Tag: my life

Welcome home Ms. Jacy..

theycallmebetty5 Comments

Eight long months Jacy has been away from her home. She has wondered many times if she would ever set foot upon this ground again. A place set deep in her heart where we laid a foundation for family. Many sleepless nights filled with fear, never knowing what’s lingering around the corner in regards to treatment. Waiting, sometimes not so patiently for her life to change, either succumbing to this nasty beast raging inside or feeling a warmth associated with victory shining upon her tired face.

Today all that changes

This morning after a series of appointments inside Stanford’s Medical Center Jacy Mirelle Franceschi will climb into our family mini-van for a two hour drive back home where she will step foot once again firmly on Blue Sky Ranch ground! Jacy has been given a green light to a three day pass! A required experiment to see how she handles being a little further from her Stanford safety net. To date Jacy’s numbers are holding and Stanford is doing their best to slim down her appointment schedule. Jacy still has severe GvHD and needs regular treatment, but there comes a point where it’s better to throw caution to the wind, allowing her to come home for small segments so she may become mentally stronger. Hopefully this will boost her spirits, work a little on some depression and help her body to heal faster. It is and will be a momentous occasion, and at the risk of sounding cliché; to say we are excited is an understatement!

As excited as we ALL are we are also completely terrified! During this last week we have been working on sterilizing a farm house! Let that sink in for a moment, two words that just don’t go together, sterilization and farmhouse. It has been an extremely hard project, and thankfully we have been blessed with some awesome assistance! (Thank you Alisa, Isabelle, Cody, Jake, Jessica and Lynette)The house is clean, neat and smells fantastic! Yet the house is only one issue we must face, from this point forward we must work to keep it hospital clean in combination with watching what we bring into this rickety old structure! This is going to be no easy task. But the alternative is unacceptable.

Here is a little explanation of how things will change. Starting tomorrow whenever a family member goes out to the barn and works horses, show pigs or sheep, they must strip down and shower putting fresh clothes on before coming in contact with Ms. Jacy. Why? Because spores, organisms and germs can enter our beloved family member through her lungs, causing her GvHD to expand sending her on a one way trip back to the hospital! Our dogs must be bathed constantly as to not cross contaminate or carry any spores into her area. Jacy must be protected from the sun at all times, continue with a regimented treatment of 23 medications 3 times a day, two breathing treatments a day and oxygen therapy at night while she sleeps as her saturation levels drop during this period due to GvHD of the lungs. She is still dealing with GvHD in her intestines as well so her diet is being watched as food doesn’t seem to stay with her, leaving her unable to gain any weight. She is also dealing with GvHD of the eyes which leaves her vision incredibly blurry one day with moderate vision the next. Later next week she will have her eyelashes permanently removed hoping to limit damage being done to her corneas. This along with her tear ducts being plugged will hopefully promote more inner moisture and further the healing process. It also means we need to limit the amount of dust and dirt her eyes come in contact with and keep on a regimented medicated eye drop treatment. Oh by the way speaking of dust and dirt, if you have been to my house/ranch then you know we are BIG on recycling products for re-use! Guess what? All the reclaimed concrete that constitutes 3-4 inches of depth on all our drivable areas? (Driveway, pathways, barn circle) well she can’t be exposed to it. The doctors are worried about all those nasty little bugs and germs crawling around in the dust associated with concrete breaking down. Yeah it’s going to be a scary tough go, but those are just some of the things we must consider to keep her healthy.

Ok enough of the scary stuff, now the good stuff.

None of us can wait until she is here! Just the thought of walking onto the property after all this time is more than I can comprehend. Today my wife will finally sit with her family, eat her own food, and laugh as she tries to wear her old clothes (she currently weighs 110). She can sit in her own living room able to look out at the ranch and see all her beloved animals spread across our property. Tonight, she will shower in her own bathroom, watch TV in her own bed, sleep next to her husband and wake up the next day wondering if she has won the “I get to be home” lottery.

Just think about it for a moment. Think about what that would mean to you, if you had traveled the very same path. I think about it all the time, night and day. I think about what she must be feeling, where her head is at right now and how can I make a difference. With that being said; since I know my wife occasionally reads my blog I say this.

Jacy

8 months ago you headed out of our driveway knowing you would be home in 3-4 months because you were going to conquer this thing called Leukemia like you have conquered everything in your life. With style, class, a smile on your face and the ferocity of a lion! 5 months ago you stay positive but things really weren’t looking so good. Multiple problems and a case of GvHD the likes very few had seen. You began struggling mentally and physically because the odds were stacked against you and it looked as though options were running thin. Four months ago you weren’t any stronger and terms like Power of Attorney and DNR or Do Not Resuscitate orders are being thrown around with a palpable seriousness no one could fully comprehend. You still fight; Scared and tired, some days wanting to throw in the towel yet you continue enduring pain, nausea, poking and prodding with that same patented smile we all love so. Meanwhile the only sleep you receive is either drug induced or through sheer exhaustion from being woken every hour for meds, a B.P., temperature check, physical therapy, Infectious disease consults or doctors just making their rounds. Three months ago a glimmer of light, your body turns around just enough to give everyone some hope, especially you! Almost two months ago a New Year’s surprise, your doctors have said we think it’s time for you to go. And go you did, with the very same determination and ferocity you strolled into Stanford with 8 months ago. It is one of a million reasons I admire you as a human being, not just as my wife.

I have no doubt this next chapter starting with three days home here and four days home there will be handled the very same way you handle everything. You are an amazing woman with a family that loves you. It will be difficult and very trying on us all, but mostly on you. But it is without a doubt the last step towards your permanent residency back here where you belong and I cannot wait until the day we saddle up head out across the back 40 and either laugh or cry about this dark time in our lives that we survived together. It will be glorious..

I love you

To everyone else, please say a little prayer for my wife tonight as I am sure this afternoon will be emotional beyond our wildest expectations. Once again for those who have supported our family through these last two years without fail, I cannot thank you enough! We still have a very, long road ahead of us and we are still very scared, but there is no doubt in my mind without all of you praying and caring for us the way you have we wouldn’t be where we are today.

God bless you all,

More to come….

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She loves me..

theycallmebetty12 Comments

Today my wife told me she loved me.

Although not sounding a least bit out of the ordinary there is trepidation in her voice for she is scared. Terrified at any moment somewhere within the vast towering marble and hardwood covered hallways of Stanford there awaits a doctor ready to give her some bad news. Something in the neighborhood of her counts being wrong, or she isn’t improving as well as anticipated. Every breath she takes is met with fret as she analyzes her inspiration and expiration for volume and consistency knowing she is but a cough, wheeze or low oxygen saturation number away from possibly being kidnapped back into the BMT wing. She is a prisoner on parole, hanging with old friends praying one of them isn’t holding drugs or carrying a weapon. Anything that could lead to a quick trip back too the pen.

Two nights ago her temperature shot up after a long day of doctors poking and prodding around her already frail body. Slowly it crept up 98.9, 99 then 100. When her temperature reached 100.4 alarm bells were sounded! Of course one cannot reach a temperature of 100.4 at 2 in the afternoon, that would be a simple problem to handle! No scary situations always happen in the middle of the night when no one, even the affected wants to get up and go anywhere! But time means nothing for you see at 100.4 if held consistently for an hour with two matching readings it’s time to call the BMT team immediately! If her temperature reaches 101, we notify the BMT team then load up our car for a one way trip back to the Stanford hotel! So to say my wife is constantly on edge is an understatement. Her nerves are definitely raw.

Every day she wakes up and consciously tries her hardest to put on a brave face! She started 26 months ago by telling Leukemia it wasn’t going to win, it wasn’t going to take her from her children! Now every morning she prays GvHD doesn’t have the last word! She is incredibly strong but with strength comes doubt! Every time she looks in the mirror at herself and sees what GvHD has done to her skin, body and hair she wonders what more could this horrible side effect of transplantation do to her already ravaged body? Each day she gets out of bed alone because I am 80 miles away at home and she wonders what we are doing, is her family ok, are her kids doing well in school, and how on earth am I handling it all by myself. This of course leaves her feeling a bit out of control in regards to her life which in turn leaves her feeling stressed and disconnected. Her whole life is on hold and she fears that it will never be the same, that she will never be the same which desperately leaves her longing for the days before Leukemia ruined everything. This becomes a cumulating effect that slowly tears away at her spirits leaving her often times depressed.

So she tells me she loves me again, not just because she does love me but because she also feels a little insecure about herself. Afraid of what this disease and its after affects can do to a relationship. There are plenty of stories out there, we have heard time and again where the husband/wife has left their spouse high and dry. Marriages of years are dissolved because two people are no longer on the same page. Time, distance and illness erasing years of love, honor and cherish! It is the saddest indication of our throwaway society transcending from disposable tangible objects to human characteristics. I cannot even fathom throwing away our marriage over this bump in the road. When I look in her eyes and see her smile I only see the woman I married many years ago, not the woman she claims to see every morning in the mirror.

Last night as I slept alongside her, humidifying oxygen machine loudly pumping in the background while sounds of her wheezing, gurgling and occasionally gasping for air filled the room. I wondered what she was dreaming about and if she was comfortable enough. I wondered how I could make this transition easier for her, whether there was something I could do or say to make things better, give her the confidence she needs to go another day away from her family, help her to see there is a light at the end of this very long tunnel while also reassuring her none of us are going anywhere. While I lay there worrying about everything, she slowly reaches out, hand searching desperately and when she finds my hip, she takes a deep breath, gives it a pat and is right back asleep with a slight smirk on her face.

I don’t need to do anything. I just need to be there. That is the answer.

I quietly whisper not to worry, I love you too….

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Another page….

theycallmebetty2 Comments

I was asked to write my father’s obituary to which I declined. I have no answer as to why, other than for some strange reason it just didn’t feel right. Mom of course had no problem picking up the pen as it were then hammering out a short synopsis of my father’s life. After all having been married to the man for 55 years I am sure it came fast and easy.

I haven’t been able to open it.

Mom sent me the obituary in an email. Every day while checking my personal and work emails there it sat, unopened, like an unsolvable Rubik’s cube waiting for me to spin it around in hopes of unlocking its color coding on the very first try. There just hasn’t been any desire to try.

I am proud of my mother, she has handled this all with her feet firmly planted on the ground. Never once has she faltered or wavered in my presence over any decisions since her husband’s passing. She gets out almost every day visiting friends and running errands. She has handled the upcoming memorial with very little assistance from myself and is working on a full reorganization of her life. My mother is living up to the old adage; tough Old Italian woman.

We speak on the phone every day and through conversation she has discussed bits and pieces in regards to her final marital note. It is obvious mom has put time and effort into this little piece that will run in the local paper and yet for a week now, even knowing all she has done I just hadn’t been able to open it, to read it, to absorb what it means to her or anyone who knew my father. I just couldn’t do it, I would scroll past it, move it to another folder only to place it back into the main folder still unread, unopened, as if I was a cold and uncaring person. Scared of what it meant to me.

So with exactly 6 days to go until his memorial service and nothing remotely pressing on my gigantic plate of daily activities, my fingers (on their own accord) scrolled over the email and pressed the little W icon releasing information from the cloud into my server for my eyes to fixate upon and probably wonder why it had been hard for me all along.

And so I read it.

Halfway through my eyes glaze over and instantly I’m transported from my desk inside our fire station to a bench at Prestwood elementary where I sit waiting for lunch. I can smell it, feel it, I have chills upon my skin, my friends from years long gone are buzzing around me, laughing, joking, running playing, I am at ease. The fears of being a small child have enveloped my soul, scared of the bigger kids, jokester to my friends, a storyteller just trying to fit in. My little brain wondering if I will ever understand fractions while hearing my teachers telling us with effort we can achieve anything. Of course all this is happening while I daydream the day away. Yep I find myself staring at a white faced clock with black hands, the second hand slowly moving clockwise eliminating minutes from my daily school experience so I can go home and see what car dads driving home today and hopefully talk him into a game of basketball.

Lights passing overhead as the enormity of the freeway made my eyes larger than pie plates. Dad and I are on a trip to a dealership down south, he works for Kastner Pontiac/GMC and we are trading one car for a truck. I have never been to far from Sonoma in my 8 years and traveling through Sacramento onto 99 south was filled with new sights, sounds and my father singing country music on the radio. (Something I do to this day that drives my kids crazy). It was an all-night trip and I felt like a big kid! It is also where my early love for the GMC/Chevy stepside began. We ate out (something we never did) we sang, laughed and had fun. I slept most of the way home, but for that moment in time I was my dad’s friend, there were no girls (sorry mom) we were hanging out and it was an adventure. Just two men and a really cool truck.

Moving through time we are on a field trip, I cannot remember to where, but I am sitting in a bus full of students and parents. My dad is sits beside me smiling. It was one of the best memories for me as dad rarely made any of my school activities. I remember laughing, joking around and can even still feel the air blowing through the bus as a mixture of the suns golden rays and dust flows through the cabin.

Sitting at a bar while a man serves my sister and I 7up with cherries at Napa Valley Horseman’s Association. Dad was president and he would lead the Monday night monthly meetings. I remember thinking maybe that would be me one day. I can still see the lights of Napa off in the distance from this clubhouse on a hill. Soon we would be off to bed in the camper or later dad’s motorhome. It was the closest thing to camping we ever did and it was always fun sneaking out to watch our parents dance the night away after some of the meetings.

Driving dads Ford 8N tractor helping put fence around our property, mixing cement inside the rotating box scraper/drag that I guess I now own as it sits unused alongside my barn. Hearing him tell me exactly how to do it. Just the right amount of water, too much and it will be soup that takes forever to set, too little and it will crack and crumble never becoming a solid footing for these posts. Hearing him telling me just how far to back the tractor up, getting mad at me for almost smashing his hand with the bucket then forgiving me as I set my third post perfectly. I hear his voice, see him sweating and wonder why I can’t go back in time. I am talking to him but he can’t hear me. He only hears the very young boy on the tractor and not the 49 year old man trying his hardest to speak.

We are riding together, headed to test drive my possible first car. A 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. It was blue with chrome everywhere! The 57 was my favorite car next to the Chevy Stepside and as child I had built several models of this exact vehicle. When we arrived dad was the most charming man you had ever seen. He always knew just how to talk to people when it came to business of any type. They chuckled and laughed, went over the car from front to back. We jump started it as it had been sitting for a while and took it for a ride. It was everything I had ever dreamed of from the time I was 9. My dad was in love with the car, or so it seemed from the twinkle in his eye as we talked about it, how nice it was, how well it ran with a snappy little corvette motor wrapped neatly in chrome under the hood. I’m there all over again, I can even smell the interior. Several thank you’s were exchanged and my father left the owners with the old “we need to think about” line. On the way home I asked when we were going back to retrieve this heavenly piece of Detroit iron, to which he turned and with the same twinkle in his eye responded; we aren’t. The sixteen year old and 49 year old are yelling at him all over again. WHY??? That car is too fast for you, it shouldn’t be your first car. I can still hear him saying it. I was angry as hell, but he knew I would get over it. (I never really did) Dad was right though, as I wrecked my first truck sending it to the scrap yard. I had the pleasure of seeing that car while working at Aunt Josie’s restaurant as its owner would eat there once a week. It had an unmistakable license plate; 5SEVEN. That car lives in my dreams to this day.

Over the years there were times of laughter and great disappointment, times where we tested each other and times we just gave in, never acknowledging we had called a truce. As we grew older the equality of our stubbornness created larger walls between us. We talked once a week, grumbled about each other’s choices and would always part with an, I love you. But one thing is for certain, my father’s laughter, happiness and inexplicable ability to talk with people will always resonate deep within my soul. I have learned from him by witnessing both the success and failure in his life.

Reading the obituary today made it all too real for me. Yes I was there with him in his last moments, and was honored due to my position at work to actually be at his side when the ER doctor called time of death. I was able to hold his hand and cry, wishing he would squeeze back just one more time. I fully comprehend he is and always will be gone from this earth.

I just wish I hadn’t been so stubborn for I will never be able to take back all the times we butted heads or couldn’t come to an agreement on an issue, I’ll never be able to hear him tell me he is or was proud of me, never be able to apologize for the grief I gave him as a teenager. And yes I know I need to take it easy, and realize he had probably forgiven me long ago. I know, I have lived through death many, many times and it is what it is. But even after you put all that aside I think the hardest part for me is now that I have read this permanent record of decease, absorbed its significance, traveled back in time over the last several hours while sadly staring at the wall I come to the hardest part of this whole circle of life bullshit.

I no longer have a dad, and the little kid inside this aging man is crying his eyes out, holding a pillow across his face to muffle the tears wanting nothing more than his daddy to come home and play basketball with him one more time.

Just one more shot dad, it’s not dark yet I swear…….

Unknown

 

 

 

Pythagorean Theorem=Boobs????

theycallmebetty4 Comments

Over the years my wife and I have spent countless hours helping our children to succeed through both word and deed.

It takes no shortage of creativity, knowledge, a sense of humor and occasionally some good old-fashioned ass kicking to solidly seat things into our children’s thick know it all skulls.

A week ago a new low had been reached in our household, the bottom if you will. All was going reasonably well, homework becoming finalized before an upcoming work week, and yes I can hear a collaborative parental moan now: why wasn’t the homework done Friday night? No excuses, no answer other than it is just the way we roll here at the BCR (Black Cloud Ranch) if it isn’t last minute well then it wasn’t worth doing!

One of our boys, oh hell why beat around the bush; it was the fourteen year old! Anyways he just doesn’t seem to grasp the importance of Algebra! Seriously Algebra! Algebra is the very basis for all math we will NEVER EVER USE AGAIN IN OUR ENTIRE LIVES!!! It might as well be stinking cursive! Who the bloody hell uses cursive or ever thought cursive was so freaking imperative? Isn’t Cursive like the Beta video of language expression? Oh sure I have seen many hybrid versions, you know a mix of block lettering, plain print and cursive. But really in the end it is as useful as a chocolate tea-pot!

Algebra was the very bane of my existence as a freshman in high school, and it appears to be a genetic learning disorder! Yet Jake has one glaring ace in his pocket for which he refuses to take advantage that I never had at my disposal! His mother teaches math! I know right? Mom teaches math! HELLLLOOOOOOO????? You say you don’t understand math, ask your mother politely for assistance and well, 1+1=uh an easy freaking A! But no, Jake stands before his mother, arms crossed as though he was in the center of a Law and Order episode awaiting his lawyer! This boy, this hard-headed, rodeo driven boy, has been given a free ride for way too long based upon his dimples and charm, yet at home his mother and I see the poop thrower from three years of age. His dimples purchase no currency at the parental store of effort and trust. Mom continues teaching, Jake continues fighting the process. My teeth are grinding and my inner voice hears our beloved dentist God Bless her soul telling me to let it go before irreparable damage is done!

Finally after many witty and not so witty exchanges take place mom has hit the wall, this lad has more excuses for why he cannot learn the Pythagorean Theorem than a desert has sand! Who doesn’t understand the relation of lengths in three sides of any right triangle! Right? RIGHT! Ah Duh!!!! (Ok truth be told I didn’t know what it was either until this fight, but hey enough about my adult ignorance!) Yet a no learning wall is up, affixed, complete with eye rolls, heavy sighs, and the occasional slack-jawed look of stupidity.

This entire process of enlightenment and denial was finally broken when my wife, teacher of equations and mentor with wit, creator of interesting theory and conclusions nonchalantly threw out a reference as to the design of her latest mathematical problem looking a tad bit like boobs! Yes you heard me right BOOBS! Brought forward in that casual oh look what I accidentally drew they resemble BOOBS, kinda way! Every teen boys dream! Men and women alike can agree that BOOBS are pretty freaking cool! Right? Hey I won’t lie, I looked! She said BOOBS for Christ’s sake!!! But instead of a chuckle, juvenile laugh or smirk our sense of humors, no matter how imperfect for the moment (seemingly appropriate I might add) were greeted with teenage loaded snide sarcasm and cynicism!

NICE! Now I am not referencing “NICE” in relation too, eyebrows wiggling, crooked grin, hey there look at that or creepy stalker nice; oh nooooo. This was a thoroughly disgusted, grossed out, want to vomit because my mom referenced a girls private parts “nice”.

What the hell! Its boob’s son, no matter how big or small all girls have them! Even some men! How in the hell can you treat it as though it is a dirty word? BOOOOOOOBBBBBSSSSSSS! See rolls off the tongue! Remember when we had the sex education talk and we made you say PENIS, PENIS, PENIS- VAGINA, VAGINA, VAGINA? You thought that was a freaking riot! Red cheeks and all! So what gives? Wait is this because you think we are automatically referring to you moms boobs? Well heaven forbid your mom, a WOMAN has boobs! Or is it because you cannot stand looking at boobs in front of your mom? Well then we have done something wrong if you are ashamed of the female body and all its glorious shapes, curves and dimensions in front of another woman! What is it? No son of mine is going to ramble on with some form of weird embarrassment over a hand drawn set of circles that look conspicuously enough like a set of boobs! (+)(+)

Then it dawned on us, he saw two circles, we saw two circles, he still remained steadfast in his attempt to thwart any assistance given by his mother, his mother remained steadfast in breaking down that wall. Hence forth two circles that once were nothing more than an equal equation in a math problem became the nucleus for an excuse. By acting as though we had stained his little eyes, burned an unwanted image into his brain, leaving him to die upon the sword of our humor amidst an assumed embarrassment. He believed homework time would be over, a byproduct of our apologies for such inappropriate behavior on our parts. Crying at the table, head in our hands, relished to failure as parents for our poor lack of judgment, he could leave the table thusly going about his evening bypassing another painful night of math while feeling as though he finally got the upper hand!

Hmmmm in retrospect, quick thinking young grasshopper! I am impressed at how fast you grabbed ahold of an opportunity to exploit a situation hoping for instant benefit and gratification… In many instances this quick thinking may have brought forward a prosperous outcome. This would not be one of them!

BOOBS, BOOBS, BOOBS (+)(+) Do you see them???? BOOBS, BOOBS, BOOBS!!!!!

Now do your damn homework!

 

 

Every minute of every second of every day…….

theycallmebetty5 Comments

 

I have not written in a while and for that I apologize. Today while thinking about my children, watching the news and looking into the eyes of some of our youth. This came to me. I don’t know what it means, but once I started typing I could not stop.

Every minute of every second of every day, we grow older. Life moves before us at an astonishing rate, faster than our minds are able to fully comprehend. In reality we stand frozen facing the hourglass of life, witnessing what appears as agonizing seconds, thunderous ticking of a tock, movement that seems to stand still as life revolves at a pace that is not to our liking and yet we breathe.

Breathing an absurdity that is our arrogance. For as we breathe we continue to expire and yet no reality of decay meets comprehension. It is within our egotistic nature to face the hands of time and laugh. Laugh through our young mouths as we expire, laugh with our condescending young minds as we inhale, laugh and laugh some more, for we fear not what may lay ahead when youth is our only guide. We fear not what lies ahead when youth is our only means, we fear not what lies ahead for we have never known otherwise.

Every minute of every second of every day we are older, we are wiser, and once age has gripped us tightly we slowly become irrelevant. The youth of this world hears not what we say, they hear not what we have to offer, and they fear not the repercussion of blind foolishness. Though we have learned through experience, though we know from pain, though we still struggle with suffering, we have mentally surrendered to the tick tock, we stand brave faced into the hands of time ignoring what we could never have known and yet we are to be considered by youthful brigades as obsolete.

Breathing in we struggle with ignorance of youth along with an hypocrisy that is born of our own. For through inspiration knowledge falls away, sloughing from the skin of an aged arm, what little remains unused, thrown to the wind by the deafness of youth. Exhalation of life reveals that our future is of our own making; its remnants left from advice unheard throughout our journey of youth. Elders ignored, a blind eye turned to the very history we were scorned for not abiding.

The world, our future, our children’s future can never be realized until the hand of youth joins with the strength of age. Youthful creativity meeting elderly knowledge, young love and passion mixed with aged temperance, wide-eyed exuberance with sometimes narrow but skilled guidance. One melded with another, not two separate living beings fighting for space and time to no real conclusion.

Every minute of every second of every day we grow older, and unless we understand a world will always turn, a day will turn to-night and then to-day again and soon what came from nothing will return to nothing. There will never be a unified progression.

We all leave this world with only what we chose to share.

I choose to share love, wisdom, peace and tolerance for all. Some days are harder than others, the fight for tolerance on all levels is tough, but I have been guided by many great people who imparted wisdom that remains heard though they are gone. Hopefully my children or the youth, will understand, listen and realize that one day they too will be older, they must share, understand and guide others.

For every minute of every second of every day will soon be over.

What else do I have to leave behind, what else do we all have to leave behind but love?

 

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2015- I cant wait to meet you.

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AND NOW A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE…

On January 1, 2014 I wrote this piece, posting it on the 2nd. My 2015 post is at the bottom of the page..

The Face of Leukemia 2014

Posted on January 2, 2014 by

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2014 Day 1……..

364 days to live.

364 days to wake up every morning, count our blessing and live. 364 days to write a new and exciting story! You see my dearies pontificating New Years resolutions involving the standard fare of weight loss, higher education, finding love, spending more time with our children, adding onto the house, finding a better job, saving more money, vacationing more, visiting family and friends and so on and so on is just not my style this year. But watching my wife live is.

364 days, until I can count 365 more days of life lived, 365 days written into the history books of our family. Cancer has this funny way of cheating you from a reality lived by so many others, changing the way your life story is told.  Cancer also has a way of sticking in your craw like an annoying persons laugh or an itch you just cant scratch.  It’s there, no one else can see it, no one else can feel it, only those who have it, or love someone burdened by it understand, yet the rest of the world just goes on with its business of worrying about resolutions for which a majority will sadly never achieve.

A new year a new fear.

We are winning this battle! Jacys superwoman body has done incredibly well! The last bone marrow draw showed no signs of Leukemia swimming in her blood, lurking in the darkness like an evil monster. Consolidation therapy starts on Monday and she will begrudgingly return to the hospital for 5 days of chemotherapy.  Her strength is back, she is feisty as ever, feeding horses in the morning and an occasional walk in the afternoon! (rumor has it she was spotted jogging on a levee, but its only a rumor) The next round of therapy will knock her down again and from what we understand recovery gets harder each time she finishes a session. She will come home weaker and a little sicker. Chemotherapy is not for the light-hearted, these patients (my wife included) are my heroes as I have witnessed the strain it places on the human body.  Yet Super Jacy has never deterred from her mission. Kicking cancers ass one cell at a time!

A fear still remains though. What if it (Leukemia) comes back? What if her white blood cell count doesn’t recover? What if she catches a common cold during these periods, (something that could kill her) what if?????? These are fears we will live with for the rest of our lives.  Every cough that arises, every sniffly nose, every fever, every-time she feels run down, for the rest of her life she will need to go have blood drawn and see the doctor. 3 more times to go, 3 more week-long sessions, three more weeks of hell.  In the end, a small price to pay to live. Jacy promised me she loved me enough to beat this, she is keeping her word.

Day 1…. Today began our 2014 journey and Jacy spent it the only way she knew how.

It was a day filled with visiting friends, making her children laugh, planning a birthday party for her son and wondering whether or not to shave the small patches of hair fighting against the laws of chemistry. Little strands hanging on for dear life, trying their very best to make my wife look like a chia pet. Biggest decision of the day? Shave the head or let those little hairs grow only to meet an untimely death in 4 days.

With the beginning of a new year I wonder about the thousands of other spouses, significant others, and children all living and loving someone close to them with Leukemia. I worry about the ones who struggle to support their loved ones without the means of expression such as writing brings to me.  Do they lay in bed at night afraid of the darkness, wondering how long, why them, all while scooting a little closer to the one they love just to feel their body heat. Are they ok, do they know its ok to feel the way they feel, can they find peace? I am sure they do and I am just rambling, but its in my nature to worry about everyone and everything.

So welcome 2014! I welcome you with open arms (and Betty’s arms are plenty big enough) for the hug of a lifetime! 2014 we hope you are filled with many misadventures, happiness and love! But most of all 2014, we pray you don’t leave us reeling like your bastard predecessor 2013 did! But if you do, not to worry, the story you tell will be interesting none the less…

364 days… The story begins right now…

images-18And what a story the year 2014 became.

2014 was indeed a year of highs and lows and yes I embraced it all with open arms.

Leukemia, sickness, emergency rooms, a torn up knee, a hurt back, a bum shoulder, my horse injured yet again.  An old friend lost while other old friends struggled to understand why?

A senior headed off to college, a Freshman headed to Nationals for rodeo, a daughter no longer scared of horses and trying her hardest to train them herself. A littlest son, discovering his love for art, painting, drawing, and creating.

Hundreds of new friends, family members united, a wife who Kicked Cancers Ass and cheated death!

2014 was indeed a challenge; it has left myself feeling many years older than my earthly age. I am tired, worn, raw, broken and quite frankly even though there were scattered good times, very glad to see it go!.  This year found me working hard at remaining mentally strong throughout the first half while floundering physically during the second half. It was indeed a struggle to keep a positive attitude at times, but thankfully I had an entire village of people supporting me, something I will never forget.

Highs and lows, isn’t that what its all about? Highs and lows?  We travel this pathway of life learning, absorbing, growing and hoping one day we understand what it all means. Changing, evolving, sculpting our little piece or niche that we can point to and claim as our own, our destiny, our end game.

I don’t know what’s in store for this year 2015. So many things swimming in my head about life, the future and what it may or may not hold for myself and our family. What direction our lives should take, both personally and professionally. What lays around the corner, hiding in the darkness? Are more demons waiting to rear their ugly heads, further terrify our souls or is this family finally going to see a silver lining surrounding us for some time to come? My fingers remain crossed…

Either way there is one thing I know for sure, I am and always have been a believer in new beginnings; that each day you arise from slumber a fresh day awaits you like a clean chalkboard, an empty etch a sketch, or a blank canvas just waiting for your creation.  No matter the pain felt inside, no matter the physical or mental limitations holding you down, and no matter the baggage carried by others in your name. A new day awaits. But one must remember, with a new day comes a responsibility to create, otherwise it is just that and nothing more. Only your vision achieved through hard work and positive thinking can mold an unforgettable day, a brighter week and eventually with time and practice a spectacular year.

No one can hand you these skills, no one can will you an outcome, steal success for you or force you into making changes you need to succeed. Just you, only you, and only through an ability to let go of the past and look forward to a brighter future.

So even though I am tired, worn, raw and broken, a new year is on the horizon and with it, anticipation for 364 more days of creation…

Betty thanks you for following me in 2014 and wishes you all the very happiest of New Years…. 2015 here we come!

 

Party on man….

theycallmebetty1 Comment

santa

Christmas time is here my darlings; time for good tidings and fellowship! Time to praise God, celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ and reflect upon another year gone by! A reflection that includes ones own growth or demise along with those cherished most. Family and friends.

One problem. After a long year filled with many activities, surrounded by a multitude of generations, families, friends, strangers, covering from here in California to as far East as Iowa. I have been fortunate enough to make new friends, meet, watch and cheer new kids playing new sports and revile as children I’ve known from childhood into adulthood move on with their lives.  Being the ever astute observationist it has come to my attention a certain (middle) age group believes entitlement should be afforded regardless of the fact they are not law-abiding adults.  It is also becoming rather apparent after witnessing such behaviors, looking on FB, Instagram and such this entitlement issue is expanding at a rapid rate, further propagated by the lackadaisical attitudes of the very same law-abiding of age adults that are supposed to be prohibiting such behavior!

What behavior would I be referring? Drinking alcohol, chewing tobacco, smoking cigarettes.

To say I am shocked would be a lie.

Oh yes I hear the groans now for this has been the very same argument passed from one generation to the next. The same question tossed forth year after year. Is this generation really worse than the last? Isn’t this the very issue we dealt with ourselves as young adolescents? Come on, whats a drink  here or a drink there anyways? A dip never hurt anyone and jeez our parents smoked all the time! Not everyone gets cancer right? Seriously, as long as it’s happening in my home under my watch its ok!

Now before I ramble on in some parent/wet blanket/buzz kill tirade lets clear the air.

I had my first drink at 13 and was a pretty proficient drinker by 16. Let that sit for a minute.

There was never a time, I turned down beer, California coolers or wine. If it showed up on friday night, I drank it, partied hard, then drove, where ever and when ever I pleased. I was hell on wheels and there was no stopping me! My parents tired of the fight and I think at one point short of just yelling at me every time they saw me, they gave up. I never came home at curfew, I stayed out way too late, put myself in situations I should never have been in, and I survived.  During the school week it was not uncommon to place a few drops of Everclear in a can of Copenhagen and get royally stoned during class. I snuck (gulp hard here) Black Velvet during the day replacing it with water in hopes no one would know, then hid in my room for hours on end staring at the ceiling wondering why I hated my life.

I was lucky.

My parents DID NOT condone this behavior. My parents tried everything they knew to stop me, but it didn’t work and do you know why? Because there was always somebody elses parents who did condone drinking. Someone else’s Uncle or Aunt who believed the law was stupid and as long as the drinking was held inside their home it was ok. If that didn’t work there were students who looked like adults and could purchase alcohol at 7-11, and there were students who worked at stores where alcohol was available, thus bringing it home for Friday and Saturday night parties on the hill, in a field or out at the sloughs. No Student drinking task forces with underage buyers to bust the stores, no one to stop the wheels of intoxication from turning and a law enforcement group that still believed a ride home or following you to your house with a stern talking too or speech to your parents was sufficient. We were just a bunch of really young kids with no common sense doing things that could (and in some cases did) change our lives forever.

So where am I going with this?

Today life is so much more complicated. Laws are tougher and enforced with vigor. Lawsuits are the norm as opposed to a last option. We as parents have much more to lose and so do our children.

It (temptation) is around us everyday, enveloping our moral compasses; Drink Budweiser and beautiful girls will flock to you. Stay thirsty my friends is touted as gorgeous twenty something’s caress the most interesting geezer in the world. Coors light can only be consumed by sheik sexy men who climb mountains to provide that ice-cold freshness for only you. Copenhagen is for the only the toughest of Cowboys, baseball players and such, and if you want to be the sexiest, coolest, darkest most brooding social misfit then light up! There is a multitude of products for you to burn down those lungs of yours.

Don’t worry though, thanks to the errors of your parents (such as myself) we are also drowning in advice, direction, and choices provided from the likes of MADD-Mothers Against Drunk Driving, TATU Teens Against Tobacco Use, AA-Alcoholics Anonymous etc.. yet despite this barrage of media saturation both in schools and on the street through social media outlets etc. Our kids continue to laugh it off as if nothing will ever happen to them! Do you know why they laugh it off, shrug their shoulders and continue to do as they please? Because we allow it, as parents WE are not unified. We are not setting the standard. WE never learned from our mistakes and are now in some instances relieving those glory years through our children without any thought about the ramifications within our modern-day justice system! ITS NOT 1983 ANYMORE PEOPLE!!!!!

Here is where my problem grows larger.

In the logical sense I am a hypocrite for telling my 14-year-old son not to drink solely based upon my torrid past.(Regardless of the obvious under 21 reality) Recently he was busted partaking in a bottle of beer with a friend. No doubt both of them were covered in AXE body spray, sipping their micro brews just waiting for Victoria’s secret models to fall from the sky on angels wings. I mean seriously they had 2 out of 3 of what advertising agents are gleefully promising the male species on television! So who am I to say he shouldnt do this? Drinking beer with friends; being one who went out of his way to do so at his age it is a conundrum for sure? What is the big deal anyways, its one beer right?

I can see it in his eyes, when his mother and I talk with him about consequences for his actions. The same genetic eye roll, the same blank stare, the very same I dont know what the hell I am talking about tone in his voice! Then just as my blood begins to boil and my teeth cant clench any tighter as I suffer through watching a smaller version of myself reincarnated! I think fine let him head down this path, let him learn the hard way, the same way I learned to become a complete failure! Her you go! Have at it! Your future will now consist of never being able to chase your dreams as a young man because once the party bug bites it’s a hard infection to shake! It’s all you will think about and everything else WILL SUFFER!

But I can’t do it…. I cant let him follow a path leading eventually to the possibility of losing everything he and his parents have worked so hard to achieve. Having been there, walked in those same old alcohol/barf soaked shoes, living through it was an exhausting personal, internal struggle to overcome and the time lost, I can never retrieve.

Like I said I was lucky. Not everyone is so…

Today our children not only risk losing their identities through alcohol/tobacco use, but with social media girls are at the highest risk ever of sexual impropriety. illicit photos taken, shared with god knows who, advances that would be thwarted otherwise, even rape.  The same goes for our young men, temptation is too great for their VERY underdeveloped minds! Hormones raging, social media at their finger tips, throw in peer pressure, some alcohol and a full-fledged conflagration is brewing. We expect them to act like men, their bodies begin to look like little men, they carry themselves in some case like men and yet we forget their minds are still that of a child!

So my worries continue; not just for my child (which is why I am rambling so), but for all our promising young adults. I don’t know how to fix this problem, I don’t know how to get other parents on board, I don’t know the answer when it comes to keeping my child on the straight and narrow. But I do know from what I have seen, a storm is brewing, our children are at risk, and it seems as though we are all living a life as if it (something horrible) will never happen to us, our children, or our families.

I will leave you all with this.

Last night I sat my boy down and told him as calmly and directly as I could.

Son, I know you are going to do stupid things, its genetic! (Insert laugh here) But I want you to know if that idiocy ever leads to you becoming inebriated or climbing into a vehicle with a drunk friend you need to call me. I will come and get you and your friends anywhere, anytime. I never want you to be so afraid of being punished that you make the wrong choice hoping you wont get caught. But let it be known, the very next day you will face your mother and I to answer for what you have done the night before.

He agreed then wondered why it was so important, that I drill this knowledge into his head. In his mind all he could correlate our conversation to was the fact he had drunk ONE lone beer the week before and I was seriously overreacting.

I looked him in the eyes, leaned over the counter and in a dead calm voice asked him. Have you ever been there when a mother is being informed her son was killed in a vehicle accident with a few of his friends and alcohol was suspected?

He looked at me and said; (sullenly) no

I placed my hand on his and told him I had, it hurts really bad. (my throat tightens and hurts as I type this)

Then just as calmly said; please dont ever put that responsibility upon someone else because you made a bad choice. It’s not fair, it never goes away and it can never be taken back.

I am hoping he understands….

Talk to your children about drinking, talk to your children about tobacco use, follow-up on their extra curricular activities, its your job to NOT be their friends, its your job to MAKE them hate you at some point, It’s your job to drive them crazy and when it’s all done hopefully with a little luck they turn into outstanding adults who will always remain your child, but have now earned your friendship.

Then sit back, reflect on another year gone by while enjoying watching the very same traits you instilled in them trickle down to their children, your grandchildren.

norman rockwell santa

 

The man in the mirror, the dad staring back….

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man in the mirror

Every day starts out exactly the same. Rising from my bed, a slow shuffle carries my hurting body into a bathroom where I come face to face with the one person I fight with the most.

Me.

It doesn’t matter whether I am at work or home, this process is exactly the same. Some days I like this person more than others, but for the most part we argue and fight constantly. I don’t know where my inner animosity arises but it is a part of who I am, what I will become and it stands in the way of every decision ever made in my life.

And I wonder.

Am I the only person fighting this inner fight? There is no guide book to a person’s life. Yes there are numerous books one may immerse themselves in to obtain information, but a reality remains that we as human beings spend our entire lives accumulating information making informed or by the gut decisions. Then we log our successes or failures away in that little brain of ours for which we only use a tenth of its actual power only to repeat the process all over again. Some will triumph and some will continue to flounder, drowning in the very mediocrity forced upon ourselves through a lack of conviction and confidence. Many will rise above, hearing the honesty associated with help offered while others will hear only what they want to hear. The wall of pride and stubbornness combined with an ever increasing annoying little voice in a man’s head telling them when they to look in the mirror; they are doing it all wrong!

I am a combination of both.

Pride, unearned, inexperienced, accumulated pride has kept me from growing to a potential that for some strange unexplained reason I know is within my reach. So how do I overcome this mountain placed before me?

There is a yearning deep inside my soul to help people, it has always been there, whether through deeds or a good story which may make them smile. My need to make someone feel better, help them through a crisis, fix a problem and carry their weight has indeed been a blessing and a curse all at once.

Since I was a small child fear ruled my life. The fear of failure, embarrassment or someone calling me out publicly kept me largely in the shadows. As I grew I found storytelling to be a release from the doldrums of my normal life. Real stories, occasionally twisted and spun with colorful exaggeration enticing a listener to pay attention, find something they could relate too or swim within the humor associated. As an adult there was more than storytelling needed as I began to feel a yearning to “walk the walk” instead of merely talking the talk. More action, challenges, more times I was told; you can’t. This of course only drove me to prove not only “I could” but I could do it better and faster sharing my experiences along the way hoping to entice others into taking a chance.

Writing came back into my life (Thank you Pam Adams SVHS creative writing teacher) and awakened something left for dead a long time ago. Words, the English language, a glorious medium to share, read, listen in one’s own voice and learn. Where else but through the written word can one interpret their very own story or piece of advice and come away with a mental picture that belongs solely to them? Definitely not by having it prepared for the recipient by a producer or videographer. That is left for the movie makers who wish us to just sit and absorb. Never questioning what we are witnessing with our eyes, for we are their captives, listening, absorbing exactly what ever feeling, emotion or storyline they the producers wish us to walk away with. Slowly becoming mindless drones.

So here we are today. Before I sat down, I was yearning for a story, any story, I have over ten written and carefully placed in file and yet not a one of them in my opinion are good enough for anyone else’s eyes. Walking into the bathroom to wash my hands before sitting down this afternoon and type, I find myself staring once again at the man in the mirror. A Walter Mitty like expression cast upon my face. But what does this man staring back want from me?

It is a known fact this man doesn’t have all the answers, he stares back with the very same intensity thrown his direction. Brow scrunched down, eyes on fire, wrinkles now taking the place of what was once smooth, chubby skin. He no longer feels any burden to prove anything to anybody but instead wants desperately to help someone, anyone, learn from all his mistakes (and there are plenty). The argument begins! How do I do it, why do I want to share and does anybody really care?

Then like a slap across the face it comes to me; what if there were fathers like myself, men staring in the mirror trying to find an answer, tired of listening to educated prophets explain what their inner most thoughts should be. Exactly how you are supposed to behave, picking roads you are supposed to travel, explaining the experiences and stages of life you are supposed to partake. What if dads or soon to be dads just wanted to hear from someone who has experienced portions of life that in fact may relate to them on a more personal level? Made mistakes and found answers the HARD way and although success is a measurement only you as a person can scale. Maybe just maybe someone might learn something that sounds reasonable. Not contrived or demeaning.

Stories and advice that are important and ring true; not because someone holds a Master’s degree and spent $100,000.00 dollars doing so (something I haven’t nor ever will do). But advice given and received in turn from someone simple, someone struggling, someone who believes the best knowledge gleaned comes from a hands on approach, a set of listening ears and a kind heart.

Someone who stares into the distance and wonders why?

That is what drives me to write, what I personally want to share, and that is why I started this blog, started chronicling the journey my family has taken through my eyes.

Please share your experiences on my blog, please share so others may share too. My wish is one day this blog has so many dads, moms, parents talking and expressing themselves over every decision, choice, rant, story involving our lives, our children that we can all laugh, cry and share our time as one, as a virtual family, then maybe there will be a few less men staring in the mirror, looking at the deep lines in their faces and the grey hair upon their heads wondering if they have done it all right.

The man in the mirror will be someone they really want to see…

man in the mirror two

 

#dads, #stayathomedads,#sharinglife

I may be a parental failure.

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images

 

Today my dears, a realization hit with the ferocity of a hammer.

I am a horrible father….

Since becoming a father on July 11, 1996 nothing has been more important for myself personally than becoming an extremely successful father (yes I am competitive). No books, no mentor following me around pointing out the do’s, don’ts, and why’s along with sharp poignant strategy to overcome even the smallest of situations. Nope just me and the wife figuring things out as we go.

Along this journey there has been incredible highs, overwhelming lows and obstacles thrown my way that far exceed anything one could ever have imagined in the parenting realm. Work, friends, my personal time and space all cast aside sometimes begrudgingly, but cast aside none the less because my eye has always been on the prize. That prize of course, becoming a great father with absolutely wonderful well-rounded children who outside the home are polite, practical, hardworking, giving, with empathy for their fellow-man, a strong social conscience, a definite awareness of right and wrong and a complete understanding that all actions bear consequences both good and bad. I don’t think it is too much to ask as a parent for your child to meet this glaringly obvious criteria before entering our revolving wacky, social populous. It is after all my job to help them become successful in life. As one half of this parenting equation and after time spent giving up on my own selfish wants and dreams it is with great sadness that I must report. I am indeed a horrible failure of a father.

A Horrible father you say; why how can this be true? I mean we all see the Instagram perfect Brady Bunch family pictures you post almost daily on Facebook! Is that all a lie?? Well my darlings its like this; after dealing with the emotional distress of graduating one child from high school while walking another warily through the very same gates. Struggling to understand the wants and needs of my, not quite but almost teenage daughter who balls her fists up whenever things don’t go her way like DeNiro in Raging Bull. Then standing slump shouldered and befuddled while my 9-year-old refers in the third person repeatedly to his “being” in the afterlife to avoid putting down the iPad and read an assigned book for the evening that I realized something is amiss. The whining, the complaining, the hatred or mean looks cast our way whenever we investigate, disseminate, initiate, propagate and communicate, well, it all just seems wrong. My parenting is missing something, I must not be reaching out to the children in a way they understand. Are my ways to old and antiquated, am I expecting too much? After doing further investigation I have determined the answer to be yes! I have gone about parenting all wrong, way, way wrong. Thanks to the internet, the Disney Channel, Snap-chat, Instagram, askfm, and Yik Yak I feel the needs of all children everywhere and it has nothing to do with my plan of attack or game plan as it were. No sir I was not only WAY off base I wasn’t even in the same ball park!

So from this point on it is with great trepidation that I must announce a new game plan, a winning formula for parental success! It has taken hours of deciphering the aforementioned comments, concerns and wickedly smart one liners thrown at us parents by our own children, both in person and on the internet. But seriously I think I got it down and failure is not an option!!!! So here goes..

From this point on I Betty declare here and now to my children that I will no longer:

  • Tell you what time to go to bed or care if you even “make” that bed.
  • Remind you to do your homework
  • Let you know you need a shower
  • Expect you to care about your grades
  • Expect you to study and achieve good grades
  • Expect there to be good grades when I check the schools web-site
  • Expect the teacher to give me a glowing review when I ask about your grades
  • Aw hell, even expect you to go to school
  • Limit your time on the x-box, Nintendo, or Playstation to the weekend only after your chores and homework are completed.
  • Have any chores for you to do at all. I apologize for the burden of work we placed on you.
  • Expect you to clean up your room
  • Lift the toilet seat before you pee
  • Put the toilet seat down after you pee
  • Clean up the god damn pee!!!
  • Flush the toilet
  • Brush your teeth
  • Do your own laundry
  • Fold your own laundry
  • Put away your own laundry
  • Even give a shit about what freaking clothes you are wearing!
  • Make you wash your hair again (of course this is if you are still showering)
  • Ask you to pick up after yourself
  • Feed your animals
  • Clean up after your animals
  • Hell even care at all about YOUR animals, set them free!
  • Care if you talk back/smart mouth your mother. It is open season from here on out!
  • Ask to see YOUR phone, even though we pay the bill I fully understand possession is 9/10ths the law. I am sorry for invading your privacy.
  • Look through your phones apps-once again apologies for the privacy invasion. My bad…
  • Punish you and take away your phone for inappropriate texts, pictures, and comments left on your phone by not only you but your friends as well. (That’s right you little bastards I know who you are and I have seen body parts that I cannot erase from my brain)
  • Set limits on your use or interpretation of the English language. No more G rating expected and all forms of slang are now allowed! Got it playa! I know sick huh! Word…
  • Monitor the television shows you watch.
  • Make you go to church
  • Ask you to help elderly people, such as grandma and grandpa. They are just gonna die anyways right?
  • Expect you to do the dishes after dinner
  • Expect you to help with dinner
  • Expect you to eat dinner. Your mother and I are hiring a professional eater for you.
  • Care whether you spend the entire day inside lying around or outside, lying around.

That was just a few examples but as you can see young children, fruit of my loins, this world is all yours for the taking! No more stupid old parents and their even stupider rules to bog you down! Dope huh?

This new winning strategy is sure to be a hit! I will no longer hang my head in shame as that of a failure! No more confrontation, no more irritation, no more aggravation, it is all yours, all three of you left in our house and you will chant the sonnet that is my name from the mountains high and it will ring sound from the hills below! It will be glorious, magnanimous, there will be parenting books written about me for decades to come as others soon follow my lead!

Things shall be written like, visionary, mind bending genius, a parenting guru! I shall grace the cover of People magazine and the View will book me ASAP!

Yes a new brighter future awaits!

Let the children live I say! Let them be free to express themselves anyway they see fit, do whatever they want to do and experience life in a way only our youth can admire! Imagine! Imagine the adults they will grow to become, the leaders, the thinkers, the pillars within their communities all because WE took the time to release them from the parental chains that bound them from true expression!!!! Yes….Yes… YESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!

Wait…….. Maybe I am not failure after all……

kid

 

Being Thankful-One year and seven days later

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Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. I browsed briefly through many blogs this afternoon all touting the importance of being thankful and although I hate jumping on any blog bandwagon (Ferguson), I find that this evening in particular thankfulness shall abound and with good reason.

One year and seven days ago I stood in an arena, working a cute grey mare, getting her in shape to practice hard during the off-season. At 11:40 am my phone rang and through trembling voice my wife informed me she needed to head towards Vallejo Kaiser immediately or she might die.

Think about that for a moment.

A seemingly perfect day, slightly overcast and a little chilly brought to a screeching halt, turned upside down because of one single phone call and the words “I might die”. I have been dealt this card before so my recollection powers are incredibly strong and as I type the smell of cold wet sand and winter eucalyptus trees fill my senses. A moment captured forever deep within my brain.

One year and seven days ago our world changed forever. Although we try, it’s like the ghost in the closet, the elephant in the room, the fat lady who hasn’t sung yet. It is just there.

One year and seven days ago, I didn’t know if there was going to be a forever for her and me. I cried, hard, then did what I always do; Sat down, absorbed all the information, shut my mouth for a while, and developed a plan.

One year and seven days ago my friends, people I have known and cared about knocked on my door, called me, walked into my home and said nothing more than: how can we help? I have never been good at accepting help, I am a helper by nature not a recipient, but all that changed and they assured me with love that I had no say in the matter.

One year and seven days ago my children sat dumbfounded, confused, and unable to comprehend exactly what was going on. Words like chemotherapy, drugs, cancer, Leukemia, blood cells, and sick all became a staple of conversation in their worlds. They never quite knew how to take it all, the thought that their mother might die, but they did in their own ways. It changed them a little, I am not sure what the lasting effect will be, only time will tell.

One year and seven days ago a six month odyssey began with month-long stays in the hospital, missing most of our high schoolers senior year, juggling a family with the help of friends, multiple midnight runs to the emergency room, nights alone wondering if she was going to die, nights in bed with her wondering if she was going to die. Days knowing she would be alright only to be slapped in the face with another trip to the hospital. Days of triumph and love, nights of cursing our life and the strain it was bringing to our family and to her. Nights of praising God for the reprieves, and slowly understanding things were going to get better.

One year ago today we had Thanksgiving in our house. The meal was completely prepared by friends, family and strangers. It was amazing that so many people cared about us, our family and our children to the extent of ensuring we had a thanksgiving meal. We Facetimed with Jacy that night and before desert could be dished I was back on the road, heading to Kaiser to sit with my wife, thankful to be able to do so thanks to a rapid diagnosis by an extraordinary young doctor and a myriad of family and friends watching my children.

Tonight, my wife lies next to me asleep from a long day of travel and family. She is not perfect, she may never be the same as she was before, although it won’t be for a lack of trying. Her emotions are still raw from 6 months of chemo-hell, her brain struggles with the after effects of chemotherapy at times which leaves her frustrated and her body is always doing strange things. We don’t know how long chemo-brain will last, we don’t know how long her body will continue to hold her down when it comes to strenuous activities and we don’t know if the leukemia will come back in one year, five years or never. But put all that aside and what you’re left with is one mother of four who can hug and kiss her children and to date is cancer free.

For that, on this Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful….