As I sat with Mom tonight after work in her living room I asked Mom how she is doing. This may seem odd, as I should know how she is doing because I see her every day. But, I figure that it is always good to straight to the source, in case there is anything that I am missing.

She said that she feels pretty good. Tired, at times, but good. I asked her about her feet. She picked up "the bad foot" and wriggled it all over. This was something that she was not able to do eight weeks ago due to the brain tumors and edema. Heck, she couldn't even walk. Now she is walking Lucy with my dad, participating in her aerobics class, and walking two miles every day in her living room with her walking video.

Food is still an issue in so far that it is just not appealing. But, Mom is maintaining her weight, which is an absolute incredible feat. In fact, Mom weighs the same as she did last January when she was first diagnosed with esophageal cancer!

Another positive is that Mom is now completely weaned off of the steroids. She has been down to 1/2 a pill every other day for about a week now and she is not experiencing a return in symptoms. As I have said before, I am not a doctor, but I don't think I need to be to know that this is a good sign.

One thing has been weighing heavily on our minds. What happens next? We know that Mom has scans scheduled toward the end of December. But, we really have no idea what the course of treatment will be after we get the results back. So, tomorrow I am going to call Helen (our go-to nurse) and ask her what we might expect in the coming weeks.

One thing is for certain. We know what we are experiencing right now. Life. And, we couldn't be more grateful.

The following post has been sitting in my "Drafts" folder for weeks. It is a bit old, and unfinished. But, there are many important things to share. And, since my Mom's newest motto is "Nothing is 100%", I am just going to let this one fly as is. Enjoy!

So many wonderful things have happened since my last post. I am not going to remember all of them at one sitting. But, I will share with you the ones that first come to mind.

Mom was so completely surprised when she received an envelope from a friend of days gone by. Gloria and Mom were friends in Longfellow grade and junior high school in La Crosse, WI. Mom said that she hasn't seen or spoken to Gloria since she was a teen. Recently, Gloria found this blog and wanted to share her support. She mailed mom a FROG (fully relying on God) card, pictures from their school days, pictures of Gloria's beautiful family, and a very touching letter. When Mom received these gifts, she kept repeating, "I can't believe this! I just can't believe this!!" Thank you so very much, Gloria. We are thinking of you and are comforted by your presence on this journey.

Mom received another surprise when she answered her phone in the early hours on Friday. Gonzalo, who was a former student of Mom's and nephew through marriage, called from Panama! After her phone call, Mom texted me right away. "Got a call from Gonzalo!!!" She was so excited to have talked with him, as they haven't seen each other in years. Gonzalo has been following this blog and I have been in touch with him on Facebook over the past year. He told me that when he read the post I had written that said "No Cancer!" Gonzalo grabbed a group of friends and went out to celebrate. When his friends asked him what they were celebrating, he replied simply, "Life."

On Friday my Mom and Dad celebrate their 49th wedding anniversary with Aunt Karen and Uncle Roger. The foursome went out for Chicago style pizza. For as long as I can remember, Aunt Karen and Uncle Roger have been a constant source of love and support in our lives. Now, with this cancer, my aunt and uncle remain as steadfast as always. Although they live an hour and a half away, it feels as if they are right here. They are always making the effort to come for a visit and calling to see how we are doing. We are so very lucky to have them now, and as always.

Today I want to share with you "The Miracle of the Spilled Milk." My hope is that someday when you need it you can apply this lesson in your own life. And, you won't even have to spill a glass of milk to set the miracle in motion!

During my mom's hospital stay (yes, I am still ruminating on this experience. But this isn't bad. I promise.) I came home one afternoon to try to get some much needed sleep. My efforts were futile. I was not able to sleep. Nor was I able to eat or do much of anything. My body and soul were paralyzed in shock and grief. Because of my inability to tend to my basic needs (I had not slept in more than 30 hours and my last meal was a bag of peanut M&Ms the night before), I was getting extremely weak. The only thing I knew was that I had to get back up to Milwaukee to be with Mom. And, in order to get enough strength, I had to eat something. Anything.

I tried cereal. But, I couldn't stomach that. I can't remember what else I tried. But, there was something else, I think. Finally, I decided that I could probably drink a glass of milk. So, I poured myself a glass. After a couple of sips, I placed the glass of milk on a T.V. tray.  And, as luck would have it, it spilled -- all over the T.V. tray. All over the floor. And, all over the T.V. controller.

Now, this is going to sound really crazy. But, as I sat there looking at the milk, I actually considered just leaving it. I was that drained. I figured that Charlie would clean it up when he got home. Or, the dogs would lick it up. Nothing mattered. I really didn't care.

Here is where the miracle came in. Something inside of me said, "Don't leave the milk. You have to clean it up."

Now, I don't know if you have ever realized this. But, when you are cleaning up a big mess, your mind is focused on the mess. You are not thinking about taking the kids to soccer practice, a conversation at the office, or, in my case, that the cancer we hoped was gone had metastasized to my mom's brain. For those few minutes, my mind was given a break from the horror that was consuming me. And when I finished the job, I felt better. I don't know if it was the slight physical activity that improved my state. Or, the brief respite from the pain. But, I actually felt better. Moreover, I immediately attributed the improvement to the simple act of cleaning up the spilled milk.

This realization inspired me just enough to formulate a plan. If I could drink some milk, I could drink an energy shake. I also knew that the more I did, the better I would feel. So, I pulled myself together, drove to the store, bought some Ensure, and was on my way back to Milwaukee. This may seem trivial. But, to me it was nothing short of miraculous. Not only did the spilled milk give me enough strength to get off the couch, it ultimately brought me  to where I was most needed — at my mom's side.

So, here is the lesson. If you are ever feeling so low that you don't think you can go on, do something. Do anything. Move your body. The slightest change can make just enough difference so that you can move on to the next step.

PS: Before I left for home that day, Mom had been sleeping well, ate a great breakfast, and was preparing to polish off a lunch of turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy. If she isn't an inspiration, I don't know what is!

This is not going to be a pleasant post. Don't worry. Mom is doing fine today. There are no changes in her health. But, if you are not in the mood to read about deep-seeded fear and anger, then I suggest you skip this one. (I will try to write an uplifting post next!)

When I was a teenager, I worked as a cashier at Hardees, the fast food chain. One night I had a terrible dream. A dream that I have never forgotten and doubt I ever will. It went like this:

Nightmare One

I was alone, standing behind the counter at Hardees and prepared to take the next order. A man walked up to my register. He pulled out a gun and very calmly told me that I was going to die. He said, "It will go like this. I will count to three. One, two, three. Bang. Ready?" He proceeded to count. "One. Two. Three." And I awoke.

Tonight, for probably the millionth time, I was damning the hospital doctor for "giving my mom 6 months to live." I do not believe that the doctor's prognosis is correct. But, I do believe that this practice is very harmful. It is beyond harmful. It is destructive. And, it was my nightmare come to life.

Nightmare Two

I was sitting beside my mother's hospital bed. The doctor came in. A man that we had never seen before, but a face that I will never forget. Very calmly he said, "The tumors are extensive. You will die from this. With treatment you can expect to live 6 months to a year. We will treat you to extend your life. Then we will manage your pain." About the only thing he left off was the, "Ready? One. Two. Three..."

Every day since that doctor (or gunman depending on how you want to look at it) said those words, I have been rewriting this story in my head. I replace his "6 months" with the "fourteen years" of another patient that Mom's oncologist told us about. His, "We will treat you to extend your life" is replaced by Mom's oncologist's hope that "the radiation may eradicate the tumors". I read everything I can about holistic approaches to healing and encourage Mom to incorporate them in her battle plan. More than anything, I live for today.

You may wonder why I chose to share this with you. Honestly, I do not want to haunt anyone with these words. I just want to release this nightmare. I figure if I can just get it out, maybe it will be gone forever. Also, I think that someday another person who is on this same journey may come upon this post and take comfort in knowing they he or she is not alone. If you can rewrite the story and live for today, you can keep those demons at bay. Oh, and fuck all of the doctors who spew out their unwanted prognoses. You better check in with God the next time you count someone out of this race!

This past weekend we had a wonderful visit with Mom's brother and his wife, Jim and Sonia!

Uncle Jim and Aunt Sonia (as I call them) flew in from California Friday afternoon. Because I had a date with my 8-year-old son at his school Halloween party, I was not able to join them for dinner at the Twisted Cuisine. However, I heard that the food was good and I know that Mom was so happy to have them here.

On Saturday morning, Mom, Dad, Uncle Jim, and Aunt Sonia went to a craft fair at Bradford High School. They came home with a bunch of goodies, including T-shirts for Craig and Nina (my cousin) that say "Bike Naked", a Green Bay Packer outfit for Eliana's doll, and an advent calendar for Nina's dog that holds milkbone biscuits. (It is the cutest thing!) That afternoon we sat around talking. It was so fun to hear the many stories about Uncle Jim and Aunt Sonia's grandson Bug. (His actual name is Ryan, but he goes by "Bug" for now.) Then, we
all went out for legendary Kenosha pizza!

The best part of the entire weekend, was Uncle Jim's special surprise. He brought a slide projector and about 20 slides of him, my mom, and my grandparents from when Mom and Uncle Jim were kids. Because there were only a few slides, we spent many minutes on each. We laughed at my grandmother's tendency to cut off people, but to take great pictures of walls. Aunt Sonia took great pleasure in pointing out my uncle's ears whenever there was a question of his identity. I especially enjoyed seeing pictures of my mom as a young girl. She was tall and thin -- all arms and legs -- just like I was!
 
The picture below was taken just after the slide show entertainment. From left to right: Aunt Sonia, Uncle Jim, and Mom