Day Light Come and Momma Go Home!

Did you ever have those days when you just wanted to move to a tropical island?

Can I just say what a crazy, pain in the rump the past three days have been? We have had drama on and off the courts and if one was to rate it on the Fujita Scale it would be an F6,but as mom was telling me today, this too shall pass.

I spent the day with her yesterday plucking crazy eye-brow hairs. She’s so cute..gosh forbid someone should see a uni-brow! They thinned out after chemo, but now it seems like the hair is growing quickly.

Today was indeed a new day. The follow-up CT scan shows that we are making progress in clearing up that lovely staph infection and I am glad to report that they finally took out the catheter and she actually had a decent meal. Let’s just say that this hospital food is by far the worst she has eaten and that’s bad for an Italian…we are foodies! So today I snuck in some eats from Jason’s Deli. She had a nice big bowl of veggie soup and a half a turkey sammie. She said it’s the best food she has had in days…and pop enjoyed his smuggled in Reuben.

We had a nice long visit today, and I am glad to report that momisan is back. She seemed a little off yesterday, but was rather spunky today. I think she is just glad to be going home tomorrow.

I will meet up with pop at the hospital and follow them to the house and help in getting her settled in. I am sure a nice long shower and a good sleep in her bed will do wonders.

In the next few days we will be following up with her oncologist and we will know for sure whether the journey for this family has come to an end or if we have one other stop to make before this crazy train pulls into its final station. So please continue to pray for good news on the oncology/CT home front. But if we have to continue with treatment, we are strong and have vowed to see mom through until the end.

I started this blog with a simple observation that Cancer has the ability to bring a family to its knees and shake it to the very core, but sometimes you have to hit rock bottom to know what you and others are truly made of. Someone once asked me how we have managed to do this for seven months. The answer is simple…family. And by family I mean immediate and those special individuals that have known us for so long that they qualify as extended family. Friends who have offered to take mom to appointments or drop off meals or just spend some time with her so Andy, pop and I could recharge and regroup to fight another day.

In the end, that’s really what it is all about – the ability to count on others to lessen the complications in your life so you can focus on the bigger picture. So once again for all those near and dear to mom (and us) we thank you for your prayers, kind words, generous offers and commitment to being with us for the long haul.



Val

Life's Little Playbook

I arrived at the hospital just a little before lunch today and mom looked beaten down. She had a rough morning, emotionally and you could tell that it had taken its toll on her. It would be great if we all had the capability to implement the “blocking” feature found in Outlook into our every day lives. That way we could use it selectively to filter the negativity and junk and be left with things that are positive and uplifting – how cool would that be! But until Bill Gates figures that one out, I should be thankful that I can at least use it on email. :o)

Mom had spent most of the morning, upright in a chair, and when I got there she was about do for a nap. She didn’t sleep too well the night before because the doctor had stopped by for a visit at 1:00am – how do they expect anyone to rest and get well if they make their rounds at such an ungodly hour?

She’ll be going for another CT scan in a few days. That’s the only way that they can tell if the antibiotics have been working on the infection. But her doctor said that she will most likely be in the hospital until Wednesday. We are going to start to interview some home health care agencies in the next few days. It’s important to have those in place before she gets home. They will have a nurse come by and check on her so she can relax in the confines of her own home. They will serve as another set of eyes until she is recovered.

Thankfully, it was a quiet afternoon. The highlight of mom’s morning was a visit from Deacon Ray. He is the most kind and gentle spirit that one would ever hope to meet and mom has known him for a long time, mostly through her church affiliation. She was so thrilled to tell me that he had stopped by to visit and her eyes lit up when she told me he had greeted her with a kiss on her melon. Thank you Deacon Ray for making her day!

Speaking of hair, you should see those follicles. As mom and I were standing in the bathroom, she said a lot of people were telling her that the back was growing in nicely, but she was disappointed that she couldn’t see what they were talking about. Once again, cell phone to the rescue. I took a snap shot of the back of her head and showed it to her. In true mom fashion she said, “Oooh that does look nice. I may not color it when it grows back.”

I am happy to report that her new nursing staff is WONDERFUL. They are all so sweet and attentive. As I left today, one of them pulled me aside and I thought she was going to yell at me because we were having way too much fun last night. But she said the nicest thing. She said that it was wonderful to see her children take such an active part in her care and that she brags about us once we leave – yep…that’s my mom! It’s odd to hear someone say that because frankly I don’t think we really think about it – we just do it. But if you pass by some of the other rooms, her comment makes perfect sense. Sometimes I feel sorrow for those older patients that have no one that comes to visit them. They rely solely on the staff to take care of them physically and in some cases emotionally.

We have gotten so many wonderfully messages of encouragement and thanks through this blog. It’s amazing how many people read it, some in the same situation as us and some that just find our adventure interesting and at times a bit humorous. Since mom is not into all things Internet, we made her a hard copy book of all the entries and messages (both public and private) that we receive through this site. They are all in a binder that she’s been reading for several months and reflects on at her leisure. She has even gotten to the point where she puts the book on loan and gives it to her friends to read – it’s like she is the public library!

Since this blog has been a journey about Cancer from diagnosis to remission, some have asked what will happen to it once mom is well again. I have already made arrangements to have the entries and photos made into a book for mom and the “wingman”. While we have no desire to repeat this process, it will become a cherished possession and testament to mom’s strength and resolve…and if I happen to find myself in a difficult situation, it will serve as my “Playbook” that they can be overcome.

Tomorrow is a new day, sleep well tonight!

Val

Mom Comm

Good Morning, All….

I thought I would post a blog update before I went to see momisan this morning. She is still in the hospital, but I am thankful that we have at least turned the page to a better chapter in the past few days.

She continues to recover from that CTI Aspiration and the doctor dropped by yesterday and said some of the infection has been identified as “staph.” So they have changed her antibiotics to treat it more aggressively and the infectious disease doctor will be following up with us on Monday.

Mom is doing the best she can with the current circumstances. I imagine she would feel much better if she wasn’t tethered to an IV pole or kicking the catheter bag out of the way, but we remind her that each day she is making a little more progress and pretty soon we will be able to “cut those chains that bind her” and take her home.

She is eating and drinking and for the past two days they take her out for a run around the floor to stretch the old legs and we move her to a chair throughout the day so she doesn’t feel so bed ridden…it’s all good!

We have returned to a semi normal lifestyle, but that is by Cancer standards of course. We don’t stay at the hospital all day; we work in shifts and via cell phone. It’s the funniest thing ever because Andy and I will call each other with daily updates just like the nurses do when they give report. We have dubbed our cell phone adventures as MOM COMM – and mom finds it rather amusing that she has her own mobile command unit.
I can’t imagine what we would do without cell phones!

I once blogged about the duality of Cancer, the fact that even during such a trying and difficult time, you find the most amazing blessings. Mom and I were talking about family yesterday and how the relationships and personalities within that dynamic have changed over the past seven months. My brother Andy has always been close to mom, and that’s because he and mom had a very special bond when he was younger. My dad was away at sea, so by the standards of that time, he became the man of the house and they took care of each other and that bond is still very much intact today.

I, on the other, was the last of the chillin’, and while not always perfect as I child (who really is) my bond with mom developed later in life, around twenty. Mom likes to tell people that she didn’t think I had it in me to take care of her, not because I was unwilling or incapable, but because I am the most squeamish person on the face of the planet. I will be the first person to tell you that I don’t deal well with pain, suffering, needles or anything really hospital related, but then again…I never really had to. I have never been in a position where one of my parents had been so ill that they could not do for themselves. So, if you really think about it, you never really know what someone has in them until they are called to the plate and have the courage to at least pick up that bat, whether they swing and miss or knock one out of the park is irrelevant; you just have to get off the bench.

Over the past few days, I have made a lot of observations about the changing dynamic. I see the way that my husband has put his arm around my brother and told him that he was here for him. I have seen the two of them take my nieces fishing for an hour, just to keep a certain order and balance in our lives during this difficult time, only to have my brother call me and say “You should have seen James with the girls, He’s going to make a good father.” – these are the things that give me peace and remind me that there are blessings to be found in adversity and illness.

Last night, we inadvertently converged at the hospital at the same time – Andy with his family and me with mine…we try not to do that because it turns into a cataclysmic force of nature and it’s a miracle we don’t get thrown out for laughing too loud. But as we tucked momisan into bed, with Andy singing show tunes behind a giant curtain, I couldn’t help but notice the smile on mom’s face. The woman is all about family and she finds great joy in knowing that we “get it”. All those years she has been telling us to be kind, be loving and family is always first has come back to her in an immeasurable amount. And that fact that she can witness how we have implemented those teachings into our own families is why I think she was smiling.

Thank you all for your continued words of encouragement, prayers, visits and well wishes – we are making progress each and every day!

Val

(Don’t worry; she didn’t snatch a baby from the nursery!
Before we left last night, Kristen (Andy’s youngest daughter) wanted to leave her baby, Annabelle with Nan so they could have a sleep over and Nan would not be lonely.)

All Aboard the Crazy Train!

It’s been almost a week since our chronicles of cancer have been updated…did you miss our first-person insight… liberally sprinkled with wit? :o)

Well, now that we have a chance to stop and just take a little breather, I thought I would update you all on this crazy train of a ride. As some of you know, we had planned on taking mom to Virginia this week so she could be with her siblings as they celebrated the eldest brother’s 90th birthday. But just when you think you have some type or normalcy in your life, Cancer has a tendency to slip you a little reminder that although you may be kicking it in the rump, it is not going down with out a fight and if it has to, it will call in it’s friends- fatigue, nausea and infection.

Buckle up kids…this is going to be a long and bumpy blog!

I arrived at Casa de Longo on Monday to see if mom was ready for the trip. We were scheduled to leave on Wednesday morning and return on Friday. When I got to the house, I found mom in bed feeling a little tired and weak. She said not to worry that she wasn’t feeling too bad to fly and her doctor did tell her that it would take about a week for the radiation side effects to clear up. I told her I would check on her in the morning and we would see how she was feeling. The worst case scenario would have been for her to become ill in flight or in Virginia.

The following morning, momisan called in tears and completely inconsolable. She managed to squeak out. “I can’t go on the trip.” And I told her not to worry and I was coming right over.

Once again I arrived at Casa de Longo to find mom in bed and rambling out apologizes for being sick and having to cancel the trip. I told her she did not have to apologize and I know it broke her heart not to go, but until we have a few months of uninterrupted good health, we make plans knowing that they might have to be cancelled. I promised that when she was well enough, we would make this trip up.

I asked mom what she had been eating and drinking and she just shook her head and I knew that was not a good sign. So I got her some juice and made her a smoothie with extra ice cream in the hopes that something in her stomach would make her feel a little bit better. As I sat on the bed, mom took my hand and said that she wanted me and my husband to go on her behalf. I don’t think she actually finished the sentence before I cut her off with an emphatic “No.” With all due respect to the family, there is no way in hell I was getting on a plane and leaving her behind. Of course mom started to cry when I said I was not making the trip without her. She wasn’t upset that I was not going; she was happy that I was staying. It may seem like one of those trick questions to some, but come on…this is the woman that brought me into this world and took care of me for eighteen years. Even Attila the Hun wouldn’t leave his sick momma behind to rob and pillage!

I stayed with mom the majority of the morning and after she had a little bite to eat, she fell asleep and I ran to grab some sammies for the folks. When I returned to Casa de Longo, my brother Andy was there visiting with pop and I proceeded to leave the sammies on the table and walk back to check on mom….and that’s when the crazy train derailed.

I found mom wriggling on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to get to her feet. She said that she just needed to stand up, so I did what I have done a thousand times before and proceeded to help her up. She dropped back onto the bed and her legs started to shake. I yelled for my brother, who showed up just as mom was starting to slip to the floor. We each grabbed an arm and tried on a few occasions to get her up. She was putting up such a struggle to get out of that bed that she was breaking a sweat and it seemed what little strength she had left, disappeared before our eyes.

I remember looking over at my brother and we knew that something was wrong. Andy told pop to take his place and as I grabbed a hold of mom, Andy ran to call the Fire Department. I remember being eye to eye with momisan and I could see the fear in her eyes. The fear of falling and the fear of not knowing what was happening was more than she could stand and as the tears started to flow, I kept repeating, “I’ve got you momma, help is coming.”

Thank God our fire department has a quick response time. While it seemed like an eternity to me, it was a matter of minutes before the bedroom was filled with a small army of reinforcements. The firemen worked quickly to take our places and get mom secured and ready to move to the gurney.

As the guys continued to work on mom, I desperately scrambled across the bed and with tears flowing down my face, ran for the nearest exit. I have tried to live by one rule for the past seven months – not crying in front of mom. But being eye-to-eye with her as I could feel her succumb to exhaustion was more than I could bear. Sometimes, you just have one of those moments. You can’t always control when and were, but seeing how she was in good hands…this seemed like a pretty good time to take some “me” time for a mini-break down.

I had just enough time to compose myself as they wheeled mom down the hall and out the door to the ambulance. Andy jumped in the back with her and I told pop he could ride with me and we would follow them to the hospital. As I heard the doors to the rig slam shut, I remember sinking to my knees with the same inconsolable sorrow that mom had exhibited earlier in the day. Apparently I still needed some additional “me” time to gather my game face before we got to the hospital. And it was a good thing I dropped most of those tears on Middleton Circle, this was just a prelude of things yet to unfold.

We arrived at the hospital in unison and as they wheeled mom into the ER, we calmly marched behind her, reassuring her that everything would be okay. The next few hours consisted of tests and drugs to control her nausea and get her hydrated. She was given a new drug called Phenergan to control her nasusea and after an hour she seemed to relax a bit.

The ER doctor wanted to admit mom and get a handle on the dehydration. So we waited in the ER for hours until a bed opened up. And as we continued to talk to mom, she looked kind of space-out and the nurse re-assured us it was the morphine injection. Another hour elapsed and mom started to make these uncontrollable movements of her lips and tongue and she could not speak.

We called for the nurse, who in turn called for the doctor. We started to rub mom’s hands and head to reassure her that everything was okay. And while we waited for the doctor, I think we were all thinking the same thing – she was having a stroke.

The doctor came in and asked mom to smile and squeeze her hands. She told us that she did not think it was a stroke, but rather an allergic reaction to the Phenergan. The mouth movement is one of the key signs that one is having a reaction. They started to drip Benedryl into her IV to offset the Phenergan. But to be on the safe side, they opted to do a CT scan to definitely rule out a stroke and we would meet up with the neurologist once mom was moved to her room.

After spending seven hours in the ER, mom was finally moved to a room. The neurologist was waiting and she re-assured us that it was indeed the Phenergran and not a stroke that was causing the mouth movement. After getting mom settled into her room, they increased the Benedryl drip and added a bag of antibiotics because mom had a high grade fever. We all scooted our chairs around mom and devised our plan of attack. Even when she can’t speak…she’s still the center of attention! :o)

Since we could not tell whether mom knew what was going on and she still could not talk, we decided not to leave her alone. Andy and pop volunteered to stay the night and I told them I would be back in the morning to relieve them.

I am going to speak from the heart and tell you that seeing my mother with those uncontrollable head movements and inability to speak, was my worst fear come true. Temporary or not, I think the look on her face will haunt me for ever. And leaving her in that condition was the hardest thing I had to do, but I just did not have anything left to give. And the irony of that is my guilt about leaving only allowed me 2 hours of sleep and I was back at the hospital at 6am.

It was time for Andy and Pop to try their hand at re-charging their batteries and as the day progressed, mom’s condition started to improve and we were able to have a conversation. She extended her arm that had the IV line and asked if I thought it was swollen. I told her that indeed it was and I called the nurse to come take a look at it. They checked the line and told us they didn’t see anything and for us to keep an eye on it and let them know if it got any worse. By 10:00am, we were wheeling her down to get a CT scan of her head, abdomen and lower pelvis.

I have another rule that I have adopted since we started this journey – mom never goes anywhere unescorted. If she is with me, (or Andy) I follow her anytime they take her for tests. I find it causes less stress on mom (and the staff) if I brief them on a few things. While she was getting her IV contrast, the technician said that he could not use her existing IV line because it was not good. We asked him to elaborate and he pointed to the swelling and said that’s what happens when the IV line isn’t inserted correctly. The fluid goes into the muscles rather than the veins. I explained to him that two different nurses looked at it and said nothing was wrong and he said they were incorrect. When we got back to the floor, we needed to have the line removed.

By now you have got to be thinking that this is a Chinese fire drill gone completely bad! And for the record, this was not our usual hospital, Medical City.

Once mom was returned to her room, we had the bad IV line removed and we spent the rest of the day waiting for the doctor to stop by with the results of the tests. Andy and pop stopped in for a visit and around 7:00pm, the doctor came by with his findings.

The CT scan showed that there was a mass in mom’s lower pelvis. And as the doctor continued telling us that it could be an infection from the surgery back in August or a side effect of radiation, you could just see the tears build up in mom’s eyes and flow down her cheeks. She started to tell the doctor that she could not handle another surgery and he re-assured her that was not his first option. They would due a CT aided aspiration. They would put mom in a CT scanner so they could guide a needle to the area and basically lance it. Then they would run antibiotics through her and that should clear up the infection and take care of the mass. He also re-assured us that this condition was not uncommon and it was not an indication that the cancer had spread. What probably happened was a little blister formed on the inner abdominal wall and it just kept growing until it morphed into a full blown infection. They are virtually undetectable until they get large enough to actually exhibit signs of infection.

While it was not the greatest news, it was certainly not the worst and mom said we should all go home and get some rest and just come back in the morning. She felt fine and she said if she needed anything, she would ring for the nurse. Since the CT aspiration was scheduled for the following morning, we all agreed that we would go home and let mom get a little R and R, but I volunteered to stay through the shift change. I like to scope out the staff before I go home…sometimes they have unhappy people working in a care giver position.

While we waited for the “changing of the guard”, I dimmed the lights and scooted a chair closer to mom’s bed. I was thinking about the last 48 hours and it struck me that even amid all this chaos, we had time to crack a few jokes along the way. I think that is what keeps us all sane and moving forward. And as I smiled to myself in the dark, I heard a voice call my name.

“Valerie”?
“Yes Momma.”
“At the end of the day, do you think about the time we spend together and replay them in your head.”?
(It’s creepy…it’s like the woman can see into my brain.) :o)
“Yes I do momma. That’s probably why I can’t sleep at night. I can’t shut my brain off.”
“Me either.” The voice continued, “I think about all the times you make me laugh in the day and it brings a smile to my face. And I just wanted you to know that those are the times I cherish the most”
“Me too momma.”

And as the tears streamed down my face, I asked the little voice in the dark if it wanted me to stay. “No” replied the voice. “Go home and sleep more than two hours and come back in the morning.” As mom chuckled, I gave her a kiss on the head and opened the door. And as a beam of light from the hallway went across her bed, I could see her face and a smile that went from ear to ear and I knew our train was back on track.

My brother Andy called me in the morning and told me that our “train” didn’t even leave the station. During the night, one of the nurses had a bur under her saddle when mom questioned why some of the equipment didn’t work and an altercation took place that left mom frazzled and really pissed off.

Andy spent most of the morning tracking down the hospital admin to have what we call a “heart to heart” to make it known that with at least ten different hospitals in the area all competing for patients they better get there act together and rectify the situation. Let’s just cut to the chase and say that when I arrived this morning to visit mom before her procedure, there were a lot of staff members bending over backwards to make amends for the error in their ways.

Mom’s procedure went fine and they were able to lance the mass and we are thankful that the fluid seems to be clear. They gave her some sedatives so she could get some sleep and at 7:00pm this evening we headed home to get a little rest ourselves. The past 48 hours has been hard for all of us. Mom will probably remain in the hospital for a few days so they can continue the fluids and antibiotics that will make her well enough to continue the journey.

As I end this blog, I must confess that the day before mom’s initial surgery in August, we made a pact. She promised to fight as hard as she could and I promised never to leave her alone until this journey came to an end – win, lose or draw. Cancer is a long and arduous battle and there are times when we celebrate victory and other times we feel defeated. There are good days when mom is like a little general and we follow her lead. And there are other days when we have to push, pull, drag or carry her on to her next battle. But I promised her that I would never leave her behind.

I think that’s why I am so hard on myself at times. I always think that there is something more that I could have done or something that I should have seen before it got to a certain point. But the truth of the matter is that as much as I would like to think that I (or my brother Andy) could some how meet all of mom’s needs, twenty four seven, it is just not humanly possible. We can’t know everything or predict what tomorrow will bring. There just comes a time when you are just physically exhausted and emotionally spent and there is no shame or guilt in that. Sometimes even the most tenacious caregivers need a little help.

So thanks once again to The Colony Fire Department, The Colony Police Department, to family and friends for their love, support and prayers…and most importantly, to my husband. It is because of his love, support and understanding that I have the ability to embrace my alter ego…ChemoSabe.

I will post additional updates when I can and please continue to keep my family in your prayers.

I am off to recharge my battery…

Val

Cupid Draw Back Your Bow!

So I trust that everyone had a wonderful Val Day! ;o)

It was terribly cold here in old Texas and I do believe I saw a few snow flurries earlier in the morning. Funny, even though we are on medical hiatus, I still woke up at my usual time but instead of heading to Casa de Longo, I ran a few errands.

One of the items on my “to do” list was to swing by and drop some Val Day cookies off for mom and pop. And when I arrived at the house later in the afternoon, pop was wrapped up in his electric binky and looked like a burrito. I didn’t see mom anywhere, so I thought she might have been taking a nap. I was going to drop the cookies and sneak quietly out, so as not to disturb her. And as I turned to head for the hallway, I caught a glimpse of some crazy bald woman, wearing shorts, emerging from the shadows – every since that pesky chemo that woman’s internal thermostats has been totally out of whack.
I stayed for a little while, visiting, and then headed home to make a nice dinner for the hubby.

When I returned home, our answering machine was blinking and as I played the message, I started to chuckle. It was mom and she had apparently called in the morning, after I had left to run errands. Here message went something like this:

“Hi, this is mom. Happy Val Day. I just thought I would call and see what you were doing today. I missed you, call me.” I was totally on target with the concept of a twelve step program! But the funny thing is that not having to take her to the hospital requires some adjustment. For the past few days, it has felt like I have forgotten something or neglected to do something – it drives me crazy!

I was in the middle of cooking dinner, when the phone rang. It was mom. She sounded like she had won the lottery. I had told her on Wednesday that she needed to call her pulmonary doctor to see how long she had to continue taking those blood thinners. Well, the reason she was excited is because they called her back and told her she was free! No more thinners, no more blood work, no more clots – that was definitely a welcomed Val Day gift.

So it has been a stupendous week for momison – no more radiation and she can toss the thinners.

Here’s hoping that you all caught a glimpse of Cupid (the fat cherub, not the reindeer) and you passed that love on to all the special people in your lives!

Val

The 3 Wise Guys

Today was a momentous day – it was the last of the radiation treatments. It was Graduation Day and in true LoCo fashion, we pulled out all of the stops.

Andy and I had synchronized our watches the night before in order to converge upon Casa de Longo at our usual pick-up time. We will not know until March whether this race is over, but for now we are celebrating this mile marker for what it is – a noteworthy accomplishment!

We arrived at Medical City determined to depart the “old school” way. Mom always told us that you never go to someone’s house empty handed and you never leave someone’s house without thanking them for their kind hospitality –and some how just saying “thanks” did not convey our gratitude for the care and compassion the Dream Team, Part Deux, had shown to our mom. So, in the words of Emeril, we kicked it up a notch …BAM!

As mom entered the doors of the “forbidden zone” she was flanked on each side by a child. We looked like the Three Wise Men …ummm…I mean Wise Guys (it’s an Italian thing) and instead of carrying garlic, marina and parmigiano reggiano; we were bringing cookies and flowers. :o)

It was a day filled with a certain duality, as mom made the rounds handing our pink Gerber daisies to all the staff and fellow patients she had met during the past month. It’s very surreal to feel both sadness and joy co-exist at the same time and in the same place. While they will be sad to see her go, they should take great pride in their life saving work that has allowed her to move forward.

Her staff gathered together one last time to present mom with a bracelet that they had made from the inner, cardboard circle of a role of masking tape. For anyone “not in the know” this object that adorned mom’s wrist was just a cardboard circle. But for those who are privy to the story, it is a prized possession that contains an immeasurable amount of love, compassion, strength and blessings that have been shared between momisan and her radiation team for the past twenty-five days…and those are sentiments that will never be forgotten.

As we made our final round through the radiation ward, we bid a fond farewell to the Dream Team, Part Deux and loaded mom into the car for a victory lap around the parking lot before we headed for home.

As we turn the page in this chapter of the book, I think it is important to once again mention the radiation staff at Dr. Macko’s office. Simply saying “Thank You” does not seem to be enough. It takes a special calling to deal with those battling Cancer and each and every one of you will hold a special place in our prayers for simply being such amazing individuals.

Like I stated in the first-paragraph, today was about saying good-bye the “old-school” way. Sometimes we have the tendency to forego the extra mile when saying “thank you” to those that went above and beyond for us. It does not have to be anything extravagant. It can be a simple handwritten letter or a batch of home-made cookies, the end result is the same …it is gratitude that comes from the heart that is most meaningful.

Thank you all for your love, prayers and continued well wishes – we feel them each and every day.

Val

(Mom and her Dream Team, Part Deux)



(The 3 Wise Guys Post-Graduation)

Pre-Graduation Day!

I am such a slacker….I just now realized that I am almost a week behind in blogging! Last week was a bit hectic and truth be told, I am just plain tired.

My kitchen looks like an annex forest for the Keebler Elves. I wanted to do something nice for mom’s radiation team, so I have been baking and decorating Valentine’s Day cookies since yesterday. Sure, I could have bought them but nothing says “thanks” like taking the time to do them yourself.

But the good news is that tomorrow is radiation treatment number 25 and it’s Graduation Day for momisan!!!

I arrived at Casa de Longo to find a weeping mother in her chair. Of course, I always think something is wrong, but she said she just missed me over the weekend. It’s so funny because I call her and try not to be a pest and drop by (I think she needs to rest) and she says she won’t call me because she thinks I need some rest and alone time with the hubby. I told her today that she is so used to seeing me everyday, that I may have to start a twelve step program to wean her off ChemoSabe!

I noticed fuller follicles today and some of the hair is growing in as darker circles while the rest is salt and pepper. I call it the Reverse Jay Leno! ;)

It was a rainy, gloomy day today so we left a little earlier for the hospital. I told mom I am really going to miss my morning words of wisdom and lively debates that take place as we toodle down the Tollway. But I am sure once she is well, we will find other adventures that will be more enjoyable than chemo or radiation.

We arrived at Medical City and mom vanished behind the “forbidden zone” as I took my usually seat in the waiting area. I have met so many wonderful people in the last month and there is only one other patient (and his wife, Melody) that has been going as long as mom – his last day is Valentine’s Day.

I have had the privilege to talk with Melody on an almost daily basis. Her husband is also battling Stage 4 Cancer of the Tonsils. I never knew one could get Cancer of the tonsils, but I have learned over the past few months that Cancer can invade just about any nook and cranny that is wants to. Melody’s husband has lost his voice and the ability to salivate due to the radiation, but he comes in every morning with a smile. She is studying theology and has yet to decide her calling. Melody and I have often discussed just how random Cancer is. There is no accurate profile for who will likely become its next victim – it’s completely random and I think that is what makes it so menacing.

Mom emerged from her treatment 25 minutes later, with a little mixed emotion about tomorrow. While she is anxious to move on, she is going to miss her radiology team and they her. It’s corny to say, but these angels become like family, so it’s hard not to get a lump in the throat…after all they have saved the life of momisan!

We left the hospital and stopped off for a Cup of Joe and a little shopping and in the back of mind; I could not help but think about my conversation with Melody today.

Not that I would wish Cancer on anyone, but at times I wonder what the world would be like if we saw people through Cancer’s eyes – random and non-discriminating. Cancer doesn’t care about someone’s skin color, religion, education or income. Nor does it care about which side of the tracks you live on or what kind of car you drive – everyone is equal and taken at face value. I imagine there might be a lot less hatred and more love and helpfulness if we could view each other like the Big C!

Until tomorrow…find you blessings and thank you for all the love and prayers that have sustained us for the past six months – we are more than half way there!

Val

For battling cancer with honor, distinction and for being admired by fellow survivors, I herby declare that tomorrow, February 13th 2007, Ida Longo (with a major in radiation and a minor in chemo) will graduate Magna Cum Laude from Radiation U!