It seems that everyone wants to be in or a part of something that is larger than the person themselves. As we grow and I have seen this with my two young daughters, there is a need to be in the club. If you watch children on a playground, they will over time develop their own individual social groups. And of course, the toughest question at recess is “do you want to be in my club?”
As we grow older, high school and later college associations vie for our membership to join various educational clubs or sororities. As we grow even older, professional associations and trade groups bind us together with people who have similar interests in careers and what we hope to be life long connections and friendships.
If we choose to get married, again social circles and friends form parts of our personal time, then the addition of children, family and even pets continues to define who we are.
All the above are fun happy things that as we grow older, allow us to reflect on what a good life we have truly lived. But what happens if we are drawn to others because of illness or disability. Certainly one can say that it was not by choice. Maybe questioning why? Did I deserve this cross to carry in life? And unless you personally walk the very steps as a patient or family member, can you only truly understand the weight of that cross in the group of those suffering from Cancer.
Today was mid point for the five weeks radiation treatment for mom depending on how you calculated it. As usual, the Tollway was slow, so we got there right on time. Mom and I talked about a variety of things, but she was somewhat stuck on the image and sorrow of children who suffered from Cancer and how all children deserve to be healthy and happy doing what children were born to do. But then mom is like that. She worries about everyone. The troops, family, cop, firefighters, the homeless, the shut in, the sick. My goodness her prayer list must be volumes long.
Mom’s treatments lasted a bit longer today, leaving me to hang out in the waiting room a little longer than usual. We were a little late getting back and one of my guys called to be sure everything was OK. A gruff soul, but when the chips are down he is a softie.
While sitting in the waiting area, different people reacted to me differently than others. A handshakes by one, a glance by another. Some smiled, some said hi, some just walked by. Then a nicely dressed lady walked by with a young boy who had a smile from one ear to the other. That Magic Johnson boyish smile! As he walked by, his eyes were as big as saucers. His baseball cap pushed to the left, slightly up on one side. But what struck me was the smile this young man had. As he walked by, I said, “how are you”, which he replied “FINE” matter of factly. He then took his seat with his mom a few chairs down the row.
About ten minutes after arriving, he got up and moved over to me where I was sitting, sort of leaning to the left in the chair. He asked, “So what’s it like being a police officer” he questioned. “Great” I told him. “Although I never thought I would be one when I was your age.” His mom, seeing were had struck up a conversation said he always wanted to be a police officer when he grows up. Wow, I was impressed! A young man his age knowing what he wanted to be in life. And so began our conversation on what it is like to be a police officer. And all the while, that beautiful, beautiful smile. The smile that says “I’m on top of the world look at me!”
Our talk lasted about twenty minutes until mom came out. Which gave me plenty of time to tell this young man all the secrets of law enforcement work. That what you see on television is not what most police officers do. He knew that was phony all along. And when we got to the part of what helping others meant to the job, he said “I like that.” Just as we were finishing up, mom came out explaining her delay was due to a consult and some additional X-rays. “We’re moving right along,” she said.
She noticed my friend and mom asked if we were talking. I said “yep”, “this is David and he wants to be a police officer”. David got up and still wearing that smile and extended his hand to say hello to mom. We kidded for a few seconds when I stuck my head next to moms and said “see this is my mom, noticed the similar good looks?”
David laughed. That smile getting bigger than ever. Mom introduced herself to David’s mother and asked if he was sick. His mother simply nodded slightly holding back a few tears. Then mom reached out, and said “can I give you a hug?” David still smiling reached out with both hands and grabbed big momma like she was his own, not letting go. And they held each other for a few moments. Next, she told his mother she needed a hug too and his mother released a few tears that she was holding inside. David’s mom said today was his first day, and next week he was scheduled to be in the hospital.
We talked briefly, and I told David to hurry up and become that police officer so he could carry on for me. I said we need nice guys like you to carry on for us older guys. David, still smiling simply nodded and we bumped knuckles to say goodbye for now.
David, age 15 had been welcomed into the group with love from a stranger, with no bigger a heart ever known. And mom and I slowly walked out to the truck hand in hand thinking about our new friend David and how he blessed our life today. David went to the top of her prayer list today. I cannot think of a better person to have in my corner.
Give your children an extra hung tonight for David’s sake. And add him to your prayer list too!
Andy
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Responsibility
As Willie Nelson would say, we’re “on the road again” to Med Cities!
I had heard rumors that mom would be dressed in black and white today. They were not rumors. She looked just like that round cookie we ate as kids that had the half-white icing and half-chocolate icing kind of meeting in the middle. Then to top it all off, she had that fuzzy white hat that looked something like a Drakes Snowball cake. O.K, so I have food on my mind as I write this.
Also in tow, was her bastone. A major mental hurdle, but perhaps a temporary aid as her knees is bothering her a bit. Mom’s side of the family has the long bloodlines and let’s not forget the good looks, but the knees, faggetaboutit! So now she has a pointing stick and we have to remember not to lip off to her, as her “attack range” for a smack in the head is now extended by about three feet.
The treatment room was running a little behind schedule, which I like sometimes. Keeping the treatments on your timetable and having it wait for when you’re ready. HA! One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi (you get the idea).
Couldn’t talk mom into coffee today or lunch, but we again had some pretty good conversation. She shared a story when she first moved down here to Texas, and started to work with L.I.S.D in the kitchen. Yes Adam Sandler, momma Ida was a lunchroom Lady! Not that she needed to work, just something to get her out of the house and as it would turn out, following the first set of her grandchildren Michael and Joseph through their elementary grades. She even served my wife Rachel lunches when she was at Camey. Which is another story for another time.
Now mom always had a great heart. Still does! If you approached her and said Ida, can I borrow a dollar, she’d give you two. Even if she didn’t have it. And when she worked in the kitchen, what hurt her heart the most were children who didn’t have their lunch money. Now the school cannot let kids go hungry, so they had the Column B lunch. PBJ and water. Broke mom’s heart to see some of the kids eating the free lunch when everyone else was eating pizza or burgers or spaghetti. Back then the lunches she said were $1.05. (Tells ya how long ago it was). So she’d tell the kids that forgot their money,” let me see how responsible you are”. And she’d give the child a dollar and five cents to get a regular lunch. But there was a catch! They had to promise that they would pay her back the next day. They said they would, and in all the years she worked in the various kitchens they all always did. Not once did she not get her money back from one of the children. For they all showed wonderful responsibility.
I don’t share this conversation to make my mom out to be a Mother Theresa. Remember that she hits in the head with a wooden spoon. But what it reminds me is that there are times we need to trust and show responsibility to others when everything in life says “this one is gonna hurt”. A kitchen life lesson if you will. And sometimes, with a little luck and prayer, it works out for the best. Who’s to say that maybe someone out there reading this now didn’t pass through one of those momma Ida lunch lines. Each day in life we all come across those people who maybe we may not take a second notice of. I’ve come to realize through my career of 28 years in public safety that sometimes you need to show compassion and grace to people. And at times, it is difficult to do. But it is a lesson I learned from mom. And what does my heart good is when our paths cross months or years later and they remember me for the good I did for them. How wonderful this world would be, if we all just helped each other through this lunch line we call life.
Here’s to the moms and lunch ladies everywhere!
A special shout out to all my friends at the “cement pond.” Keep strong!
Andy
I had heard rumors that mom would be dressed in black and white today. They were not rumors. She looked just like that round cookie we ate as kids that had the half-white icing and half-chocolate icing kind of meeting in the middle. Then to top it all off, she had that fuzzy white hat that looked something like a Drakes Snowball cake. O.K, so I have food on my mind as I write this.
Also in tow, was her bastone. A major mental hurdle, but perhaps a temporary aid as her knees is bothering her a bit. Mom’s side of the family has the long bloodlines and let’s not forget the good looks, but the knees, faggetaboutit! So now she has a pointing stick and we have to remember not to lip off to her, as her “attack range” for a smack in the head is now extended by about three feet.
The treatment room was running a little behind schedule, which I like sometimes. Keeping the treatments on your timetable and having it wait for when you’re ready. HA! One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi (you get the idea).
Couldn’t talk mom into coffee today or lunch, but we again had some pretty good conversation. She shared a story when she first moved down here to Texas, and started to work with L.I.S.D in the kitchen. Yes Adam Sandler, momma Ida was a lunchroom Lady! Not that she needed to work, just something to get her out of the house and as it would turn out, following the first set of her grandchildren Michael and Joseph through their elementary grades. She even served my wife Rachel lunches when she was at Camey. Which is another story for another time.
Now mom always had a great heart. Still does! If you approached her and said Ida, can I borrow a dollar, she’d give you two. Even if she didn’t have it. And when she worked in the kitchen, what hurt her heart the most were children who didn’t have their lunch money. Now the school cannot let kids go hungry, so they had the Column B lunch. PBJ and water. Broke mom’s heart to see some of the kids eating the free lunch when everyone else was eating pizza or burgers or spaghetti. Back then the lunches she said were $1.05. (Tells ya how long ago it was). So she’d tell the kids that forgot their money,” let me see how responsible you are”. And she’d give the child a dollar and five cents to get a regular lunch. But there was a catch! They had to promise that they would pay her back the next day. They said they would, and in all the years she worked in the various kitchens they all always did. Not once did she not get her money back from one of the children. For they all showed wonderful responsibility.
I don’t share this conversation to make my mom out to be a Mother Theresa. Remember that she hits in the head with a wooden spoon. But what it reminds me is that there are times we need to trust and show responsibility to others when everything in life says “this one is gonna hurt”. A kitchen life lesson if you will. And sometimes, with a little luck and prayer, it works out for the best. Who’s to say that maybe someone out there reading this now didn’t pass through one of those momma Ida lunch lines. Each day in life we all come across those people who maybe we may not take a second notice of. I’ve come to realize through my career of 28 years in public safety that sometimes you need to show compassion and grace to people. And at times, it is difficult to do. But it is a lesson I learned from mom. And what does my heart good is when our paths cross months or years later and they remember me for the good I did for them. How wonderful this world would be, if we all just helped each other through this lunch line we call life.
Here’s to the moms and lunch ladies everywhere!
A special shout out to all my friends at the “cement pond.” Keep strong!
Andy
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
The Abominable Sno Ball
Since the Great Follicle Fallout of 2006, it has now become normal to see my mom wearing hats. Now she will tell you that she is not a hat person, but as I stated a few months ago, I had procured a nice little collection of head coverings before the follicles fled. So each day, I arrive at Casa de Longo with great anticipation as to “the hat of the day.”
When I walked into the house, I found mom sitting in her chair, sporting my favorite hat. It is white and made from “eye-lash” yarn – so named because it is very fine, soft and fluttery. Now, this hat reminds me of a childhood snack food – sno-balls. While I thought they were disgusting for human consumption, they were prefect for squeezing. They were like an early version of the stress ball. So as I secured my little “sno-ball” into the truck for transport to Medical City, I could not help but succumb to the urge to squeeze her head. To which she replied, “What are you doing”? “Checking for freshness” I said as I clicked her safety belt in place. Now, since I was in close proximity, I was expecting a smack on the back of the head. But instead I was greeted with a hearty laugh that signaled she was ready to “get this show” on the road.
On the way to Medical City, one of the topics of discussion was a walking cane. I had mentioned to mom a few months ago that it might be something for her to consider…and left it at that. I knew when and if she needed to get one, she would tell me. And it just so happened, this was the day. Now, the cancer and chemo has definitely taken its toll and there are days that she needs a little extra help because she has one knee that acts up a bit. I explained that I would much rather she get a cane and use it when necessary than to risk falling. Who knows, she may not need it long term but better safe than sorry.
The treatment room was running on schedule today and as I escorted mom into the holding area, I got all squishy watching her walk down he hall with people commenting on her hat and how nice she looked. Her nurse pulled me aside and said even they look forward to seeing “the hat” of the day. I told her it’s amazing how I can gage how mom feels simply based on what she is wearing and if she has on make-up – it’s a girl thing! ;)
While we were talking, my mom’s nurse was helpful in providing me the name and location of a medical supply store that offered a wide assortment of walking canes. So armed with that information, I sat in the waiting room waiting for mom to emerge.
I soon spotted my Abominable Sno Ball from the corner of my eye and as I helped her put on her coat, I told her that I had done a little cane recon and if she were feeling up to it, we could take a few models out for a test spin.
Not that I have been to many medical supply stores, but for some reason I had this mental picture in my head of stainless steel accessories in a giant warehouse…that would not have made mom happy. But we were both pleasantly surprised. This was actually a historic building that housed a pharmacy, gift shop and medical accessories under one roof.
As mom took a few models around the block, the salesman asked why she was considering a cane. I gave him the condensed version of the past five months and said that I would prefer she have something that she can lean on (if needed) and it needed to be soft for her hands because she has a touch of arthritis. As mom circled the block, she added that it had to be stylish – how could I forget that!
So as the salesman pulled a few models that fit the bill, mom uttered that at least she made it to eighty before she had to get a cane. This statement caused the salesman to look at me with an all too familiar look. “Yes, she is indeed eighty and ever night I pray that it is genetic.” The salesman smiled and told mom that he was guessing more along the lines of sixty-ish. Well you can imagine how that was received!
We walked out of the store arm in arm with her new lightweight titanium, powder coated black cane …and it was tough getting her back into the vehicle. She was all swelled up like a giant peacock – Big Hambone! :)
Mission accomplished and on the way home, I looked over at mom. She was sitting there with her cane upright, hand propped on top. She looked like the Godfather, or in this case, Godmother! And as we are driving down the Tollway, headed home, she reaches over and grabs my hand. She squeezes real tight (she’s gotten freakishly strong since chemo) and says “Thank you for always being so patient with me.”
I explained to mom that earlier in the week, I had heard a sermon from a very dynamic, young minister in Texas named Joel Osteen. His sermon was about loyalty to family. He pointed out that there are times when people you know will be celebrating victories on the mountain top or fighting like hell in the valleys – it is your job, as a loyal person, to get them to the top of that mountain. It is your job to build them up and speak kindly to keep them moving towards that mountain. He further explained that life is like a big circle. There will come a time in everyone’s life when they will be called to do for those who first did for them. I told mom she called and I answered, plain and simple.
Proverbs 17:17 states that a friend loves at all times, but a brother is born for adversity. My mother often tells me that I am her “miracle child” because she had me when she was in her early forties. I don’t know if that’s a true statement or not, but I do know that each and every night I thank the good Lord for allowing me to be a loyal daughter for my mom – it hasn’t always been easy, but then again adversity never really is. But when I started this journey five and a half months ago, we were in that valley, pretty much face down in the dirt and now look at us …halfway to the summit with the ability to look down on that valley and see just how far we have come.
So when you come across someone facing a challenge or any type of uncertainty in their lives, be loyal to them. Don’t be so quick to leave them alone in the valley. After all, the climb to the top of the mountain is never achieved without some type of assistance.
In the words of “momisan” – be kind, be loving …and family is always first.
(mmmmm....tasty.......)
The Godmother!
When I walked into the house, I found mom sitting in her chair, sporting my favorite hat. It is white and made from “eye-lash” yarn – so named because it is very fine, soft and fluttery. Now, this hat reminds me of a childhood snack food – sno-balls. While I thought they were disgusting for human consumption, they were prefect for squeezing. They were like an early version of the stress ball. So as I secured my little “sno-ball” into the truck for transport to Medical City, I could not help but succumb to the urge to squeeze her head. To which she replied, “What are you doing”? “Checking for freshness” I said as I clicked her safety belt in place. Now, since I was in close proximity, I was expecting a smack on the back of the head. But instead I was greeted with a hearty laugh that signaled she was ready to “get this show” on the road.
On the way to Medical City, one of the topics of discussion was a walking cane. I had mentioned to mom a few months ago that it might be something for her to consider…and left it at that. I knew when and if she needed to get one, she would tell me. And it just so happened, this was the day. Now, the cancer and chemo has definitely taken its toll and there are days that she needs a little extra help because she has one knee that acts up a bit. I explained that I would much rather she get a cane and use it when necessary than to risk falling. Who knows, she may not need it long term but better safe than sorry.
The treatment room was running on schedule today and as I escorted mom into the holding area, I got all squishy watching her walk down he hall with people commenting on her hat and how nice she looked. Her nurse pulled me aside and said even they look forward to seeing “the hat” of the day. I told her it’s amazing how I can gage how mom feels simply based on what she is wearing and if she has on make-up – it’s a girl thing! ;)
While we were talking, my mom’s nurse was helpful in providing me the name and location of a medical supply store that offered a wide assortment of walking canes. So armed with that information, I sat in the waiting room waiting for mom to emerge.
I soon spotted my Abominable Sno Ball from the corner of my eye and as I helped her put on her coat, I told her that I had done a little cane recon and if she were feeling up to it, we could take a few models out for a test spin.
Not that I have been to many medical supply stores, but for some reason I had this mental picture in my head of stainless steel accessories in a giant warehouse…that would not have made mom happy. But we were both pleasantly surprised. This was actually a historic building that housed a pharmacy, gift shop and medical accessories under one roof.
As mom took a few models around the block, the salesman asked why she was considering a cane. I gave him the condensed version of the past five months and said that I would prefer she have something that she can lean on (if needed) and it needed to be soft for her hands because she has a touch of arthritis. As mom circled the block, she added that it had to be stylish – how could I forget that!
So as the salesman pulled a few models that fit the bill, mom uttered that at least she made it to eighty before she had to get a cane. This statement caused the salesman to look at me with an all too familiar look. “Yes, she is indeed eighty and ever night I pray that it is genetic.” The salesman smiled and told mom that he was guessing more along the lines of sixty-ish. Well you can imagine how that was received!
We walked out of the store arm in arm with her new lightweight titanium, powder coated black cane …and it was tough getting her back into the vehicle. She was all swelled up like a giant peacock – Big Hambone! :)
Mission accomplished and on the way home, I looked over at mom. She was sitting there with her cane upright, hand propped on top. She looked like the Godfather, or in this case, Godmother! And as we are driving down the Tollway, headed home, she reaches over and grabs my hand. She squeezes real tight (she’s gotten freakishly strong since chemo) and says “Thank you for always being so patient with me.”
I explained to mom that earlier in the week, I had heard a sermon from a very dynamic, young minister in Texas named Joel Osteen. His sermon was about loyalty to family. He pointed out that there are times when people you know will be celebrating victories on the mountain top or fighting like hell in the valleys – it is your job, as a loyal person, to get them to the top of that mountain. It is your job to build them up and speak kindly to keep them moving towards that mountain. He further explained that life is like a big circle. There will come a time in everyone’s life when they will be called to do for those who first did for them. I told mom she called and I answered, plain and simple.
Proverbs 17:17 states that a friend loves at all times, but a brother is born for adversity. My mother often tells me that I am her “miracle child” because she had me when she was in her early forties. I don’t know if that’s a true statement or not, but I do know that each and every night I thank the good Lord for allowing me to be a loyal daughter for my mom – it hasn’t always been easy, but then again adversity never really is. But when I started this journey five and a half months ago, we were in that valley, pretty much face down in the dirt and now look at us …halfway to the summit with the ability to look down on that valley and see just how far we have come.
So when you come across someone facing a challenge or any type of uncertainty in their lives, be loyal to them. Don’t be so quick to leave them alone in the valley. After all, the climb to the top of the mountain is never achieved without some type of assistance.
In the words of “momisan” – be kind, be loving …and family is always first.
(mmmmm....tasty.......)
The Godmother!
Monday, January 22, 2007
The Ballad of Jed Clampett
Blog entry submitted by my radiation wingman, and brother...Andy
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Day eight is under the old belt, after a few weather delays because of ice and snow. Certainly not enough snow by northern standards, but enough to cancel school classes and radiation treatments. I was beginning to think that the weather gods were working against us. Like school though, radiation treatment has makeup days that they add to the end.
On the trip to Med Cities today, mom and I took the family staff car. The Caddy! We made some pretty good time and got her right in. As we pulled up, I thought we had forgotten the blue handicapped rear view window hanger thing-a-ma-jig. Nope, mom had it in her purse right where she put it earlier. A mother’s purse; that bottomless pit of a combination toolbox, lunch box and medicine cabinet. Felix the Cat WISHED he had a bag of tricks like mom’s bag. We talked about that blue piece of plastic in the parking lot for a while. I looked at it like the golden nugget of seniordom! Better than a get out of jail free card. Mom on the other hand saw it as a written realization that yes in fact, you’re getting older. I read somewhere that pretty soon there will be record numbers of persons living on the planet over the age of 100. God bless, we can only hope to all be so lucky. Just as long as quality of life is there, we should all hang around as long as we want.
Mom and I talked about how important music has been and continues to be in our lives. As children, mom was always singing around the house. Pop, the “gotta have it now” audiophile that he is (now I know where I get it from), always had something playing on LP, reel to reel, 8-Track or cassette. On the way back from Dallas today, we had the radio in the staff car cranked. Almost in concert, mom and I both started with a slight head bob. Nothing too obvious at first to jar the delicate “chemo-brain” as she and Val call it. Just keeping time with the music. Then it got a little more intense, more feeling, all together front back front back, neck roll, and shoulders bending, booties shaking. Looked like something from Bill and Ted’s next adventure or a Blue Man Concert! See, music again playing a roll in the world according to Longo.
But back at the hospital before we left, as mom was walking to the treatment room, it hit me! I think the biggest frustration with Cancer or any illness is the lack of control. Now mom and I are not control freaks by any means, but there is frustration in not being able to do what you want to do. Be here at this time for this treatment. Go here at this time for this test. I guess this is why neither of us is a great airplane passenger. I don’t want to be in the back by the bathroom. I want to be up front and know that God forbid anything goes wrong, I did all I could to save me. After all, it is all about ME. (just kidding).
I think Cancer takes that control away from you for a while. We talked about how after she got sick, then pop, everything else that once was a part of who we are as a family was put on hold. All your energy, strength, power, will, prayer and support is now focused on regaining the health of the one who is sick and in turn regaining control. When we got back to her house, she got a little sad that her nice back yard now had a few weeds. Hey it’s winter! But I knew what she was trying to say, it wasn’t like it was.
Which is why sometimes, just sometimes, you gots to ( Brooklyneese) turn the tables on Cancer. Just when it thinks it has you down, feeling low, you have to screw with its schedule and fight back with levity and silliness! This happens to be my specialty. As you can see in some of Valerie’s prior photos, the nut does not fall far from the orange tree.
So right after signing in, as we walk hand in hand to the double doors, I break into a chorus of the Ballad of Jed Clampett. Jed as in Beverly Hillbilly, cement pond Jed. Thinking mom is going to give me “the look,” although I wasn’t sure if it would be one or two eyes. But the “look” never comes. Two more steps and I know it is laying in wait. No look? What the &%$*#?
Then it happens. A DUET! Both of us are singing and surprisingly enough, mom knows the damn words! We look like Dorothy and the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz on the yellow brick road skipping to the words of a 1960’s sitcom! Mom even admits she liked the show.
So as you read this entry today, I am going to change the format and offer an opportunity for audience participation!
Scroll down to the lyrics, warm up those tonsils and be you solo or in the company of your best duet partner, belt out the lines to that great American T.V sitcom and screw with Cancer! Hit me one time as Brother James Brown would say, and sing like you’re trying out for American Idol!
Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named JedPoor mountaineer barely kept his family fedThen one day he was shooting for some food,And up through the ground come a bubbling crude(Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea)Well the first thing you know old Jed's a millionaireKin folk said Jed move away from thereSaid California is the place you oughta beSo they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly(Hills that is, swimming pools, movie stars)
I close in the words of that great comedian Red Skeleton: “And may God Bless” For we should never take any of His blessings for granted.
Andy
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Day eight is under the old belt, after a few weather delays because of ice and snow. Certainly not enough snow by northern standards, but enough to cancel school classes and radiation treatments. I was beginning to think that the weather gods were working against us. Like school though, radiation treatment has makeup days that they add to the end.
On the trip to Med Cities today, mom and I took the family staff car. The Caddy! We made some pretty good time and got her right in. As we pulled up, I thought we had forgotten the blue handicapped rear view window hanger thing-a-ma-jig. Nope, mom had it in her purse right where she put it earlier. A mother’s purse; that bottomless pit of a combination toolbox, lunch box and medicine cabinet. Felix the Cat WISHED he had a bag of tricks like mom’s bag. We talked about that blue piece of plastic in the parking lot for a while. I looked at it like the golden nugget of seniordom! Better than a get out of jail free card. Mom on the other hand saw it as a written realization that yes in fact, you’re getting older. I read somewhere that pretty soon there will be record numbers of persons living on the planet over the age of 100. God bless, we can only hope to all be so lucky. Just as long as quality of life is there, we should all hang around as long as we want.
Mom and I talked about how important music has been and continues to be in our lives. As children, mom was always singing around the house. Pop, the “gotta have it now” audiophile that he is (now I know where I get it from), always had something playing on LP, reel to reel, 8-Track or cassette. On the way back from Dallas today, we had the radio in the staff car cranked. Almost in concert, mom and I both started with a slight head bob. Nothing too obvious at first to jar the delicate “chemo-brain” as she and Val call it. Just keeping time with the music. Then it got a little more intense, more feeling, all together front back front back, neck roll, and shoulders bending, booties shaking. Looked like something from Bill and Ted’s next adventure or a Blue Man Concert! See, music again playing a roll in the world according to Longo.
But back at the hospital before we left, as mom was walking to the treatment room, it hit me! I think the biggest frustration with Cancer or any illness is the lack of control. Now mom and I are not control freaks by any means, but there is frustration in not being able to do what you want to do. Be here at this time for this treatment. Go here at this time for this test. I guess this is why neither of us is a great airplane passenger. I don’t want to be in the back by the bathroom. I want to be up front and know that God forbid anything goes wrong, I did all I could to save me. After all, it is all about ME. (just kidding).
I think Cancer takes that control away from you for a while. We talked about how after she got sick, then pop, everything else that once was a part of who we are as a family was put on hold. All your energy, strength, power, will, prayer and support is now focused on regaining the health of the one who is sick and in turn regaining control. When we got back to her house, she got a little sad that her nice back yard now had a few weeds. Hey it’s winter! But I knew what she was trying to say, it wasn’t like it was.
Which is why sometimes, just sometimes, you gots to ( Brooklyneese) turn the tables on Cancer. Just when it thinks it has you down, feeling low, you have to screw with its schedule and fight back with levity and silliness! This happens to be my specialty. As you can see in some of Valerie’s prior photos, the nut does not fall far from the orange tree.
So right after signing in, as we walk hand in hand to the double doors, I break into a chorus of the Ballad of Jed Clampett. Jed as in Beverly Hillbilly, cement pond Jed. Thinking mom is going to give me “the look,” although I wasn’t sure if it would be one or two eyes. But the “look” never comes. Two more steps and I know it is laying in wait. No look? What the &%$*#?
Then it happens. A DUET! Both of us are singing and surprisingly enough, mom knows the damn words! We look like Dorothy and the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz on the yellow brick road skipping to the words of a 1960’s sitcom! Mom even admits she liked the show.
So as you read this entry today, I am going to change the format and offer an opportunity for audience participation!
Scroll down to the lyrics, warm up those tonsils and be you solo or in the company of your best duet partner, belt out the lines to that great American T.V sitcom and screw with Cancer! Hit me one time as Brother James Brown would say, and sing like you’re trying out for American Idol!
Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named JedPoor mountaineer barely kept his family fedThen one day he was shooting for some food,And up through the ground come a bubbling crude(Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea)Well the first thing you know old Jed's a millionaireKin folk said Jed move away from thereSaid California is the place you oughta beSo they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly(Hills that is, swimming pools, movie stars)
I close in the words of that great comedian Red Skeleton: “And may God Bless” For we should never take any of His blessings for granted.
Andy
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Funiculi, Funicula!
As you might have noticed, my blog is a little behind. I have been a bit under the weather for a few days, but all is well and I am determined to get everyone up to speed.
As you might have seen on the news, Texas has been a hit and miss for ice storms this past week. And while we were spared a significant wrath from Mother Nature, we did get a few days of slipping and sliding that caused us to have to cancel two days of treatments. But they will just be tacked onto the backend of the treatment schedule.
I arrived at Casa de Longo on Thursday for my designated day of “Driving Miss Ida” ;)
And one would have thought I was the prodigal son. I was greeted rather enthusiastically by mom, who exclaimed “I missed you.” I thought perhaps the “chemo brain” had caused her to forget that she just saw me two days ago and I called her yesterday. So when I kindly reminded her of that fact she looked at me from behind those wide-rimmed glasses, smiled and said, “I know that, I just missed you.” As my husband would say…that made me all squishy.”
So we gathered her radiation survival kit, which has a whopping two items in it, a box of juice and that very handy, blue plastic parking pass and away we went. As we are cruising down the road, we start talking about everything that has occurred in the past 48 hours since we have actually seen each other. And by the time we pulled into the parking lot at Med City we had discussed, religion, Rachel Ray’s recipes of the week, school, babies and American Idol.
After I walked mom through the double doors for her treatment, I went to work in the waiting area trying to coordinate her other appointments for the day. We still have to monitor her blood counts on a weekly basis, and rather than drive from one hospital to another, I vowed to adopt the Sam Walton theory of medical needs – one stop shopping!
It just so happens that her pulmonary doctor is located in another building at Medical City, so I called them to see if we could some how coordinate all her medical appointments into one central location. Thankfully, they were very understanding and told us that we could use the open lab at Medical City and they would fax the orders for the blood work to them right away.
When mom re-emerged from behind the doors leading to the treatment area, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat and holding a piece of paper. She had met with Dr, Macko (her radiologist) who told her everything was going well and she was progressing nicely. That’s the kind of news you like to hear!
We sat in the waiting room for a few moments discussing what the doctor had said and I told mom that I got her blood work orders moved to this hospital for convenience. I then asked her if she thought she could walk from Building D to Building A to get the blood work done. If not I would bring the car around or push her down the hall in a wheel chair.
To which mom replied, “Like hell …I can walk”
So down the hall we went, hand in hand, stopping to admire the paintings on the wall. Now, I don’t know how the animals did it when they were getting on the Arc, but walking two-by-two down a hospital corridor is not an easy thing to do, especially with on coming traffic. So as we moved to the side to make way for a delivery cart, mom looked at me and said she had forgotten to tell me that the doctor had given her a direct line to call incase she could not make her appointment due to inclement weather. I asked her if she had put the phone number in her purse. She looked at me and said “Nope.” And then she proceeded to raise her hand to her hat. She took her hat off her head and pulled a yellow post-it out of the inside brim and handed it to me. I just about fell over because I was laughing so hard. Mom asked me why I was laughing and I told her I thought she was going to do some magic trick and pull a rabbit out of her hat. And without skipping a beat she looked at me and said, “Now, wouldn’t that be something, a bald lady pulling some hair out of her hat!” (hare..hair…get it!) Cancer or not…she’s still kept her sense of humor! :)
We were able to contain our laughter just as we got to the doors of the lab. Mom got all comfy, cozy in the waiting room as I checked her in. And soon after I joined her, a lone, masked man entered the waiting room. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a welcomed site for Chemosabe. But this is a hospital, sick people gather here and I kid you not…my eyes become as big as saucers. Each and every time that door opened to receive another person for blood work, I prayed that I would hear, “Longo” or some variation to the name (Logo, Long, Bongo, Bingo..whatever…just call the name!)
Finally, mom’s name was called and we were in and out pretty quickly. Now, I know mom thinks I am a hypochondriac germaphobe, but there is a reason people come to hospitals – they are sick. If I were around healthy people, I would not be so concerned. So as we proceeded back to our area of origination, I was sure I was leaving a trail of Germ-X behind me – sort of like a modern day Gretel!
We finished our appointed rounds at the hospital and headed back home. I had to make a detour to return something for the hubby and while I was standing at the checkout, I remember my mom saying something about how she wanted a new coffee cup. It had to have a pedestal on the bottom. She says the pedestal keeps the bottom of the cup from getting too hot when she holds it. Then low and behold, out of the corner of my eye..what did I spy? You guessed it – a pedestal coffee cup and it was in mom’s colors. She is very particular about colors – nothing too bold or gaudy patterns. So I asked the lady to please ring the cup up and there was no need to wrap it as the recipient was patiently waiting in the car.
As I jumped back into the driver’s seat, I looked over at mom and said, “Here, don’t say I never give you anything.” The squeal that came out of that woman’s mouth along with a tearful, “you remembered,” reminded me of that little boy who got the golden ticket in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The woman finds such joy in the smallest of gestures – now I know where I get it from! :o)
On the way back to the house, mom wanted to take a little detour to grab a sammy. We went to Il Grano. It’s a small Italian café run by bona fide Italians. We grabbed a small bite and recapped the day and as we walked back to the car, arm in arm, we broke into impromtu song and belted out our rendition of Funiculi, Funicula! (I think some suspected we might have had one too many Chiantis.)
For the record, there should be a warning label on that song as to its “catchiness.” It’s been in my head for three days and I am convinced that I whistle it in my sleep!
Ah well…until tomorrow – be kind and be loving, embrace the goofiness and Funiculi, Funicula! :o)
As you might have seen on the news, Texas has been a hit and miss for ice storms this past week. And while we were spared a significant wrath from Mother Nature, we did get a few days of slipping and sliding that caused us to have to cancel two days of treatments. But they will just be tacked onto the backend of the treatment schedule.
I arrived at Casa de Longo on Thursday for my designated day of “Driving Miss Ida” ;)
And one would have thought I was the prodigal son. I was greeted rather enthusiastically by mom, who exclaimed “I missed you.” I thought perhaps the “chemo brain” had caused her to forget that she just saw me two days ago and I called her yesterday. So when I kindly reminded her of that fact she looked at me from behind those wide-rimmed glasses, smiled and said, “I know that, I just missed you.” As my husband would say…that made me all squishy.”
So we gathered her radiation survival kit, which has a whopping two items in it, a box of juice and that very handy, blue plastic parking pass and away we went. As we are cruising down the road, we start talking about everything that has occurred in the past 48 hours since we have actually seen each other. And by the time we pulled into the parking lot at Med City we had discussed, religion, Rachel Ray’s recipes of the week, school, babies and American Idol.
After I walked mom through the double doors for her treatment, I went to work in the waiting area trying to coordinate her other appointments for the day. We still have to monitor her blood counts on a weekly basis, and rather than drive from one hospital to another, I vowed to adopt the Sam Walton theory of medical needs – one stop shopping!
It just so happens that her pulmonary doctor is located in another building at Medical City, so I called them to see if we could some how coordinate all her medical appointments into one central location. Thankfully, they were very understanding and told us that we could use the open lab at Medical City and they would fax the orders for the blood work to them right away.
When mom re-emerged from behind the doors leading to the treatment area, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat and holding a piece of paper. She had met with Dr, Macko (her radiologist) who told her everything was going well and she was progressing nicely. That’s the kind of news you like to hear!
We sat in the waiting room for a few moments discussing what the doctor had said and I told mom that I got her blood work orders moved to this hospital for convenience. I then asked her if she thought she could walk from Building D to Building A to get the blood work done. If not I would bring the car around or push her down the hall in a wheel chair.
To which mom replied, “Like hell …I can walk”
So down the hall we went, hand in hand, stopping to admire the paintings on the wall. Now, I don’t know how the animals did it when they were getting on the Arc, but walking two-by-two down a hospital corridor is not an easy thing to do, especially with on coming traffic. So as we moved to the side to make way for a delivery cart, mom looked at me and said she had forgotten to tell me that the doctor had given her a direct line to call incase she could not make her appointment due to inclement weather. I asked her if she had put the phone number in her purse. She looked at me and said “Nope.” And then she proceeded to raise her hand to her hat. She took her hat off her head and pulled a yellow post-it out of the inside brim and handed it to me. I just about fell over because I was laughing so hard. Mom asked me why I was laughing and I told her I thought she was going to do some magic trick and pull a rabbit out of her hat. And without skipping a beat she looked at me and said, “Now, wouldn’t that be something, a bald lady pulling some hair out of her hat!” (hare..hair…get it!) Cancer or not…she’s still kept her sense of humor! :)
We were able to contain our laughter just as we got to the doors of the lab. Mom got all comfy, cozy in the waiting room as I checked her in. And soon after I joined her, a lone, masked man entered the waiting room. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a welcomed site for Chemosabe. But this is a hospital, sick people gather here and I kid you not…my eyes become as big as saucers. Each and every time that door opened to receive another person for blood work, I prayed that I would hear, “Longo” or some variation to the name (Logo, Long, Bongo, Bingo..whatever…just call the name!)
Finally, mom’s name was called and we were in and out pretty quickly. Now, I know mom thinks I am a hypochondriac germaphobe, but there is a reason people come to hospitals – they are sick. If I were around healthy people, I would not be so concerned. So as we proceeded back to our area of origination, I was sure I was leaving a trail of Germ-X behind me – sort of like a modern day Gretel!
We finished our appointed rounds at the hospital and headed back home. I had to make a detour to return something for the hubby and while I was standing at the checkout, I remember my mom saying something about how she wanted a new coffee cup. It had to have a pedestal on the bottom. She says the pedestal keeps the bottom of the cup from getting too hot when she holds it. Then low and behold, out of the corner of my eye..what did I spy? You guessed it – a pedestal coffee cup and it was in mom’s colors. She is very particular about colors – nothing too bold or gaudy patterns. So I asked the lady to please ring the cup up and there was no need to wrap it as the recipient was patiently waiting in the car.
As I jumped back into the driver’s seat, I looked over at mom and said, “Here, don’t say I never give you anything.” The squeal that came out of that woman’s mouth along with a tearful, “you remembered,” reminded me of that little boy who got the golden ticket in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The woman finds such joy in the smallest of gestures – now I know where I get it from! :o)
On the way back to the house, mom wanted to take a little detour to grab a sammy. We went to Il Grano. It’s a small Italian café run by bona fide Italians. We grabbed a small bite and recapped the day and as we walked back to the car, arm in arm, we broke into impromtu song and belted out our rendition of Funiculi, Funicula! (I think some suspected we might have had one too many Chiantis.)
For the record, there should be a warning label on that song as to its “catchiness.” It’s been in my head for three days and I am convinced that I whistle it in my sleep!
Ah well…until tomorrow – be kind and be loving, embrace the goofiness and Funiculi, Funicula! :o)
Thursday, January 18, 2007
I see Jesus
Hello All….
As noted last week, since my mom’s radiation schedule is Monday-Friday, we have split the driving duties between my brother (Andy) and me.
And as I explained to my brother, part of the “radiation rotation” schedule is the submission of blog entries. So the following is the first blog submission from Andy and mom’s Big Adventure.
Love to you all,
Val
-----------------------------------------------
They say that people, whom loose one of their five senses, have their remaining senses enhanced. I think the same can be said for those who suffer illness.
Today was my turn to be “wheel man” for mom’s trip to Med Cities Dallas. Part of the job according to Val, is writing an entry for the blogeroo! Valerie has been making the trek for the first week. And doing one hell of a job! I had to wait until I got clearance Clarence from “the job” to use some FMLA time. I leave for a few hours taking sick time, getting her to her treatment and then once she is doing OK back at the casa Longo, head back to work.
So we loaded the green bus and off to Dallas. Mom was commenting that it must have looked funny a cop driving an old lady to Dallas. Sorry, but the story of Ma Barker has already been made into a screenplay mom. It made me feel like Secret Service driving the big dark colored Suburban down the Dallas North Tollway. I also got the opportunity to use our new electronic toll tag. No more searching for quarters, although mom had a stack of them when I got to her house to pick her up. At least it wasn’t an offer for a “nice Swiss cheese or provolone sandwich”. Did I mention that she always has the “good bread” as if there was any other kind?
Everything went fairly quickly, although arriving a little early. We had hoped to slide in and slide right out. She made an impression when she arrived and signed in a-la What’s my Line with a cop standing next to her. I just told the staff that I found her walking on LBJ Frwy and she looked like she needed a place to be. Sorry, Medical Cities was the first place that came to mind. NOT!
Anyway, while mom was in the back getting her radiation treatment for the day, I found myself sitting in the waiting room, eyes closed and listening. Listening to the sound of people coming in and out, various doors closing and the distinct sound a metal one made over a glass sliding door. Men and ladies coming in for their treatments and the sound their individual footwear made on the floor as they walked by.
I heard the Fed-Ex (shameless plug) man and his electronic reader “beep” as he scanned a package. Then the other noises as he confirmed the signature and verified another delivered package was safely delivered.
I listened to the soft voices of the staff, as they instructed a first time patient in a calming and soothing voice how to drink that nasty barium yuck. And how “the pictures” would be much better if it was drunken s.l.o.w.l.y.
I heard a grandmother review in the distance, multiplication tables with a young boy named Peter, who twice now I’ve seen come in for radiation treatments. And an ever so distant sigh of relief, when a husband came out to be reunited with his wife.
All the time holding mom’s coat and it smelled like mom. Not to say mom needs a bath! Noticing that the clothing, like the house she has lived in all these years was part of her. That warm mom, pot of sauce, Italian, love smell. You’ve all had them, maybe just not taking time to notice.
On the way back, a stop at Starbucks and a slice of marble pound cake split in two in the truck. And a street sign named Suffolk! Yep, Suffolk. Imagine that.
And in the course of our talk coming home, we shared a story about an incident two Christmas’ ago. Coming back from church on Christmas Eve, THE CHUMB (Kristen to the rest of the world) calls out. “Dad,” “Yes,” I said thinking she wanted a slurpee or something. “I see Jesus,” She said. I’m thinking OK it’s Christmas, we just left church that is understandable. Then she said a second time, “Dad, I really see Jesus!”
Now I’m beginning to worry or at the very least think we need to talk. Mom, who was in the front seat of the truck at the time, recalls thinking maybe this is a divine presence coming to her four-year-old granddaughter. After all, Jesus DOES love children!
Then a third time, Kristen says; “Dad, I see Jesus and he’s right there see?”
Now everyone in the truck is looking and we don’t see Jesus. Anywhere in the truck, side of the road, in the sky, no Jesus. Our response to The Chumb is that yes; Jesus is with us each and every day of our lives.
Frustrated, Kristen once more says: “DAD, I SEE JESUS AND THERE HE IS!”
And just as we pass a streetlight, on the front windshield, we catch the reflected image of the baby Jesus in his manger from a church bulletin mom had placed on the dashboard of the truck after mass. All along the ride home, Kristen was seeing Jesus!
And that night, we all saw Jesus. But it took an intensive effort of a few adults, to see what a simple child saw all along.
I suppose we should all take the time to hear what we normally don’t hear and see what we normally don’t see. Sometimes things we take as a disability help us to only be a better person.
Here’s hoping you too See Jesus!
As noted last week, since my mom’s radiation schedule is Monday-Friday, we have split the driving duties between my brother (Andy) and me.
And as I explained to my brother, part of the “radiation rotation” schedule is the submission of blog entries. So the following is the first blog submission from Andy and mom’s Big Adventure.
Love to you all,
Val
-----------------------------------------------
They say that people, whom loose one of their five senses, have their remaining senses enhanced. I think the same can be said for those who suffer illness.
Today was my turn to be “wheel man” for mom’s trip to Med Cities Dallas. Part of the job according to Val, is writing an entry for the blogeroo! Valerie has been making the trek for the first week. And doing one hell of a job! I had to wait until I got clearance Clarence from “the job” to use some FMLA time. I leave for a few hours taking sick time, getting her to her treatment and then once she is doing OK back at the casa Longo, head back to work.
So we loaded the green bus and off to Dallas. Mom was commenting that it must have looked funny a cop driving an old lady to Dallas. Sorry, but the story of Ma Barker has already been made into a screenplay mom. It made me feel like Secret Service driving the big dark colored Suburban down the Dallas North Tollway. I also got the opportunity to use our new electronic toll tag. No more searching for quarters, although mom had a stack of them when I got to her house to pick her up. At least it wasn’t an offer for a “nice Swiss cheese or provolone sandwich”. Did I mention that she always has the “good bread” as if there was any other kind?
Everything went fairly quickly, although arriving a little early. We had hoped to slide in and slide right out. She made an impression when she arrived and signed in a-la What’s my Line with a cop standing next to her. I just told the staff that I found her walking on LBJ Frwy and she looked like she needed a place to be. Sorry, Medical Cities was the first place that came to mind. NOT!
Anyway, while mom was in the back getting her radiation treatment for the day, I found myself sitting in the waiting room, eyes closed and listening. Listening to the sound of people coming in and out, various doors closing and the distinct sound a metal one made over a glass sliding door. Men and ladies coming in for their treatments and the sound their individual footwear made on the floor as they walked by.
I heard the Fed-Ex (shameless plug) man and his electronic reader “beep” as he scanned a package. Then the other noises as he confirmed the signature and verified another delivered package was safely delivered.
I listened to the soft voices of the staff, as they instructed a first time patient in a calming and soothing voice how to drink that nasty barium yuck. And how “the pictures” would be much better if it was drunken s.l.o.w.l.y.
I heard a grandmother review in the distance, multiplication tables with a young boy named Peter, who twice now I’ve seen come in for radiation treatments. And an ever so distant sigh of relief, when a husband came out to be reunited with his wife.
All the time holding mom’s coat and it smelled like mom. Not to say mom needs a bath! Noticing that the clothing, like the house she has lived in all these years was part of her. That warm mom, pot of sauce, Italian, love smell. You’ve all had them, maybe just not taking time to notice.
On the way back, a stop at Starbucks and a slice of marble pound cake split in two in the truck. And a street sign named Suffolk! Yep, Suffolk. Imagine that.
And in the course of our talk coming home, we shared a story about an incident two Christmas’ ago. Coming back from church on Christmas Eve, THE CHUMB (Kristen to the rest of the world) calls out. “Dad,” “Yes,” I said thinking she wanted a slurpee or something. “I see Jesus,” She said. I’m thinking OK it’s Christmas, we just left church that is understandable. Then she said a second time, “Dad, I really see Jesus!”
Now I’m beginning to worry or at the very least think we need to talk. Mom, who was in the front seat of the truck at the time, recalls thinking maybe this is a divine presence coming to her four-year-old granddaughter. After all, Jesus DOES love children!
Then a third time, Kristen says; “Dad, I see Jesus and he’s right there see?”
Now everyone in the truck is looking and we don’t see Jesus. Anywhere in the truck, side of the road, in the sky, no Jesus. Our response to The Chumb is that yes; Jesus is with us each and every day of our lives.
Frustrated, Kristen once more says: “DAD, I SEE JESUS AND THERE HE IS!”
And just as we pass a streetlight, on the front windshield, we catch the reflected image of the baby Jesus in his manger from a church bulletin mom had placed on the dashboard of the truck after mass. All along the ride home, Kristen was seeing Jesus!
And that night, we all saw Jesus. But it took an intensive effort of a few adults, to see what a simple child saw all along.
I suppose we should all take the time to hear what we normally don’t hear and see what we normally don’t see. Sometimes things we take as a disability help us to only be a better person.
Here’s hoping you too See Jesus!
Monday, January 15, 2007
Radiation Ice Day
Can I just say ….brrrrrrrrrrr – it’s mighty cold here in Texas!
Well, all the hoopla about a huge ice storm coming turned out to be incorrect. While we did have some icing on the bridges and overpasses (along with some patchy spots) here and there …all and all it was uneventful.
The nice thing was mom’s radiology team called before we left the house this morning and told us to stay home, be safe and stay nice and warm and toasty. I thought that was a very nice thing to do. Most of the time they tell you that you could have skipped coming after you’ve already made the white-knuckle journey!
Mom is having a great day today, I spoke with her this morning and she was just relaxing and enjoying a quiet afternoon – it’s good to have those kinds of days.
Tomorrow we start week two of radiation. I’ve calculated the days set aside for treatment and we should have the last radiation on February 12th – just in time for Valerie’s Day …I mean Valentine’s Day. ;)
We have gotten a lot of wonderful messages and they have all been passed on to mom. We thank you all for you kindness, words of encouragement and for keeping us all in your thoughts and prayers.
Take care of one another…and for those of you who need to…stay dry and toasty.
Well, all the hoopla about a huge ice storm coming turned out to be incorrect. While we did have some icing on the bridges and overpasses (along with some patchy spots) here and there …all and all it was uneventful.
The nice thing was mom’s radiology team called before we left the house this morning and told us to stay home, be safe and stay nice and warm and toasty. I thought that was a very nice thing to do. Most of the time they tell you that you could have skipped coming after you’ve already made the white-knuckle journey!
Mom is having a great day today, I spoke with her this morning and she was just relaxing and enjoying a quiet afternoon – it’s good to have those kinds of days.
Tomorrow we start week two of radiation. I’ve calculated the days set aside for treatment and we should have the last radiation on February 12th – just in time for Valerie’s Day …I mean Valentine’s Day. ;)
We have gotten a lot of wonderful messages and they have all been passed on to mom. We thank you all for you kindness, words of encouragement and for keeping us all in your thoughts and prayers.
Take care of one another…and for those of you who need to…stay dry and toasty.
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