Winning the War

This past Monday Tim and I celebrated. We were down in North Carolina for his one year appointment with Duke University. One year marking the days following our world turning"upside up" with the word Glioblastoma entering our vocabulary, along with hundreds of other cancer terms.

Our visit with Dr. R went wonderful. We had already heard the news the week before of how his MRI looked good. But to hear his doctor tell us in person and hear those words "I really like the looks of your MRI." gave us even more reassurance.

We were given even greater news of how Tim's chemo bi-monthly treatments would subside in October and not in December liked we thought. And this is because of the number of cycles in his treatments. They added up to finish in October. However he will still have a once month chemotherapy session with one of the chemos. But not three and not every two weeks. Hearing this made Tim feel so much better. Those chemo treatments are rough on him both physically and emotionally. Even though his chemo session last week went surprisingly better, not having to do them altogether is awesome.

In two months we mail another MRI to Duke for them to view. Four months from now we travel back to Duke for not only another MRI but also a PET scan of his brain. That PET scan will be a biggy too. Unlike a MRI, it will pick up any "hot" areas of what would be any metabolic activity, or active cancer cells. If his scan comes back "cold" we can party 'til the cows come home. Or something like that.

If any "hot" areas show up on this upcoming scan, then more chemotherapy will have to be done. But our doctor reassured us, explaining if we see some activity of cancer cells, not to go into panic mode. Sometimes that is normal to see those "hot" areas. I am hoping for an icy cold PET scan!

After our appointment with Duke we traversed around in our little rental car. Oh how I loathe driving a car. Tim would laugh at my reaction anytime a truck would pass us on the highway. He said I would duck down and white knuckle the steering wheel. Okay, so I feel so tiny in a puddle jumper!

With the help of our handy GPS stuck to the inside of our car's windshield we looked up an Irish pub. A cold Irish brew sounded heavenly. We found a cool little place down on the main street of Durham, minutes away from Duke University.

We sat outside, sipping our Irish beer, reveling over our past two hours at the Preston Robert Tisch Brain Cancer Center of Duke University.

And I ate this. Chicken quesadillas with seasoned fries and a cabbage, beef soup. Pico de Gallo? Check. Sour cream? Check. Utterly, amazing, fulfilling bliss of a lunch? Check. Check.

Tim said I even licked the plate clean. I probably did. It was soooo good. And I was soooo hungry.

We had a relaxing lunch. It couldn't be anything but relaxing. Such a huge weight had been lifted from our lives. Dark clouds had disappeared. We enjoyed this time together enormously.

We discussed our future. We talked about Montana. He talked about going back to work. He misses working. How he misses his clients and seeing those furry patients. We both beamed talking about our kids. How proud we are of them. How they keep Tim going. We analyzed our families and how much closer we have all become throughout this past year. How so very lucky we are to have this huge support network around us.

We laughed. Oh how we laughed throughout our trip over the course of three days. It felt good too. Really good to laugh out loud. Huge belly aching roaring laughs! It is true, laughter is the best medicine.

Our roller coaster ride of a life is moving along smoothly. I am enjoying the smoothness of it all too. No flips, or rolls or upward climbs or spiraling around, spinning like crazy. A sense of peace. Calmness. Normalcy. I catch myself too sometimes. Those times of normalcy. I see glimpses of how our lives were so long ago. And even though so many things have changed, a few things have remained the same. I find comfort in those normal moments of so long ago. They are still here. This cancer hasn't taken away who we are; what we are together. We are at war with this cancer. Currently we are winning.

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Not Diggin' It

What would run through your mind if you came across this awful sight in one of your flower beds? Horrified? Mystified? Surprised? Weally Weally mad?

Uh huh. Yeah me too. Mad. Ticked off.

No it's not a woodchuck. Nor a rabbit. I know my kids would never, ever, ever dig a hole in their mom's flower beds because they know I would forever ground them to their rooms.

I mean, what the heck?

When I asked my kids about this, my son replied, "Looks like someone is digging their grave Mom."

If this digging keeps up, that certain animal will find his or her grave. And soon.

But it gets better folks. I came across this as well. A chewed up solar light. CHEWED ON. Like being eaten away at. As if it were in the way of one's path. So let's chew on the solar light! Maybe it will go away.

Again, what the heck.

But I wasn't born yesterday. Of course not! I am so much closer to 40 years of age each and every day. Older wiser. I smell a four legged critter when I see this type of work. I smell a trouble maker. An animal with an ADHD disorder.

She is so guilty. Hopelessly guilty. Yeah, that is Hope up there on that table. She likes to sit there so she can look in through the front window of our house.

"Hi humans! Hope here! What are you doing? I want to show you what I recently did! So cool!"

Hope you are so funny! Ha, ha, ha. You make me laugh. You had such a blast digging holes to China and chewing up not one but every one of my solar lights. Every stinkin' one.

Shall we put up a sign now that reads, "Hope was here"?

Hope is a year old now. She is as crazy as ever. Still has that puppy way about her. She loves to jump up and kiss your face, grab at your nose. Or leap up along side you as you are walking, just to smear a couple paw prints on your clean shorts. She and Ruby are buds. They have so much fun together in their journeys each day. They love to play tag and it is usually Ruby who chases Hope because, well who do you think is slightly faster? Yes, Hope is incredibly fast. Yooper says he clocked her at 30 mph one day as he was racing along side her on the four wheeler.

"Honey, really, you were going that fast?"

"I couldn't keep up with her! She is like a cheetah!"

She is a fun dog. As quirky as she can be. As annoying as her puppy habits drive me nuts some days. And even as neurotic as she can be, she is a great dog for our family. She fits in. She fills a void Yooper was missing when he lost his last bird hunting dog to old age. She is great with the kids. She loves Ruby. Hope makes us laugh with her silliness. She amazes us by her smartness!

Did I mention she makes a good running partner with me? Hmmm, more on that subject some other time. The running part. Me running also known as exercising. But it is more like a jog/ walk or Wogging.

I have since fixed my flower beds. Repaired/replaced those pathetic looking solar lights. (They didn't solar light at night any way.)

I hope I don't find anymore of her grave holes. I am not real impressed by them. I mean, she could have at least left some room for a burial stone!

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