raising kids – Page 2 – They call me Betty

My little angel might be no angel at all…

October 30, 2014October 31, 2014 theycallmebetty4 Comments

What you are about to read is an opinion; it is not a solution, it is based upon expressed emotions pondered for a specific amount of time. We (as a society) are allowed opinions afforded us through the first amendment to the United States Constitution. Although we are afforded these rights, I will never abuse that privilege. I have and always will take very seriously what ever opinion is put forth by my ever spinning brain.

I purchased a laptop, and promised stories would continue, I wrote a few relatively funny snippets about parenthood but just could not bring myself to post them. Why? Life got in the way, and my sense of humor has been affected.

Over the past couple of weeks since posting my last story a multitude of events have transpired both locally and nationally leaving me wondering what the hell?

A warning comes down from the federal government stating that ISIS is now looking at soft targets. That is right; no longer are we safe in our homes as operatives are now individually targeting military personnel, (first and foremost) police officers, politicians and firefighters. We now have terrorism at its very core. When you become afraid to post with pride what you do for a living through social media, walk out your front door, and fear for your family’s safety. Our country has a serious problem. Note I said “fear” because that is the root of terrorism. It may never happen, it probably will never happen, but the fear is always there, always present. For this I have no comment other than to shake my head in sadness for our country.
School shooting in Washington. We have all read or watched the reports. Teenage boy gets together with his closest friends during lunch like he does everyday then pulls a gun from his backpack and proceeds to shoot them in the back, in the middle of the cafeteria, with all to see.
Teenager walks towards a high school, back pack containing a handgun and several rounds of ammunition. A friend of said teenager feels comments he made the previous day are of concern, notifies school administrators that this teenager had in fact made credible threats in regards to coming to school and shooting several individuals, including a teacher that very day. (this is all para-phrased) Long story short-cops look for teenager, teenager finds them first unloading several rounds into unsuspecting patrol car, barely missing the police officer inside. Short chase ensues, face off happens, teenager ends up with a superficial wound after being shot (public knowledge) by police.
A young girl decides she has had enough. After some discussion with her mother she disappears from home, the police are called and a missing persons report is filed. What no one knows or could have known was this girl proceeded to walk towards the train tracks and step boldly in front of a 70mph Amtrak train. I say boldly because it takes a certain amount of resolve/inner pain to willingly step in front of a moving train. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. It was my shift, my guys responded to the incident, and all though it is not the first time nor will it be the last time for our crew dealing with such a morbid scene along the railway. It has forever changed the face of suicide for each and every one of us. Her reasoning for taking her life stemmed from bullying.

These four things all happened with in the last few weeks. I have screamed at the television, written a few things in regards, decided the tone was all wrong and deleted the subject matter. I as have all of you, have sat patiently while political pundits cast stones in all directions away from any responsibility their own party may bear. I am frustrated, confused, disgruntled and angry! As a parent it makes no sense to me why we can’t create solutions! Instead we all sit by as the news media (who cares not one bit about finding an answer through non bias reporting, but instead thrives on ratings and if there are none then the story disappears forever) gnaws on the raw meat that is our emotions. My emotions are raw as well. I have pondered and pondered, written and as I stated before, erased. My blog has always been about my life, the life of my family, the fun and exasperating moments along the way. I never want anything on my page to become a political debate as it takes away from the fun. Unfortunately this is still about my family as I have been affected personally by each of these 4 stories. Number #1 is self-explanatory. The shooting in Washington, #2, only in relation to #3 as my crew responded to this incident, and the “what if’s” rolled fast and furious afterwards. What if he made it to the school? What if-it turned into a mass shooting are we prepared? What if- my son was one of the victims could I have continued to do my job? Number #4 was also my crew and opened my eyes to what is out there, pulling my head from the sand and re-evaluating my own personal responsibility when it comes to our children. Remember these are only my opinions, and although many may disagree I am open to any conversation that is held respectfully on these topics.

More gun laws- More gun laws are not the answer. I would like to say they are but they are not. The answer: allow our police officers to do their jobs, then hold the courts accountable for not upholding the strictest of sentences when these laws currently in place are broken!!! We don’t ever hold our court system accountable! It amazes me that a drug offense is stricter than a gun violation. Our country screams for justice, why are we not starting with the justice system! We knee jerk react instead of planning for the future in turn we allow another idiot politician to revel underneath his own fodder, founding a bill in their
name so he/she can pat him/herself on the back a little more. Here is another idea, how about a revision of all laws currently on the books in regards to guns? I bet there are many that are redundant or have no bearing what so ever in this supposed civilized society! Listen people a sign at school that says this is a no gun zone doesn’t mean shit to an angry person hell-bent on vengeance. And if it’s not a gun, then maybe its a crossbow, or a knife or what ever that angry person is using in the commission of a crime. Hell a weapon is not a description used solely for guns as the news media would have you believe! A weapon is any object used in the commission of a heinous act. I get it, put up the sign which creates another charge added to the suspect, but that leads us back to my original complaint! Our justice system. Now before you get angry with me, I am neither pro-nor anti gun. I am for reasonable people making reasonable decisions when it comes to our future as a society. Something I feel we have lost.
Bullying- Ok so we have all been bullied at one time or another in our lives. If you have read any of my stories than you know in high school I was a bit mouthy (yes that means I bullied a time or two as well). Got myself into trouble and at times ran scared (being bullied in return). The ability to handle those situations and learn from them is what made me the person I am today, it developed my character. We as parents cannot protect our children from everything and at some point they (our kids) need to learn to stand up for themselves, hopefully with our help and guidance. Although that all sounds good and fine, it is not happening, the problem lies with our current way of living, our social structure, the need for rapid gratification! What is the problem, the root cause you ask? Social media and a severe lack of respect! Not just for others, but for ourselves! Our children are not equipped for what lays in wait for them on the internet, like a wolf hiding in grandmas dress waiting for little red riding hood to come through the door, so does the internet. We have provided our children with too much! To much freedom, too much trust, to many electronic gadgets with windows to a world we just can’t keep shut from prying eyes! Television shows that exemplify treating your best girlfriends like shit, talking behind their backs, having sex as a social status in school! Teenage girls portrayed as sluts, hookers, meat for young boys to have anyway they wish and whenever they want! And if you don’t give it up, you are anonymously trashed on every social media site available! FB, Yik Yak, KIK, Snap-chat all there to post how she was a slut, what degrading acts you performed on her (or really didn’t but by lying about it you keep your rep), why she should sleep with your friends-oh hello snap-chat! Here is a picture of her naked everyone, I took it with my cell phone camera! I promised I wouldn’t show any one, but I lied! Also On the Snap-Chat front, girls willingly sending pictures of their boobs to boys! What the hell! It’s no wonder bullying is such a problem! Dont believe me? I will use Yik-Yak as an example. I downloaded the app, set my geographical area to the center of my town, within one hour I knew where to go for drugs, who was looking to score, what girls were hoes (yes I even knew a few of them) whose ass was so hot it needed to be (one boys own words) POUNDED! I now know the description of several shapes of a penis’, the detailed description of both what its like having inter-racial sex and sex between boys, what group everyone wants to kill at school, who the hottest teacher is everyone wants to sleep with, and so one. And I really mean SO ON!!! Oh and let me add I only chronicled the boys here, the girls are just as descriptive, mouthy and vile. As a parent I have never been so disgusted by what I read in a very short period of time. Did we talk this way as teenagers 35 years ago? Hell yes we did, not to the extreme I am reading here, but yup! It happened. The difference is it was between us, our small group, done in person and if you crossed the line it was handled then and there, either with apologies afterwards or some smoothing over that took a few weeks. Today they are all hidden behind a veil of secrecy, they can say what they want without retribution, it gives them power! It creates monsters that have no repercussion for their actions. The ones with no conscience, or parental guidance will only grow bigger and stronger until someone decides they have had enough, choosing to step in front of a train as their only option, as opposed to seeking help, receiving that help and living.

Unlike the gun control debate where I only provide a suggestion; I think I have a solution to help us begin to conquer our social media related troubles.

We can start by eliminating cell phones from campus. I am sorry your little angel is at school and you need to get ahold of them right now, but guess what? THEY ARE AT SCHOOL!!!! We didn’t have cell phones at school in my day and our parents got along just fine without us! If little Johnny needs a message from you then go through the office! Its called the chain of command. Something we use to a T in the fire service. If you don’t allow your school to guide and control the motions and activities of your child while they are on campus then you are circumventing the system and empowering your child. You are telling your child they are more important than the lesson being provided which in turn takes away from the respect due towards the instructor inside the classroom. Eliminate phones and you eliminate distractions, kids texting kids, taking pictures, surfing the internet. Dont tell me your little one would never do that, because I guarantee if given the chance they will. If we can’t take them away (cell phones) maybe just as a few of these social apps restrict their use while near a school campus, we jam all cell signals within the same specified area, neutralizing the temptation. Just a thought.
Mandatory bullying class- a class taught by adults, sharing their experiences being bullied. Bullying doesn’t just happen to children, it also happens to adults, if we are to become this great civilized society, an example to all around the world then why aren’t we educating ourselves in regards to the destructive nature of bullying. Why are we not recognizing the life long damage it can create? Why are we not empowering the weak, celebrating the strong and bringing them all closer together. Our society currently crushes the weak, watch any teenage show on Disney and prove me wrong. We are teaching our children to cast them aside instead of standing up, protecting them, and showing compassion. Our children, parents and siblings should be supportive, creating change, providing a better society that thrives on pushing forward mankind, people’s rights and ability to thrive. It sounds nice I know, I also know we can’t save everyone, but education has and always will be the key.

So there it is, its off my chest. Like me or hate me, agree or disagree. I felt it had to be said. I am tired of fearing for our world and what we as adult are allowing to happen. I am just as guilty as the next person. My children are just like yours and given the same opportunities will follow the very same paths without proper guidance from their mother and me. In the end, it comes down to this, we are trying our hardest to raise respectful, well-rounded children who understands the needs of others. It’s a hard enough job parenting with both of us working multiple jobs and running from one kids sporting event to the next, but it is what we signed up for and we all need a little help now and again. I also never want to see another young child take their life, or see a kid who is so frustrated they feel killing someone or there fellow students is the answer. Because it never is.

Betty is sad………

It is your time….

August 10, 2014August 11, 2014 theycallmebetty2 Comments

Fear resides as the devils left hand while hope lies within the depths of the right.

As a young man I would lay in bed wondering what would become of my life. Not just the normal glossary topics such as marriage, children etc.. But what would BECOME of my presence here on earth, both in the present and long after I am gone. There has always been a yearning to become more, a feeling as though there is more for me to accomplish, left gazing to the heavens wondering what more could be out there and hoping that one day all would reveal itself to me. You see fear has always kept me from being exceptional at anything and hope has continued to keep those dreams alive through wild daydreaming and at times pointless planning. But in the end my inability to control my fears have left me with nothing more than hope and for that an empty feeling deep within my soul remains.

As we enter the final days until Cody leaves for college, it has occurred to me this conversation has never taken place between the two of us. Is he prepared to strike out on his own? Does he have a true vision of what his life will become, where he is headed, and if he has a plan? Or does he even need one?

Do his daydreams have meaning, has anyone ever told him they are part of the fabric for which his inspiration will evolve. When we are young we should be encouraged to follow those dreams to strike out on our own, throw caution to the wind, find out who we are by testing the very mettle molded by our parents and the experiences held up to this point.

As a child I was constantly warned that daydreaming was a complete waste of time. But it was where I went, or could go to be whatever I wanted to be at any moment. As a child I was also terrified to daydream out of fear of punishment, chastised for the very waste of time others felt my mental trips to be. As an adult I believe daydreaming, contemplation, to meditate is the mystical treasure map of our lives. Where do we want to be? What do we want to become? It’s all right there, trapped within our magnificent, organic, computers (the brain). Stare into the distance; let your mind take over and what do you see? Are you on a beach in Tahiti or piloting an aircraft? Can you feel the warmth between your toes as you stroll across a cobblestone path or are you closing big deals in the heart of New York’s financial district? Can you hear the applause of a packed theatre as your performance brings down the house or the cold sting of a winter’s night as you walk carefully up the side of a car you just pulled over for speeding, no back up, alone? Does a fire engine race by as you gaze into the unknown whilst its sirens leave you with chills, or do you feel empathy and an inner strength as though you could perform that very job? Can you smell the dirt roads of an impoverished country and see yourself guiding those in need or walking across an unknown landscape with no destination in sight until you unknowingly stumble across a new challenge, or fortune.

Do you see yourself doing GREAT THINGS!

There is an old adage that our parents told us as youngsters; when you grow up you live in a country that will allow you to be whatever you choose to be. Personally I prefer: There is nothing you can’t do once you put your mind to it. But my personal favorite is: if you can dream it, you can be it.

So to my son, his friends, every boy and girl heading out into the world I say; this is your time! This is when you take a moderate amount of responsibility and huge dose of dreams and find out who you are, what you are, how much you really like yourself, then squish it all together and become whatever you want to be too this world! Yes! It won’t be perfect! Yes it will be messy at times and involve meeting new people, understanding those you have nothing in common with and occasionally like a sculpture in the works need a little molding from time to time. Yes you will leave behind people you care about as well as those you don’t, but have learned something from just the same. Yes! It will take work, hard work, so hard at times you will feel like quitting but you won’t because you have a dream. Leave a legacy, a mark, have a moment in time that will forever be yours and remember to never, ever quit daydreaming.

To every adult out there who reads my blog. I have never stopped daydreaming, but I have allowed my inability to control fear keep me from accomplishing my dreams. Hopefully life, burdened with all its responsibilities has not left you stunted in the same fashion, unable to dream big, achieve those dreams then close your eyes and smile wide; for now that you have done your job as a parent; it is “your time” as well.

Dream big, open your eyes and see what happens when you push fear aside….

What if??

July 7, 2014July 7, 2014 theycallmebetty4 Comments

What if?

As of late I have written about many aspects of our family, between watching my oldest graduate, the 13-year-old head off to compete in Junior High National Finals Rodeo, my two little ones finding their way around horses, softball and the thrill of competing associated with both, and of course my wife’s almost year-long battle with Leukemia. There has been plenty to lament over.

As most of you know I am an advocate for youth and horsemanship. So many of our youth are missing out on the joys associated with horses and the many disciplines that accompany these amazing animals. I feel as though we have the perfect life, its hard and gritty, exhausting and at time debilitating, but it is perfect. Our children and our animals being the key or center of this perfect life. But being that as it may often times we sit around the back yard with friends, a couple of beers and play the “what if” game. Usually revolving around “what if” you had a million dollars? Or “What if” you won the lottery? How would that change you and would it create the perfect life?

For me the answer is always the same. While others conjure up majestic fantasies of philanthropy, travel, education, expensive colleges for their children and houses beyond what anyone really needs, all I center on revolves around children and horses. (Ok maybe a new cutting horse for me, and a new kitchen for the house, but hey it’s my fantasy right?)

My dream centers on taking what hard work, luck and Gods guidance has provided our family, then building upon it. An entire facility to help kids learn how to rope, cut, run barrels, chute dog, bull-dog, tie down rope, goat tie, etc.. A place where our local kids could come and practice, enjoy their horses, while also enjoying the camaraderie that comes with practicing surrounded by like-minded individuals, friends. A place for kids to go have fun while learning every aspect of rodeo long after I am gone from this earth.

I can hear you now. Cant you already do that? What on earth would all that money be for? A fully functioning covered roping arena with cattle, ground improvements for year round work, a larger safer all-weather barn, every training aid available for the kids, a covered hot walker and simply put ( I know its selfish) a larger horse trailer and a truck without 200,000 miles on it.

Hey it is my dream.

The funny part about this whole crazy dream of mine, is 10 years ago if you had asked me if I’d ever step foot on a horse again, I would have told you no…..

As I have become older and through the eyes of my own children I have learned of my own short comings, the opportunities I gave up simply by quitting. Whether it was a fight with my parents, the hard work associated or my longing to be anything but what I was; trying to hide from my reality.

I grew up on a horse ranch. We moved from a very small place in Napa when I was 5 to a nice spread in Sonoma. My parents had a very large barn, hot walker, paddocks, of course horses and a fully functioning roping arena. I vaguely remember trainers and the occasional times when as a small child I would sit atop the cattle chutes. My parents belonged to Napa Valley Horseman’s Association so once a month we attended dinner meetings and once or twice a month we loaded up and headed out for horse shows. For me as a small child it was fun, horses were around, trainers and their kids and sometimes we would wait until no one was looking to hitch rides aboard the Hot Walker by clipping our belt loops to the lead lines then hanging on for fun! (This always got us in really huge trouble)

But as I grew older my opinions changed. It has taken me until just recently to understand why? We never had much money so my parents fought a lot about finances and the horses. As young children this was particularly scary. My father’s booming voice was always frightening but never more so than directed at my mother. I wasn’t a particularly popular kid, early on my social skills were indeed lacking and wearing boots, buckles and western shirts to school didn’t help much either. But as I said money wasn’t falling from the sky so we wore what we wore and even though I was teased at times I did like my boots.

By the time I hit junior high, 4-H consumed my life, and raising sheep to show at the fair was fun. Thank God for the whole Urban Cowboy thing, cause I was able to wear my cowboy hat with pride. I still dabbled with riding now and again, but gave it up as I felt there was no way I was ever going to get it right. My mother’s standards were high and I was always looking for the easy way out. This of course caused friction. I still remember everything she taught me to this day, including basic horsemanship principles. Always accused of never listening or being too lazy finally took a toll upon my spirit as I began believing this to be true of myself as a whole.

My parents had a stud-horse. He was dappled and dark, tall and elegant looking, he was a race horse and had won on the track; he was also a complete asshole. We were always warned to stay away from this horse although secretly I always wanted to kick his ass. Even at a young age I can remember daydreaming about being big and strong enough to walk in grab this horse, throw everything I had ever been taught about horsemanship out the window and just plain old-fashioned choke this bastard out! I would stand near his paddock, alongside the shavings pile and stare at him. He would charge the fence, rear up and slam his hooves on the ground, kick, ram gates, and bellow at the top of his lungs. If he ever got out we would have to hide in a stall or the house out of fear. He pushed my mom around and loathed my father as dad wouldn’t put up with any of his shit! The sad thing is no amount of training changed this horse’s disposition! Being at the barn meant constantly looking over your shoulder out of fear as he would charge the stall door, slipping out of the darkness to take a bite of your head or shoulder as you walked by. In the end, between my own frustrations, my mother’s stern way of teaching or my finding it easier to just quit, any desire or strength I had towards wanting to be around horses finally came crashing down the morning I watched this four-legged piece of crap grab my dad by the chest, pick him up shaking him like a rag doll thusly sending my father to the hospital. It was then and there I put to rest any aspirations of ever becoming a horseman.

Through Jr. high and high school I worked hard at surrounding myself with people who didn’t have anything to do with horse shows, rodeo and the such. I still dabbled back and forth occasionally, we had a local rodeo for a few years and I always spent the weekend working in the back with my friends, pushing calves and steers, telling a good yarn about how I could do those events if I wanted too, but in the end it was nothing more than a lie, my overwhelming fear of failure or being around any four-legged creature just pushed me further away. I was lucky enough that my friends who did ride never truly gave up on me. Oh I wasn’t a part of their groups anymore, but friendships remained, I was tolerated and some friendships remain casually to this day. In truth, looking back I envied them, all of them, but hid in my own shadow for so very long.

I fought for years against who I really was, but every job I ever held, new friendships acquired led to rodeos and occasionally trying new things all leading me back to ranch life. Looking back now so many years later it was obvious what I wanted, what I needed in my life, I was just too stubborn to accept the reality of it. And as in most cases it took an equally stubborn woman (my wife) to snap me out of that funk some years later, opening my eyes to the possibilities and what I had to offer not only myself but our children. In the end I feel as though I missed out on the very best years of my life! Training, competing, loving, these wonderful creatures and all they bring to my spirit. Sadly I feel now as though time is running out. The moment in life when I should have been running hard at achieving all that I missed was spent with blinders on using the excuse I was too busy working hard supporting myself then eventually supporting my family; it will always leave me wondering “what if”.

Fast forward to today-to my dream.

My wife and I have worked very hard to develop a place where kids (and their parents), my kids and their friends can come, ride their horses safely, without ridicule or demoralization, instilling solid guidance starting with the most basic of horsemanship skills; the very same principles my mother instilled within me. Where riders can excel; not by just jumping on their horses and running a barrel pattern as fast as physically possible, but by becoming one with this animal that allows them to climb upon their backs. So many children I see today have mom and dad purchase them the fastest, greatest horse; no questions asked and then never take the time to learn about their animal. What it can do, what it can’t do, why it even wants to do anything at all for you? These horses are smart and willing; they need guidance, reassurance, praise and most of all love, understanding and patience.

I purchased my first cutting horse when she was two and half. She was ornery, feisty, with a huge engine and a strong will. She was also agile, cowy and loved to work. I was told as a new cutter this wasn’t the horse I should buy. A fully trained, finished horse was the horse for me. But like so many times in my life, I used my gut to make a decision and it was the very best decision I could have made. I had something to prove to myself after all those years of running from who I was, and this was the opportunity to put all those doubts to rest. Her name was Cassie and we didn’t exactly get along from the start, but using what I knew and what a very good friend (Wes) was patient enough to teach me along the way we slowly became one. Cassie tried my patience and left me eating dirt a few times. (Which in our barn will cost you a case of beer.) We would scrap, things would go south and I would always go back and spend the evening figuring out what I did wrong first; then slowly methodically work on it until we got it right. We went from black eyes and bleeding knuckles (a term, we weren’t really punching and kicking each other), bent feelings and frustration to inseparable team mates.

Today when I come home from work she (Cassie) whinny’s at me, when I leave for work she whinny’s, when I load up the trailer without her, she pushes against the stall door, and if I work another horse before her she mean mugs me and paws the ground every time I pass by her stall. It took 3 years of steady everyday work for this horse to become good at what she does, but all that aside the very best part of all of this is when I walk her out to the middle of the arena, gently tighten her cinch one last time, climb aboard and feel her sigh a happy sigh of relief as we warm up for whatever today’s lesson is going to be. When I go in to feed her, change her blanket or just pet her, she leans into me and sighs, dropping her head, letting me know it’s ok as I gently pet her letting her know how much I appreciate her.

Everyone hopefully has something to bring them that much joy after such hard work.

So there it is, my dream and I how I got there. I want that feeling for every child who loves horses, who loves rodeo, who loves and is willing to put in the hard work it takes to achieve, succeed. I want to provide that opportunity for so many, so one day when they are middle-aged they don’t push back from a desk, step out of their truck, punch out from their job and ask themselves; What if?

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….

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

A Man of Constant Sorrow

February 28, 2014March 1, 2014 theycallmebetty5 Comments

I am sorry I havent written in a few weeks…

Life events have a way of giving or changing perspective, enlightening or suppressing emotions, giving one pause or setting one free. This last week has been a complete disaster for me personally, leaving me overwhelmed, under the weather, lethargic, sad, and generally abandoned of feeling. Leukemia brings with it storied highs and tremendous lows, leaving its target families trying their best to muddle along somewhere in the middle.

The Saturday before last I toddled off to work as a very happy Ms. Jacy was home safe and sound, with children and a host of good friends checking in on her throughout the day. By noon a leukemia sized storm was brewing as she slowly began spiking a fever while feeling a tad ill. Refusing to admit something wasnt quite right (the hard-headed Cuban in her) she scoffed at my inquires and thwarted my meddling from afar. Finally after several rebuffed suggestions this woman of mine caved into peer pressure brought forth from one equally stubborn, very close family friend. Against her own better judgement she climbed into said friends car and headed for the hospital.

Not a minute to soon

Upon arriving in the ER, blood was drawn, counts determined to be low and her fever began spiking at 102 degrees. Jacy also began feeling a heightened pain around her Powerport insertion site in combination with redness and some swelling. She called to give me an update, and as I worried about her well-being Jacy promptly cut me short, telling me to stay at work, all would be fine as our friend was staying with her. What she didn’t know, what we couldn’t know was this was the beginning of a 6 day hospital stay that would bring more pain, tears, depression, anger, nausea, and hatred. All emotions geared towards a level of care, a lack of information and a medication induced headache that would rival even the most severe pain ever experienced in her life.

Ms. Jacy had developed an infection within her port, most dangerous considering it is a direct line to her heart. This brought an uneasy rest, fear and for a moment a feeling as though this just can’t go on any longer. Her days were filled with delirium, nausea and a much-needed (at times) drug induced sleep.

In a 6 day period I laid awake almost every night, worrying about her. Whether the infection was worse, whether or not the nurses (not chemo nurses mind you) had the right medications at the right time, are they administering blood transfusions at the right rates and have they given her the appropriate pre-meds prior to delivering the product. What are her plasma counts and if they are being taken into consideration why are her platelet counts so low? Yep every question I could think of running through my brain at all hours of the day and night. Throw in taking care of the children, making sure they weren’t scared or worried about mommy being in the hospital again, ensuring the littlest one Parker understands whats happening since it seems every time he goes to school and mommy promises she will be home when he returns, she is not. Throw in household chores and our ranch (including one escaped horse at 3 in the morning), it was indeed a long sleepless week.

Now as I have said before, I wasnt alone. My barn people came through as always, allowing me the freedom to only do a limited amount of chores, and the flexibility to leave at the drop of a hat. Close family friends were always on other end of the line, asking, pleading for anything they could do to help. And last but not least the constant array of giving people who have helped with dinner for our family. I am incredibly thankful for you all..

But my brain, that dirty little Dura-matter, neurological, master piece floating inside this thick head. If only I could shut it off for more than an hour, it would be grand. If only I could turn off the constant questioning, turn down the vast medical knowledge that spins so freely inside. Tricking me, scaring me, giving me panic attacks in the middle of the night! If only..

To sleep an entire night without nightmares, or wake up sweaty and cold reaching, feeling, to find no one there only to remember she is housed on floor two, room 213, alone, crying, sleeping, covering her head with ice and wondering why this is happening to her. Wanting to hold her, make it all go away, pretend it’s never happened. Is that too much to ask?

I am usually very positive, bringing the uplifting thoughts and prayers, trying my best to understand the meaning in any moment or given time. But lately it is getting harder and harder. Watching her cry, feeling her sorrow, asking herself; why me? Feeling utterly helpless. I am a fixer, it is in my nature. If there is a problem I fix it, I don’t wish to sit around and ponder a problem, cry over the problem, I just want to fix it! I can’t fix this! I can’t take it away! I can’t make her feel better about herself! I can’t help her to understand how beautiful she is, both inside and out! Cancer is chipping away at her confidence. Her kiss is still the same, her smile is still the same, her eyes still light up my heart! Cancer can’t possibly take those truths away! But it is trying very hard mentally.

So I can’t fix it, a hard pill to swallow, and with that, my sorrow continues.

I was raised to believe a good husband protects his wife, shields her from ugly, sadness and pain. That as her partner it is my job to carry this load. My responsibility to take her hand and lead her through this journey, minimizing the painful effects, bearing that burden. But what you don’t know, what you don’t understand until you are lying in bed with a million medical “what if’s” running through your head is Cancer don’t give a fuck how you were raised. Cancer doesn’t care what your ethics are, or the belief system by which they are supported. Cancer only cares about cancer, tearing down its host from the inside out, one cell at a time. Cancer teases its victim and family with good days then pummels them with bad. In the end, you lay there, ice on your head, missing your loved ones, crying because you are alone, listening to machines beep and click, while nurses poke you, prod at you, and take your vitals every 15 minutes, yet you remain trapped in a room you cannot leave. Oh you want to leave, the door is right there, but that I.V. octopus has its tentacles forced deep down within your veins, keeping you from moving any farther than the restroom. Humiliated in an open back robe, red sock slippers and mesh net hospital underwear. In the end cancer not only feels like its killing you, but as though its killing your spouse as well.

I know, its tearing me apart on the inside. Many days there is a smile upon my face, but deep down, I am not there, my sorrow holds strong as I think about my wife either in the hospital or at home, dizzy, forgetting things, some days struggling just to walk down the stairs. Cancer is a rat bastard and I hate it! I hate what it represents, I hate the chemotherapy (yes I blame Cancer but in reality it is really the chemotherapy) killing my wife slowly from the inside out, I hate that it is quietly wreaking havoc on our children, reaching out with its bony finger of gloom, forever changing our lives.

I hate feeling like a man of constant sorrow.

DaRk PlAcEs and InSpIrAtIoN

February 18, 2014February 18, 2014 theycallmebetty1 Comment

Darkness creeps upon you from nowhere some days; driving your car, sun shining upon your face, smiling at a favorite song on the radio then darkness comes, slowly creeping, covering your inner warmth, wiping a dumbstruck smile from your face.

Everyday since November 20 2013, the darkness has tried; everyday since that Wednesday morning as I cried, phone by my side, head hung low, horse under my arm wondering what was wrong, darkness has crept slowly across my cranial void. You can shake your head, scream out loud hoping to make it go away, but that’s the game it plays. Feeding off uncertainty, doubt, pity, and weakness of spirit.

Darkness is like mold, damaging, covering, smothering every living breathing moment of happiness that could only flourish under the warmth of love and certainty.

Everyday darkness has tried to take hold, and everyday I have repelled its advances. Darkness knows the roads I have traveled and it lays in wait for my weaknesses to surface. But what darkness doesn’t know is those weaknesses, those damaged feelings from a life lived hard are what keeps me from giving in to its cold, ugly shadow.

Darkness cannot have me, I will not let it ruin who I am, what I stand for, the ethics I live by or emotions worn brightly upon my sleeve. For you see what darkness wants is compliance and I have never been one to comply without a fight.

So everyday darkness has tried and everyday I have searched for inspiration.

Inspiration: Stimulation of the mind or emotions to a high level of feeling or activity.

Inspiration can be found everywhere, you must only be willing to look. I see inspiration in a flock of birds struggling against the wind, a bee trying its hardest to fly even though its legs ar burdened by twice its body weight in pollen. I see inspiration in an elderly couple holding hands while slowly, carefully weighing every step as they move across a concrete landscape. Inspiration is all around, from a toddler learning to walk, to a quadriplegic basking under a mid days sun, smiling, eyes closed, at peace with the world during that very moment in time.

When life weighs heavy upon me, and darkness resides, it only takes a moment to chase it away. Closing my eyes, remembering the day I married my wife, our relationship forged together from unimaginable circumstances and a belief system that has only grown, expounded upon over the years. Seeing her smile when all seems lost, her eyes twinkling at the sight of me riding up to her on my horse, or meeting her at the bottom of the stairs for a much-needed date. Watching her beam with pride as another rescue dog is placed into a loving home or witnessing one of her children accomplish a goal that previously seemed unattainable.

Inspiration comes in all forms and it has become a quest for me. For as Cancer continues taking its toll, as cancer tries its hardest to smother the light, cool a souls warmth and darken the twinkle in her eye, some days it becomes harder for me to locate, quantify.

Watching, waiting, fighting, struggling, feeling as though you are in a pool with no sides, weighed down by cancers baggage, a nostril just barely above the waterline. Choking, gasping for air, pondering what would happen if you gave into the fight and let the waters depths have you. I think about how many spouses just like me are trapped, endlessly fighting the darkness and all it represents. From destroying our souls to allowing our brains to ponder an end we are fighting against. Where does their inspiration come from? How many are grappling with an inner evil, unable to recognize even the smallest tidbit of inspiration reigniting their souls?

My wife has inspired me everyday for almost 12 years to be a better man, to become a kinder human being, and to ignite passion in others.

So the darkness will never win! For what once was bright and easy shall brighten our house again! I will always retain a positive outlook on this chapter in our lives and hopefully show our children how to handle family struggles with strength, kindness, and the ability to stay positive by finding inspiration in all that surrounds them.

In the end we will walk out of the hospital hand in hand having traveled this road together, inspired by the other without a hint of dreaded darkness in sight.

Nurse Betty….

February 11, 2014 theycallmebetty2 Comments

20 things Nurse Betty will probably never hear from a Chemotherapy patient.

Does this hospital gown make me look fat?
Man I could eat a horse!
Honey could you stop by the store to purchase me some conditioner?
Now that was an awesome workout!!
Zofran is for pussies!
MMMMMMM-M hospital food again! Hell yeah!!!
This hospital bed is great! I slept all night, like a rock!
Go outside? Hell no I got all I need right here!
Man I look great naked!
I don’t like fresh fruit and vegetables anyways!
Another line to put in nurse, the more the merrier!
Whew! Cytarabine is such a rush!!!! Yah!
I cannot wait for another bone marrow draw!
Vomit-its what’s for dinner, and dessert and breakfast, and oh well you get the point..
Will you please, take the needle out of my Power port and put it BACK in again? Please!
I think you forgot to take my vitals.
Can I please pee in the top hat at home! Please?
I have no idea what my latest blood counts are?
When I get outta here I’m going to Disneyland!!!!
Man oh man I love that I haven’t pooped in three days!

If you have gone through, are going through or are in the midst of Chemotherapy then you know exactly what each and every one of those statements mean to you, personally.

My whole life I have always tried to find the humor in everything. I have too, it is my coping mechanism. I am the guy who can go a really, really long time being yelled at, put down, struggling under an emotional burden and laughter always gets me through, allowing me the opportunity to push my feelings down! Farther and farther, deeper and deeper, because hey, they are my feelings after all and expressing them is just a waste of time right?

So with laughter, nervous, caddy, giggling, straining laughter these feelings of helplessness and grief, struggle and heartache, get pushed farther and farther into a never-ending emotional caldron! hee, nervous hee, ha twitchy ha…..

Don’t worry, once its full down there, and it heats up a bit I’ll let it all out! I promise, scouts honor! I mean all it takes is a certain word or situation and them Whammy! My emotional toil will spill forth like Vesuvius blowing its lid, burning, maiming, damning all around me into an eternity of fear.

Scared you didn’t I?

Seriously, we are very blessed for this sense of humor we have retained throughout this whole event. I am calling it an event because in the grand scheme of things that is all this is-an event. We will look back upon it someday and laugh, probably cry a whole bunch too, but I am sticking with laughter!

My wandering point with all this drivel. (besides hopefully making you smile a bit) Wake up everyday and be thankful. Your troubles are not so big. Money comes and money goes, jobs are a source of income, not a source of heartache and pain. Your children should bring joy to your life, no matter how troublesome they may become. Love them, hold them and try to understand what they may be going through, then show them the right way to deal with life’s little inconsistencies. Tell people you love, how you feel, tell people who inspire you, bring meaning to your life just what an important role they play in your personal growth and sanity. Everyday is a gift for you to open, unwrap, be thankful for this gift and enjoy. Remember it is never to late.

Even when Jacy and I don’t see eye to eye, even when my selfishness helps me to relocate a foot into my mouth. I love her. She is mine and I am hers. No amount of stress related to this family centered catastrophe will change that! Is it fair? No. Do I accept it? Yes. I hate this disease for what it has done to her, not me, but her. No person deserves to go through what she is enduring.

When she lies beside me (hospital or home) I don’t see Jacy the chemotherapy patient, I see Jacy, my wife, my partner, my love. When she places her head onto my shoulder and closes her eyes, there is no cancer, there is no gloom and doom, there is only us, our relationship, the warmth radiating from within our friendship, there is peace. All the reasons we married are pushed to the surface for us to embrace, hold in front of our faces, relishing, reminding us there is no mountain we cannot climb, no obstacle we cannot conquer, together. Staring at the ceiling, gently stroking the soft baldness that is her scalp, I am at ease, she is at ease and she sleeps. It’s not much, but its mine, all mine, our little moments together.

It is love….

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.

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