day in the life
Highlighting
the everyday life of a couple living well with a slow-growing cancer.
Life isn’t
always easy, and there will certainly be sorrows and losses
along the way. But being alive is good. It is very good.
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Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Countdown
Five more
days until I get to meet our newest granddaughter, Lydia! Until
then, my life at work is crazy busy. We’re in crunch week of
Heaven Can Wait, a 5K
walk/run founded nine years ago by a local breast cancer
survivor.
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This year the event will more than likely pass the
half million dollar mark in total funds raised to
benefit our Cancer Services Department. Amazing for
a small town like Bend.
Gary gets roped into these events as my volunteer
personal assistant – we’re a package deal. He’ll
help me set up on Friday evening at the athletic
shoe store where registrants will pick up race
packets … we’ll work together at the store on
Saturday … and then report at 6:30 am to the park on
Sunday in preparation for the main event.
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And then I’ll
board a plane Monday morning for New Jersey and leave all the
“clean up” work on my desk, and will try not to think
about how high the pile is while I cuddle and play with
grandchildren.
Five more
days!
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Monday, May 26, 2008
Extended family
We just got
back from Gary’s family reunion. For 39 years, the Johnsons have
been camping out on Memorial Day weekend with anywhere from 80
to 120 people in attendance – a wonderful blend of four
generations.
Over the
course of the years, a few things have changed. I’m not a coffee
drinker, but we’ve gone high-tech from the early days when
someone threw a handful of grounds into an old cast iron coffee
pot and set it on the open fire until it boiled over.
A few
years back, someone got smart and divided the family members
into groups for meal preparation and clean-up. Almost every year
there are new engagements or marriages, and almost certainly
there are new babies. The most noticeable variation this year
was a couple of our nieces who changed their hair color from
blonde to dark brunette … but they’re still blonde, if you catch
my drift.
So although
there are changes, not much really changes. Which is one of the
things I love about the family reunion. We still hang out around
the campfire and get caught up on the latest family news. We
still play table games and lawn games and take the little ones
to the playground, marveling at how much they’ve grown. We still
eat way too much food (the Johnson women know how to
cook!). We still have Skit Night on Saturday and a Sunday
morning worship service.
On the drive home, Gary commented on how encouraging the weekend
had been and how good it is to get together. Whether they
realize it or not, our extended family is a critical part of our
support system.
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Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Testing the limits
Gary took the
last two mornings off
from his usual hike up Pilot Butte because his calves were
pretty
sore. They’re sore because we hiked Tumalo Mountain in the snow
on Sunday.
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We’ve climbed Tumalo Mountain in the summertime
and knew it would be a
challenge in the snow. It’s a favorite place for
local snowriders. With snowboards or skis strapped
to their backs, they hike to the top and throw
themselves over the east edge. No pricey ski passes;
no waiting in lift lines. Sometimes you just have to
see what you’re capable of doing. |
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With Gary, it's defying the side effects of cancer
treatment and refusing to give in to exhaustion. Like I said, sometimes you just
have to see what you’re capable of doing.
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Saturday, May 17, 2008
Trailblazers
Gary was in
an all-day training today. He’s now an official, card-carrying
cancer support volunteer with the
Cancer Hope Network,
a non-profit organization
that provides one-on-one support to people undergoing treatment
for cancer.
Thirty-four local people participated in the
training these past two days.
The new trainees will be added to the
Cancer Hope Network database. When a
newly-diagnosed patient calls CHN, they’ll be connected to a
trained volunteer with a similar cancer experience.
Gary was impressed with the other survivors he met who have gone
through so much and yet are willing to give of their time and
efforts to help others.
I’ve heard Gary compare the cancer journey to hiking a new
trail. He points out that whenever we consider a new hike, we
like to talk with someone who can give us an idea of the terrain
and what to expect. “It’s the same with cancer,”
Gary says. “It’s good to talk with
someone who has walked the trail ahead of you.”
I would think having a personal cancer trailblazer would be
incredibly encouraging. Along with that, I believe that being
a personal cancer trailblazer can be
an important part of living well.
So often it turns out that we’re the ones who benefit most when
we focus outward in service to others.
Comment
Thursday, May 15, 2008
The last lecture
I just
finished reading a little book, The Last Lecture, by
Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon.
Pausch has a wife, three young children … and pancreatic cancer.
He’s been told he has just a few months left to live.
Gary and I
watched a
YouTube version of Pausch’s
last lecture given at Carnegie Mellon. After
doing push-ups on the stage floor to demonstrate that he was
probably in better condition than most of the people in the
audience, Pausch talked about how to achieve one’s childhood
dreams.
Pausch’s book
is an expansion of his lecture. Its short chapters have titles
such as “No Job is Beneath You”, “A Bad Apology is Worse than No
Apology” and “Don’t Obsess Over What People Think”. The lecture
and the subsequent book were created
for the benefit of his young children – so they could remember
their dad
and know that he loved them; so they
could take in his words to live by.
I like this
guy’s attitude. Pausch has determined to live life fully for the
remaining time he has left on this earth. And
what a great way to live … whether one has cancer or not.
Read the
book.
Comment
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Mother’s Day thoughts
Gary and I
are sitting in a sunny spot along the
Deschutes River eating our Mother’s Day picnic. Geese are honking
their arrivals and departures, the wind is blowing through the
tall trees and chicken sandwiches never tasted so good.
We’re a bit
overdressed, but it’s because the Deschutes River Trail was Plan
“B”. Originally we set out to climb
Tumalo Mountain, just 20 miles west of town. We layered up
and grabbed our snowshoes, but at the base of the mountain the
wind was blowing snow crossways. We
climbed a little distance … and even
though we were dressed warmly enough, we turned back because the
plan was to sit and write and enjoy the great outdoors while
eating lunch.
So here along
the river we are soaking up the warmth of the sun and I was
thinking about our children and about my mom and mother-in-law,
both widowed. We mailed cards and gifts earlier this week to our
mothers and we’ll call them both. Our daughter, Summer, who just
had a baby girl two days ago, texted this morning: “On our way
home from the hospital to begin our new life as 5.” Our son,
Jeremy, will call later today (or at least he’d better!)
and I’ll phone Summer after she gets settled in at home with
their new baby.
Gary and I
were just talking about how we raised our children to be
independent and are so proud of the young adults they’ve become
... and yet there’s this little piece deep inside my heart that
says, “Don’t get so independent that you don’t need me any
longer.”
But that’s
exactly what’s happened. They don’t need us any longer in that
same sense. And that’s a good thing. They have their own lives
to live, just as we set off on our journey of building a life
together several years ago. We didn’t forget our parents, but
our days were wrapped up in raising our children and in
providing for their needs and making memories for them.
And so as
we
take stock of how much we have – even after the dust has settled
from recent setbacks and losses – we are
grateful for the influence of our mothers and grateful for all
the ties that link us to a living and breathing family structure
that nurtured us and taught us how to pass that nurturing down
the line.
And on this
day, we are particularly grateful for
our children and children-in-law and grandchildren.
Comment
Friday, May 09, 2008
Welcome to our world, Lydia
The phone woke us out of a sound sleep
last night. Our daughter, Summer, was headed to the hospital to
have a baby. Josh, our son-in-law, called shortly after noon
today with the news that Lydia Hope had made her entrance –
weighing in at 8 lbs., 2 oz! Mother and baby were resting well.
Josh and
Summer have a 7-year-old daughter, Lilly, and a 5-year-old son,
Titus. They’ve both been looking forward to having a baby sister
(well, actually … Titus was hoping it would be a baby brother).
They lived in Bend until about a year and a half ago when our
son-in-law moved our daughter and grandchildren to New Jersey.
I
emailed my sister-in-law: “Where is New Jersey … somewhere in
Eastern Europe?”
She wrote back: “I think it’s in South
America.”
We were lucky
to have six very fun years growing up in the same town with our
grandchildren. They were both aware that Grandpa had some sort
of illness and had to eat a healthier diet, but of course they
didn’t understand cancer. They loved coming to our house for
sleepovers. From a 2005 journal entry:
“Lilly and Titus spent the night Friday night. And in
the morning we baked healthy cookies—my little helpers with
chairs pushed up to the kitchen counter—and we watched Ice
Age
for the second time and they still didn’t want to go home, so
they helped me pull weeds in the yard, only I pulled and they
dug holes in the soft damp dirt and when we finally took them
home with dirt in their fingernails their mother was pleased
they had helped Grandma in the yard.”
And now there
is a third grandchild, only this one was born clear on the other
side of the world. I will fly back to New Jersey soon to meet
our newest grandchild and to spoil the older two for a few days.
And I will count my blessings, which have just increased.
Welcome to
our world, Lydia. Do you know how loved you are … even before we
get to hold you?
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Sunday, May 05, 2008
Personal touch
I mentioned
our friend
who just this past week learned her colon cancer
had metastasized to her brain. For the
past couple years, she and her husband have been attending the
DEFEAT Cancer program founded
by Dr. Archie Bleyer. When he heard the news of her metastases, he
immediately called her. Friday morning at work he previewed a
DVD of a television discussion with three cancer survivors –
Lance Armstrong, Elizabeth Edwards and a journalist who is
almost two years out from colon cancer metastases to the brain.
Dr. Bleyer was thinking of our friend at the time and arranged
to get a copy to her.
I’ve mentioned
the good doctor before, but you need
to know a little more about him.* He
was Chair
of the Pediatrics Dept at the prestigious M.D. Anderson Cancer
Center in Houston in the 1990s; he’s a founding member of the
LiveStrong Young Adult Alliance; he’s been awarded more than $75
million in research grants – just to mention a few of his
lifetime achievements.
He is 65 years
young (I once saw him let some visiting foster kittens loose in
the Cancer Center, placing one hapless kitten on the
desk of one of the oncologists). He is brilliant but personable;
he takes the time out of his incredibly busy schedule
to connect with local cancer survivors.
Our friend has
begun her daily radiation treatments. Those of us on the Cancer
Services staff stop to chat with her and her husband when we see
them in the waiting room. I was thinking how much the personal
touch would have meant to us when Gary was first diagnosed—if
staff had greeted us with hugs and unhurried conversations; if
one of the docs had presented us with a DVD that he thought
would be insightful and encouraging.
It’s the
personal touch that a good deal of
the medical professionals don’t have
time for ... and understandably
so. But speaking from experience, it’s the personal touch
that helps a cancer patient and caregiver feel a little less
frightened. For where there are people who
seem to care, there is hope.
*Unrelated, side story:
Gary and I
traveled with Dr. Bleyer to a Lance Armstrong Foundation
conference in Austin, Texas last fall. The conference ended at
noon and Dr. Bleyer was flying back to
Houston to pick up his wife, Mo, who was visiting friends.
Our flight took us to Salt Lake City, then we
would meet up with them at the Portland airport for the
last puddle-jumper flight home to Redmond/Bend.
We were
sharing a cab to the Austin airport
but didn’t realize at the time that Dr.
Bleyer's flight left at 1:00.
So at 12:00, he's
heading upstairs to pack. We checked in at the airport
and he ran past us as we were walking
toward security–
"I'm going to miss my flight … can you
make sure Mo gets home from the airport!” The last we saw of him
was with shoes in hand, pulled aside at the security point.
Boy, is Mo going to be unhappy.
You can imagine
our amazement when we deplaned in Portland and Dr. Bleyer was
sitting with Mo in the airport waiting
room!
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