wedding day, and how happy she was watching Jason and recite our vows. She'll tell me she was jumping up down right next to me when I saw the two pink lines show up on the pregnancy test with Jake and that she sat in shock and then excitement with me when I saw them with Kennedy. She'll remind how precious it was to hear her grandchildren's first tiny cries, because she was there supporting me while I gave birth. She'll go on and on recounting every park trip, tea party, birthday party, sporting event, school program, family vacation, really any moment that was worth seeing she'll remind me of them all. She'll tell me that she got to be a part of everything, and while I was missing her she was right there the whole time not missing a single moment. She'll tell me she saw every single tear I cried, because I missed her, and she'll tell me that she didn't miss me at all because she got to be with whenever she wanted.

This is what I think about on the hard days. I remind myself that wishing to have her back in flesh and blood is selfish. That she is in place where she is forever happy and that she is not missing one single moment. I remind myself when the heaviness of her loss still seems too much to bare that she is right there with me. I tell myself that she gets to live in peace with the people that she loved that passed before her and she gets to continue to see the people she left behind. I remind myself that she is happy every single day and that she is finally living in a perfect world.

Happy Balloon Up to Heaven Day Mom! Even though I still miss you more than words can say I know you're still right here with me. I love you, and know that someday I'll get to see your beautiful smiling face again, until then save the balloons, because I'm going to want to see them.