fatherhood – Page 8 – They call me Betty

Graduation Day

June 10, 2014 theycallmebetty2 Comments

This week has come and gone, a moment in time a memory for recollection. 13 years of life, tied so closely with friends, teachers, sleep overs, field trips, sporting events and many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I cant believe this day arrived so soon and left in such haste. Your school life started out simple enough; tears of separation, happiness upon returning home from a half day of school. Full days and mounds of homework, new friends, old friends, friends who moved, sadness and joy. Skinned knees, new bikes, scooters, baseball, the park. Swim meets, wrestling, cross-country events, awards, disappointment, contentment and successes.

Days where I felt we were losing you, days were we knew it was all going to be alright and days of unbridled pride watching you do what you do. Time spent, heart-broken, filled with sadness as reprimanding you or having to raise my voice while losing my temper as a last resort secretly brought me to my knees. Reflections of my father I choose to leave hidden in darkness. Time wondering if I spent enough time with you, if you needed me and I just didn’t pick up on it or if you are content with the time we have spent together? Happy with how it has all turned out?

Here we sit third row up, middle section staring directly at a stage you shall soon cross with pride. I didn’t sleep last night, worried I would over sleep and miss the opening of this venue to stake out my territory, claim a prime vantage point for this most important of days. 5 am I rose, fed our animals then slipped off into the morning, ensuring our seating success.

It has been a hard year for our family, we have all struggled, physically and emotionally and you son have not been immune. Yet somehow you kept a level head and completed this 13 year journey all on your own. I sat staring at that stage, wondering how it must feel for you? What emotions are worming their way through your brain?

This is after all a very special day, no pressure or anything. The 100th class to graduate from Dixon High School, The first in our family to head off to college and thirty years to the day from when your father finished high school. To say I am proud of all you have done, accomplished and survived at such a young age is an understatement. You are my hero son, there is nothing more I could ever have asked for in regards to you.

A friend at work asked if I was going to cry during the ceremony, and of course a terse “no” came quick and fast. Not losing any man points within the confines of my firehouse, no way! In truth, I didn’t cry, but not because any lack of emotion existed, or due to a hardened soul. Instead my chest was filled with immense pride, for you had done it! You graduated high school, you applied to and were accepted by the colleges of your choice, you asked for help when you needed it and handled any issues you felt you could handle alone. You son don’t need us to hold your hand anymore and that is nothing to cry about! Instead it is a sign of success for us as parents, it is what this entire journey is all about! Creating, molding, testing, and yes being frustrated with this living being, this boy you brought into the world. Hoping and praying in the end you have done all that you can to ensure when he walks out the door he will do the best he can, stand upon his own two feet and find a world not molded by callous misplaced prejudice, but one molded by his own experiences, using your guidance as a key. Nothing more.

You walked across the stage, the principal read your name; cheers from family and friends erupted and echoed through the stands. Cody James Franceschi high school graduate. A summer lay before you, a weight has been lifted and the relaxation of a job well done is definitely showing across your face. I love you son and I always will. Your mom and I have done everything within our power to help create this person you see in the mirror. We know you have become your own man, but know this. The phone is always in your pocket, we will always be at the other end of the line and just because you will no longer be able to walk out your bedroom door to ask us a question doesn’t mean you cannot find a quiet place and call us, anywhere, anytime. For though we have worked hard to get you to this point, your mother and I have countless reams of knowledge to share with you still. In the end my hope is you will still need us, still feel as though you can ask us anything, whether near or far, what ever it takes we will be there. You are our son, there is no other like you and for that we are incredibly thankful to God! We love you…

Now lets talk about the second week of August when you go off to college.

Wait! What is this wet stuff streaming from my eyes? There is something in my eye! There is something in my eye! “sniff sniff”.

A fathers love…

May 30, 2014 theycallmebetty2 Comments

Nine days until life comes to an end.

Ok not really, but when I ponder the ramifications of this emotional moment in time, nine days from right now; it feels as though a portion of my life, one held so closely to my chest will inevitably come to an end. My heart is breaking, even though my exterior is strong, even though I show no care in the world towards the upcoming moments, even though it is how things are supposed to be and even thought this is what we have prepared for over a very long period. Like a sliver you hardly notice at first, time passes and it slowly augers into your skin a little farther with every movement until eventually you can’t help but notice it, notice it’s agonizingly minute annoying pain. Then a week maybe two, it’s in far too deep to do anything now. It is beginning to hurt.

July 11 1996

A baby boy was born into this world. He was pale, screaming, shivering, with 10 fingers and ten toes. He was perfect. Six months straight he screamed, six months straight he cried, I swore I would never have another child; this was it for no adult should endure such torture as this child provided for six long months! Then one morning I awoke to find we had slept the entire night! Oh it was a glorious feeling, an entire night’s sleep, no rocking a child for hours on end, no midnight cup of coffee and long car ride to reignite his sleep filled head, no sir, all night long just me and my sheets all bawled up into one!
Jumping out of bed in a panic! Heart rate busting through my chest! Scared to death as I acknowledged the real reason sleep had been with me all night long! Rounding the corner into the nursery, Bear my Rottweiler by my side nervously barking, I was expecting the worst! Oh how the imagination wanders in a matter of seconds when fear is involved! Smothered by his own pillow, SIDS death, head wedged in between side rails of our crib. The evil of a first time parents fear (especially a firefighters) was reigning king upon my psyche! Yet standing, pajama bottoms on, dog by my side eyes gazed upon this infant jail cell, there laid our boy, happy, pink cheeks, cooing. All was right with the world.

He never cried at night again.

Just kidding, but after those first six months Cody James Franceschi never made a huge fuss over anything again (ok except for saliva). YES there was a small period after a biology class where he learned about saliva that an unexplainable debilitating fear overtook his body and every time he felt saliva forming in his mouth he thought he was going to die! It was hilarious!

Growing up he remained fairly quiet, studious, with a shy charming way about himself. He traveled through elementary school with many of the same struggles as most children, Sixth grade being the hardest for him; un-organized, frustrated with his grades, but somehow he just became quieter, figured people out and what they needed from him. Cody began to read nonstop, anything and everything he could get his hands upon and he grew. He played sports; baseball, basketball and once he entered Jr. High cross-country his athletic course was plotted.

We slowly watched this quiet child develop this wickedly dry sense of humor that many of his friends enjoyed. During jr high I realized he was the Ferris Beuller of his group. On campus talking with teachers and other students it became rapidly clear there wasn’t anyone who disliked this kid. No fights, no quarrels, every social group knew of him and not one person had anything bad to say. He was and is; “a righteous dude”
He became interested in hunting, fishing and archery. Cody remained surrounded by a very core group of friends including one he shared the very same birthday. In eighth grade he was voted male student athlete of the year, it was an amazing moment, but our Cody downplayed its significance, just like he has downplayed every single activity he has excelled at since.

High school held no surprises, no serious troubles with his studies, no girl problems to speak of, he continued to run cross-country, eventually making it to state his sophomore year, then again his Junior year only to give his spot away to a very close senior friend stating; we were so close in time, I ran for him earlier in the year and it just seemed right, it is his last chance ever to go to state and run. I have a chance to do it next year. I have never been prouder of my boy than I was at that moment. He traveled to Haiti with me that year on a mission trip. Watching this boy become a man before my very eyes, kind and gentle with the locals, yet labeled by the Haitian people we worked with as:” the boy who works like a man”. At a meeting with the local town’s people one evening we held a question and answer period and one of the men stood up and wanted to know in a very aggressive voice why Cody never spoke. It took some creative wording on the part of our interpreter to calm this man’s emotions as we suspected he felt it was disrespectful to not speak or engage in such meetings. But we all stood strong that Cody was just shy. Once the village figured this out to be the truth, is when Cody’s work ethic became one of much discussion. The men accepted him and all of them wanted to work alongside my son.
During his senior year he was voted team captain and he did a very good job. Boosting people’s spirits and quietly, silently with his dry sarcasm, saying just the right thing at the perfect moment to get the very best out of someone. He also ran his personal best at every cross-country event, but as he improved so had many others across the state and in the end, he went to state, but only to support the two runners who made the cut. He was proud of what he’d done this year on the XC courses, but Cody’s pride is a silent one and once cross-country was over, it was over and out of his mind. On to the next challenge life will bring.

Cody obtained a driver’s license at 16 and took right to the roadways. My fears of adolescent lead foot syndrome for which I had been afflicted where not to be as friends would tell of seeing my son driving around town to which he was affectionately referred to as: driving Miss Daisy.

He has wanted to be in law enforcement since 6th grade. One time he met with a family friend who works at UC Davis and participated in career day on campus. Our son sitting with a FBI recruiter at 12 years of age in a suit and tie learning every step it takes to become a member will forever be a story I cherish.

Taxidermy, archery, shooting, raising pigs, riding motorcycles, quads, mountain bikes, wake-boards, off-road skateboards, hiking, are just a few of the things he loves to participate. He is much more adventurous than me, much more assured of his direction, yet leaves conversation about himself locked up like a vault.

Cody will head to Humboldt State University in the fall. He has finally chosen a plan A and a plan B for his education. His major will be criminal justice with a minor in environmental sciences. Plan A; finish the four-year college, obtain his degree and apply for CHP. Plan B; finish the year college and become a game warden.
Either plan sounds fantastic. I am so proud of our son, for years I have touted the strength every man wishes they held deep inside, that unbreakable, solid as a rock man who won’t shed a tear over his son moving on with his life. Walking out that door to the world we tried so hard to protect him from while educating, preparing and hopefully guiding him in the right direction when this moment came.

The day is growing closer.

Strangely as of late I no longer see the man he has become. When he walks into the house, I hear his prepubescent squeaky voice talking to me. His cheeks are round; he’s small and needs his daddy. My heart breaks as I realize how long it’s been since I was able to cuddle him on his bed and help him get to sleep after a bad dream. Stroking his hair while telling him no bad monsters can get past me, I promise! He doesn’t cry anymore when he is hurt, he builds things on his own, fixes things on his own and even though he is messy as hell and it drives his mother and I crazy, he cooks on his own!

He is my first-born; he will always be my first-born! A vision I dreamed of over a 9 month period, wondering what he would look like, who he would become, praying this little life would grow to be just like me, but in the very same breath praying to God he wouldn’t. As he progressed, learning from his successes and mistakes there were many restless nights where I was left wondering if I was failing him or leaving him with good advice, solid guidance. Nights spent outside away from them all (there are 4 children total) head in hand sobbing, feeling overwhelmed, disgusted with myself for yelling, screaming like my father had done to me, punishing, demeaning, saddened, worried I was screwing him up permanently. Yet finding solace in showing him it’s ok to admit when you are wrong by apologizing when those moments had gone too far with harsh words.

I look at him, watch his soft emotions change on a dime, from sweet and funny to harsh and jagged, noting the very same attitudes shown from myself at his age. The need, desire to spread his wings and fly, but not knowing how without actually having to leave this home, his sanctuary, his place of solace all alone in his room, beloved dog cricket by his side.
He must go. It will be far away and his mother and I will hate it at first. Overtime it will become easier as our family gets accustomed to his absence. Yet his spirit, his soul will always live in our home. I know the very first night I open his door and he is not there I am going to cry. It will be very reminiscent of when I drove a stick shift for years. After purchasing my first automatic, I spent the better part of a month still slamming my left down to an empty floor. No clutch in sight.

I am pretty sure I am going to spend the better part of a month, shutting a door to an empty room and longing just to say goodnight while giving him a hug that only he can give back (and if you have had one of Cody’s hugs you know they are awesome). 18 years gone in a flash, a whole lifetime to him, a moment in time that’s come and gone way too fast for me. His father, the most important man in his life, I have stood strong for 18 years, showing him how to hopefully be a good man.
I cried tears of joy when he came into this world, into our house, into my heart.
I will cry tears of joy when he heads off to college and quietly I will cry tears of selfish sorrow for the empty space he will leave behind.
One day hopefully he will understand.
It is a fathers love….

The Face of Leukemia…. The call…

May 13, 2014May 13, 2014 theycallmebetty3 Comments

The call came through, I stared as it rang, the glaring eyes of my wife looking back through a pixel image formed from technology. Only 90 minutes into my shift I was fairly certain this call would center around a current general lack of respect shown by our children as of late. Between Jake’s consistent arguing, instagramming, snapchattering, compulsive behavior, or Jessica’s continual chip on her shoulder aimed at the entire world, Parkers inability to rise above 4 years of age at times and Cody’s, well Cody being Cody, it was fairly obvious a parental conference to line up our offensive, gathering ammunition and supplies for after school encounters was on the horizon.

Yet when answering the phone there was not the snap of an edgy, irritated Cuban woman whom I have grown so fond of but instead all that could be heard was a whimper. A demure, silent, almost mouse like squeak from the other end of the line. I sat up from my chair quickly, startling my co-workers as I pronounced; Jacy whats wrong! Still just a whisper, almost unrecognizable in stillness. Again even more stern, my tone changing with the rapid fire of my heart rate: JACY HONEY WHAT IS WRONG? ARE YOU OK?

With the whisper of an angel, a serene, quiet message arrived within the confines of my almost deaf, aging ears.

Its gone….

Whats gone? What is gone? Who? Is your dad ok? Is my dad ok? Are there any animals missing? What is gone? I don’t understand!

It is gone, fumbles from her lips one more time. The sound of a cracked voice, a strained quivering lip, a sniffle as mucus forms to join a plunging tear.

Honey, she called, it is gone, the cancer, its gone!

Is this a joke? Wait how does she know, man I wish I had another cup of coffee this just isn’t making sense!

Then it hits me. Three days before we went in for what we prayed would be the final bone marrow draw to determine if Jacy was indeed cancer free or if we were headed to Stanford for more Chemotherapy and an eventual bone marrow transplant. In those three days, with all that had been transpiring around us, I callously had forgotten.

ITS GONE! ITS FREAKING GONE! THE CANCER IS GONE!!!

Slowly but surely, my voice raises, not able to contain my happiness a shout of joy can be heard throughout the firehouse as I turn to my crew, my brothers, the family I spend one-third of my life with, the same family that supported our family 100% over the last six months. It is gone I say, the cancer is GONE!!!! Everyone is excited, I am excited, my heart is pounding, I can’t catch my breath, It is gone…

I tell my wife I love her, we both cry. A feeling of weight lifts from my shoulders, I want nothing more than to run away from work, go hug my wife and spend the day with her, talking about something we havent talked about in six long months.

The future.

My wife, my friend, Jacy Mirelle Franceschi was given a challenge six long months ago. The challenge was to beat Cancer. In that time she accepted, rejected and accepted that very challenge several times over. I knew my wife had it in her, she is the strongest, most stubborn woman I have ever met! I prayed a lot in the beginning, not for me, but strength for her. I coined a phrase and we adopted that phrase. Kicking cancers ass one cell at a time! A dear family friend formed an Army, and with it Jacys Army came to life, bringing support and love, along with a town that surrounded us. We (Jacy and I) never have done anything special, we both did not feel we deserved this attention but it didn’t matter, one by one they all came to our aid, joining Jacys army, supporting this cause and it worked! We did it, we ALL did it! My wife kicked cancers ass one cell at a time!

The cancer is gone. How we both longed to hear those words.

Yes, AML can return, Yes we will be ever vigilant for the rest of our lives, one wrong sniffle, a feeling of being run down, a blood draw or marrow test will never be missed. But today, moving forward, the woman I love is cancer free!

Feeling like Rocky Balboa after a fight, fist raised in the air, screaming for Adrian, but he just cant get to her. That is the way I felt at work when I got the call. The battle was over, the victor stood tall, but I just couldn’t get to my love to tell her how I felt, to have her look into my eyes and reconfirmed it to be true. Oh well it appears I just may have the rest of my life to do just that.

The cancers gone, the cancer is gone.

To my family, friends and co-workers, to the citizens of Dixon, to the followers of my blog and to everyone who held a kind word, said a prayer, shook my hand, hugged me, told me all would be ok. To Jacys Army, the meal train participants, the fundraisers, to all the wonderful cancer survivors I have spoken with, thank you. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. It is because of all of you that we survived this incredible ordeal. I love you all…

Does the sun set on Leukemia?

April 13, 2014April 13, 2014 theycallmebetty1 Comment

“To run and fly, jump towards the sky, to trip and fall where no one see’s at all, to sit and wait a heart truly aches, to smile and cheer dread no longer feared, mired not in contempt an energy much better spent, to enjoy every moment with my wife, now wouldn’t that be a splendid life…”

The sun has risen and set upon 180 days, 4,320 hours, 259,200 minutes, 15,552,000 seconds. Time that for most was nothing more than a passing blip in an otherwise hectic day. Coming events, moments sectored into fragments, blocks, bullet points upon a schedule where children are dropped at school, animals are fed, meetings are kept, practices attended, showers to be had and pillows to be slept upon.

The sun rose and the sun set. Under a bright fall moon one woman gazed upon the stars to ask why? To cry tears of fear, sadness and remorse. A woman pleaded with her God for an answer but was left momentarily in silence. A woman stared into a nights sky, thinking about childhood, college, adulthood and the love for a life lived. Hoping beyond hope all this would be was another bump in the road and she would live to see her adult children stand on a balcony under a full moon and not ask God why, but say thanks for all he has provided.

180 days. A man knelt in an arena and cried. Not for himself for you see he has walked the road of sadness many, many times in his life. But for his wife. This man who lives to ease his families burdens and carry their pain could do nothing to make this next challenge in life any easier. He could not reach inside his wife and yank out the evil that surged within, instead he would need to remain patient. To willingly wait, and know when to speak and when to say silent. To understand he could not fix everything and that was ok. As those 180 days passed by slowly without rest or sleep, he would come to value the meaning of just being there by her side and knowing that was enough. He learned to cradle and quietly without judgment let the water flow upon his chest through sobbing breaths. He would become stronger with each bought, each treatment and the ensuing moral disintegration of spirit. This man, he also prayed to stand hand in hand with his wife while watching their adult children thank the lord for all he has provided.

The sun rises and the sun sets. How many more days remain? An answer none of us know, will know or should know. Life is a gift of love. It started with our parents, two people who at one time loved each other so much we came to fruition. Some parents still love each other that much, others sadly do not, but either way we are here, living breathing examples of a look, a word, a time, a kiss an embrace. Carrying on a legacy that is ours to write, shape, mold into a future for ourselves and quite possibly through the absolute love of another, our children.

Jacy is alive, Leukemia has not taken her from this earth. 180 days of literal HELL she has survived thus far. We are told she holds the perfect genetic markers for success. In two more weeks another bone marrow draw will provide proof in the proverbial pudding. Two years cancer free and our celebrations will become larger with each passing moment in time.

She worries about damage done, all she has lost both mentally and physically, she worries she may never feel whole again. To those worries I say:

“Gentlemen, we can rebuild her. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world’s first bionic Leukemia survivor. Jacy Franceschi will be that woman. Better than she was before. Better, stronger, faster.”

Sorry, late 70’s humor..

Two years, a little by little everyday until this all becomes a story of survival, a distant memory, an experience to draw upon during life’s trials and tribulations. Sure it will be difficult, yes it will become frustrating and even embarrassing at times, but in the end, my wife will be whole. My life will be whole again, and how I long for that day.

Thank you again to all who have supported us, never left our sides as the going continued to get rough. This is the end, I feel it in my bones. In two weeks celebrations of joy will ring true and none of it could have been done without all of you! You are all my Rock, helping hold me up so I may continue to be hers. I love you all, you know who you are!

The power of thought and prayer is amazing! God bless you all…

Betty (James) has entered a new venture to help make ends meet during this trying time. I am proud to say I am now a distributor for Javita Weight Loss Coffee products. Javita Green Tea has kept me running strong through every hospital trip, late night Emergency Room run and long days handling the ranch, kids and sporting activities alone! I can’t say enough about this great product.

So if you are looking to lose a few pounds by simply drinking coffee, or need the mental stimulation and health benefits of pure unrefined green tea. Then please take a moment and explore http://www.buyjavitacoffee.com/javabetty and order some today. You wont be sorry. I promise, plus every purchase made helps keep my wife home a little longer for recovery.

Bless you all,

Betty

Three sons

March 26, 2014March 26, 2014 theycallmebetty3 Comments

There once lived a man who had three sons.

A smart one

A big one

and a, well a, very talented, exceptionally gifted, with a wonderful crazy sense of humor one.

These three boys were as different as different could be.

The smart one wanted to spread his wings and fly, see the world, make his mark all while bringing his form of justice to the unjust. The smart one holds a higher sense of moral responsibility combined with a sly dry whit that usually becomes apparent for those who don’t understand by a wicked smile, etched upon his face. He’s a charmer when need be, mean when cornered and generous when the moment suits him. His eyes are piercing, mannerisms awkward at times, he is almost ready to walk forward into adulthood. Handsome and fit, he is everything he believes himself to be. Ready to mount up and ride off into the sunset. This son will go very, very far in this world and I know deep inside no matter what he does it will be a success and he will make it look to have been easy..

The big one- Well lets talk about the big one. When I speak of his size it is in reference not only to his outer appearance but his inner one too. Big hands, big feet, big arms and legs. Big heart. He loves a good laugh and is gullible as hell! His smile is infectious, his eyes bright and unassuming. He will lift a tree off you if you promise to be his friend. He is neither dimwitted nor overly intelligent. Yet his mind works in ways that most with high IQ’s would never understand. If you need help he is usually the first to arrive and the last to leave, that is unless his feelings are hurt, then he mopes for a while, kicks some dirt, forgives you and gets back to the task at hand. He is every-bit the young man I hoped for and someday he will hopefully be every bit the man some mother had hoped her daughter would find.

The crazy sense of humor one- Sweet and cute, silly and timid, sly and outspoken, wild and at times overly emotional, this lad encompasses them all. There isn’t a young woman or mother who hasn’t doted over this charming, good looking young man. He loves a good practical joke and will do or say just about anything to make you smile. Witticisms roll of his tongue like a barrel through Niagara falls. He is a mammas boy and you better not hurt him or the smart one and the big one will make your life miserable. Besides the last time those two checked this lad was brought into the world for their amusement. He loves all things big and small, and has a deep sense of responsibility when it comes to the lives of animals. Don’t let that cute smile fool you either, cross him and like the Tasmanian devil you will end up on the wrong side of a knuckle sandwich! Don’t say you haven’t been warned. This boy will always be a charmer and those around him will find him hard to resist.

The man spent all his time trying his hardest to raise these boys. Give them a definite sense of right and wrong, good and bad, all while recognizing the pure evil some people hold inside. Manners and behavior, work ethic and rest time, just and unjust, teachings done while taking care of a family struggling through tragedy. The man loved those boys more than anything in the world and wanted nothing more than to see them succeed in life. Live to the fullest! Never, ever be afraid to follow your dreams, and never let anyone tell you; you can’t! The man spent endless hours working on them, honing them, shaping them for an unknown future, in hopes the work he put in would pay off in the end. Oh they didn’t always see eye to eye and many times the man would growl like that of a cornered mountain lion only to get a sharp stab from one of the young juveniles wielding a stick. But in the end out of respect the three boys always came around to the mans way of thinking.

He loves them all and they love him.

There once was a man who had three sons…

WHO DID YOU THINK I WAS REFERRING TOO???

Just Kidding

Oh yeah there is one feisty sister too, but thats for another story!

Keep Calm, its only been five months..

March 19, 2014 theycallmebetty3 Comments

(I apologize for not having written in a while, and though this isn’t the best, it hopefully will at least allow you all to know where I am at mentally)

Over the last 5 months plenty of time has passed for me to ponder the ramifications associated with cancer.

Endless days and even longer nights leaving me sleepless, cold, worried, angry, happy, sad, confused, and exhausted. Staring outwards into a twinkling nights sky, or straight down at my feet, lost, strained, asking God why. Ramifications indeed..

I have held a little boy who doesn’t understand why his mom needs to be gone all the time. One day at home then vanished into thin air, only to reappear 7-14 days later looking gaunt, pale and exhausted. This recurring abnormality in domestic motherhood just doesn’t compute in a 9 year olds brain. He needs his dad alright but there is nothing like the hug his mom can bestow upon him and the smile that shines on his face afterwards.

I have driven to games, practices, and rodeos alone. Elicited the help of many wonderful caring friends who dropped what they were doing without so much as a whimper to ensure my family was cared for in my absence. Helped (not well, but hey who said I was smart) with homework, read books and had books read to me, washed laundry, cleaned dishes, scrubbed floors, toilets, windows and walls. Watered flowers, cared for dogs, horses, goats and chickens. Folded laundry until 2 in the morning to ensure everyone had the right clothes for school, baseball, softball, hunting, etc…. And yes in a very strange bedraggled way I have cherished every minute.

Don’t get me wrong I performed all of those tasks prior to Jacy becoming sick as well, but they were shared tasks, and as with all relationships, some portions were performed by a certain partner because that partner excelled in one area over the other. Laundry has always been kind of my thing,(especially the folding portion) where as homework has always been Jacy’s (college grad/teacher and all).

Cancer has brought my children closer to me, helped me understand a little more of who they are as people. From seeing them handle this situation with their mother, to the inspiring abilities shown by the ones who have stepped up their games around the house during this time. Their interaction with the hoards of caring people stopping by our house or cornering them in a park, they have all made me proud. It has been a very hard, long frustrating road, but that road has also been filled with love, understanding, caring and commitment.

Cancer also filled my heart with fear. For every great moment I shared with our children, there was fear that Jacy would never see those moments. Fear our children would become used to their mom not being around, fear that she would not win this fight and the children would be left devastated, emotionless voids. Never remembering their childhood has one filled with great adventures, laughter, family and fun, but of the time their mother contracted Leukemia and perished. No child should watch their mother die. My fear is entrenched in losing faith. Something I have always had, a security which has kept me strong my entire life. Fear I will lose that feeling of always “knowing” what to do, how to behave, which direction to travel. Its faith which has kept me solid in those beliefs, it is my faith in God which has laid a foundation for me to build upon. Yet what if my faith eludes me? What then? More fear.

Up days and down days, days filled with forgetfulness, days filled with unexplainable irritability, days filled with an abundance of love, and days filled with dizziness, nausea and sleep. These are the emotional stages Jacy travels through. Highest of highs and lowest of lows. It’s a hard ride for me at times and it’s always an even harder ride for her. Yet each day is one day closer to the treatments being over, her body trying to heal itself and our lives returning to some form of normalcy.

She came home from her last treatment on Sunday. It was a day of joy. Only two more weeks of blood transfusions and testing, cumulating into a bone marrow draw somewhere during the third or fourth week. Many days ahead filled with more fears, watching her body decline time after time until her blood cells, both white and red begin producing normally on their own. Then waiting..

Fingers crossed, all goes well and Jacy will be able to finally claim to be cancer free! Over the next couple of years she will do her best to lead a relaxed, non stressed lifestyle and we will continue to pray Leukemia never returns.

5 months, five long and lonely months. I miss my friend, my spouse, the woman I love. To have her home and whole will indeed be a blessing. For five months I have slept alone many nights and like the true idiot I am, I never once slept in the middle of the bed! Always on my little 6 inch wide portion, leaving her side (which is 3/4’s the mattress) undisturbed. Out of habit or respect, I do not know, but wow, what an idiot! I really blew an opportunity to really stretch out and sleep like a king! It’s no wonder I never got any sleep! Oh well I digress….

A light is truly at the end of the tunnel, we can see it. Keep a prayer for us please, prayer is a powerful thing and I believe it helps keep my faith alive and her healing powers strong.

More to come, God bless you all…

The gift…

February 5, 2014 theycallmebetty3 Comments

Life as of late is holding me down. A weight upon my chest, a hand-held defiantly to my face, paranoia, fear, sadness, exhaustion all playing upon my emotions. Some days are harder than others, most days tolerable, my fortitude is strong, a resolve steadfast, I awake each morning and start all over again.

My wife is worried that my plate is to full, she see’s it written across my face. The new lines forming upon my brow, a redness to my cheeks, a constant itch that travels across my head, face, chest, neck and shoulder when stress becomes intolerable.

Conversations change, today is a “good” day while 12 hours later, no conversation at all, left staring, wondering what I would do if she didn’t come out of the ER alive? Laughter becomes fun, dark humor is everywhere, trying, straining, yearning to pretend this is not happening. A ceiling is my new meditation portal, alone in bed, lying dead straight in the middle, wondering, worrying. Past times would find me reveling in a moment like this, now ashamed to be taking up a portion that is her place.

Why? Why does life go like this for some, yet flows so effortlessly for others? Never was I blessed with any one talent that allowed me the luxury of standing apart from a crowd. My entire life has been marginalized, left in the “average” column. Average size, average intelligence, average GPA, average looking, average job performance, average minor successes.

Yet for some reason I feel as though God has blessed me with a gift. A gift others would most likely refuse, kick to the curb, drop and run away screaming. I am willing to admit, when bestowed upon me it was not an easy one to accept. But being a man of faith, I knew no matter how hard I fought, in the end it was mine. And so, it has come to pass that with this gift, I have earned a few extra lines upon my face, some unwanted grey hairs, an inability to sleep some nights along with an overall fear of what may lie around the very next corner.

This gift it seems also brought traits I never knew existed within me. Care, compassion, love, patience and understanding. Not just for myself, but for all forms of life. Imagine a gift so powerful it opens your eyes wider than ever before, it ignites your senses to an almost raw irritating state yet you are thankful for the feeling. Imagine being able to stand, while all crumbles around you, seeing an alternative, an answer, a future destination. Imagine knowing when the day is through, no matter what has been thrown emotionally towards you, deep inside you will awaken the next morning to do it all over again! That is what this gift has become and I wish I knew how to share, but I just can’t.

I carry the souls, the faces, the lives of all who have perished before me. Those souls have built me into a stronger man over the years, stronger than I ever was or could have been in my youth. From every response, medical aid, vehicle accident or fire that have gone badly awry; to the losses of those closest around me, ones that I love more than most could imagine. I carry those days, those moments, those instances of life disappearing before us in my head, in my heart, a scar upon my soul. Some moments come with pictures that can never be erased, tales that can never be told, slivers in time trapped for eternity within my dome. Family members never knowing, never seeing, never having to see the imminent demise of those so truly loved. No horrid pictures permanently scarring their psyche, no electrifying screams, no tantric goodbyes. Over 19 years I have done my very best to absorb, deflect, and care about those who have lost someone. Carrying that burden has been my privilege. God allowed me this wonderful gift.

And so now the gift hits home. What better human being to handle this very situation than myself. I have been trained well, prepared for all contingencies through mentorship and experience.

Yes I am tired, yes my worrisome self is working overtime, standing on high alert, yes my heart stops, skips a beat every time she proclaims not feeling well or becomes clammy and pale. But my gift churns onward, allowing me an ability to focus on the good things and recognize in the end all will be ok. Teaching me sometimes one needn’t seek all the answers, but instead too know deep down in their heart things will be fine. My gift tells me there are those in much worse shape than we, and to be thankful for all we have before us. Constantly reminding me how precious life truly is and to awaken every morning with a smile, because you can.

So as my wife worries about me, as my friends ponder over my ability to handle this very situation, as our own parents fret over the unknown, do not worry, like a ball player riding the pine all season long, all I ask is this, put me in coach, give me a chance, this gift could possibly be the one thing I am actually good at! Becoming the Abbott to her Costello, Jerry Lewis to her Dean Martin, the Sigfried to her Roy, and then when my time comes, my moment here on earth is finished, I will finally be a success and wont have lived an uncaring, callous, self-centered, marginalized, average life…

Now I think its time for some sleep.

Goodnight Jacy I love you and thank God for you everyday… Relax, all will be just fine..

Leukemia’s torn heart….

January 17, 2014 theycallmebetty3 Comments

This journey we are on has taken us many places, both in the physical sense and metaphorical. Today it seems as though a new issue is exploding inside this ever churning brain of mine, leaving me scrambling, and ducking for cover. No man ever wants this problem, nothing good can come from it.

It is the feeling of being torn between two loves.

My wife, this woman for whom my world revolves, a center to all my affection. She has unwittingly become 50% of who I am, what I have become and, ultimately what I will be remembered for after perishing, leaving this earth behind. When she is around I can’t get anything done for the overwhelming feeling of needing to be by her side. Now with Leukemia, that feeling has magnified and being by her side, caring for her is all-consuming, my hearts contentment.

Learning the Leukemia dance (two steps towards a hospital, one step towards our home) The leukemia dance is a funny little number. Slow and steady like an 80’s love song, crooning across a roller rink, grab your best girl and don’t fall down, couples only on the floor, couples ONLY on the floor please. Then broken and angry with failure forcing you to mosh into the pit of despair while Godsmack beats down upon you! When you least expect it you find yourself doing a happy dance, joyous news brings the B-52’s tapping at your door. But in the end all I hear anymore isn’t music to my ears, but the constant beat of a heart monitor telling me she is alive. The quiet sounds of her breathing while I stare, awake, not wanting to miss a moment, standing guard, like century, evil shall not pass.

Our children. They need me as well and even though they seem to be handling the last 50 days just fine, I know deep inside they must be worrying. None of them really know how to talk about what is happening with Leukemia, our family and the new dynamics, but this is what I have observed. The oldest is treating Leukemia with a bit of denial; as in “oh yeah mom came home from the hospital today it’s all good”. Next in line the 13-year-old asks a myriad of questions in regards to moms health, how long it will take to get better, reassurances she will get better and what can he do to help! Our 9-year-old daughter has taken to reminding me to tell mom she loves her over and over and over and over. The 8-year-old on the other hand is pretty much in a world of his own and thankfully doesn’t comprehend or wish to comprehend any of what is currently happening. Lego’s are king!

Either way they are four beings, four souls, four of the most important people in my world and instead of being able to give to them emotionally, unconditionally as a father, right now I am taking from them at every turn and corner throughout the day. They have all stepped up their game. Chores, school, packing lunches, cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, helping with the ranch, it’s really quite nice seeing these little versions of ones self working hard together towards a common goal. Now don’t get me wrong it isn’t the Walton’s (you younger ones look that up! You might find an episode on TV land) going on over here by any means, they still fight like cats and dogs, which in brother and sister land is how it should be, but it is nice to see the effort non the less.

So how am I torn?

These are the two loves of my life. My wife and my children. I must give to my wife first and foremost, but the need to nurture my children is every bit as strong. It is a dilemma which has no answer. A challenge or conundrum if you will. This feeling of utter helplessness as a father of needing to be in two places at once. Forming the solid foundation for four while building upon a marital foundation of two.

In the end it will all be fine. We will arise from the proverbial ashes, stronger and better than ever. Our children will hopefully learn in a positive way how to handle family struggles while relying upon one another for support and strength. Our marriage (Jacy and I) will grow and develop an even stronger bond through our faith and love for one another. These are all positive things! Maybe I should just quit worrying? I guess sometimes you need to be torn to learn how to mend? hmmm sounds like a future Words of Wisdom from Betty’s alter ego.

Leukemia an uneasy rider…

January 15, 2014January 15, 2014 theycallmebetty3 Comments

Grasping, clawing thin air, holding her chest she weaves back and forth, side to side. A look of terror covering her face, showing blaring signs of confusion, her eyes wildly searching the very corners of our room. My chest hurts, I can’t catch my breath, somethings wrong honey, something is really really wrong! Am I hot? Do I feel hot to you? James? James? James I can’t hold myself, where are you? Somethings wrong, somethings really wrong! My stomach hurts, my stomach hurts real bad, James? Somethings wrong (speech beginning to slur)

In fact something was wrong, very wrong. I was alongside of my wife as she jumped straight up from what seconds earlier had appeared to be a sound sleep. Starting a downward progression, a health scare that would for a few moments challenge my ability to cope, compensate and help this sweet woman through the opening moments of what would become a 12 hour medical journey.

Me: Babe I am right here, right next to you, what is wrong?

Jacy: I am hot, I don’t feel good, something is wrong (speech slurring), where are you?

Me: I told you I am right here, do you need me to call 911?

Jacy: No, somethings wrong, somethings really wrong, I don’t feel good, my heart is beating out of my chest and I can’t breath! Somethings wrong (repetitive answering)!

At this point Jacy began slurring her words even more! Her eyes rolled around within their orbits and she forced herself into a tripod position that was wobbly at best. I began to panic! My head was spinning, what do I do, do I call 911, what is wrong with her, she isn’t speaking to me, holy shit is she dying! It felt like an eternity, sitting there staring as my wife’s body began shutting down, doing things I had never seen it do before. I wanted to open a window and scream for help! For some reason my phone wouldn’t bring up 911 and every time I tried my fingers fumbling from shaking, inadvertently locked the device, rendering it useless until I could hold one digit still long enough to manipulate the finger scanner. I by all accounts upon reflection was that guy! A swearing, stuttering completely useless basket case.

Then something happened. A recollection, a memory, a proverbial light bulb flashing over my head like a Las Vegas strip sign! And like the flip of a switch the realization struck me: I don’t need help! I am the help! Yep that’s right folks, through the heart pounding, fear laden panic of watching my woman disintegrate physically and mentally I recalled a somewhat important fact. I know what to do! I am trained to deal with this very situation! Holy shit! HELLOOOOOOOO MCFLY!!!

That is right, apparently when the patient is someone you love, that one person you have pledged your life too, the human being you swore in front of God to love till death do you part, you tend to forget important information like, well uh like you are a firefighter with 18 years experience as an EMT! You have evaluated, and helped prepare for transport more sick people than you care to remember! Triaged, treated and transported every type, diseased, ill, injured, trauma, heart attack, respiratory distressed, overdosed, ingested, kidney failure, cancer ridden, etc… human being on the planet! So why on earth are you dropping the ball on one of the most valuable patients ever to be in your presence?

And like that the light switch flipped! Questions changed, responses changed, and within a few quick seconds, just by shutting off my emotional side, I had determined my wife was either in the midst of a possible life altering allergic reaction to the Neupogen injection I had given her not more than 50 minutes earlier or she was mid TIA (Transient Ischemic Attack) Layman’s terms; a minor stroke! She met all the criteria for both! Confused speech, altered level of consciousness, rapid heart rate, pale, cool diaphoretic, loss of muscle function to a side of her face, blotchy redness on the chest and involuntary muscle movements. Yep mirroring symptoms to the point, one could have invariably irritated or influenced the other.

So I did what any man in my position would do, could do, or hopefully would think to do. I threw her in our car and headed to the emergency room! Now hold on, before you put a hand over your mouth and yell at me through the computer screen: Why didn’t you call 911? Its simple math really. I live exactly 7 minutes from a level 2 Kaiser hospital. It took me under a minute to get her in the car. That is 8 minutes. It takes 1 minute to reach dispatch from my phone, another 30 seconds to dispatch our engine in combination with a responding ambulance for a ride out to my house that is at best 12-14 minutes. After toning out the call it takes an average of 2-3 minutes for crews to look up the address and get out the door. That is a total of (rounding) 18 minutes to receive help. By the time they would have gotten to my house we were already in a room being treated. It was scary, it was risky, it may have been stupid on my part, and I would never under any circumstances pose that any one person take that risk upon themselves, but it was done, and we were in the ER, safe and sound!

Arriving at the hospital, she was wheeled into the waiting area where she promptly declared BATHROOM!!!! Mario Andretti would have sure been proud at that way I was moving when I passed that crowd (gratuitous Charlie Daniels plug). Sliding sideways into the first bathroom, Jacy began vomiting, and vomiting and crying. A very nice security guard came in and helped me take care of her, while the registering nurse took my word we were who we said we were and put us right into the system. Within seconds we were relocated to the triage nurse who stared confused at my patient transfer rundown in regards to my wifes medical condition. Moving like a rabbit the triage nurse wheeled us into the ER and as we turned the corner it was obvious which room we were destined as two nurses feverishly wiped everything down with disinfectant! (special germ precautions for Chemotherapy patients) Then as we drew closer my heart leapt with joy as I recognized the smiling friendly face of our RN (registered nurse). It was one of the moms from Jacys school. Jacy had taught her daughter and my wife was one of her favorite teachers. Truth be told her daughter is one of our favorite students! I say ours, because my wifes students are my students too. Over the years I have come to know most of them by name and when ever I see Jacy at work they all talk with me, give me high fives and generally bring out the dad in me! I am Mr. Jacy! They all make me smile, but some make me smile more than others and this little girl is one of them.

Things moved very rapidly, I helped where I could and stayed out-of-the-way when I needed too. Just as things began to slow down a bit another surprise walked through the door. One of our firefighters who works as an ER Tech was also on that night. It was fantastic to see his face, my fears were quickly calmed as now there were two people who knew us, knew my family and genuinely cared for my wife.

Thus began a long night at a Kaiser ER. Needles here, blood drawn there, chest x-rays, CAT-scans, blood pressure, oxygen, 3 I.V. bags of fluid, antibiotics, and the best damn treatment I have ever had at a hospital. I cannot emphasize enough how well we were treated! The on duty ER doc that night was funny, charming, with honest concern for our well-being. She was the kind of person you hope to meet someday outside of work to share a drink and a few laughs! I am forever in Kaisers debt.

12 hours later we walked out the back door. Ok I walked, Jacy shuffled. We slowly climbed back into our car, and drove carefully home. The final diagnosis? Undetermined, but it was narrowed down to either a minor TIA or an allergic reaction to the Neupogen. A phone call later that evening from Jacy’s oncologist would confirm most likely the latter. Yep I still got it!

Returning to our house we walked upstairs, my goal was to tuck her into bed and watch her sleep for a while ensuring all was good. Apparently being up for 28 hours doesn’t agree with my aging body anymore because the next thing I know its 4 hours later and I am in bed looking at her sleeping peacefully. Getting up, I kiss her forehead, thank God for getting us through this day and say a little prayer for all who helped us the night before. Walking downstairs my mind cant help but ponder how many more times we will travel this road, how many more scares will we survive? How many more long sleepless nights will we endure? Then I realize, it doesn’t matter, because no matter how many more “times” there are, we will win in the end. Jacy continues to kick cancers ass and I will continue to do what I can to support that ass whooping!

Sleep or no sleep, fear of confidence, vomiting or solid good health, it really is as simple as that… There is no other option…

A day in the Face of Leukemia.

January 12, 2014January 12, 2014 theycallmebetty1 Comment

10 pm. Finally there is peace and quiet. I am alone with my thoughts. (not great company at times) I am…..exhausted. The children are all nestled in for the night, leaving me alone to rest, think, plan, and prepare. Ok also to drink a nice cold beer…

These children, these genetic markers, fruit of my loins, incredible individuals who are searching, striving to understand what exactly is happening to their mom, taking my every moment with inquisitive thinking, questioning, testing my very patience. It is easy to forget they are not at a level to fully comprehend exactly what is going on with their mother. As each day unfolds and my fervor reaches pitch, they are unwitting victims to my own personal demise. A tossed bit of clothing here, an untended animal there, a room in disarray, teeth forgotten and hair occasionally not washed during the cleansing process. All lead me to instant eruption at times.

As my mind continually works at an ever rapidly processing pace, my inner ability to control or grasp a solid foundation of patience seems to crumble. It is not as though these little cherubs have truly faltered in any way, but more as though their little mistakes are magnified by worrisome frustration on my part.

A day in the life of the husband supporting a cancer patient.

Every morning I awake exhausted! My back aches beyond belief although I am beginning to feel this is some form of sympathy pain helping me relate to suffering my wife may be feeling. Breakfast is some delicious Javita coffee and a small bowl of oatmeal. Thankfully most mornings, the horses are already fed. Two of our “borders” in particular have become my barn angels. (Lisa and Olivia) Saving me from this chore as lately I just can’t seem to function with any repetitive, normalcy as the sun arises. After staggering around like a lost puppy looking for its master, I can usually get dressed before our children awaken wanting, no needing my utmost attention. During this time my mind is already checking off a multitude of things that may or may not need accomplishing before I abandon ship, heading off to be with my wife in the hospital.

After a short morning briefing the kids have their chore lists lined out, some laundry is done, dishes, washed, bathrooms cleaned, dogs taken care of and out the door I go to work a few horses that need to be on a daily routine. After completing this chore, its back into the house, showered, clean clothes, check in on the kids progress with their chores, hugs all around, a list of objectives to the oldest who is now watching siblings until my return and then off to Vallejo to be with my wife.

Easy enough, yes?

Walking through the door of room 5020 after saying hello to many nurses who know me by name, I lay eyes upon her, and begin feeling guilty. I still cannot understand why this is happening to her. This beautiful, vibrant, glowing woman, who by all accounts has never done a horrible thing to any ONE person in her entire life. It just doesn’t make sense to me. Why isn’t it me? Why hasn’t this awful disease happened to me? It would make more sense, I havent always been the nicest of people, I didn’t always care about others, their needs, their troubles, or problems. In my youth I was a very self-centered individual, who didn’t always treat people with the respect they deserved. But then I suppose life isn’t about who deserves what, as we see on a daily basis in the news, but for myself it just doesn’t make sense why this woman, this person who saved me from myself, this angel who puts everyone and everything ahead of herself, why it has to be her.

She is happy to see me! Like a prisoner is happy to see a loved one during their monthly visit. Trapped in a 15×20 room, with crappy food and lines pumping chemicals into you from all directions, one could understand the importance of familiar human contact. She proclaims her affection and declares how much she misses me, it makes my heart sink, yet fills me with joy at the same time. Sinking because I feel her lonely pain; surrounded by many but alone none the less. Yet to have someone who needs you, who loves you so much that after all this time together can honestly say they have missed you. Well it is powerful. I watch couples these days fight over the stupidest things. Complaining in front of everyone, tearing down their marriage on a stage for all to see and it makes me sad. These people don’t realize the gift given by proclaiming their love for one another or what blessings are right in front of them, focussing instead on the possibility that some grass may greener on the other side. Marriage is work, it takes hard work at times, but there is an old saying; you reap what you sow. I try daily to plant and fertilize my marriage and I believe it shows. It shows when I walk in the room and my wife beams at me with that million dollar smile. It shows when she grabs my hand, squeezing tightly and says; don’t leave me. It shows when she tells me she cant wait to be home so she can feel the security that comes with sleeping alongside her husband. It shows when I leave and all the way to the car I feel like part of me has been left inside that fifth floor room.

Jacy has cancer. I know she is winning this battle, but every time I say it, every time I write about it, it chokes me up. Jacy has cancer. My throat tightens. Jacy has cancer. My stomach feels sick. Jacy has cancer. My eyes become moist. Jacy has cancer. A dark cloud overhead looms like a storm waiting to throw lightening my direction. Jacy has cancer. I thank God the children don’t fully understand and only feel as though mommy is just on vacation in the hospital. Jacy has cancer, Jacy will always have cancer, Jacy has cancer.

Coming home, I am met by the many blessings of being surrounded by those who care. Nice notes, cards, letters of hope and understanding, dinners dropped at our door, the barn taken care of again and a multitude of additional support. But just as Jacy wishes nothing more than to escape her sterile cell, pulling needles from her veins to resume a normal life, I wish for her to be home, covered by the safety of these four walls, never having to travel this journey ever again.

Tomorrow she does comes home. The first few days are going to be rough as sickness, fatigue and living immunocompromised will be scary. But she will be home. In three more weeks she gets to do it all over again, returning to hospital, becoming reattached to chemicals that will save her life. Its a small price to pay to beat this evil demon, but then that’s easy for me to say as I am not the one fighting to survive. Or maybe its easy for me to say because it’s the only way I know how to deal. Placing things in categories and checking off lists, one box at a time. The main thing is she is coming home.

So as I reach the end of another long day, I just want to say; Thank you to everyone, all of you, the kind words, the hugs that mean so much ( I love hugs, it’s the dad in me) , the smiles and great conversation. This is a fight, a fight we are going to win, no one fights alone and all of you have proven that to be true. Jacy is definitely not fighting alone because of all of you and standing by her side as her husband has been my absolute privilege.

Thank you for allowing me to make that happen..

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