What's On My Mind

I know that my redeemer liveth

2012-01-28T21:54:00.002-06:00

It's no secret that Krista and I enjoyed singing together. It started with high school choir during our senior year. Krista sang alto, as she always did, and surprisingly, I (despite being a first tenor) sang in the bass section. I guess that happened because I never tried out for the choir. At the beginning of my senior year I needed to sign up for one more class. I already had all my required classes scheduled so I needed something easy. I asked our school's choir director, Mr. Terry Tucker, if I could join the choir, he asked me if I could sing and my reply was "I hope so". That was good enough for him and he put me in the bass section. Krista and I have been singing ever since.

One of the many traditions we had was to sing Handel's Messiah during the Christmas and Easter seasons. Krista would often sing many of the alto solos and the last few years Krista and I sang the one alto and tenor duet in the work "O death, where is thy sting". She would often joke about "throwing down the gauntlet" each time we sang it. But Krista's favorite peace from the "Messiah" wasn't one she performed, it is the soprano solo "I know that my redeemer liveth". The libretto used for this piece comes from two bible passages. The first is Job 19:25-26:

"For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth:
And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God:"

And the second is 1 Corinthians 15:20:

"But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept."

Krista loved the message of these two scriptures. It's a declaration of faith in our Redeemer Jesus Christ that will overcome all. Though we suffer and struggle in this life with pains and infirmities of all kinds we will one day stand before our Savior with perfect resurrected bodies never again to suffer the pains of mortality and thank Him for His love for us. A love that caused Him to suffer all the pains of mortality that have ever been and will ever be so He can free us from the punishments of death and hell.

For weeks after Krista passed away I was living in a surreal, numb state of existence. I was grieving the loss of my best friend and sweetheart. Music was such a large part of our relationship and brought back such sharp memories that I couldn't bring myself to even turn on the radio. After a few weeks, when the numbness started to subside and I could feel again, I returned home from visiting Krista's grave. As I came in the house I passed the stereo in the family room and felt like I needed music back in my life. So I turned the stereo on and pushed play on the CD player to listen to whatever was in it. Instantly I recognized the opening notes to "I know that my redeemer liveth". I wept as I listened to the word and felt Krista's testimony fill my soul. He lives! All is well because He lives. Through this song she was sharing with me her last testimony.

Since then Job 19:25-26 has become my favorite scripture. I know He lives and has the power to redeem us from death and hell. And we shall all, in the flesh, see Him and kneel before Him and proclaim Him our personal Savior and Redeemer. I'm grateful that Krista was able to share her testimony of our Savior with me. But most of all I'm grateful to know that He lives.

My Choice

2011-12-30T20:13:00.001-06:00

I have a friend who's life, unfortunately, parallels mine in many ways. Her husband passed away a few months before Krista and she has a couple of children still at home she needs to raise on her own. Because of this and many other reasons, she is someone that totally "gets" my situation. We've had many discussions about our trials and how we've dealt with them and I've learned a lot from her as she has been one step ahead of me in her journey.

Yesterday we started talking about whether or not we would have chosen this life if we had known our spouses would pass away while still raising children at a relatively young age (yes, 46 is still young). We discussed this for a while and I couldn't decide one way or another. I've had a wonderful life with Krista, she's been my best friend for decades and I still love her with all my heart. But, the pain of her loss, the aching to feel her near and the longing to be with her again has been much more than I could have imagined. I accept that there's a reason for her passing and I know it's for the best but that doesn't help me like it or want it if I had the choice.

Early this morning before I woke up for the day I had a dream. Typically I don't remember much of what I dream about but I remember this one in detail. I had traveled back in time to when we were in high school (yes I even have geeky dreams). It was when Krista and I had been dating for a while and our love was just beginning to grow. Krista was there and was so happy to see me and I was amazed at how beautiful she was. She looked just like she did back then and the love that radiated through her smile was just the same as it had always been. Yet, she didn't know that I was from our future. I looked at her and realized that she didn't know how our story would unfold, our trials and struggles and ultimately her returning to our Heavenly Father much sooner than hoped for. I also knew that if I told her it would affect her decision to marry me and I could potentially lose all of the good times, the hard times and those tender times when all we could do was to cry on each others shoulder for comfort. I knew if I told her she would want to spare me of the pain and heartache I have experienced by her death.

Here was my time to choose. Would I tell her and jeopardize the decades of joy with her and the eternities to come or would I keep quite and accept our lives as I knew they would unfold? Instantly I knew what my choice was. This was my sweetheart, I would walk through hell and back for her. I would endure all that would be asked of me including being without her for a while for the hope of eternity with her. Yes, this is the path I would choose.

One, or a Breath of Fresh Air

2011-12-11T21:41:00.001-06:00

I know I haven't posted much lately. For me that's a good thing. I tend to post more often when things are getting harder. Lately I have found comfort and peace in the support of others that as we say "get it". Before Krista passed away I thought I had an idea of how painful it would be to lose her. We had been through many trials together including losing our only biological child a couple of months after he was conceived. It was a painful time and we felt a real sense of loss. Despite what I thought, I had no idea just how deep the pain can be and how sharp the longing to be with her would become. And to make matter worse there were few people I knew that fully understood.

A couple of months ago I found and joined a group of LDS widows and widowers on Facebook. I immediately found relief and comfort in sharing my feelings with those who "got it". They could empathize with my pain and I with theirs. We had the same fears, worries and desires for our future and the future of our children. It was as if I had spent the last 10 months holding my breath and now I was finally able to breathe. I wish I would have found them sooner. It has helped me better understand the charge we are given to "mourn with those that mourn... and comfort those that stand in need of comfort". That has led me to think about our trials and how it would be a shame to waste them by wallowing in the depths of despair rather than using them to empathize with others who have been asked to walk the same path.

Yesterday was one year since Krista passed away. To avoid it being a day of sorrow I filled it with activities for me and the kids that would help us remember Krista the way she would want us to and to make it a day we enjoyed. We started the day with going to Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast, I know it's not the healthiest choice but I knew Jake and Emma would love it. After that we went to the Dallas Temple and checked out the walking tour book. That's a book that tells about the Temple, how it was built, what it's for and it's importance in our lives. You take it with you as you walk around the Temple grounds and at certain places you read from the book. It worked out well as Jake and Em were able to run and jump and play as we learned about the Temple. They were much more involved in it than if they had to sit still and just listen. When we finished the book we were at the fountains at the front of the Temple. This is where we have taken pictures of the family each year on both Jacob's and Emma's sealing days. As we sat there I told Jacob and Emma how important the Temple was to our family. It's because of the ordinances performed in the Temple that we will be with mom again. As I was telling them this the distinct impression hit me that Krista was there with us. I started to cry, not out of sorrow but happy tears. I told Jacob and Emma that mom was there with us and they both confirmed that they felt her presence also. I know she was there with us on this important day and was happy with us and how we were doing.

Then we went to the LDS bookstore. Lately Emma has been reading during our family scripture study so we needed to get her a set of scriptures. Emma happily picked out the scriptures she wanted and a nice purple case to keep them in. While we were at the bookstore painting artist J. Kirk Richards was there embellishing a print of his work and signing his prints. I had wanted a new picture for our Christmas decorations for a while so I looked at a few of his works. He has different styles of painting from realistic to more stylized work. One of his prints grabbed my attention. It was titled "Song of the Heart". It was a painting of a choir of Angels. I knew right where I would hang it. Krista loved nativity sets and her favorite one is a Willow Tree version that we have had for a few years and have added pieces to it each year. It has sat in a nook off of our entryway for over a year now as I couldn't bring myself to take it down after Christmas last year. I realized that picture would be perfect hanging above it. So I bought it and had the artist autograph it "In memory of Krista". I just need to get it framed now.

After that I took the kids to Amazing Jake's. It's like a Chuck E. Cheese on steroids. It took over both floors of a defunct department store at a mall near us. They have food, games, rides, go carts, bumper cars, laser tag, mini-golf, rock climbing and more. It's the kids favorite place to celebrate. We were there for a couple of hours and the kids had a ball. It was fun watching them have so much fun on a day that could have been spent mourning our loss.

Before we finished the day with Christmas light sight seeing, we went to an Evening Song concert. Krista and I sang with them for 8 years before Emma was born. After Emma we became too busy to do it any more. The choir was also part of Krista's funeral and sang many of her favorite songs. Ever since we stopped singing with them we started a tradition of making it to one of their Christmas concerts every year. It just happened to be in our favorite venue this day. It was nice to see our old friends and hear them sing some of the songs we sang with them and also many new ones. During one of the songs we had sung with them many times (Dormi Jesu) I could hear Krista's voice singing with the choir. It was wonderful to hear her voice again. I didn't tell anyone about it, just kept it to myself figuring it was a blessing just for me. But then after the concert, one of the altos that had sung with Krista for many years came to me, with tears in her eyes, and told me that she could hear Krista singing with them during the concert. It was nice to receive a second witness to what I experienced so I wouldn't have to wonder if it was just me being crazy.

The previous night during my prayers, before I went to bed, I asked the Lord to bless me with dreams of my sweetheart. A couple months after her passing I had two dreams of her. They were special and sacred experiences that imparted comfort and direction to me in my time of need. Ever since then I have wanted more. I figured this of all nights was an appropriate time to ask to be blessed with another one. I wasn't blessed with what I wanted, I was given much more. In one day I felt her presence and her approval and enjoyed listening to her beautiful alto voice one more time. I'm so thankful for the love our Heavenly Father has for us and His wisdom to not give us what we want, but to give us what we need.

A Case for Prayers

2011-11-07T08:58:00.000-06:00

I'm a firm believer in the power of prayer. We have been blessed for many years from countless people who have and are still praying for me and my family. These angels' prayers have been a source of peace in our lives and I know they have contributed to the extension of Krista's life and has given us the best five years of our relationship. Because we have received so many blessings from the prayers of others, I'm always looking for those whom I can share that same blessing with.

Sadly we have a friend, that I know have offered many prayers for us, who needs prayers for their son. Emily and Xavier Beckham have been thrust into a world that I know all too well. Their 10 month old son Case has just been diagnosed with a stage "three-and-a-half" neuroblastoma in his abdomen. Though their trial has just begun they have already been through a lot. You can follow their story on their blog at "Best Case Scenario".

Please join with me in offering prayers on their behalf, that the treatment will be effective, that Case will be able to handle the treatment well, so the doctors will know what treatment will be effective and that their family may have peace despite what they are going through with their son.

For of Such is the Kingdom of Heaven

2011-10-30T21:42:00.000-05:00

Every year around October we are blessed to have our Ward's Primary present a program during Sacrament Meeting. For those of you not of our faith, Primary is like Sunday School for children ages 3 to 11. This year's program was titled "I Know the Scriptures are True". The program consists of children singing songs and presenting words that they have practiced over the past year. This is always one of the best Sacrament Meetings of the whole year.

Earlier I was asked to teach Jacob's Primary class this week. It also meant that I would be able to sit with him on the stand and help his class with their talks. I was more than happy to accept. It was much better than sitting with the congregation without Emma and Jacob next to me. It's times like that, despite being in a crowd, that I find myself feeling lonely and missing holding hands with Krista as she would lean her head on my shoulder. With that in mind I jumped at the chance to substitute for Jacob's teacher.

Jacob's class talked about Temples. How the Lord has commanded His people to build Temples unto Him though all dispensations of the Gospel. They talked about Moses being commanded to build a tabernacle in the wilderness, King Solomon using the finest materials available to build a temple, and the early pioneers of the church working and sacrificing to build temples as commanded of the Lord. Jacob had a special assignment to share his feelings about the Temple. He has much to be thankful for when it comes to the temple, including his sealing and Emma's sealing to our family and now dealing with the death of his mom. Here's the words he shared at church today:

"I’m thankful for the temple. It has been an important part of my life since before my birth. I was born on March 13th 2001 to my birth mom Jessica. She knew it was important for me to be sealed to my parents in the Temple but she also knew she couldn’t do that for me. She was blessed to know that I was supposed to be adopted by my mom and dad who could offer me these blessings. On June 9th 2001 I was sealed to my mom and dad in the Dallas Temple. I was only 3 months old so I don’t remember much about it but 4 years later I was able to watch as Emma was sealed to our family. I remember both Emma and I were dressed in white and taken to the sealing room where my parents were waiting for us. I remember how beautiful the room was with mirrors on the walls that made it look like you could see forever. I saw how happy mom and dad were and I remember how warm and happy I felt. I realize now those feelings were from the Holy Ghost telling me that Emma had just become a part of our forever family.
Since mom died the Temple has become even more special to me. I know because we have been sealed in the Temple I will be able to live with her again, she is still my mom and always will be. This is why I’m thankful for the Temple."

Children have a capacity to share the spirit, with innocence and sincerity, that is pure and sweet. Seeing them come to the pulpit one at a time and share words full of faith and love helped me to understand the words of Christ as found in Matthew 19:14:

"But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven."

We had a little taste of heaven today.

Crossroads

2011-10-19T22:08:00.000-05:00

Over the last dozen or so years I’ve come to realize thattrials are crossroads in life. Thoughyou may be powerless to change the path you have been asked to bear, you have fullfreedom to choose how it will affect you emotionally and spiritually. You can either curse God and die or you canhumbly submit to your Father’s will. Onepath will lead to darkness, anger and isolation while the other leads to peace,comfort, a realization of the many blessing you are so graciously given and a softeningof your heart to where you are more able to sympathize with others’ burdens andmore desirous to help, comfort and mourn with them. It can also give you a glimpse into the heart ofour Savior and lead to greater love and charity for your fellow man and giveyou a greater desire to follow Him. I'm thankful for the crossroads I've been blessed with and the paths I've chosen.

Happily Ever After

2011-10-10T21:34:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was blessed to teach part of the Young Women's lesson at church. This was a first for me since, obviously, I was never a young woman. I was very impressed with how elegantly everything was done. It was truly celestial compared to how we do things in Elders Quorum. I had tears in my eyes before it was even my turn (that's when the water works decided to turn on full blast).

The lesson was based on President Uchtdorf's 2010 General Conference talk "Your Happily Ever After". It talks about how between life's "Once Upon a Time" and "Happily Ever After" there will be trials and adversity that will help us to gain attribute that wouldn't be possible without them. And he talks about how the Gospel is the way to our happily ever after.

The instructor invited me to talk about the trials Krista and I endured throughout our life together and how the Gospel strengthened us and helped us endure each one well. I spent last week preparing what I wanted to share. It was harder than I thought it would be, all of the the emotions I've been dealing with since Krista passed away came flooding back and I shed many tears while putting the words together. Since I had invested so much effort and emotion into it I thought I would share it here.

Our “Once upon a time” started in the fall of 1980. I had just started my ninth grade year of Junior High. I remember the first day of school during band class; I was sitting in the trumpet section on the right hand side of the room. As I was waiting for class to start a new girl with beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile sitting in the clarinet section caught my attention. The problem was the clarinets were with the woodwinds way over on the left side of the room giving me little opportunity during band to get to know her. Add to that my overpowering fear of talking to girls and I felt like I would never have an opportunity to become friends. Luckily the next year we both tried out for our high school clog dance team “Cloggers West” and were both selected to join their beginner group. Finally I had my opportunity. That year we became close friends and by the end of our junior year of high school we were inseparable. We had many wonderful experiences together but one in particular let me know we were destined to spend our lives together.

One night during our senior year we were sitting at the top of 4th North in Lindon Utah looking out over Utah Valley watching the sun set behind the mountains on the far side of Utah Lake. As we watched we talked about what we saw as our future together. We discussed a mission, being sealed together and raising a large family. Despite knowing little about how our Heavenly Father refines His children, we thought we knew how our “happily ever after” would unfold. But what I remember most from that night was the overwhelming peace I felt as we talked. The Holy Ghost was proclaiming to me “this is your wife to be” to be sealed to you for all time and eternity.

After graduation Krista immediately enrolled at BYU and I worked and prepared for a mission. As we were two of the youngest in our class we had a year and a half before I left for a mission to Japan. While I was in Japan we faithfully wrote to each other and we both grew spiritually and gained stronger testimonies of the Gospel and the importance and lasting value of the Temple ordinances.

Upon successfully serving for two years I returned home to find that in Krista’s typical fashion all the wedding plans were made and all that was left was to become officially engaged. I gladly complied.

On the morning of August 20th 1988 Krista and I were dressed in white sitting on a couch in the Celestial Room of the Salt Lake Temple. I remember the anticipation and joy because we were about to be married. I also remember the overwhelming peace I felt. It was the same peace I felt years prior while sitting with her, overlooking Utah Valley and talking about our future together. Then while holding hands across the alter I remember the look in her eyes and the smile on her face as we were pronounced husband and wife for time and all eternity. There was a complete joy and peace in her countenance. We had finally made it, we were ready for our “happily ever after”, or so we thought.

We knew we wanted a large family but didn’t know when our children would come. We patiently waited years for children. Finally it was apparent that things weren’t going to work out on their own and we sought professional help. The answer we received wasn’t what we hoped for. Because of compounding factors the only way we could possibly have kids was through the best medical science had to offer. And with it came an appropriately outrageous price tag. For us to even hope to have children it would cost over $10,000 each try and there was no guarantee that each time we tried it would result in a child. This was a huge blow to us. We were both young in our careers and didn’t have that kind of money to spend on a hope that it might work.

So we did what we had done in the past when faced with a tough decision, we went to the Lord to find out what He wanted us to do. After pondering about this and asking our Heavenly Father we both felt like this was what we needed to do so we agreed to give it a go. We scraped and borrowed enough money for a procedure. We knew this was what the Lord wanted us to do and we had faith that He could make it work. Throughout the two months the procedure took everything looked wonderful. This wasn’t just things were progressing as normal, it was as good as it could be. The doctor had high confidence that all would work. That just made it more devastating when despite everything looking so good it didn’t result in a pregnancy. We were heartbroken. We questioned how this could be, we had confirmation from the Lord this is what we needed to do, we had faith He could do it, everything looked as good as it could, yet it didn’t work. We forgot one piece of the puzzle. Despite our faith and following the Lord’s direction we didn’t take into account His will and His purposes. We thought we knew what the blessings for following Him were to be and that’s what we expected. We forgot to humble ourselves and find the blessings even in what we considered a failure.

Two more times we attempted the procedures without success. Then In January of 2000 while on a break from trying to have kids, Krista miraculously became pregnant. We were amazed and overjoyed while the doctors were baffled; this wasn’t supposed to happen on its own. We thought this was the blessing we were waiting and working for. Sadly eight weeks later we lost our child. This was the hardest trial for us to deal with yet. We couldn’t understand why after all our hard work, money, suffering and hoping, Krista would miraculously become pregnant only to lose the child. This was a dark time for us. We couldn’t see how this could be a blessing that we could give thanks to our Heavenly Father for. We knew that in the Doctrine and Covenants section 59:7 we are commanded to “thank the Lord thy God in all things”, but how could this be a blessing. Looking back, it’s much easier to see how greatly we were blessed during this trial. We didn’t get a baby but here’s a few of the blessing we received:

An opportunity to learn how faith and prayer work
A lesson on trusting in the Lord, even when things don’t go the way we’d hoped
A lesson in patience, which is something every parent needs!
Valuable friendships gained through helping others going through the same trial
Opportunities to communicate better as a couple
Moments where we cried together, laughed together, and expressed our love and gratitude for each other
Opportunities to feel the power that comes from the collective prayers and fasting of others
Refining experiences that strengthened our testimonies
“Make or break” experiences that strengthened our marriage, helping us realize that we can withstand anything together
Peace in knowing that the Lord loves us and knows how to bless us beyond our own imaginations
The realization of blessings from paying an honest tithe
Love and appreciation for the children who finally came, so that they would never be taken for granted
Opportunities to experience the “tender mercies” (1 Nephi 1:20) of the Lord
Humility and flexibility sufficient to change the picture of our life
Opposition and sorrow, so that we could fully appreciate the joy that came from the realization of promised blessings.
As you know we were eventually blessed with children. Jacob and Emma didn’t come the way we originally planned but our past trials had taught us to savor the experience and that it didn't matter how children came into our family. These children were ours, anticipated and loved just as much as if they were biologically ours. After we adopted Jacob and throughout Emma’s adoption we were experiencing a season of joy. Life seamed complete, we had endured our trials well and were finally living “happily ever after”.

Then in November of 2005 Krista started having what we called smell nightmares. She would wake up suddenly smelling a strong chemical smell that wasn’t there. At first we were perplexed by it but weren’t too concerned. When it started to happen more often we started searching for the cause of these nightmares. As you know a tumor was found in the right temporal lobe of her brain and upon resection of the tumor it was found to be a grade 4 glioblastoma. This is the mother of all brain cancers and on December 12th of 2005 Krista was given 14 months to live.

As if our past trials weren’t hard enough on us this news was devastating. This was the first time that I was truly worried about what could happen. Many things concerned me and a few terrified me including:

How would Krista be able to endure the treatment and typical course of this disease?
How would I take care of Jacob and Emma and raise them alone?
What adjustments to our standard of living would we have to make with the loss of the income from Krista’s business?
Would Jake and Em have to watch their mom’s health, ability to take care of herself and mental capacities deteriorate to the point where she wouldn’t even recognize them.
And how would I be able to go on without my sweetheart and best friend of nearly 30 years.

These occupied my thoughts constantly to the point of despair until I found time to fall upon my knees with tears streaming down my face and plead and with my Heavenly Father to bless Krista that she would have a long and healthy life. And if there was any way, to extend her life, just long enough so we could raise Jacob and Emma together. As I plead with the Lord I was overcome with peace and the thought came to my mind that no matter what happened we would be taken care of. At that moment I ceased to worry and I knew that we would be blessed to endure all that would be asked of us. Despite that confirmation I never stopped praying for Krista to live just long enough to raise Jacob and Emma.

During Krista’s recovery from her brain surgery we were blessed in abundance. We had legions of – as Krista would call them – "angels" attend to our every need. We had meals, laundry, housecleaning, rides, childcare, yard work, home organizing, unpacking, cookies, caroling, presents and so many other blessings from ward members, friends, neighbors, family and many of you here that our every need was attended to physically, emotionally and spiritually. During what could have been our darkest hour we were constantly surrounded by love and charity that it was truly a season of blessings for us. Like with our previous trials there were many ups and downs over the next five years. But Krista’s prognosis continued to look better and better. I was sure that my prayers were being answered.

Then almost a year ago Krista started to have severe back pain. She went to several different doctors to try and find its cause. After nothing concrete was found it was recommended that she have an MRI of her spine. The MRI clearly showed a tumor had developed at the base of her spine right where the spinal cord divided into many nerves. This tumor was creating a lot of pressure on these nerves causing her excessive pain. Krista’s oncologist took this information to her hospital’s tumor board to plan a course of treatment. The location of the tumor and how it had grown around the nerves eliminated the possibility of surgical resection. So an aggressive round of radiation and multiple forms of chemotherapy was scheduled. Again the blessing poured in, rides, meals, hugs and anything we were in need of were arranged and provided by many angels. Once again Krista faithfully and happily endured months of constant radiation and chemotherapy, pain and discomfort. Yet, I never once heard her complain about it and she would constantly encourage, help and show love to all she met, lifting their burdens while hers seemed so overwhelming. As her treatment progressed her pain diminished and everything looked like the tumor was shrinking and dying off. We were optimistic and anxious for her next MRI that would be on December 12th so we could celebrate the good news.

Then on the night of December 9th 2010, after our family scripture study and prayers, Krista gave Jacob and Emma a hug and a kiss good night and went to bed early because she was tired as usual having had chemo and radiation for the last 3 months. At a little past midnight Krista suddenly sat up in bed and told me to call 911. Paramedics quickly arrived and rushed Krista to the emergency room. After making arrangement for my sister-in-law to watch the kids I sped to the hospital fully expecting Krista to be taken care of and back home in a couple days.

Shortly after I arrived at the hospital I understood the severity of Krista’s situation. I called Bishop Moon and together we gave Krista a Priesthood blessing. After the blessing we were escorted to a private waiting room where both the Bishop and I knelt as I offered a prayer. Once again I plead with the Lord for Krista’s life, if there was any way possible for her to be healed. But through my tears I told Heavenly Father that I accepted His will, whatever it may be. As I ended the prayer an overwhelming feeling of peace came to my soul. I knew that all was done for the Lord’s will to be done. And if Krista were to pass away it was her time. I knew she was ready, more so than anyone I've known, and she would be received into a state of love, peace and endless joy. Shortly after our prayer Krista passed away. Though I miss her and my heart aches for her, I know my Heavenly Father loves me and wants what’s best for me and all of his children. He wouldn't take her unless it was a necessary part of His plan, to refine me and Jacob and Emma so that we can truly have a “Happily Ever After”.

The last five years that Krista and I had together were the best that we had as this trial brought us closer to each other and closer to the Lord. And I cherish our last three months together. I don't know if she knew her time was coming but she had a quiet peace about her. I remember being at the temple and while doing sealings for her family we gazed across the alter into each others' eyes. I remember the total contentment and love I saw. We had been through a lot together. If we would have let it, it could have torn us apart but we drew closer together trusting the Lord’s wisdom. He is the refiner and watches over his children as they are tried and purified so they can reach their full potential.

One of Krista’s favorite quotes is from her friend and former General Young Women’s President Ardeth Kapp, she said:
"this life experience is designed for our growth and progress. Our trials will not be more than we can handle, but they cannot be less if we are to fill the measure of our creation."
This is so true, though I still have a ways to go I know Krista has passed her mortal test and is waiting for me to finish mine. 30 years ago as we sat discussing our future lives we couldn’t have imagined what it would be like and what trials we would be blessed with, we never would have believed how much we would grow and learn to trust the Lord and accept His will in all things. We could not have comprehended the abundant blessings to be poured out upon us despite the difficulty of the path we would be asked to follow.

Trials are necessary for us to fill the measure of our creation, they stretch us and expand us to allow us to reach our full potential. They teach us compassion and understanding and a love for others. They give us the ability to lift each other’s burdens, to comfort those in need of comfort and mourn with those that mourn. And they give us a glimpse into the heart of our Savior Jesus Christ. That we may love as He loves so that we may become even as He is.
Orson F. Whitney put it this way:
“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God … and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven.”
I don’t know what life still has in store for me but I know if I remain faithful and trust the Lord and accept His will in all things that I will be able to return home into Krista’s waiting arms and together we will finally live “Happily Ever After”.

Inseparable

2011-08-20T19:24:00.002-05:00

I remember the first time I saw Krista. It was during my 9th grade year of junior high during band class. I was on the right side of the room with the trumpet section and I noticed a new girl on the left side playing clarinet. I remember how cute she was but being painfully shy I didn't think I would ever get the chance to meet her.

Thankfully, later that year we both tried out for our high school's clogging team, Cloggers West, and were both picked to join the sophomore team and the year after were selected to join the performing team. We spent a lot of time together practicing and performing throughout Utah and neighboring states. We both became close friends not just with each other but with all of the other members of the team. But by the end of our junior year Krista and I became best friends.

Now, texting didn't exist back in the 80s but we became what we know now as BFF (best friends forever). We would walk to class together, pool our meager funds together for lunch, clog dance together as much as possible and spend every moment we could with each other. On the weekends and during the summer I would ride my bike to her house, which was a 20 mile round trip, just to spend time with her. We were inseparable.

I remember one evening during our senior year, we were sitting at the top of 4th North in Lindon talking about our future together. We talked about getting married, having children, arguing about wanting girls or boys (as if we had a choice). And what we envisioned what life would be like for us. I distinctly remember the peace I felt while talking with her and knew that I was going to marry her.

We continued our conjoined lives after high school graduation. Krista started college that summer and I worked various jobs while waiting to go on a mission for my church. Being two of the youngest in our class we waited over a year and a half before I left for a mission to Japan. Before I left we talked about what Krista should do while I was gone. I had not yet told her I knew we were going to be married so I told her I was fine with her dating and we would see how things were when I returned.

While I was in Japan we faithfully wrote letters to each other every week. I knew what was going on in her life and she knew about mine. Krista did date several boys while I was gone and even had one of them propose to her telling her that I would return from my mission and want to marry a Japanese girl. Thankfully she said no.

When I returned from my two year mission Krista was waiting at the airport with my family ready to "see how things were". Needless to say, we already knew. I came home to carefully laid out wedding plans. We knew the date, the temple we were to be married in, where the reception would be and she even had her wedding dress ordered. All she needed was a fiance. I wasted no time and within two weeks from returning I proposed to her. At that point it was more of a formality than anything but it was important and we were officially engaged.

Then, on August 20th 1988 early in the morning we entered the Salt Lake City Temple together to not just be married for time but sealed for all eternity. There was a whirlwind of activity that morning as they had over 100 marriages to perform. But I never felt rushed or not given the attention this sacred moment deserved. I remember after dressing in white being led to the Celestial room with Krista's hand in mine. We were seated on a couch to wait until it was our turn. We didn't say much while sitting there, holding hands with her head on my shoulder, we just enjoyed feeling the total peace that was there. Then it was our turn, we were lead to the sealing room and knelt across the alter. The ordinance wasn't lengthy but with it and the authority it was performed by we were pronounced husband and wife. Thankfully not till death do us part but forever.

Little did I know back then how life would unfold. Together we experienced a lot. A lot of joy, a lot of pain, a lot of growing and a lot of learning to trust the Lord. Now I'm without her for a time. I don't know how long it will be and what is ahead, but I do know that she is patiently waiting for me, watching me and praying for me. I look forward to when this trial is over and I can once again hold her in my arms, for I know that it was on August 20th 1988 that we truly became inseparable.

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T09:45:00.003-05:00

To all the women who have used their divine traits of motherhood to help me and my family. To the many angels who have donated countless hours of selfless service to us. To those who drove Krista to her various treatments, brought us meals, cleaned our home, sang carols to us, watched Jacob and Emma, provided gifts, cookies and candy. To those women who shared words of love and support and countless comforting hugs. And to those who offered help no matter what the need may be. Thank you and happy Mother's Day.

Children isn't what makes a woman a mother. It's the selfless love unique to them that they share with others that counts. So many women have touched our lives with this love and have uplifted our spirits and brought joy and peace to our hearts. Though I'm not directly related to most of you I consider you all like a mother to me and my family. I wish you all a wonderful Mother's Day.

Tradition!

2011-04-17T19:11:00.008-05:00

"A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask 'Why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?' Well, we stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: tradition!"

As many of you know we've developed a lot of traditions in our family. Holidays, birthdays, adoption days, sealing days and many more. Like in the quote above from Tevye, the main character in "Fiddler on the Roof", that's one way we keep our balance.

Last month started what we fondly call "the season of Jacob". It starts on March 13th with his birthday and ends with his sealing day on June 9th. In between those days we also celebrate his homecoming day and his adoption day. And as if that's not enough Krista and I celebrated our kiss-aversary on May 17th, the day Krista and I first kissed (that will have to be another blog post).

So last month's celebrations started with Jacob's birthday. Krista had it planned out many months ago. Jake was turning 10 so we would have a bowling party. 10 pins for 10 years. And keeping with tradition this also meant one more picture to add to our cake madness album. I know this tradition meant a lot to her and I made sure all went to plan. Having the party outside our home made it a lot easier than in years past. Jacob loved the party, he has always enjoyed bowling but I think what he liked best was that all his friends that came were girls. Despite adoption the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree with this one.

In past years Krista and I would make the cake together but now I had to do it myself. We hadn't agreed on what the cake would be. We talked about several different options but never decided what we were going to make. Ideas ranged from a single pin to a whole bowling lane complete with a ball and cupcake pins. The thought crossed my mind several times to just order it from a bakery and not worry about it but I didn't want to give in to changing what has been our tradition for 10 years now. So after a lot of worrying about it I decided to make a bowling ball cake. I didn't know how to do it but that had never stopped us in the past. Luckily, while looking for things to make Emma's bat habitat at Hobby Lobby I stumbled across a ball cake pan. It came with two hemispherical pans that each made half of the ball. All you had to do is make each half of the cake and put them together with frosting. How hard could it be? I also decided to have a base the ball would sit on making it look somewhat like a trophy. It looked quite simple, at least at first. I must have spend about 5 hours working on the cake before I was happy with it. It shouldn't have surprised me since most of the cakes have taken that long with both Krista and I working on them. It's a small price to pay to keep the tradition going.

Our next celebration was Jacob's homecoming day. We brought Jake home from the hospital two days after he was born. Ever since then we would get a family portrait to celebrate his addition to our family. I didn't want Krista to not be in the pictures. She is still a part of our family and will always be. So I decided to bring a portrait of her for us to hold in the pictures. The photographer was very understanding especially when she heard our story. The pictures turned out great, despite my unphotogenic nature. I just missed Krista being there. We always enjoyed our family picture days and it was hard to not have her there in person.

The season of Jacob will continue with his adoption day and end with his sealing day. This is our favorite part of the season. It's the day we celebrate him being sealed to our family for time and all eternity. With the sealing power we will enjoy our family relationships throughout the eternities, never to be separated again. I look forward to the day when I'm called home to my maker. To wrap my arms around my sweetheart and together kneel at our Savior's feet and thank him for all he has done for us.

Traditions are important, but it's more important that they teach us eternal truths and strengthen our will to do all we can to follow our Savior's example so that we can return to Him.

Now I just need to figure out what to do for Emma's birthday...

Someone to Watch Over Me

2011-04-03T19:30:00.002-05:00

On Valentine's Day 2008 I received a CD from my sweetheart with several songs she had recorded. One of them was the song above "Someone to Watch Over Me". I have heard Krista sing this many times over the past several years. I still remember the look in her eyes as she would sing it to me. The love she expressed through this song was more than any words could describe. I felt honored and humbled that she would trust me to be the one to watch over her.

Lately I have felt as if the roles have reversed and she is watching over me and our family. I know Krista continues to have a role my life even though she has left this mortal existence. A week ago we had a close call with a drunk driver who narrowly missed hitting us head on as we were driving home. At the last moment he swerved and just brushed our car with his bumper. I posted about this on Facebook shortly after it happened. Upon seeing this post an old high school friend commented with the following: "It is a good thing you have God and a beautiful angel watching over you and the children...". I have to agree. I have a beautiful angel watching over me and our children.

Death isn't and end, it's a new beginning and through the ordinances of the Temple and the Priesthood of God we can enjoy the same family bonds that are created in this life. I know this to be true and am thankful for the peace this knowledge brings to me at this time. I look forward to the day that I'm with my sweetheart again, to walk hand in hand and enjoy the same love we had for each other in this life. I am very thankful for a beautiful angel that watches over me.

Friends

2011-02-28T19:59:00.006-06:00

About 12 years ago I was a primary teacher in the Plano 3rd Ward. If I remember correctly the children in the class were about 11 years old. What I do remember is one of the boys whose name was Edgar. He always impressed me with his bright countenance and constant smile and every time I think of him a smile comes to my face.

A few years ago, shortly after Krista's diagnosis I ran into him at church. He was in his late teens at the time but could only walk with the assistance of crutches. He had been diagnosed with the same cancer as Krista was but it was closer to his brain stem and had already affected his motor functions. Despite this he still had that ever present smile on his face.

Krista and I kept in touch with him and his mother Liliana over the next few years. We would find comfort in each other knowing we all shared the same trial. A couple of years ago we ran into them at the Dallas temple. Krista and I had just finished an endowment session and were walking to our car. Edgar and his mother were about to leave the temple themselves. Edgar was in a wheel chair now and had lost almost all control of his body. Yet he was beaming with joy. Not only was he able to receive his own endowments but he had just done his father's temple work so that they could be together in the eternities. It seemed as if his trial didn't matter anymore. He had the blessing of the temple for himself and his family and whatever happened next was fine, he knew he was ready. That was the last time we saw him.

Edgar passed away on September 22, 2009. He was a good friend and we were saddened that his life was shorter than expected. But we were happy for him to finish this trial and return back to his Father in Heaven and his earthly father that had passed on before him. I can just imagine how joyous that reunion must have been.

After Krista's memorial services, when we just arrived at the cemetery to dedicate her grave, Liniana pulled me aside and whispered to me that her son, Edgar, was buried in the same cemetery, just yards from where Krista was to be buried. I was filled with joy to know this. Krista's body was laid to rest just yards from our friend who had passed away just a little over a year earlier. They were friend in this life and I'm sure that friendship continues even now.

Yesterday, in Sunday School, we were studying Christ's Sermon on the Mount. As we were reading the Beatitudes I was asked to share with the class how the Gospel has comforted me while mourning the loss of my wife and best friend. I shared the experiences, the help and comfort that I was blessed with. When I finished others in the class shared their thoughts and experiences of comfort during times of mourning. As I listened I looked around the room and noticed so many in that room who blessed me and my family with comfort during the last couple of months. As I was gratefully pondering this my eyes fell upon Sister Win Marsh, a wonderful friend and truly an angel. She and her husband had lost several of their children and knew what it meant to mourn. Shortly after Krista's death Win sought me out to talk to me, to share with me their experiences with the loss of a loved one and to let me know what to expect and what was perfectly normal at a time like this. She also happened to be the Relief Society Compassionate Service Leader or as Krista would call it "Captain of the Angels". What a blessing she was in this capacity at this time. She knew what I was going through, what I was feeling and what help I would need without even asking. Many times she would recommend areas of service for my family that I hadn't thought of. She was a great blessing for us when we needed her.

For the last few weeks, while driving in the car, I've been listening to President Thomas S. Monson's biography "To The Rescue". Chapter 26 of his book is titled "There Are No Coincidences". It talks about how people are put in the path of other people's lives for a reason. It not just haphazard or coincidental that certain people have been a part of our lives. I know many people that have been a blessing to me and my family. I'm thankful that I live where I do, that I'm in the ward I'm in, that Jacob and Emma go to the school they go to and that I've been blessed by so many good people. I know they have been put there by the Lord's hand to help us in our time of need. I hope and pray that some day I may return the favor to Him and be of help and comfort to others when the Lord has need of me.

We all have the ability to help, comfort and uplift our fellow men. We each have unique abilities and talents that can bless the lives of others. We need to be ready to seek out those in need so that we may "succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees" D&C 81:5. If we diligently seek out those in need and listen to the promptings of the Spirit we can be instruments in the Lord's hands to bring comfort to those that stand in need of comfort and further His work here upon the earth.

My Valentine

2011-02-13T17:24:00.004-06:00

I remember one day when Krista and I were first dating in High School. We were standing in the lunch line together and just talking. I kept noticing a funny look on Krista's face, it was as though she was trying to redirect my attention away from her to something on the other side of the room. I looked around and didn't notice anything odd so I looked back at her with an inquisitive look. She then looked up at the top of the wall eyes gleaming with pride. I turned and looked at the top of the wall. Right next to the ceiling I saw a sign written on butcher paper that went from one side of the lunch room all the way to the other. I started to read what was a beautiful letter expressing ones love to another. I continued to read admiring the time and effort that went into it. When I got to the end I read the words "Happy Valentine's Day Jared". Suddenly I felt very small. I forgot it was Valentine's Day and didn't have a gift or even a card for Krista. She had, in typical Krista fashion, gone all out to make sure there was no doubt in anyones mind where her affections were.

It's been 27 years since then and I haven't missed another Valentine's Day. Gifts to her have ranged from simple paper roses to hand inscribed Tiffany's jewelry. But no matter what the gift was I always made sure she knew of my undying love for her. She has been my sweetheart for almost 3 decades. I don't know of a day that I haven't let her know that I love her.

I have a picture of her in her wedding dress on the wall next to my side of the bed. Each night, before I fall asleep, I turn to her picture and blow her a kiss followed by the words "I love you". Tho tears follow most nights I have peace and joy in my soul knowing that we are bound together forever. And If I'm faithful to the end there is nothing that man can do to separate us.

Happy Valentine's Day Krista.

Love Eternally,

Jared

Two Down, How Many to Go?

2011-02-10T20:52:00.003-06:00

Today marks two months since Krista's passing. It's been a time for use to figure out our routine as a family of three. Jacob and Emma have been a great help. Emma is so willing to do anything around the house that is needed. And Jacob has willingly accepted new responsibilities. I used to affectionately call him my little man, but he has been such a help around the house that I now call Jacob my big man. It's cute to see the pride in his face when I call him this.

We have been determined to maintain the routine and traditions that were so important to Krista and I. We have continued our family prayers morning and night, daily scripture study and Family Home Evening every Monday night. At first it felt weird without Krista there to participate but as we acclimated to our new situation we have felt the Spirit of the Lord attend us.

It is good to have the Gospel as a constant in our lives. It is our anchor and compass especially in times of trial. It is the one thing that doesn't change and will always point us back to our Heavenly Father and to our ultimate exaltation. And it is the one way we will be back in the arms of our mother, companion, wife and friend.

So despite my cooking (it's getting better) we've made it two months. It doesn't seem much compared to what we see ahead. But I know if we continue to cling to the Gospel of Christ we can make it no matter how long it may be.

If ye are prepared...

2011-02-05T21:59:00.003-06:00

Monday night I had to run to the store to get paper lunch bags for a school project that Emma was turning in the next day. When I arrived at the store I was surprise by the hoard of shoppers I had to wade through just to buy some lunch bags. I didn't realize what was going on until I started talking to the lady ahead of me in the checkout line. We were expecting a big ice storm to hit that night and everyone was stocking up on food and water to last through the storm. This was a new experience for me. We have always had enough food, water and needed supplies stored in our home to last far beyond what any storm could last. I was thankful that we were prepared for such an emergency and didn't have to endure masses of frantic shoppers to make sure we could weather the storm. And what a storm it was this time.

Usually when it snows here in Plano it starts with freezing rain and sleet and by the time the snow hits the roads are covered in ice making it quite treacherous to drive anywhere. Schools and business shut their doors and people hide out in their homes until the ice thaws. Usually it only lasts a day or two. This time we had to wait four days before the roads thawed and life could return to normal. During that time, thanks to having a set of snow chains, we were able to get out of the house now and then. We had a great time checking up on friends, spending time with family and making it to one of the few good sledding hills in the area. Many times while we were out we ended up helping someone else get their car out of a snow bank or off the shoulder of the road. Being prepared for this situation made all the difference. Not only for us but others we were able to help because we were prepared.

A week before Krista passed away she was talking with her father about what was going on with her life. She recently finished her radiation and chemotherapy for the metastatic tumor that was on her spine. She had regained much of the mobility in her legs that was lost because of the pressure the tumor was placing on her nerves and the pain associated with that pressure was mostly gone. We were anxiously waiting her follow-up MRI and her oncologist appointment to see how effective the treatment was. All signs were pointing to the possibility of good news. But as she was talking to her father she mentioned that no matter what the outcome was or whatever happened all would be well. If she were to die it would be okay because she was ready and knew that the Lord would take care of her and her family. Krista had been preparing for this for years. It brings immense peace to me knowing that she was ready to leave this life and return to her Father in Heaven. Again, being prepared made all the difference. Definitely for her, but also for us and all those who love her.

We don't know what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully we can say the same thing whatever may happen, that all will be well. To have that peace is a great blessing. For the Lord has said "if ye are prepared ye shall not fear" Doctrine and Covenants 38:30

Passing the Baton

2011-01-23T19:30:00.003-06:00

One thing I always admired about Krista was that she was always engaged in a good cause. She had too many things to do to not be. Today in church she was released from her callings as the Ward Music Specialist, Ward Choir Director, Cub Scout Bear Den Leader and Relief Society Instructor. It’s hard to remember a time when she didn’t have multiple callings at church. She was always happy to serve wherever and whenever she was needed.

Since Krista’s passing I have felt the weight of her responsibilities fall upon my shoulders. No longer do I have her to share the workload of cooking, cleaning, laundry, homework, shopping, paying bill and raising Jacob and Emma. And the list seems to grow daily. There have been other needs that exist because her death was so sudden and unexpected like figuring out what to do with her consulting business, her support group and website, her children’s book that is close to being published, her blog and many other little details that I have discovered over the last few weeks. These are the many things that give me little time to sit and worry about how things are going to turn out because I’m too busy trying to get everything done.

Today I’ve gladly accepted one more of Krista’s old responsibilities. I have been called to be the Ward Music Director. I’m responsible for selecting and leading the congressional hymns and arranging the special musical numbers for our weekly sacrament meetings. Though it’s only a little of what Krista did I’m glad to do it. I have learned from her to serve wherever the Lord needs me. No calling is too small, nothing we do for others is insignificant in the sight of the lord. As it says in Matthew:

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." - St Matthew 25:40

I hope to continue Krista's legacy and always be engaged in a good cause and serve the Lord wherever and whenever He needs me. To serve the Lord we must serve others and it is in serving others that we forget ourselves and find joy and peace.

Month One

2011-01-10T19:27:00.008-06:00

Those of you that regularly follow Krista's blog know that we keep track of many dates and loved to find reasons to celebrate. Every 20th of the month was our "month-a-versary" (it was always fun to see who would remember it first). We have the season of Jacob and the season of Emma which included their birthdays, homecoming days, adoption days and sealing days. We even celebrated the 12th of each month since her diagnosis as another month she outlived her prognosis.

Today marks one month since her passing. A lot has happened in that month. There has been a lot of pain, a lot of tears and a lot of heartache. On the other hand there have been many angels that have blessed my family through countless acts of service. There has been a lot of comfort given through friends and family. There has been a lot of thoughts and prayers for me and my family. And there has been a lot of tears of joy for the outpouring of blessings that we have received.

I have said many times that life is messy. If it weren't so we wouldn't learn and grow and reach the divine potential that is in all of us. The Lord wants us to trust Him in all things. During times of trial it is of utmost importance to trust in Him and rely on Him. If we do He will strengthen us to endure the trials that shall be placed upon our backs. And He will pour out His blessings upon us so that our burdens will be light. I have felt His love many times this past month. When the pain and sorrow seemed too much to bear I would fall upon my knees and plead with my Father in Heaven for the help and strength to endure. Every time He has blessed me with his love and peace and I knew that all would be well.

I know my Heavenly Father knows me and loves me more than I can comprehend. He has been patient we me and has lead me step by step to become what I am today. There is much more that I need to learn but I know with His help all things are possible.

Looking back at this month there is much to celebrate and be happy for. Most of all it is the "month-a-versary" of my dear wife's successful completion of her mortal trial. No longer does she need to endure countless MRIs, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, injections, blood tests, pain and sickness. She is in our Heavenly Father's hands now. And it is one less month till we are together, never to be separated again.

Lead, Kindly Light

2011-01-07T09:44:00.004-06:00

When I was very young my mom endeavored to teach me to play the piano. I remember countless hours practicing while I wished I was doing something else a bit more entertaining. Whenever I would complain about it my mom would tell me that someday when I was a missionary I would be in an area where I would be the only person that could play the hymns for church. At that point I would just roll my eyes and get back to practicing still wishing I was elsewhere. Needless to say, my mom's prediction came true.

While I was serving a mission in Japan there was rarely an area I was in that had someone who could play the piano. I was able to provide the accompaniment to the congregational hymns for most of the two years of my mission. I'm thankful for a mother that had the foresight to not give up on a young boy knowing that the benefit greatly outweighed anything I lost. I never became a great pianist but I learned enough to play hymns (which was my mom's goal) and compose some simple arrangements and original songs.

Many times when I find myself alone with my thoughts and the pains of mortality I turn to the piano for comfort. Sometimes it's much easier to express my emotions through the piano then verbally. Today was one of those days. While flipping through the hymn book I came across "Lead, Kindly Light". This brought back a flood of memories and emotions. A few years ago Krista used the first verse in her post titled "One Step Enough For Me". She compared it with our experience of adopting our Emma. Showing that sometimes we just need to trust the Lord. Knowing that he has a plan for us should be enough. We don't need to know the outcome we just need to take that next step and put our trust in Him and let Him lead us to where He wants us to be.

Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, lead Thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home; lead Thou me on!

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see

The distant scene; one step enough for me.

As I sat at the piano reading the lyrics I got to the third verse with tears streaming down my face I read:

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on.

O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till the night is gone,

And with the morn those angel faces smile, which I

Have loved long since, and lost awhile!

I have lost my angel. Thankfully it's only for "awhile". I look forward to the day that we meet again, to once again see her smiling face and walk hand in hand. I know, with the Lord, we are never lost. He is the good shepherd and He knows his sheep. We must put our faith in Him and trust that He will lead through this trial, for there is no way around it. And if we are faithful we will reach the end of our journey and look upon His face and hear the words "Well done, thou good and faithful servant.. enter thou into the joy of thy lord." Matthew 25:21.

Magical Tender Mercies

2011-01-02T18:36:00.010-06:00

Since October Krista and I have been planning a surprise trip to Disney World as a Christmas present for Jacob and Emma. After Krista passed away I thought about what to do and realized that Krista wouldn't want anything to get in the way of our plans for the kids. So after the last present was opened on Christmas morning I told the kids where were going the following Monday. Words can't describe the excitement expressed by Jake and Em.

The following Monday at 4:20am I woke the kids, packed the car and left for the airport.

We arrived at our hotel, Jambo House at the Disney World Animal Kingdom Lodge. Our room overlooked the "Savannah" where you could see zebra, impala, giraffe, antelope, wildebeest and many other animals roaming around.

Despite the cold and the parks being crowded nearly to capacity we had an wonder time. We saw shows, rode rides and ate more good food than we should have. The parks were lit up for Christmas with Cinderella's Castle covered in lights shining like a beautiful ice castle.

The highlight of the trip for Emma was a tossup between meeting "Prince Stitch" and the Princess Storybook Dinner at Epcot Center.

When we first arrived at Epcot center we saw Stitch signing autographs and taking picture. So we quickly got in line and waited. When it was our turn to meet Stitch he noticed the shirt that Emma was wearing that said "Someday My Prince Will Come" and indicated that he was her prince. He even signed her signature book as "Prince Stitch" and kissed her hand just as a prince would. Emma was smitten to say the least and even insisted on getting a Stitch stuffed animal before we left.

Later that day at the Princess Storybook Dinner she was able to meet Cinderella, Ariel, Princess Aurora, and Mary Poppins. But her favorite by far was Belle who signed her book "To: Emma Love, Belle" and even kissed her book leaving a lipstick kiss on the page.

Jacob loved the Stitch's Great Escape! Even though he was nervous while waiting in line and was scared a couple of times during the ride. But the biggest scare came early Friday morning.

When we were going to bed Thursday night Jacob was complaining that his stomach hurt. I thought it was just all of the food we had eaten that day and sent him to bed hoping he would feel better in the morning. But things just got worse. At about 2:00am Friday morning I was startled awake with Jacob crying and throwing up all over his bed and the floor. I quickly got up, cleaned him and the floor and took the bedding off of his bed and called housekeeping to bring new bedding and to further clean the floor. It took about an hour and three more calls before they came to the room with new linens and cleaned the floor. In the meantime Jacob vomited a couple more times and was complaining that his stomach was hurting. He didn't have a fever so I was hoping it was just bad food that needed to work itself out. I bought a Sprite for him to sip on in hopes of it settling his stomach. Nothing helped him feel better and he kept vomiting every hour or so until all that was coming out was saliva and mucus. I realized this was getting dangerous for Jake and called the front desk to see what medical options were available. they recommended a visiting doctor that I could make an appointment with. I called the doctor and after talking to him about Jake's symptoms he recommended that I take him to the ER. The hotel's concierge arranged for a cab to pick us up and take us to the local hospital's ER. They even gave us a voucher for the cab ride to and from the ER.

Once at the hospital they immediately hooked Jacob up to an IV and started giving him fluids to help with the dehydration caused by the vomiting. They also gave him a dose of Zofran to help settle his stomach. They then gave him an bottle of apple juice to sip on to see if he could keep it down. But after drinking only half of the apple juice Jacob started to complain and cry about how bad his stomach hurt. Shortly after that Jacob quickly sat up from the hospital bed and projectile vomited so hard it hit the wall 8 feet from where he was. We were quite scared at this point. I also realized that it was three weeks to the day from when I was with Krista in the ER when she passed away. I was worried about losing Jacob also and didn't know what to do. The doctor decided Jake needed a CAT scan of his abdomen in hopes of diagnosing the problem. The CAT scan showed that Jacob was constipated and other tests showed he was fighting a viral infection. The two together created a dangerous situation keeping Jake from being able to eat or drink anything. At about 3pm the doctor told us she wasn't comfortable releasing Jacob and wanted to admit him to the hospital for another 24 hours. I explained that our flight home was the next day and if he was admitted we would miss our flight and have to deal with the hassle and cost of rescheduling our flight. She finally agreed that if Jacob could keep down a popsicle for an hour or so she would be willing to release him. As soon as she left to order the popsicle we knelt down by Jacob's bed and prayed to Heavenly Father, acknowledging our faith in His ability to heal, and asking Him to heal Jake so he would be able to once again eat and drink and that we would be able to return home as scheduled. Things turned around rather quickly after that. Jacob ate the popsicle without any problems and kept it down. His stomach quit hurting and he was able to use the restroom. By the time the doctor came back to check on him he was smiling and cheerful. The doctor commented that it was the first time she saw him smile and that his complexion looked much better. After having him walk around the ER and pressing on his stomach she agreed to release him. At just after 5:30pm we left the hospital headed back for our hotel room. Needless to say we decided to forgo any New Year celebrations that night and go directly to bed.

I'm thankful for a Heavenly Father who loves us, who knows us and is concerned about our well being. I'm thankful for the power of prayer for I know that if we have faith for that which is right we shall receive it just as it is stated in 3 Nephi 18:20:

"And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto you."

I also like the words from Ezra Taft Benson's Last General Conference Talk as LDS Church President:

"He wants to help you because He loves you, and He will help you if you pray to Him and ask Him for His help."

I know this to be true. I know God loves each and every one of us. He wants us to be happy in this life as well as in the next. If we will just follow his Son and our Saviour Jesus Christ He will give us peace and joy greater than anything we can imagine. And if we ask Him for that which is right, having faith in Him and His Son, he will give us what we ask for.

I'm thankful the the many tender mercies that the Lord has shown to me and my family, especially in this time of need.

‘Twas the night before Christmas...

2010-12-24T20:15:00.005-06:00

‘Twas the night before Christmas, kids finally in bed,
Dreaming dreams of tomorrow and present ahead.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
With one stocking empty, it didn’t seem fair.

Together we planned for next morning’s first light,
With children all happy and joyful and bright.
Announcing a trip full of magic and fun,
But now the announcement was for us, minus one.

Somehow we were meant to be a family of three,
For this year’s Christmas, it just had to be.
For the Lord knows what’s best for each of his children,
To reach our potential, if we will just listen.

His plan may be tough, and yes we'll miss mother,
Yet our family still knows that we’ll be together.
When we finish our test, mother with us will be,
And we will no longer be a family of three.

Nothing's Too Hard...

2010-12-21T19:59:00.004-06:00

Krista's mom has a wonderful assistant who came to Krista's services last week. She was very touched by the services and was thinking about us while riding home. During the trip she turned to her friend who was driving and expressed her concern about how hard it was going to be for Jacob, Emma and I. As soon as she said this she looked up and saw a billboard along the side of the road that read "Nothing's too hard for God". She commented about how amazed she was and knew that Krista was still working to lift her spirits, even from the other side.
Truly nothing is too hard for God. And with His help we can overcome all He ask of us. Krista wrote the following to her 2ofus4now support group on March 15th 2009:

"I really know -- that God made me and loves me, just like he loves you. Just like he loves my family. He knows what we need in order to be all that we want to be. Whether I live or die, all is well. It may not be easy for me or for my family, but all is well. Our loving God is in charge, and if we will just stop trying to grab the steering wheel, he will take us where we need to go."

I know this to be true. For some reason things have to be the way they are. Krista finished her test and was called back to our Heavenly Father before we expected. But she was ready. She had been preparing for this for many years and was ready to meet her Savior and receive her eternal reward. I also know that God love me and my family just as He loves you and all of His children. He knows me, knows how I feel. He knows how much I miss Krista and the worry I have about being a good enough father to help Jacob and Emma endure and overcome this trial. But I also know that He is there to comfort me when I'm sad, to strengthen me when I feel weak, and to encircle me with his perfect love when I humbly kneel before him and ask. I have felt his love and I know He lives.

Jared

Over the Years

2010-12-18T21:53:00.005-06:00

I thought I should upload this for those who weren't able to attend Krista's services. This is her memorial video that was shown during her viewing.

Jared

The Little Things

2010-12-14T13:20:00.005-06:00

Sunday morning while I was getting ready for church I went to throw away a paper in the master bathroom. The trash can has always been by Krista's vanity on the other side of the room. So as I had done countless times before, I walked across the room and dropped the paper in the trash. As I was walking away I realized that I ought to just move the can closer to my sink as I would be the only one using it now. Suddenly my emotions overcame me and I started to cry for there was one more thing to remind me of the passing of my dear wife and friend. I have since thought about that event and how something so small and seemingly insignificant could have such a profound effect on me.

Last night the doorbell rang, I knew what was in store. The Relief Society president asked if it would be okay for them to come caroling to our house to surprise Jacob and Emma with songs, gifts and letters about each carolers' memories of Krista. I quickly gather the kids and went to the door. Upon opening the door I was astonished by the sight. There were friends from our ward, school teachers, PTA associates of Krista's, neighbors and school mates. Our sidewalk and lawn were overflowing with angels that came to sing to us. There must have been at least one hundred people there to show heartfelt love and support for our family. There were many tears of joy as each person came forward to give us gifts, letters, hugs and words of comfort. It wasn't a difficult or miraculous thing each person did that night but added together they made a big impact on our family and brought a peace and love into our home that was needed in this time of loss.

We may never know the impact of the little things we do in life. Smiling at someone that walks by, holding the door for the person behind you, saying kind words or at this time of year sharing a sincere "Merry Christmas". Not only can it bring joy to the hearts of others but it will lift your spirits and instill in you a desire to do more little things for our brothers and sisters.

In Alma 37:6 is says "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass". You may never know the full impact of the little things you do every day. Let's try to make them all good things that together add up to be great.

Jared

Fought a Good Fight

2010-12-11T19:17:00.002-06:00

2 Timothy 4:7
"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith"

This is the second time that I have posted on Krista's behalf and it may be the last.

Thursday night we read scriptures with Jacob and Emma, had family prayer and gave the kids a kiss and a hug good night. That was the last memory they would have of their mother. Krista passed away Friday the 10th of December 2010 at 3:15am. She went quickly with minimal pain and suffering. The doctors at the ER did all they could but it was her time go. I was able to hold her hand at the end and with Bishop Moon at my side was able to offer a prayer releasing her from this mortal world to return to the care of our loving Heavenly Father. She has truly fought a good fight and kept the faith until the end. She has been an inspiration and comfort to many. She has mourned with those that mourn, comforted those that stood in need of comfort and stood as a witness of God at all times and in all things, and in all places (Mosiah 18:9). All this she did while she stood in need of comfort herself. She was a remarkable woman and I am honored to be sealed to her as her husband for all time and eternity. I know she will be missed by many.

Memorial services for Krista will be held on Thursday December 16th at 11:00am at the LDS Church at 2401 Legacy Dr, Plano, TX 75025. A public viewing will precede the services at the same location from 9:30am till 10:30am. All are welcome to both the viewing and the services.

I would like to thank all those who showed support and love and offered many hours of service to Krista and our family. We couldn't have made it this long without your help. I would like to thank the doctors that treated Krista over the years, especially Dr. Karen Fink and her wonderful staff. They have given us over 4 years that we didn't expect to have together. They have been the best years that we have had. And I would also like to thank the endless procession of "Angels" - as Krista would call them - who have lifted our burdens and allowed us to fully enjoy the last 5 years. We love you all.

Jared

It's Okay -- Probably/Hopefully

2010-11-22T04:20:00.002-06:00

"I have a brain tumor. It's okay -- probably/hopefully, but I have a brain "abnormality" that the neurologist believes is most likely a tumor. Saw it myself as clear as can be on the MRI films."

This was what I said to friends and family in an email that ultimately became the beginning of this blog. It was November 21, 2005. (Happy Blog-a-versary!)

I haven't told the rest of the story about that day, but I remember it well. It was a Monday, and we were awaiting word from my neurologist about the MRI and EEG studies that had been done on Friday. He had already called on Saturday to tell me to start taking anti-seizure medication, but had no other details. We had an appointment for Tuesday morning to go over these test results.

Then on Monday morning he called me with an urgent request to meet that day. Pick a time, and he would work me in. Other planned appointments and diagnostic tests had been cancelled. This was a highly ominous conversation, and I was obviously concerned.

Two conversations followed after I hung up. One was a phone call to my husband at work, so that he could arrange to accompany me. The other was back at my bedside, on my knees, to pray.

What occurred during my prayer was highly personal and sacred and comforting. I believe in the Comforter -- the Holy Ghost -- and knew that he was communicating with me in direct and immediate response to my prayer. Personal scripture with direct relevance to my situation was silently but clearly spoken to my mind. Specific words from long ago that had previously seemed unimportant and would normally go unnoticed, were recalled to my mind along with the impression that they were meant for this situation. And then there was a feeling of peace that cannot be adequately described. I rose from my knees knowing that I was under the watchful care of a loving Heavenly Father, and that whatever this was, I would be able to handle it.

Admittedly, I was also hopelessly naiive. The neurologist was very kind as he described the MRI results and the neurosurgery that would result. I knew that my grandfather had died from a brain tumor many years before, but this seemed different. I took solace in knowing that this was likely a primary tumor instead of a metastatic tumor, and that it was in an operable location. I had no clue that primary brain tumors are quite often malignant tumors, or that anything life-threatening was going on (other than the risks of surgery). I thought brain tumors were only a big deal when they were not operable. I was healthy and could surely endure neurosurgery. It honestly seemed like my biggest concerns were whether to continue with my upcoming hair appointment, and how to manage the logistics of neurosurgery so close to Christmas.

After coming home and digesting this news I started telling my parents. I remember both my mother and my father being very concerned, and weeping at the news. I figured they were overreacting because of my grandfather's experience. But it was so long ago! And this is different! I talked about it as matter-of-factly as if I had a cavity that needed to be filled. ("Hey, Dad -- wanna see the MRI film? Here it is right here!") I did my best to reassure them that I was going to be fine. You can see what I wrote at that time, if you go to my very first posts on this blog.

Obviously as the story began to unfold, my naivety gave way to reality. The seriousness of the situation began to sink in, and things beyond our worst fears were starting to materialize. It became overwhelming. However, once the pillars of ignorance and innocence fell, I did not collapse. The experience I had in my room prior to meeting the neurologist was a strengthening one that provided an important support column. It was the remembrance of this very personal answer to prayer, the words that entered my mind, and the unmistakable feeling of peace that accompanied it, that became the real source of my strength and optimism. Other similar experiences followed when needed.

I was taught long ago that there are counterfeits for everything except the peace that is the hallmark sign of the Holy Ghost. Within the presence of that peace it is impossible for fear and doubt to abide. There are many good feelings and emotions, and I've experienced those, too. Feelings of love and relief and joy and hope and wonder, and so on. But when there is spirit-to-spirit communication with the Lord through the Holy Ghost, it is unmistakably and undeniably set apart from these other feelings, and it becomes the only reliable source of confirmed truth. My greatest desire is to live long enough to help my children learn to access and recognize this for themselves.

What I came to know on that fateful day was and is still true, and it has sustained me throughout five years that began with "It's okay -- probably/hopefully" and remains standing at "It's okay -- definitely/surely--no matter what."

Countdown to Blast-off

2010-11-14T15:18:00.003-06:00

Yes, we passed another twelfth. Fifty-nine months since the word "malignant" was pronounced upon me. We're practically on top of that five-year survival mark that seemed like statistical zero at the time of diagnosis.

In fact, we're already five years from the time of my first "seize the day" episode. November 13, 2005, was the Sunday morning when I had a seizure while getting Emma dressed for church. We had no idea what had happened. Three days later, on the 16th, I had a series of episodes that led to a wrong diagnosis by an over-confident ER physician. Finally, on November 21, 2005, we saw an MRI scan with some kind of abnormality that looked like a tumor. We had no idea what it was until surgery on December 12 revealed that it was a malignant tumor. I knew then that I had cancer. And on December 14 our worst fears were realized when the cancer ended up being a grade IV glioblastoma. Statistically speaking, five year survival was considered a miracle at that time.

So we're counting down to December 12, when we can celebrate the completion of my "high-five" year of survival.

We're also counting down what I call the "blast-off". As in, my final radiation blast is tomorrow morning. And hopefully we'll get all that blasted glioblastoma blasted off into oblivion!

Life Goes On

2010-11-07T22:15:00.002-06:00

I have a new nephew! Caden James Ralston was welcomed into the world last week, to the delight of his mom, dad, brother, and sister.

A friend of mine lost her husband a few years ago. (Actually, I shouldn't say she lost him, because she knows very well where he is, which is a very comforting thing.) Anyway, as we talked in the days following his passing, she commented that when a person is born into this earth there is great anticipation and joy. And she felt certain that when a person is due to return home from whence we came, there is probably similar anticipation and joy for those who have preceded him and long to greet him.

During her pregnancy my sister-in-law had to deal with Braxton Hicks (false labor) contractions for several months, which thankfully did not result in premature birth or any complications. (Just maybe a great opportunity to play the guilt card later!) Caden was born healthy and beautiful and perfect...and at the right time for his mission in life. It was so nice to see him, fresh from heaven and ready to take on the world with a loving family surrounding him.

Meanwhile, I'm hoping to emulate his example of crossing the veil at just the right time...and not a moment too soon!

Home Stretch

2010-11-07T21:37:00.002-06:00

I love it when my blog title has a double meaning.

I am home, stretching my muscles right now after Saturday's Brain Tumor Walk. It was a great event, raising over $1 Million for the National Brain Tumor Society, which puts a lot of money directly into research.

Our "High Five" team ended up with only three official members, because our daughter was too young to register. However, we still had many generous donors, and I appreciate each one!

We had a great time. Many volunteers donated food, drinks, and bounce houses to make it a fun event. The kids had a great time, and even had a chance to meet other children affected by brain cancer. Some of the children were feisty survivors themselves, and some had parents who were survivors. One of the highest fundraising teams had just lost their captain to a brain tumor the week before, and there were poignant "We Miss You, Mom" signs being carried by her children. One of the other teams donated part of their money to her team. It was a day filled with courage and support and lots of positive things being done about an otherwise awful situation. I always believe that God is so good, He can make good out of anything, and this was one example of how that happens -- especially when people are willing to help.

Five years ago I was training for a 5K run when I started having seizures. This year I thought I would train to run this 5K event when I ended up with a spine tumor. I decided to stop telling myself to train for 5K events...and I stopped preparing to run this one. I thought I would just sneak up on myself and see how much of it I could run. I ended up learning that I need to re-learn how to run! I think with everything that had been going on with my back and my legs and the foot drop thing...and the lack of running for so long...I just need to retrain some of my muscles. It just felt kind of weird to run, like I needed to remember how. I was stable enough -- didn't fall into the Trinity River that ran along the course -- but I did take it in walking and running intervals just to be safe. I would pick a landmark, like a tree or a pole and focus on running toward that. And then I would walk to the next item and try again. It worked out well, and I was happy with my time -- and the fact that I was doing this when last month I had foot drop and couldn't walk on my toes!

We are approaching the home stretch of the treatment game. Six more radiation sessions. Five more weekly Topotecan injections through the "oh my -- a reservoir." A few more rounds of Avastin. About a week left of nightly Temodar. Things are still very tolerable. So far bone marrow has been holding strong, which has kept me in the game. So far, CSF remains clear, with protein levels decreasing (a hopeful sign). Pain is also decreasing, which is another hopeful sign.
For some reason I have managed to lose some weight and spend a lot of time happily pulling clothes out of storage that have been mocking me for the past five years! (That's been my favorite side effect so far!) I still have my moments when I need a serious nap during the day -- and I remember from my first radiation adventure that the fatigue wall really starts to hit toward the end -- but still, there really isn't anything to complain about, all things considered. We'll get through this home stretch, and then we have a pause before we know the actual score. The Mets didn't have a great season on the field, and I'm praying that they will continue to lose here!

This One's for Charlie

2010-10-31T19:31:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is my last chemo day with Charlie before she moves on to a new opportunity as an ER nurse closer to her home. Charlie has been my chemo nurse during the Avastin days and celebrated with me on graduation day in 2008, and we both foolishly lamented how we missed each other during those long stretches between MRI scans. And she's been here to get me started on this latest round of Avastin, transitioning me to a new pair of caring hands.

Charlie also introduced me to Coconut M&M candy, which may actually cure me. It's good stuff -- like an Almond Joy in a candy shell!

I just can't say goodbye to Charlie without thinking of one of my favorite Michael McLean songs, called "One Heart in the Right Place":

There's no telling how much a sunrise means to the one who had a terrible night;

And there's no telling how much a hand to hold means to one whose being led to the light.

And no one can tell, though at times they might try what it means to have one friend that's been true;

So I guess there's no telling you just how much one heart in the right place can do.

There's no telling how far ones eyes can see when someone's vision can inspire a song

And there's no telling how big a dream can be for the one whose learned to never think small

And no one can tell though at times you might try what another person's love means to you

So I guess there's no telling you just how much one heart in the right place can do

But there's been a heart as big as it's dreams that's blessed us all for so many years

It's been in all the right places at all the right times and it's changed everyone of us here.

There's no telling how much that sunrise meant to the one who had a terrible night

And there's no telling how much a hand to hold has meant to someone whose been led to the light

And no one can tell though at times they might try what it means to have been touched by someone

So there's no way of telling you just how much your heart in the right place has done

We wish we could tell you now just how much your heart in the right place has done

Trunk or Treat

2010-10-31T18:41:00.005-05:00

(We have a friend who said, "I choose trunk." Small pause for a chuckle here.)

Saturday was our annual Trunk or Treat event at the church parking lot, where everyone passes out candy from their cars. Despite our family tradition of strategic planning long in advance -- and despite my earlier blog with potential costume ideas with the Ommaya reservoir -- we ended up going with something unexpected.

I should say some THINGS unexpected...like THING ONE and THING TWO from The Cat in the Hat:

And Jared and I decided to go as one of the great movie couples of all time: Napoleon Dynamite and Deb. (Deb's side ponytail combed nicely over the Ommaya reservoir!)

It was fun -- to stay in character, we went to Sonic afterwards and ordered tots...

Fantastic Friday

2010-10-31T17:25:00.002-05:00

Life moves fast -- especially when staring mortality in the face -- and if we watch closely enough we can capture some precious moments along the way.

Friday was one of those spontaneous precious moment days. My husband ended up being able to take the day off, and with the kids in school we had an all-day date. I relieved my angel driver for the day with full honors and blessings, and Jared drove me down to the medical center for my Friday zip-zap. He was able to meet my friends Terry and Janice (pray for them as they go through their radiation treatments) and some of the radiation technicians.

The rest of the day was filled with other tasks, and we were able to quickly turn a lot of "to-do's" into a lot of "Ta-Da's!" and even squeeze in a quiet lunch together before school got out.

It's kind of funny; other than lunch, the list of activities is pretty boring in regular retrospect. However, in my very non-regular retrospect, I think this was one of the most romantic days we've spent together. It reminds me of our dating years, when we were best friends and getting things ready for his mission and my schooling.

This is one of the gifts of the cancer experience. Before it, I wonder how many fantastic Fridays we've breezed through without stopping to notice and give thanks.

Checkup

2010-10-21T20:47:00.002-05:00

I got the full treatment today: radiation, Avastin, Topotecan, and Temodar -- and a neuro test! Throw in a manicure and a robe, and I would have just written it off as a day at the spa.

I remembered "fox," "popcorn," and "tree." I spelled WORLD backwards and forwards, but didn't get asked to count backward from 100 by sevens. (I just naturally start doing that when I see Vanessa coming my way!)

Labs look great: I still have bone marrow, chemistry looks good, and so far no tumor cells are showing up in the CSF. I'm still in the game!

I actually had reflexes in my legs, which is something kind of new. Even when I was a kid I wondered why the doctor always banged on my knee with a hammer, because I never had a kick reflex. Maybe this is a new skill, like when I became better at sightreading after brain surgery!

I managed to lose my foot drop and aced the catwalk portion of the exam, walking straight lines on my heels and on my toes and proving once again that I am (and always have been) stone sober. I'm hoping this is a signal that the underlying cause of nerve problems is being defeated quickly.

We'll know more soon. I'll be a five-year cancer survivor by the time we know how this plan of attack has been working.

But what an interesting date to look forward to. I go in for a brain/spine MRI on December 14, 2010, which is the fifth anniversary of the day my neurosurgeon confirmed the word that changed my life: "glioblastoma." I meet with Dr. Fink for a verdict the next morning, which is the 5th anniversary of my Grade IV Glioblastoma blog post. (That post has the most comments of any on my blog.)

A most amazing, wonderful day

2010-10-17T17:54:00.003-05:00

Friday was a most amazing, wonderful day in so many ways!

I remember waking up and feeling very rested and comfortable. As always, I'm just happy to wake up, period. But I realized that I had rested well, and that I was in a comfortable bed in a comfortable bedroom in my home. My husband was with me, and I was madly in love with him. My children were upstairs sleeping, and I was so happy to know that they were part of our family. Together, our family knew and relied upon our Savior, Jesus Christ, and were grateful for the knowledge of Him.

I rolled out of bed to say my prayers, and I noticed how comfortable it felt to kneel without screaming pain in my back and legs. The gratitude list began easily and went long.

Friday had an unusual schedule. Two parent-teacher conferences. One radiation treatment downtown. School holiday for the kids, followed by a Primary activity in the afternoon. And ward temple night with my husband. We decided to try and squeeze in a quick trip to the state fair, just to make it a fun family day. It was an ambitious but fun venture, and we were blanketed with tender mercies to make it an especially memorable and happy day.

The parent-teacher conferences ended up happening back-to-back instead of hours apart, making it possible for both to be completed before I had to run to my radiation appointment. Both teachers had excellent reports; both kids are doing very well, despite the new chaos in our family.

Traffic was uncharacteristically easy, and I emerged early from radiation just as my husband and kids pulled up to take me to the state fairgrounds a few miles away. We arrived just before the gigantic Texas Star ferris wheel opened for the day, and were the first ones aboard. I'm not much of a ferris wheel person, but this one was fun -- I felt as though we were on top of the world for a brief moment.

We attend the state fair once a year, and have our own little family list of favorite "must-do" things. This time they all fell perfectly into line, and with minimal crowds and beautiful weather we just plain had fun. Em was able to do her butterfly ballerina dance, and Jake was able to be the lion tamer in the Backyard Circus. We indulged my husband's favorite car show exhibits, we did the DAR Museum and the Little Hands on the Farm and sampled the disgusting but cool fried offerings that make corn dogs seem passe.

This year Jared tried both fried Frito Pie and fried pizza. (Jake helped him with the latter.) The kids and I had fried PBJ & banana sandwich along with some grilled corn and a caramel apple. Thanks to the local dairy sponsors, we had plenty of milk to drink.

Normally excursions like this involve at one grumpy/whiny/overtired episode before the day is through. With so much going on, it can get exhausting and overwhelming for kids and adults alike. But it wasn't like that this time. It was just a really happy day! I kept sitting back and hoping I was imprinting these memories into (what's left of) my mind, and hoping even more so that they were being imprinted into the memories of my family members. I want this to be remembered as a happy time for all of us, being able to spend time together just enjoying each other.

We left for home having done all that we set out to do, and having plenty of time to prepare for the events ahead of us. Traffic was easy on us again, and I continued to marvel at what a blessed, easy day this was. And on the horizon was a chance to go to the temple that evening. It just couldn't get better than this!

For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed my mind that it was such a good day -- if it had been my last day on earth I couldn't have imagined a better one. (Unless, of course, we had each been about fifty years older that day!)

As my husband and I left for the temple, it occurred to me that I had not taken any anti-nausea medication that evening. It was not something I would typically do, except that between the Topotecan and the radiation hitting so close to my stomach I am more prone to nausea. I am normally premedicated for nausea when I receive Topotecan, but this was the following day, when that would typically wear off. Since I had not yet had a major nausea problem, I figured I would probably be okay.

I wasn't. I didn't figure in the "fair factor." I ended up having to excuse myself during our temple session to avoid catastrophe. It was disappointing to feel so physically awful, and to miss this opportunity that evening. All was fine. Temple workers were swift and kind in caring for me. I'm sure my name was added to the prayer roll by many of the others in attendance that day!

The rest of the evening was rocky as I fought to keep down that evening's chemotherapy, even after taking my anti-nausea medication. It was a long night. But I made it! It was still a most amazing, wonderful day. My temporary physical setback was no need for alarm. God hadn't stopped pouring tender mercies on me that day. I had merely enjoyed my amazing, wonderful day so much, I overdid it!

Kneeling by my bed that evening I had an even longer list of things to be grateful for that day. (Including the fact that a fried peanut butter/jelly/banana sandwich is out of reach for at least one more year!)

Another Twelfth!

2010-10-12T21:19:00.002-05:00

And this one makes 58 months of cancer survival! We're still pushing our way through this HIGH FIVE year, despite this new twist in the story.

One week down

2010-10-10T21:17:00.003-05:00

The first week of shock and awe is behind me, and it wasn't too bad at all. Only on Friday did my body finally say, "Hey...I'm tired!!!!" I slept early on Friday and most of Saturday.

Monday through Friday was radation and oral Temodar chemotherapy. My favorite part was riding down to the medical center with friends who gave me limo service. We had lots of fun visits and chats together. It's a lousy circumstance for getting to know awesome people better.

The radiation routine is a quick one. I walk in, scan a card, and gown up. They let me keep a gown for the duration of my treatments, so I can "pre-gown" at home to make sure the backyard is completely covered, and then just remove clothes when I get there. I sit down and have a brief chat with Janice and Jean, other survivors on the same schedule, until our turns are called. Then it's about ten minutes in the zapper and out to change and move on.

I'm not sure what the big deal was with the tattoos. They are smaller than freckles. In fact, the radiation technicians mark all over the tattoos on my abdomen with marker.

The session is so short, I usually hear the same reggae song in the background and watch the machine rotate around me a few times, and then I'm done. For my visual on Friday, I began to picture a skylight opening up in my spine to reveal a cringing tumor (gurgling with chemical poisoning) as it begins to shriek at the incoming beams. I had to keep from giggling so I could hold still. After a few days I noticed a slight sunburned feeling on my backside. I wonder if I should put one of those tanning booth stickers on me to check my progress.

The nightly Temodar thing is familiar and easy. Just no late-night snacking, which has paid off on the scale already -- despite getting lots of steroids in the mornings.

I started Avastin this week, too. It is also familiar and very tolerable. An IV infusion every other Thursday. And maybe a Benadryl at night, because once in a while I might get one hive from it. I'm just glad that Avastin is still available. It worked wonders on me before, but its FDA approval is in jeopardy of being pulled, simply because of its cost. (What is the value of five years of my life? Can I decide, or is that now up to a death panel?)

Topotecan is the fourth blow. It goes in through my Ommaya reservoir ("Oh, my -- a reservoir!"). Only Dr Fink or her nurse practitioner may do this infusion, because it is a highly specialized process. This has the longest list of undesirable side effects, including nausea and arachnitis. They pre-medicate me with more steroids and anti-nausea meds before giving it to me. I get this on Mondays and Thursdays for six sessions.

(Arachnitis, by the way, is kind of a chemical meningitis. It has nothing to do with spiders.)

With the exception of Temodar, I have the weekend off before heading on my daily trek to the medical center. I'm looking at the list of my chauffeurs for this week and eagerly anticipating our visits. I look forward to seeing Janice and Jean again. (We're all praying for each other.)

On Mondays I meet with my radiation oncologist for a review and also for blood tests to see if I still have bone marrow producing enough red and white blood cells and platelets to continue treatment.

We're one week down; not sure yet how many more to go. The worst part has been fatigue, as though I finally realized that a major battle is being waged. I'm managing pain very well, and I'm also getting some strength back in my droppy foot. (Just don't tell the kids, because they are in charge of keeping the house free from stuff Mom can trip on!)

Someone asked me if I'm hanging in there okay. I had to reply that I'm not hanging at all -- I can't hang, because I'm being so well supported!

You Get What You Get, and You Don't Throw a Fit!

2010-10-06T16:20:00.003-05:00

Wise words from my fourth-grader. He learned it in school, and it was definitely blog-worthy!

"You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit!"

We all get something. We get life, and we get mortal experiences that are designed to help us reach our highest potential as children of a loving God. As was mentioned in our recent General Conference by Elder D. Todd Christofferson:

"Life will be long enough for each spirit, and each body will qualify for resurrection."

Mortal experiences are sometimes quite awesome (chocolate, roses, the smell of my husband's neck, and hugs from my kids -- to name a few). And some are quite difficult, because mortality is messy. The good news is that the difficult parts are intended to be temporary (like my daughter's first wiggly baby tooth). But the gains that we make during these experiences are intended to last forever. God has consecrated every affliction to my gain, and these gains are everlasting treasures that far outweigh their price. I wouldn't dare throw a fit!

Instead, I feel both obligated and privileged to look for ways to consecrate these gains back to God for a good purpose.

Not for the Spineless

2010-10-05T18:48:00.003-05:00

(I just knew that had to be said somewhere in here!)

Two days of radiation are behind me, and they were a blast for the 'blast! After yesterday's first zapping, I stopped by Dr. Fink's office and got my head tapped. It's a lot more comfortable than a spinal tap, getting fluid drained out of the Ommaya Reservoir ("Oh, my! A reservoir!"). Just checking more spots to see if tumor cells are floating around in there, as the previous taps have come up negative. Hopefully this means the mass is just stuck to the wall of the spine and not spilling bad stuff anywhere else. It's just paralyzed with fear and waiting to be defeated.

I had a nostalgic moment last night, starting back on the Temodar routine. Eat a light dinner, wait 90 minutes, take anti-nausea pills and seizure meds, wait another 30 minutes, take Temodar, and sit up for another 30 minutes. No late-night snacking. I magically woke up two pounds lighter, even though I'm on steroids again!

I'm also lighter in my step -- literally. I have foot drop. My black-belted, clog-dancing, neuro-test-acing right foot is now unable to stand on tiptoe, and I walk a little funny now. I stay away from stairs, and I have to avoid tripping. (So the kids are charged with clearing all pathways in the house!) It's not unusual in people with sciatic problems, but my amazing neuromuscular strength was always a reassuring sign until now. Even so -- there are many other things on the complications buffet that I am happy to pass over for this one.

On Thursday, following radiation, I will be staying at the medical center for a double delight: Topotecan in the head, and Avastin in the arm. It will take most of the day, and will add to the hustle and bustle of downtown trips and children's schedules and all of the good stuff of life.

I am so grateful to be surrounded by family and church friends and angels from all over the place, who are eagerly at hand to meet every need. Between the logistical help (rides, meals, childcare, errands, etc.) and the spiritual support of prayers and fasting, I am definitely feeling the love. This helps me square my shoulders, straighten (what's left of) my spine, and move forward (foot-drop and all) with my life.

'Twas the Night Before Treatment II

2010-10-03T20:45:00.002-05:00

'Twas the night before treatment, and I'm soon off to bed
With a pain in my back and a lump on my head.
The Temodar pills once more lined up with care
With other drugs making it easy to bear.

Skilled doctors have made an aggressive new plan.
Temodar, Avastin, Topotecan
In mouth, in my arm, and even through my head
Determined to make all the cancer cells dead.

Insurance and IV poles will be prepared
In hopes that Avastin's fate will soon be spared.
If five years of life doesn't seem worth the cost,
Will FDA's ban mean that this hope is lost?

The spine zapper's ready for me; I'm tattooed,
And surrounded by love and prayers lifting my mood.
I'm forgetting about all the parts in harm's way,
Praying that only tumor cells get every ray.

From the top of my head to the base of my spine,
So far things have gone from bad to worse...to fine.
The prayers of the faithful make me quite assured
That any miracles meant for me have been secured.

Comb it over and maybe they'll think it's a Bumpit...

2010-10-01T15:17:00.003-05:00

I sported this look while heading off to get my final tattoos and my radiation schedule. Baseball cap or bow might still be in order. But I'm all set -- M-F at 9am all month! This is not for the spineless, but it'll still be a blast to send my 'blast on a blast-off!

Post-post-post-Op!

2010-09-30T20:30:00.007-05:00

It took me less time to recover in the hospital from surgery than it did to finally write about it! I'm feeling the love from the people who have called and emailed with concern, and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to do the post-op post!

Surgery went well. This is "minor" neurosurgery (if there is such a thing), so it was a short procedure and an overnight stay in the ICU. One of my good friends from church is on staff at the hospital, and another one used to be, so I managed to get the VIP treatment. I wasn't a typical ICU patient. We heard the nurses cheering as the physical therapist took me on a stroll through the hallways. ("Yay -- we have a walker on this floor!") I was also allowed to be released directly from the ICU to home after all of my discharge hurdles had been cleared.

The surgical pain is hardly noticeable, especially compared to what I continue to feel in the low spine when I sit or lie down (okay, let's just say it's a major pain in the bum). I seem to be recovering well, especially as I am surrounded by angels from church who bring in daily meals and cards and flowers and offers of help and continued prayers and faith. I am especially grateful that my kids are remembering this as the week when nice people brought over treats and took them on fun adventures after school.

I also learned that my husband wanted to see if four dozen red and white roses would fit in my favorite vase -- and they did!

I came home to a clean, comfy recovery room adorned with the lovely symbol of the red and white blood cells that we want to preserve during this next attack of radiation and chemotherapy! I go in for final markings and scheduling tomorrow, and the blast on my 'blast-oma will commence on Monday.

As always, Dr. Tompkins did an expert job installing the Ommaya reservoir. But he admitted that he is a lousy barber -- and he's right! The worst side effect of the surgery so far is a fist-sized shaved spot on top of my head above my right eyebrow, where hair used to start. But I'll take that. After all, the Halloween costume opportunities are endless!

For example:

(maybe with the horns askew...)

(just cut a baseball in half, or draw stitching on my bandage...my son thought this was cool!)

(I call this one "The Phantom of the Opera-tion!")

(Really, just a matter of a green pillowcase and some sweats...)

(well, I'm just glad this one isn't Barney!)

Hitting my stride

2010-09-26T20:56:00.002-05:00

I have a date for neurosurgery to implant my Ommaya reservoir. (I keep remembering the name, because I put my hand to my cheek and say, "Oh, my! A reservoir!)

It's less than 24 hours away. 3:30 on Monday, to be exact. I check in at 1:30, and after surgery I stay in the ICU for at least 24 hours. Infection is a high risk complication, especially when cerebral spinal fluid is involved, so I will be getting antibiotics for 24 hours.

The wagons have circled on my behalf. My husband's employer is wonderfully supportive. (Really -- call your local Mary Kay consultant and buy LOTS of stuff!!!) Family members and church members are already lined up for meals, child care/entertainment, and anything else I can ask for. We have a new captain of the angels, and her primary burden is sorting through all of the duplicate volunteers. Prayers and fasting are also in abundance.

(Speaking of fasting, despite the 3:30pm schedule, I still have directions of NPO after midnight. So I'm there with you.)

Temodar and radiation will start the following Monday. I went in last Friday for a flu shot, a C-T scan, and another MRI. I also got tatooed with several tiny black freckles, and I will go in again this Friday for "final marking" (whatever that means).

My husband and son got their flu shots, too. My daughter is looking forward to hers. We spent Saturday scouring the bathrooms and placing hand sanitizers at every entry in our house. The kids have been retrained in laundry and dishwashing skills. We are doing all we can to prevent injuries or infections. I'll be the princess in the bubble.

For health and safety reasons, I was asked about the possibility of being released from my calling as a cub scout leader. There are legitimate concerns about whether this would be advisable for the time being, but I am finally hitting my stride in this assignment and am really enjoying it. However, sometimes when we get really good at something, the calling is released, and we look forward to another opportunity to serve in the church. I said that if the bishopric prayed about it, I would do whatever they thought was best.

The most important calling to me is that of mother, which is a calling I waited many anxious years for. My role was not to bring my children into the world -- that was the job of their angel birthmothers. (I couldn't possibly make them this cute, and I'm glad I didn't pass any DNA on to them!) My role is to mother them and nurture them and prepare them for all that is needful in this world. And they are at a very enjoyable age right now. We have had some precious teaching moments together. In fact, feel that I am hitting my stride. But hopefully this will not signal the release of my calling to raise them. This time I am praying about it, and I know that the Lord will do whatever He thinks is best. These are His children, too, and he will provide every needful thing for them, just as He has for me. (I just hope that I am one of those needful things!)

So off I go tomorrow, hungry but cushioned and blanketed with prayers and faith of so many. There is truly enough faith present to work miracles, so I am secure in knowing that the outcome of this process will be the right outcome.

The Mets Will Not Win This Season

2010-09-22T17:39:00.003-05:00

I'm not talking about the baseball team from New York; I don't follow them.

"Mets" is medical shorthand for metastasis, which was the unanimous consensus during this morning's tumor board meeting. I have glioblastoma mets in my spine.

Dr. Fink asked me to come in afterward -- with my husband -- which sounded ominous at first, but it served a practical purpose. We went over the plan of attack, and there were a lot of details. (I was grateful that this wasn't the "get your life in order" talk.)

Because there is no defined scope of tumor cells beyond the visible mass, cyber-knife was ruled out for now. So was radiating the entire spine and cranium, because it would have a high risk of destroying bone marrow to the point where chemotherapy would be impossible.

I start Temodar chemotherapy on Monday. This is the oral stuff that began my treatment back in 2006. Tomorrow I meet with my neurosurgeon to arrange for implantation of an Ommaya port in my head sometime early next week. The Ommaya port goes in my head to facilitate repeated intrathecal injections of Topotecan chemotherapy.

I also start radiation treatments soon. I met the radiation oncologist today, who participated on the tumor board, and who is designing a plan for me. I go in on Friday for C-T scanning and marking* in preparation for 27 sessions that will probably start next week.

*I will have a low back tattoo. You will never see it.

I start taking steroids tonight, which means my next book will finally get finished. (Another answered prayer!) I'll be hyper and hungry, but it might provide some pain relief as I go through this process.

This is not a common situation, so we have no idea how (or if) this will work. But it's a plan, and it was clear that the doctors were guided, as we'd hoped and prayed they would be.

The Mets will not win this season. Even if we fail to destroy them, they cannot destroy anything but my body, which was intended to die someday anyway, followed by a resurrection. They can't destroy ME -- in fact, I think they are making ME stronger.

Now what should we call this?

2010-09-20T18:57:00.002-05:00

What's on my mind?

Not much, compared to what was on my mind when this blog started nearly five years ago. Ho-hum, so the brain has been clear for more than three years.

That's a very good thing, but now all the attention has drifted downward into my lower spine. So what do I call this blog now?

Sittin' on a Scream?
Getting to the Bottom of Cancer?
Heads or Tails?

Let the brainstorming (yes--pun intended) begin!

We're Sittin' on a Scream

2010-09-20T18:35:00.003-05:00

I have a spine tumor. It's right there with my nerves, which accounts for the intense pain when I sit or lie down or sneeze. I was halfway through the magic "5 years of remission" that insurance companies like to hear, when a new challenge was thrown my way.

Dr. Fink called me on Saturday, not wanting to wait until this Thursday to meet with my neurosurgeon. She knew a good neurosurgeon and was arranging for him to meet with me today.

I met with the neurosurgeon today, and he showed me in no uncertain terms that there is a tumor on the spine; one that is perfusing and lighting up on the MRI. (It looks like an ugly caterpillar woven among the nerves.) He also saw that the resection cavity in my brain included the ventricle that made for easy access for GBM to escape out of my brain and down into the spine.

He will meet with Dr. Fink at a tumor board meeting on Wednesday morning, to discuss next steps: whether to do an open biopsy to get more information about the cells, or whether to proceed imediately into cyber knife and possibly chemotherapy. Cyber knife therapy would be delayed if they did an open biopsy, so I'm hoping that won't happen. Now the suspense is not what I have, but how we will proceed to treat what I have.

Although the news was shocking and very disappointing, I felt an amazing sense of calm, and a feeling that this was going in the right direction. I continue to pray that the doctors will be inspired to know what to do for me, and I continue to be buoyed by the prayers of many who continue their faithful vigil on my behalf.

The neurosurgeon didn't discuss prognosis, and I'm glad about that. I decided to be the Mary Kay bumblebee. Mary Kay loved the symbol of the bumblebee, because bumblebees are not aerodynamically built to be able to fly. However, because no one told the bumblebee, it still flies. Maybe if no one tells me that I can't live more than a few more months, then maybe I'll just still keep on living.

Deja vu all over again?

2010-09-17T16:19:00.002-05:00

MRI results today show a definite lump in my spine. No evidence of the blood vessel problems that we were hoping to find.

Spinal tap did not reveal tumor cells, but did reveal high protein levels, which could indicate either blood or tumor. It is possible that there are tumor cells sticking to the wall of the spine instead of floating in the spinal fluid. We just don't know yet, but it seems that we are ruling out other possibilities, leaving the scale tipping in the direction of glioblastoma in the spine.

I meet next Thursday with my neurosurgeon to discuss surgery in order to get more information. "We need a piece of this," Dr. Fink said, as she reviewed the images with me.

And then it seemed like deja vu: mystery symptoms and a series of tests before we finally land on something that sends me to the neurosurgeon. I can still remember his somber face nearly five years ago, as he told me that I had glioblastoma in my brain.

There may still be hope for an alternate outcome. We have to keep waiting and praying and remembering that the Lord knows what is best for me and for my family. We can't just assume that we know for ourselves. I can only pray that His will be done, and trust in it completely.

Testing, testing...

2010-09-15T07:29:00.002-05:00

Something is there. Dr. Fink pointed out the white line on the MRI images that ran down my spine into a large white blob in the sacrum. Her recommendation was to review these images with a radiologist she holds in high esteem, and to do a spinal tap in order to analyze what cells are lighting up the screen.

(By the way, she looked at the different scans and said the discrepancy was due to the fact that the "grossly unremarkable" scan did not provide a complete view.)

If I have tumor cells in my spine, she has a game plan: a weekly chemotherapy treatment that would be delivered through a port in my head. She didn't discuss prognosis, and I didn't ask. (It's too creepy to discuss, and it's not her call, anyway.)

I left for a follow-up with my ear surgeon while she met with her radiologist. I silently prayed that she and the radiologist would be guided to understand this situation. When I came back for the spinal tap, she said that the radiologist offered another plausible interpretation: a blood vessel malformation causing bleeding in the spine. He recommended an MRA -- magnetic resonance/angiography -- which is a two-hour trip through the tube to look at things a little differently. That will happen on Friday. We should hopefully receive the spinal tap results on Friday as well.

Just like it was with my first MRI, my first spinal tap was nowhere near as bad as I expected it to be. As Dr. Fink collected the spinal fluid, she observed that it was clear and yellowish, and both made her happy. Only lab results will tell us what these cells are, but there is a possibility that there could be blood cells in there. This would also explain why ibuprofen has been ineffective in relieving pain. (It was probably making it worse.)

"I choose to be optomistic," was Dr. Fink's comment. (Not only was that blog-worthy, but it's a choice we can make in any circumstance.)

If I'm lucky enough to confirm this new possibility, the answer is a surgical correction. Never thought I'd be praying to have vascular surgery near my spinal cord, but it certainly beats having cancer there.

This experience has tested my body and my patience, along with the patience of my family (because I'm just so darn cute and lovable, and they want me to be okay). This experience may have tried to test my faith, but if it did, I didn't notice. I know that this process is in God's hands, and I trust that whatever comes of this will be right for His plan for me and for my family. I know that our needs will be met, regardless of what we must bear.

I still feel the strength that comes from so many prayers on my behalf. The Spirit provides a constant reminder of God's love, and so does the generous outpouring of care and concern from family and friends.

Last night my dad and my brothers came over, and together with my husband they laid their hands on me to give me a priesthood blessing. I am so grateful to have faithful priesthood holders in my family, who are close at hand and willing to help me in any way that is needed.

We remain in suspense until Friday's test results. Meanwhile, there is great peace in knowing that this situation is in the capable hands of a good doctor, and in the loving hands of my Heavenly Father, and supported by the praying hands of many good people who love.

This is NOT for blog ratings!

2010-09-13T20:54:00.002-05:00

The saga continues...

I carried two phones around with me today, waiting for news. I even made the mistake of Googling GBM in the spine, and freaking myself out with the very poor prognosis for that situation. I buried myself in work and even a little bit of family history searching to keep me from going nuts.

Finally, when I was in a phone meeting with the FDA this afternoon, I was interrupted by a call from my neuro-oncologist's office. Dr. Fink wants to meet with me in the morning, and I should bring the films from this latest MRI.

When my heart started beating again it seemed as though my orthopedic surgeon had referred me back to Dr. Fink after getting the MRI results, and she was merely wanting to understand what was going on. It sounded reassuring rather than panicked.

I called the orthopedic surgeon's office to arrange to pick up the MRI films, and I also asked why I was being referred to Dr. Fink about this. The voice on the other end said she would call him and ask. A while later he called and apologized profusely for not getting to me before Dr. Fink's office did. (It was bad form, indeed.)

He said that the radiologist is still "highly suspicious" of GBM recurrence in the spine. He said there was a large mass in the sacral area. Since neither of them have expertise in GBM, they want Dr. Fink to get involved.

When I picked up the films at his office, I also picked up a copy of the radiology report for the MRI study that was done on my pelvis and sacrum a week prior to this latest nightmare. That report said that the sacrum and lumbar spine were "grossly unremarkable." ("Totally normal" isn't medically geeky enough, but that's what it meant.) It seems quite strange that I could go from "grossly unremarkable" to "large mass" in a matter of days. So I feel very reassured about putting all of this in front of Dr. Fink to see what she thinks we should do about this. I'm hoping that our visit will result in some answers instead of more questions.

I also feel reassured about putting all of this into the Lord's hands and letting Him do what should be done about this. I trust that all is ultimately well, regardless of what is happening right now.

I promise I'm not doing this for blog ratings. But stay tuned!

Another 12th!

2010-09-12T16:18:00.002-05:00

Still no word about Friday's MRI, and I have plenty of pain to remind me that there is an important question waiting to be answered.

BUT -

Today is the 12th, which means another month of survival is behind me (hopefully with many more ahead)! Three more to go until I complete my HIGH FIVE year!

Head, shoulders, knees and toes

2010-09-10T15:38:00.003-05:00

(Well, sort of.)

My daughter's kindergarten class has been doing the "head, shoulders, knees and toes" song this week, and she likes to come home and show it off to us.

The song was going through (what's left of) my mind during the three-hour spontaneous MRI today. Despite being "totally booked," the imaging center spoke with my doctor and managed to squeeze me in immediately for a marathon set of scans: brain, neck, upper spine, and lower spine. (So I was singing, "Head, neck, upper back, lower back")

At first I protested the brain scan, referring back to my August scan, which was good enough to earn me a pass until February. I explained that without a perfusion study and prior history, they may be confused by all the mess they will see in my head (like my resection cavity, fried mastoid bone, and a whole lot of scar tissue). The best I could do was give them my neuro-oncologist's phone number in case they saw anything that freaked them out.

This scenario gave me hope that perhaps I was merely dealing with a hyper radiologist who only noticed my glioblastoma history when he was writing his report after Wednesday's MRI, and who wanted to err on the side of caution when he couldn't tell the difference between a tumor and a transitional vertebrae.

(If that's not the case, he may have saved my life.)

So off into the tube I went, carrying thoughts of prayers being offered on my behalf (thank you!) and reliving precious memories with my family, to help take (what's left of) my mind off the pain as I lay flat on my back for three hours.

And between studies, as they would pull me out of tube to readjust frames or inject contrast media, I would always re-enter the tube with gratitude that I fit all the way in there quite easily!

I have no idea what this will reveal. But I remember what I told my son as he accompanied me for my MRI in August: "We will either learn that everything looks great--and that's happened a lot lately--or we will learn that we don't have enough information and need to do more testing, or we will learn that there is something new to take care of -- and it's good to know if we need to take care of something. "

Until we know, I feel like a teenage girl on a Friday night, sitting by the phone and hoping it will ring soon.

However, I know that this situation is in the loving hands of my loving Heavenly Father, and I trust Him with everything. I only pray that His will be done, and that I will know what to do. In return, I have peace in knowing that all will ultimately be well, even if this latest development gets ugly.

I still shed a tear or two this morning, as this is a time for emotions to rise to the surface. But these were not tears of frustration or anger or fear. Just a wistful feeling for my family, who must endure this with me. And sentiment about having to say goodbye to karate and clog dancing and bike riding and running a 5K...at least for now. Hopefully not for long.

My prayers to avoid complacency have definitely been answered!

One more MRI...one more tumor?

2010-09-10T07:55:00.002-05:00

The radiologist called my orthopedic surgeon to say that there is "something" on my spine, and he is suspicious of tumor recurrence. Stay tuned for another MRI on Monday...

Feet First

2010-09-08T20:58:00.002-05:00

I prayed that I might avoid complacency, now that I have been excused from brain MRI scans until February.

The answer to my prayer came in the form of unexplained low back pain that got increasingly worse. I haven't slept much in the last several weeks, because of the pain. And yes, I have a great neurostimulator and a Sleep Number bed and plenty of Advil and I do a lot of walking. I can't decide what was worse -- dealing with the pain and sleepless nights, or wondering what could possibly have caused this to happen.

My gynecologist and gastroenterologist were each able to rule out anything that would land in their turf. The gastroenterologist ordered an MRI of my pelvis and sacrum and suggested that I take these to my orthopedic surgeon.

The orthopedic surgeon glanced at the radiologist's report but did not look at the MRI images or seem to have interest in them. He immediately diagnosed sciatica after a brief physical exam, and prescribed a corticosteroid, with plans to explore further if the prescription didn't help.

After I picked up the prescription and reviewed the accompanying information, I noticed many warnings about use in patients taking seizure medication. So I called the orthopedic surgeon's office, and they decided that I shouldn't take it. Instead, the doctor decided to order an MRI of the lumbar section of my spine. I had that done today.

Yes, two MRI's in one week, and both had me going in the tube feet first this time! My head stayed outside the tube, which was kind of a weird new experience.

I'm not sure what he is looking for, but two things came to (what's left of) my mind. One was a reminder that I was diagnosed about twenty years ago with a transitional vertebrae that would probably cause a problem with my back in about twenty years. The other was a reminder that brain tumors generally stay within the brain...but can also spread into other parts of the central nervous system (like the spine). I think they are both plausible causes of sciatica pain, although the former is (hopefully) more likely than the latter. Either way, I'm hoping the MRI will provide the answer and a road map to relief.

Unfortunately, I was told that my orthopedic surgeon only reads incoming radiologist reports on Tuesdays and Fridays, so I have a while to stand around (sitting is too painful) and wait for the verdict. Whatever it is, and wherever we go from here, I only pray will reflect God's will. I can always trust in that. If it's an easily correctable problem, that would be another reason to celebrate. If it's a major problem, then we found something that needs major action, and I am ready to jump into that...feet first.

I'm Walking!

2010-08-18T22:18:00.000-05:00

Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk:

As part of my HIGH FIVE year, I am forming a team to raise at least $5,555 for the National Brain Tumor Society. They have done good things for me and for my doctor, and we are both setting up teams this year!

My team's name is "Krista's High Five," and we are looking for team members. If you can be in Ft. Worth on November 6, we'd love to have you there with us. If you'd rather support us from afar (or from a couch) you can be a "virtual" team member. Or you can make a one-time donation to the team or any individual member.

My kids are so excited about this, they set up an impromptu drink stand in our front yard this evening to raise money for our team! Many of our good neighbors stopped by and couldn't resist the charming little fundraisers with their cooler full of ice-cold bottled water and soda!

Please consider joining our team or making a donation by using the link at the top of this post. Once again, the support of my family and friends will accomplish great things!

JUST BECAUSE

2010-08-12T15:08:00.002-05:00

This post is just because I think it's time to have one without a number in the title!

Another Twelfth!

2010-08-12T14:25:00.002-05:00

Fifty-six months of survival! Only four more until I reach the five-year mark! (And then I start working toward my next milestone.)

Last year in school my son learned about "possible/impossible," "plausible/implausible," and "certain." During our many car-versations during Tuesday's travels around the medical community, we were discussing how good it has been for us. He would interject these words into the conversation:

"When you were first diagnosed it seemed IMPLAUSIBLE that you would still be around today." ("But Jake, it wasn't IMPOSSIBLE, as I am now demonstrating!")

"They felt CERTAIN that you could not survive five years." ("Maybe, based on statistics, but it is POSSIBLE that I could...and if it is God's will that I should, it's CERTAIN that I would!")

Today I was given six months

2010-08-10T20:02:00.003-05:00

SIX MONTHS until my next MRI! Today's was the best scan yet. The perfusion report was so good, my doctor felt comfortable letting me go longer than ever before between scans! Considering that this is a cancer aggressive enough to double in size in three weeks, six months is an amazing interval!

My son accompanied me today. I considered him my lucky charm, and he beamed at the idea.

My elation over this news, combined with my typical sick humor, tempted me to tell my family and friends that "the doctor gave me six months to live..." ("...until I have to come back for my next MRI!") I considered how nice it will be to come back next February, after I have passed the five-year survival mark, and how nice to finish out this year without having to think about MRI results again.

And then the folly of my thinking caught up with me. This is certainly good news, but it is not a guarantee of life for six months. (None of us has that.) The MRI doesn't decide whether I live or die; it just shows us whether there is anything interesting going on in (what's left of) my mind. Life is still precious and should never be taken for granted. If I really do have a reprieve for the next six months, I feel a greater sense of responsibility for what I choose to do with it.

Today our family chose to spend it celebrating and thanking our God -- and the many people who cushioned me with their prayers to Him on my behalf.

TYMPANOPLASTY II: RADIATION'S REVENGE

2010-08-01T18:54:00.002-05:00

On Thursday I had a revision to my original tympanoplasty, which means a lot of things:

1. Lots of bedrest.
2. No bending down to pick up anything.
3. No lifting, vacuuming, or climbing stairs.
4. No driving.
5. No loading/unloading the dishwasher.
6. I must subject myself to endless pampering by my well-trained family.

(I know -- poor me!!)

All went well with the procedure, and my surgeon is hopeful that this time my new eardrum will have a better chance of grafting more successfully. He described a lot of what had to be done to overcome the amount of radiation damage inside my ear. (I'm glad I was asleep!)

Most of all, I relish once again the opportunity to deal with long-term side effects of treatment. As I talked with the doctors and nurses at the hospital, I often had to confirm that, yes, my craniotomy was in 2005. Yes, my radiation treatment was in early 2006. Yes, it was for glioblastoma. Yes, I'm aware that I am very blessed!

...and FORTY-THREE!

2010-07-24T22:50:00.002-05:00

Forty-three years of life!

(I shouldn't be presumptious, because I am posting this with a little more than an hour left before my actual birthdate. But it's close enough.)

My husband and my kids began spoiling me many days ago, and tonight we had a celebration dinner with my brother Mike and his family, followed by ice cream cake at home.

It occurred to me just a few minutes ago that more than one-tenth of my life has been spent as a cancer survivor! Time flies when you're having fun.

One-tenth...and growing!

...and FIFTY-FIVE and FIVE and TWELVE!

2010-07-14T09:11:00.003-05:00

Fifty-five months since diagnosis. (That would be four years and seven months.)
Five more months until I finish my fifth year of survival!
I hit those milestones on the 12th.

Many of you know that my lucky number is thirteen, because our son was born in the thirteenth year of our marriage, in the thirteenth hour of the thirteenth day of March.

I'm really not into numerology, but I started associating the number twelve with unlucky things. Cancer diagnosis on December 12 (12/12). Tumor progression detected on October 12.

But as with everything in life, it's all in the way we look at things. I also had neurosurgery on 12/12, and emerged high-functioning that evening. The October 12 tumor progression led to the use of Avastin, which worked well enough to keep me stable ever since. And it finally occurred to me (after all these months) that I keep looking forward to another "12" on the calendar. Another month of survival. (In fact, so many now, that it seems silly to count survival in months!)

It's pretty darn lucky!

...and FIVE and SIX!

2010-06-29T19:48:00.008-05:00

I remember celebrating my son's fifth birthday, just three months after being diagnosed with cancer, and being grateful for the opportunity to be there. My daughter had not yet celebrated her first birthday, and so any ideas about celebrating her fifth birthday seemed like the stuff of wishful dreams.

More than four years --and many miracles-- later, I found myself celebrating Emma's big five this month. We had a "Princess and the Frog" themed party, and I made my first attempt at a doll cake:

(Now try and tell me this wouldn't obviate the next neuro test!)

Meanwhile, I was also celebrating #6. That's my son's baseball jersey number this year. I watched him earn a second game ball as their team came back from their losing streak to handily win the next several games. During the playoffs I had another chance to sing the national anthem. His team ended up finishing the season in fourth place -- which was good, considering that they were in ninth place (out of nine teams) during the first half of the season. He learned to lose with grace and to win with humility...and to enjoy the chance to play, no matter what the outcome.

This evening we celebrated the end of the season with a team party. We went to a park and played a hilarious scrimmage game of team players vs. moms and younger siblings. They used wiffle balls and bats, making it brain-friendly. I managed to hit the ball each time at bat -- which should also obviate the next neuro test. After the game, we went crazy with cupcakes and water balloons. It was one of those "had-to-be-there-to-appreciate" moments, and became yet another treasured memory to save in (what's left of) my mind.

Living didn't count

2010-06-12T21:38:00.002-05:00

The title punctuates the need for punctuation! What I meant to say was:

Living. Didn't count.

Actually, what I meant to say was that I was so caught up in living this great day that I nearly forgot that it was the 12th! It took a while today before I realized that --wow-- I can count four and a half years (54 months!) of cancer survival behind me.

We started our day at a very special ballpark that gave my son's team a little taste of "big guy baseball." Each team in the league gets to play one game on this field, complete with announcers and a large lighted scoreboard and great seating for the fans. Technical difficulties prevented the playing of a recorded version of the national anthem, so I asked if they wanted a live version. They handed me a microphone, and now I can say that I sang the national anthem at a baseball game.

My son's team was missing several players and they faced a formidable team -- and they got slaughtered (11 to 1). But they played with all their hearts and managed to pull off some great plays and enjoy the experience despite the disappointing outcome. (It was a good life lesson for all of us.) Jacob had grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins to cheer him on, and after the game was over we all saw his coach award him the game ball.

After a celebration pizza lunch we went across town to watch my niece play the violin at a Music Fest recital. When we got home we were reminded that we had ordered some fajitas for a fundraising activity, and they were being delivered just in time for us to feed the new missionaries in our area. We had a great visit with them, and later reconvened as a family to celebrate my sister-in-law's birthday. While together we also phoned my youngest brother, who is celebrating his birthday today far away.

It was a busy day, but one filled with family and friends and new good memories. The best stuff of life!

Still crazy after all these years!

2010-05-18T11:47:00.003-05:00

That song was going through my head yesterday, as my husband and I both marked the 27th anniversary of our first kiss. We're still crazy in love, and I still look forward to those goodnight smooches and good morning smooches and goodbye smooches and hello smooches and whenever smooches...

Today the song went through my head after (barely) hearing my ear surgeon declare that my six-month-new eardrum has fallen victim to the ongoing effects of radiation treatment. It healed nicely at first, but has since opened up and now we have to figure out what to do next.

"Tell me again -- when did you have radiation treatment?"

"A little over four years ago." I think I puffed out my chest with a little pride when I said that. ("Yes, sir, that was for a glioblastoma.")

I remember a discussion with my brother, who was in his dermatology residency while I was undergoing radiation treatment. I asked him about the risks of skin cancer with so much radiation exposure to my scalp. He replied that he hoped to see me develop skin cancer from my radiation treatment, because it would take about twenty years or so for that to happen! (As Forrest Gump would say, I hope I don't let him down!)

I'm one-fifth of the way there. Meanwhile, I have a new reminder that after all these years, I am still alive to see more crazy long-term effects of treatment. Surely the tumor got it worse, I have to tell myself. (HA!)

Until we figure out what to do next, I can go back to convenient hearing. I have already mastered holding the phone to my left ear, and I'm grateful for good vision, because I rely on closed captioning when I watch television or movies on DVD. I also have a continued excuse to avoid being seen in a swimsuit!

Twelve and four!

2010-05-16T10:08:00.002-05:00

No, it's not our favorite baseball team's losing streak. Another twelve has passed on the calendar...along with four more days! Fifty-three months (and four days) since the diagnosis that changed my life, and all is well!

As always, I was blessed to be able to do more than maintain a pulse. I was able to cheer my son in three more baseball games. I was able to watch my son give a talk, and my daughter give the scripture and prayer in Primary at church. I was able to celebrate one niece's eleventh birthday, another niece's third birthday, my in-law's fiftieth wedding anniversary, and one more Mother's day. I was able to give encouragement to others in person and via email, phone, and (albeit briefly) even television! I was able to sing again, laugh again, and write again. And the list goes on!

Most importantly, I have been able to testify of the goodness of God and the love that He has for all of His children.

Fifteen Seconds of Fame

2010-05-10T16:07:00.004-05:00

That's right -- I now have a television credit to my name!

Genentech, the maker of Avastin, has asked me if I would be willing to share my story of brain cancer survival. Of course, I said "YES!" If you are reading this blog you know that I'm hardly shy about this situation, and I am hopeful that this will give me the opportunity to give hope to others.

Last week was my first opportunity to share my story on the local news. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Mother's Day was approaching, and being a mom to my children is my primary motivation to keep breathing. Last week was also the one-year anniversary of Avastin being approved by the FDA for use in brain tumors. And May is National Brain Tumor Awareness month --although (giggle, giggle) I was ironically unaware of this!

I had also prayed for help to get my house in order.

On Tuesday afternoon I learned that someone from our local NBC station would be coming by around 1:00 on Wednesday to conduct the interview. (Be careful what you pray for!) I sprang into action to make myself and my home "camera ready." Once again, my angel friends at church started offering to come and help. (How do these women stay on the ground?) I graciously refused, thinking I would burn more calories doing the work myself. (I also got assurance that the cameras would not go too deep into the house!)

We were ready on Wednesday. My son was even kind enough to be miserable all night with allergies, and stayed home from school so he could conveniently be here with my daughter and me for the interview. (My husband had meetings to attend, and was unable to be present.) By 12:50 I was satisfied with the way the house looked, I had fed the kids (outside) and dressed them in adorable outfits, and it finally occurred to me that I should choose my own adorable outfit to wear. I got dressed, put my lipstick on, and was just realizing that my shirt clashed with my living room colors when the doorbell rang.

Steve The Photojournalist spent over an hour in our home. He first interviewed me in the living room while the children were in the next room with a movie and promises of milkshakes if they stayed quiet. I told my story and answered many questions about dealing with the diagnosis and going through treatment. I answered questions about faith and prayer. I answered questions about the things I have been able to do since my diagnosis. (That was a long list.) It seemed like we talked forever. I even talked about the years of longing to be a mother before we adopted our children, and then receiving this cancer diagnosis, which created a new longing to remain here and be a mother to my children. And on and on we went.

Then we brought in my kiddos, and they were perfectly charming. We moved into the family room, where Emma read to us on the couch. Then Jacob read the poem that I wrote about them ("Jake the Puppy and Emma the Cat," which has been accepted for publication). Jacob and I even played a little Scrabble together. Steve also zoomed in on some family pictures and my karate black belt certificate. We ended with me and the kids singing our family fight song. It was a lot of fun! Steve The Photojournalist graciously said that he really enjoyed doing this story. I sent him on his way with a copy of my book and the URL to my blog. Genentech also provided the station with background information about Avastin. All of this went to a separate person, who wrote and "voiced" the story on the air. There was a lot of material to digest and make into a story. I wondered what angle they would take.

The segment aired on the 10:00 Thursday night news. We set the DVR so the kids could watch it in the morning. And then we waited, until finally we saw this:

http://www.nbcdfw.com/news/health/Targeted_Therapy_Adds_Years_to_Plano_Mom_s_Life_Dallas-Fort_Worth.html

Yep -- that was it! All that filming was condensed down to just a few seconds. All my blabbing was reduced to a sentence. (Even Steve The Photojournalist was expecting the final product to be longer.) But it was a good experience, and I hope that this brief moment will somehow be of use to someone.

Naturally, I saw a life analogy as I considered the whirlwind of activity leading up to the interview. Think of how busy and agitated we can make ourselves over things that won't matter in the end. Ultimately, no matter how long we get to live, we'll be surprised at how fast it's over. So hopefully when all is said and done, we'll have chosen the right things to focus our story on!

Don't Cancel When it Looks Like Rain

2010-05-02T20:42:00.003-05:00

I have to give credit to my friend Lauralea for sparking this blogworthy thought...

As this weekend approached, our area received weather forecasts predicting severe thunderstorms. A local elementary school cancelled their spring carnival (wasting hours of volunteer effort) in anticipation of the storms. My son's baseball league kept us in suspense about Saturday's opening day games. Several friends had a day trip planned on Friday, but opted out because of the weather forecast.

For several days the sky was cloudy and threatening, but we never saw a storm. I think I briefly saw some light drizzle. That was it! We enjoyed perfect weather as we watched our son play his first game of the season.

Some friends and I were commenting about all of this when Lauralea explained to us that she learned not to cancel things just because it looks like rain. She told us about a time when the young women at our church had to travel for an activity, and the weather got really nasty. However, instead of cancelling the activity they pressed forward, enduring the torrential rains that often seemed scary. Everyone was safe, and they ended up having a very good experience together.

Her story reminded me of last summer, when my son attended scout day camp. One day the camp closed early due to severe weather, and while we all made it home safely, the drive home was indeed an adventure. Camp proceeded again on the next day, but at the first rumble of thunder they immediately shut down and sent everyone home in a panic. This time, as we drove home we heard a second rumble of thunder. And then it was over. I don't remember seeing any rain that day. This was the last day of camp, so my son missed some eagerly anticipated activities.

Meanwhile, our church youth group had planned a handcart trek activity for months, and despite severe weather on the evening before they were to leave, they still got up early in the morning and hiked toward Oklahoma. At some point during the trip the severe weather returned, but miraculously their little camp was spared while the storms raged nearby.

Practically speaking, it's always better to be safe than sorry -- especially when it comes to North Texas weather in the spring. But as always, I saw a life lesson in these experiences. Metaphorically speaking, when life gets cloudy (or even stormy) should we cancel? Of course not! This is the time to press forward and endure whatever we have to face, so that we don't miss valuable opportunities. It's not as dangerous as driving through a Texas storm. We can navigate the storms of life safely, especially as we put our trust in the Lord, who has power to calm any tempest and protect us from harm.

This also reminded me of a line from a hymn that another friend (thanks, Marnie!) shared with me long ago:

Ye fearful Saints, fresh courage take.

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

"Perfectly Stable!"

2010-04-27T19:20:00.003-05:00

My doctor didn't waste any time bringing the good news! In fact, she said I could come back "in three or four months," depending on my schedule, so I have earned my longest interval between scans!

Testing...testing...

2010-04-26T10:06:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is MRI day for me and the beginning of two days of TAKS testing for my son. My test is a lot easier for many reasons:

1. My test requires a nap in a tube for about an hour, followed by several hours of waiting until my doctor gets the radiologist's report. Jacob's tests go for two days, and we won't know the results for several weeks.

2. The absolute worst outcome of my test would be a heads-up that I am dying, which is something that we already know will happen to all of us. The absolute worst outcome for Jake would be repeating the third grade (which to him is a fate worse than death).

3. Thinking about my son's TAKS test will not change the outcome of my MRI. But thinking about Mom's MRI could distract Jake and affect the outcome of his test. Fortunately, his most critical test is on Wednesday, which we hope will be after we've celebrated a good result.

4. I am well-acquainted with the prayer cushion that has supported me for more than four years. It has calmed and sustained me through good news and bad news. My son may not have as many people praying for him. (However, I'll be compensating for any gap with my own prayers on his behalf!)

So his is a little harder than mine. But the good news is that we'll both deal with whatever comes from these tests. And in a hundred years, we might not even remember that we had them!

Another twelfth!

2010-04-12T11:14:00.006-05:00

I have counted off fifty-two "twelfths" on the calendar, and hope to count off many more. Another month of survival under my belt!

Speaking of belts, our family spent Saturday in a karate tournament in Houston. It was my daughter's first year to compete, and it was the second year for the rest of us. With half my brain tied behind my back, I did one of my favorite black belt forms in the kata competition. It went over like a lead balloon (probably because that's what I looked like in my black uniform) but I was happy to be out there, alive and kicking. I didn't win, but I earned some great feedback from the judge and proved that I still had memory and balance.

The rest of my family (those who are allowed to get hit in the head) competed in sparring, and each of them won 4th place in their respective divisions. In each case they had an uphill battle, fighting against people who were older or bigger (or both). It was daunting to face an opponent who was bigger and tougher, but I was happy to see them fight through their fear. My son used the same approach again to win second place in his kata competition. He was the youngest in his group, and he later said that he made some mistakes in his performance, but he kept going as though nothing could stop him. And nothing did! It was a good lesson for any uphill battle in life.

Deja vu all over again

2010-04-08T11:19:00.002-05:00

This wasn't the beginning of a seizure. It's one of my favorite Yogi Berra phrases.

Today I registered my daughter for kindergarten. It seems like only yesterday when I was filling out my son's kindergarten registration forms, writing the same information in response to "Are there any special things we should know about your child?" ("Please be sensitive to the fact that Mom has cancer.") Back then I wondered who would be filling out these forms for my daughter, who was an infant at the time.

Glad to discover that it would be me!

Fifty-one, two-and-six, three and almost three, and almost nine!

2010-03-12T08:06:00.003-06:00

I never play the lottery (even though I live against the odds). I once heard a comedian say that the lottery was a "tax on people who are bad at math!"

I wasn't failing to count backwards from 100 by sevens. And I'm not having a Hurley/LOST experience.

Is this a brain teaser? (NO! Never tease what's left of your brain! Exercise it and be nice to it!)

What do these numbers mean to me today?

Fifty-one months of survival since my craniotomy and cancer diagnosis.
Two years and six days since I "graduated" from chemotherapy. (Will they ever call this "remission"?)
Tomorrow will mark three years and three months since my first of many stable MRI's.
Tomorrow my son will be nine years old. I remember when I wondered anxiously if I would be here for his fifth birthday.

In other words, these numbers mean EVERYTHING to me!

Who against hope believed in hope

2010-03-08T10:18:00.002-06:00

I couldn't remember if I had posted this before, but I read this passage again last night and was reminded of how delicious it was:

Romans 4:18-21 (discussing Abraham and the promise that he would be the father of many nations) - "Who against hope believed in hope, that he might become the father of many nations, according to that which was spoken, 'So shall thy seed be.' And being not weak in faith, he considered not his own body...neither yet the deadness of Sara's womb...he staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; and being fully persuaded that, what he had promised, he was able also to perform."

I especially love the conceps of "against hope believed in hope" and "he considered not his own body." Abraham did not give in to discouragement in a seemingly hopeless situation, because he had his trust in God instead of in the arm of flesh. He remained faithful and obedient, and he hung on to hope.

No matter what adversity we may face, we can "against hope believe in hope" and "consider not" perceived barriers. Our perception is far too limited. As we put our trust in God's way of accomplishing His work, we will find ourselves blessed in unexpected ways.

Jim was right!

2010-02-27T12:06:00.002-06:00

As the eldest sibling in my family, I always wanted to be the one that was right. Cancer changed that.

I remember my first Messiah solo audition shortly after neurosurgery and the beginning of chemotherapy. I knew that, statistically speaking, it looked like my last chance to sing my favorite oratorio, and so I was anxious for the opportunity to land a solo.

At that time my brother Jim scoffed and predicted that four years later, people would see me coming in and say, "Here comes Sister Oakes again, saying this may be her last Messiah!"

I knew that miracles were possible, and I smiled at his optimism. But I also knew that the odds weren't in my favor.

That's why I'm glad the odds aren't in charge. GOD is in charge. And for whatever reason He has seen fit to leave me here with the ability to do many things.

Today Jim's prediction became reality. I have done other Messiah performances since then, mostly at other venues, but this morning was the "four years later" solo audition. The director is a cancer survivor, too, now, so we both rejoiced in the miracles that allowed us both to be here, celebrating the Messiah through music.

This year the program is short, and there is only one aria in the performance. It's my favorite one: "O Thou That Tellest Good Tidings to Zion." There was a room full of women waiting to audition. I don't know if I will land the part, and I won't know for a few more weeks. But coming in for the audition and proving my brother right was a delicious experience!

GOLDEN!

2010-02-12T12:26:00.006-06:00

In Texas, we don't often get a foot of snow in one night -- but we did! Another ordinary miracle that closed offices and schools and let us enjoy the day together. Jacob and Emma made a snowman and a snow fort, and after warming up with hot chocolate, engaged in a neighborhood-wide snowball fight. A day to treasure!

Today I am "golden!" FIFTY months of survival since my cancer diagnosis. GBM survivors don't always get to say that -- but I did! Another ordinary miracle that makes days like today even more delicious. This evening my husband and daughter are attending a daddy-daughter Valentine's party/fundraiser, and my son has asked me out on a dinner date to my favorite Italian restaurant. Tomorrow is a Sadie Hawkins dance at church, and I asked my husband to go with me. He said yes -- it's like our first date all over again! Life is good!

As my husband surveyed the splendor of our winter wonderland this morning, he noticed one stubborn, golden leaf dangling from the white-crusted oak tree in our front yard. Considering the Texas weather that has raged about since all the leaves turned golden last fall, this is one leaf that is determined to hang around.

It reminded me of one of my favorite O. Henry stories: "The Last Leaf," which is a tale of Christian charity and the power of the determination to hang in there:

http://http//www.enotes.com/best-o-henry-text/the-last-leaf

I think I should frame this photograph and envision myself as that little golden leaf, hanging on with complete disregard for what might work against me. Of course, in my vision, I'll keep three other "Oakes" hanging there with me!

Ask and ye shall receive

2010-02-07T19:28:00.002-06:00

Matthew 7:7-11:

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall fine; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:

"For every one that asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.

"Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?

"If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"

I was pondering this passage today, knowing that some feel disappointed when they don't receive what they asked for. Some question God's love for them (or even His existence) because a prayer seemed to go unanswered. But I happen to know that all prayers are heard, recorded, and answered. I know that every one who asks will indeed receive.

As I pondered the idea of giving good gifts to my children, the remaining fragments of my mind recalled that we were almost out of bread. It's a common situation, because my daughter loves to make her own sandwiches for breakfast and lunch, and she also raids the bread box for snacks. If Emma came to me one evening and asked me for some bread after consuming half a loaf earlier in the day, I certainly would not give her a stone. But I probably wouldn't give her bread, either. I know that there are better things to give her in this situation. Maybe some string cheese. Maybe a piece of fruit. Maybe I'll surprise her with something she's never tried before, and it will become her favorite snack. Maybe it's almost dinnertime, and she should wait a little while so she can enjoy a good meal.

Somehow, some way, she is going to receive something good. She may not necessarily receive the same thing that she asked for, but it won't mean that I don't exist or that I don't love her. What she receives will be on my terms, as a parent who loves her and knows how to provide the best for her.

If I, being evil (or at least mortal and imperfect), know how to give good things to my children, how much more does my perfect Heavenly Father know how to give good things to His children when they ask Him! It may not be exactly what we asked for, which is completely understandable when we realize the limitations of our mortal perspective. What we receive might first require patience. But we will receive good things in response to our petitions. And it will be on His terms, as a parent who loves us and knows (far better than we do) how to provide the best for us.

Rock Solid Stable!

2010-01-26T15:38:00.003-06:00

That was how the radiologist assessed my condition!

It was a long wait before we knew for certain, because the perfusion report took longer than expected. But I had my prayer cushion supporting me, and all was well!

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow...

2010-01-25T21:14:00.002-06:00

It's MRI day
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
Will be fun!

Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Hope the stuff that once caused
So much sorrow
Will be done!

When they see my display
Of grey
Brain matter,
Hope they lift up their chin,
And grin,
And saaaaaaaay...
(ohhhhhhhh...)

"You'll have many more
'tomorrows'!"
(Still, don't put off life
Until tomorrow --
SEIZE THE DAY!!!)

Tomorrow, tomorrow,
I love ya, tomorrow!
And thank God
For those who pray!!!!

So now what do I call this?

2010-01-12T07:34:00.002-06:00

...and...FORTY-NINE?

...and...4-1? 4.083?

...and...HIGH-FIVE: THE FIRST MONTH?

Whatever it's called, it's another month of survival under my belt, and something to be grateful for!

Being There

2010-01-10T15:06:00.002-06:00

I was there today for another milestone: my daughter's first talk in Primary at church! Four years ago Emma was still an infant, and I wasn't even allowed to lift her out of her crib because I was recovering from neurosurgery. At that time, milestones like this seemed like a long shot -- but still something to hope for.

With no stage fright and only a little help, Emma walked up to the little microphone in front of the other Primary children and read her talk:

"We believe in God. I am a child of God. God is the Father of my spirit. We are all part of God's family.

"We believe in Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the Son of God. Jesus Christ is our Savior. He saves us from death and sin.

"Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me. They love you, too. We should love each other. We are all children of God.

"In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

(Amen!)

Messiah 2009

2009-12-25T22:34:00.001-06:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rHV1iYtCFs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5khZ5C9T2Bk

Let Earth Receive Her King

2009-12-25T21:44:00.002-06:00

Merry Christmas!

Yesterday it snowed, and as soon as the kids noticed the flurries outside our window they went running through the house, yelling, "It's a miracle! A miracle!!" I immediately thought of the song from the movie Charlotte's Web ("...just another ordinary miracle today...") and was flooded with thoughts of the many miracles that have surrounded us, both big and small.

On Sunday I "Handel-ed" Messiah again, and loved it. (I hope the audience loved it, too.) Last month my right ear underwent surgery. For the past four years my right brain has been under assault. But they still let me sing, and no one threw tomatoes at me. Earlier that day I led the choir and sang in a quartet in church. Today our family went to a nursing home to visit and sing with the residents there. Any venue is a joy.

Speaking of joy, we met a resident named Joy today. When we approached the nursing station and asked who needed a visitor, her name came up first. She was lying in her bed, looking very sad and alone. She didn't speak often, and when she did it was hard to hear. She said that it hadn't been a very good day for her, and she just wanted to lie still and be quiet. When we suggested a song, she consented. And then she brightened as we started with "Joy to the World." By the time we finished our visit she had opened up to us, and it was a precious moment. We saw others, and soon we had a following as residents would wheel along and join with us as we visited rooms.

No one at the nursing home was expecting us to come, but they all received us very kindly and graciously. And we received them as our new friends. Together we blessed each other. As we left, my son was especially happy, knowing that something good had happened. We all felt it. I kept thinking of the words we sang: "let earth receive her King!"

He is given to us as the greatest gift of love, and there are many ways we can receive Him. We can receive his healing, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual. We can receive His word and live according to it. We can receive His promises and trust in them. We can receive His spirit and discover peace. We can receive His goodness and share it with others by doing good works. We can receive all things with gratitude and see our blessings multiply.

This year has been a happy one as we celebrate Christmas. In years past we have had less happy circumstances. No matter what, however, there is always room to receive our King.

...and...FOUR!

2009-12-12T10:53:00.002-06:00

I've just completed my fourth year of survival. (HIGH FIVE!)

The fifth year has just begun. (Hi, Five!)

This is like a mini-jubilee (one-tenth of a jubilee, to be exact). I've been thinking about what I want to do in this year.

Another Messiah performance is an easy pick. That's coming up on the 20th, and hopefully again on Easter Sunday. During auditions for the 2006 Easter concert, my brother Jim predicted that four years later people would see me coming to the audition and say, "Here comes Sister Oakes again, saying this may be her last year for Messiah." At the time I appreciated his confidence, but I thought it was pretty ambitious. However, here we are. In fact, after my last MRI, Jim called me and pretended to be from the Messiah Soloist Auditions Fraud Department, investigating allegations of a person faking a brain tumor to get some stage time.

Another book would also be nice. I just received a contract from a publisher for Jake the Puppy and Emma the Cat, based on a poem that I wrote when my daughter was a baby. In the spirit of the jubilee, maybe I need to free my other half-finished manuscripts from bondage. And maybe the stuff in my closets, too.

Being here for my daughter's fifth birthday next summer is very high on the list. Family vacations, reunions with the "gaggle" and other fun ideas have surfaced as candidates for this year of celebration.

As always, the passage of a milestone reminds me that I have received the gift of life, and like anything I receive, I want to use it faithfully and gratefully for something good. Above all, I pray that I will use this new year to help make manifest the mercies of God.

What's your favorite post?

2009-12-09T16:05:00.003-06:00

This blog is more than four years old now. I am curious...does anyone have a favorite post?

Hallelujah!

2009-12-08T07:52:00.003-06:00

There will be a half-brained, half-deaf alto soloist in the cast!

Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Blog Birthday!

2009-11-26T07:58:00.003-06:00

After a few "blast" emails to family and friends, this blog was born on November 21, 2005. This is a happy belated blog birthday! Going back and reviewing those first posts has been an interesting experience.

It was four years ago today that I was going in for my second MRI -- the one with VECTOR VISION! I had no idea back then how my life was going to change.

My mom likes to tell my brothers and me that some of the things you worry about will never happen, and the rest will never be as bad as you think, and she's right. However, at first, I thought I had found the exception. I was naive enough to think at first that as long as my tumor was operable, all would be fine if I could just make it through surgery. So the news that this tumor was cancerous in a really bad way was the realization of the worst possible scenario.

However, four years and many words later, Mom has been proven right again. On this day of Thanksgiving, I have more to be grateful for than I did in Thanksgiving 2005. And while glioblastoma was never on my wish list, there is no lack of sincerity in my gratitude today for how the experience has blessed me.

Messiah 2009!

2009-11-20T08:57:00.002-06:00

I've got half a mind to sing again!

December 20, 2009 (two shows)
Artisan Center Theater
418 E Pipeline Rd
Hurst, TX
(817) 284-1200
Free admission, reservations required
Audience is invited to sing along!

...and...FORTY-SEVEN!

2009-11-12T09:08:00.002-06:00

Another month of survival is safely (and gratefully) in the can!

These milestones are always a time for reflection: Was I a good steward with the time I've been given? What have I done in exchange for another month of life? I'm very grateful for each day, and hope that I use it well.

"Thankful Fours"

2009-11-09T09:13:00.004-06:00

Last Saturday was a day to be thankful "four":

On Saturday, FOUR Mighty Oakes participated with thousands of others in the FOURTH ANNUAL Dallas-Ft.Worth Brain Tumor Walk, benefiting the National Brain Tumor Society. We were one of more than seventy members on my doctor's team, "Fink's Fighters." (That's Dr. Fink on the left, celebrating with us after we crossed the finish line.) When we moved to the Dallas area FOURteen years ago, I had no idea that I would later be so glad to live in an area with such a skilled neuro-oncologist who was so actively involved in research.

FOUR YEARS ago, when they were holding their first walk in D/FW, I was training for a 5K run. I was having seizures (just didn't know it yet) and would later find out that I had a grade FOUR brain tumor. It changed my life for the better.

FOUR MONTHS ago, I earned my black belt in karate. I was alive and kicking long past my projected expiration date.

FOUR DAYS prior to this weekend's walk, I had ear surgery. I was on my surgeon's orders not to run this weekend, but I was able to walk the 5K course, and I didn't lose my balance and fall into the Trinity River!

This was a good way to celebrate the beginning of my FOURTH year of good MRI scans!

Surgery was a Ten

2009-11-04T06:36:00.003-06:00

Yesterday's tympanoplasty was a "10," both literally and figuratively. It was the tenth surgery in my 42 years of medical history, and it scored a perfect "10" with me. My surgeon (Dr. Robert Owens), the hospital (Baylor UMC Dallas), and all of the staff were great, and the outcome was much easier than expected.

The only thing that wasn't a "10" was my pain scale, and that's a good thing! I was expecting lots of pain and balance problems, but so far I've been walking straight and managing with an occasional ice pack and over-the-counter Tylenol tablet. I'm fuzzy from the anesthesia and pretty tired from the steroids that kept the swelling down (and me up all night), but I can't complain. It's just a reminder that I have survived GBM long enough to start dealing with some of the long-term effects of treatment!

Stumbling Blocks or Building Blocks

2009-11-02T21:46:00.002-06:00

Only God can make a real eardrum, but my surgeon is going to try and make a reasonable facsimile tomorrow. I'm anticipating a painful and wobbly recovery, but hey -- this isn't exactly brain surgery! And I'm looking forward to having an eardrum again. I thought I had stopped taking things for granted, until I realized how much I missed having an eardrum, and how I never really gave it a thought until it wasn't there for me.

(So for those of you with eardrums, give a prayer of thanks!!!)

Something else to be thankful for today -- I wrote another article that was published this month. It's called "Stumbling Blocks or Building Blocks," and it's a short capture of what I've learned about the challenges we all face in life. You can read it online at desertsaintsmagazine.com. (The article is on page 20.)

I'm Walking!

2009-10-28T09:52:00.003-05:00

I'll be four days post-op (tympanoplasty) but as long as I keep it to a walk, I'll be joining Dr. Fink's team (Fink's Fighters) at the 4th Annual Dallas/Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk on November 7!

This event benefits the National Brain Tumor Society (NBTS), which funds vital brain tumor research across North America. As the benefactor of this research, I am happy to support this cause. My husband, son, and daughter are joining me in this, and we each have a $250 fundraising goal so that the "Mighty Oakes" can contribute $1000 to NBTS.

This means the four of us are each looking for 10 people willing to donate $25, or 25 people willing to donate $10. (See, I can still do math!) Donations can be made online using the links below:

My fundraising page:
Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk:

Jared's fundraising page:
Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk:

Jacob's fundraising page:
Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk:

Emma's fundraising page:
Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk:

If you're in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area and would like to walk on the Fink's Fighters team, go to Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk: and click on the "join team" link.

Any and all support is very much appreciated!

Clear Sky and Clear Head

2009-10-27T17:34:00.002-05:00

The rainy weather lifted today, and along with the cleared skies came a clear verdict on the MRI. "Stable, and low perfusion, consistent with treatment effect." (Translation: still only seeing scar tissue from the radiation.)

As I was heading down to the medical center today, a phrase from a favorite hymn kept going through (what's left of) my mind: "Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake..."

Not On My Mind...(I hope)

2009-10-25T19:48:00.003-05:00

Yes, I'm less than 48 hours away from another MRI verdict. I've learned long ago that there are a million reasons not to be anxious about this. And I've been floating along on my prayer cushion, which makes things a lot easier.

Even so, as the day approaches I still find myself fending off the discouraging little thoughts that creep into (what's left of) my mind.

Today started off as a wonderful day. My children spoke and sang in their Primary program today at church, and I was also able to hear good news from friends whose long-awaited hopes for a child may finally be realized soon.

Later I learned the sad news of the passing of a young man who also had GBM. He had long outlived his prognosis and was able to achieve some personal goals in his life, and I guess it was finally his turn to be called home from whence he came. I am grieving for his mother, and I am also having to remind myself that his passing is no reason for me to be discouraged.

When I came home from church I started to remove my jewelry and noticed that I had lost one of my earrings. It was a minor "aw shucks" moment until I took off the other earring and put it in my jewelry box. That's when I noticed the other earring sitting in the box, and I realized that I hadn't lost an earring -- I only put one on this morning. I rolled my eyes and began removing the rest of my jewelry and noticed that I was wearing two LIVESTRONG wristbands instead of one. These were new little "oops" moments. My "baseline" friends (those with intact brains) assure me that this kind of stuff is perfectly normal for someone who is forty-something with small children.

(100/93/86/79/72/65/58/51/44/37/30/23/16/9/2 -- I can still count backwards from 100 by sevens without any problem. Just checking.)

And of course, I started noticing a minor headache this evening. It might have something to do with the high pollen count that's giving everyone else a minor headache, and it might also have something to do with the big hole in my eardrum that feels every change in barometric pressure (and there's a storm approaching). But these are all things that get nothing more than a shrug when I'm not less than 48 hours away from the MRI tube.

After years of experience with both good MRI days and bad MRI days, I think it's silly to have any thoughts like this making their way through the screen door of (what's left of) my mind. But here they come, and thankfully they are small and easy to swat away. I just have to be vigilant and keep swatting, because they like to come buzzing back.

This is where I notice how nice the prayer cushion feels. (Thank you thank you!) And this is where I remind myself that discouragement is never an inspired feeling, and never belongs on (what's left of) my mind.

Testing...testing...

2009-10-23T09:45:00.003-05:00

We have a series of tests going on this weekend. Today my son has his usual lineup of spelling and math tests at school. This evening my husband is testing for his second-degree brown belt, and tomorrow my daughter is having her first karate belt test. On Tuesday I go in for my MRI test.

These are all very different kinds of tests, but they all have a couple of things in common: 1) they reflect what exists at the time of the test, and 2) they provide opportunities to learn something more.

This series of tests is very short-term. In the long-term picture, we are always undergoing a series of tests called "life."

Sheri Dew said, "For indeed, this life is a test. It is only a test—-meaning, that's all it is. Nothing more, but nothing less. It is a test of many things—-of our convictions and priorities, our faith and our faithfulness, our patience and our resilience, and in the end, our ultimate desires."

The experiences we go through in life do test us in these ways. Each new experience gives us the opportunity to demonstrate what already exists within us, and it also provides an opportunity to learn more.

I am grateful for the comforting knowledge that life is an open-book test when we know who we are, why we are here, and where to turn for help any time we need it.

Being remembered

2009-10-19T16:54:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was a tender mercy moment, made possible with the help of my youngest brother.

Twenty years ago, shortly after moving to Texas, I decided to take a sign language class. My husband was taking night classes, and I already had my degree, but I had worked in a special education school in Utah and gained interest in sign language.

Shortly after the semester ended, a family moved into our congregation. They had a son about the same age as my son is now, and he was deaf. My husband was his primary class teacher, and I was asked to be his interpreter so that his mother could attend the adult classes.

This became one of those experiences where I felt like I was the one being ministered, when it should have been the other way around. We came to love this family, and I especially appreciated this child's patience when it became obvious that he could read lips better than I could sign. I remember him rolling his eyes and correcting me (or filling in for me when I hesitated). This was long before we had children of our own, so it was a time when we especially enjoyed opportunities to play even a small role in the life of a child.

After a few years, the family moved away and we regrettably lost touch. Not long ago (maybe because of my own hearing loss) I was thinking about this person and whether there was any way to see how he was doing. My youngest brother is the same age, and they were both in our class. He heard me wonder aloud whatever became of our young friend, and somehow worked his magic to find him and reunite us on Facebook last night! We spent a little time chatting online, which is a lot easier than talking via sign language -- at least for me!)

I was happy to learn that he is doing well, he served a mission for our church, and he has a good career. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he remembered my husband and me, even though it has been nearly two decades since we've seen him.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer (wow -- coming up on FOUR years ago!) one of my initial worries was whether I would live long enough for my children to remember me. This little reunion last night was a way to remember a happy time in our young married life. It also later dawned on me that if my brief and trivial stint as a bumbling sign language interpreter was memorable to an eight-year-old child, perhaps I don't need to wonder if my eight-year-old son will still remember me.

(NOT that I plan to go anywhere anytime soon!)

...and...FORTY-SIX!

2009-10-13T06:41:00.002-05:00

(and one day!)

Ferris Bueller was right: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." And so was John Lennon: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

My son had surgery on his broken wrist last week. He's doing great, and he's home with me this week with a huge pile of make-up work from school. My husband had a birthday on Sunday, and we'll continue celebrating with a trip to the state fair and his favorite store (Dallas Mustang) this weekend. Between birthday-ing and playing school, it took me a while before I finally noticed that another month of survival has passed.

Not only that, but another YEAR has passed since my husband's birthday in 2006, when I received the unfortunately-timed news about tumor progression and had to begin experimental chemotherapy. That was the last time I'd received such a report, and I'm hoping it will continue to be the last time. (Especially since my next MRI is in two weeks.)

Lessons from Jacob

2009-09-20T18:55:00.003-05:00

I was in the hospital last night -- this time with my son, who had been running with friends and tripped and landed on his wrist. It has a nice, clean break and is expected to heal quickly. The initial trauma and pain is behind him, and he is dealing with having his right hand in a fiberglass splint until he gets a cast sometime in the next few days.

He's managed to get through this in relatively good spirits, especially as my husband was taking him out for ice cream on the way home from the hospital, and as I picked up balloons and gum and small presents along with his pain medication. Something about being excused indefinitely from washing the dishes helped, too.

But today I noticed a special spirit about Jacob in the face of this challenge. As we were getting ready for church today, he started making a mental list of things that he can do with his left hand. Some were easy. ("I can get a straw out of the drawer for my drink." "I can still open Mom's car door.") Some were more challenging -- like dressing and writing -- but he was determined to tackle those as independently as possible. By the time we got to church he was sharply dressed and groomed, and he had neatly written his name and drew a self-portait with his left hand.

This won't always be an easy situation for him to deal with, and perhaps when the novelty and attention wear off he may get frustrated and tired. But today my son taught us all a great lesson as he chose to focus entirely on his abilities and his possibilities rather than bemoaning his disabilities.

Milestone

2009-09-20T18:46:00.003-05:00

It happened -- I have reached the point where I have officially been married longer than I was single! I was married when I was twenty-one years and three weeks old, and today marks another "month-a-versary," as our wedding was twenty one years and one month ago.

While I was thinking about that today, I decided to set (what's left of) my mind on the point where I'll have been treatment-free longer than I was treated. My last chemotherapy infusion was about two years and two months after diagnosis, and if my math is correct that would mean I would pass this milestone in about seven or eight months if all goes well.

If I pass that one, I'm sure I'll focus next on the point where my "A.D." life exceeds my "B.C." life. That would be in a little over 35 years...

Answered Prayers/Having a Blast

2009-09-17T08:04:00.003-05:00

I don't know how much available space remains on this blog, but it doesn't matter -- there still wouldn't be enough room to list the many ways prayers have been answered for me. There is great power in prayer, and I continue to appreciate the many prayers that have been offered on my behalf.

In my morning petitions I have sometimes felt prompted to ask for the opportunity to help someone that day. Each time I have done that, I have been put in touch with someone else who is dealing with glioblastoma or cancer of another type. I am certain (or at least certainly hopeful) that my prayers are not creating the disease, but rather creating the opportunity to consecrate this life experience to a good purpose. ("Because I have been given much, I too must give...")

I have also been contacted via comments and questions on my blog, by people who do not know how to reach me directly. Some have provided me with their contact information, and it has been a privilege to be able to contact them. I have gotten to know some really wonderful people who share this unwelcome circumstance.

I finally decided to do something more about this. I have just created an email support group for glioblastoma survivors and those who love us. It's on Yahoogroups, and it's called (fittingly) "Having a Blast." Those who are interested may subscribe (it's free) by sending an email to:

havingablast-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

It's a place where more people can share what's on their mind!

Got Another Date...

2009-09-17T07:34:00.002-05:00

...and another new vocabulary word:

tympanoplasty (tim-PAN-o-plass-tee) - reconstructive surgery of the eardrum.

On November 3rd -- exactly one week after my next MRI -- the right side of my head goes under the knife again. But this time my skull remains intact. The surgeon will take grafting tissue from either the tragus (more vocabulary -- this is the little pointy part of your ear that holds earbuds in place) or somewhere else around my ear and make a new eardrum to replace the one that was damaged by radiation.

Four days later, I am scheduled to sing at a Families Supporting Adoption conference. My right ear will be completely packed with dissolvable stuff on both sides of the new eardrum, so I'm hoping the piano will be to my left. And if there is another Messiah performance this Christmas, I should have better hearing by then.

Considering how gruesome the informed consent process was for each of my cancer treatments, I think it's pretty awesome that this eardrum thing is the worst complication that I've had.

...and...FORTY-FIVE!!!

2009-09-12T07:46:00.002-05:00

(No, not 45 days since my last post...although there has still been too much space between blog entries, and lots to write about!)

Today marks forty-five months of survival, and I remembered it without Mom having to call me!

...and...TWENTY-ONE!

2009-08-20T12:05:00.002-05:00

Every day brings something to celebrate! Today is our 21st wedding anniversary!