Holding Out For a Hero

214 Days to Go

HEROES come in many shapes and sizes. For most of us, when we are very young, our first hero is a mom or dad (depending on which one actually kills the spiders in the bathroom, kisses away the owies, and can get the lid off the jelly jar). Then, most children move into the more civic-minded phase of holding up police officers and fire fighters as heroes. My dad was a fire fighter, so I was lucky enough to be able to combine the two. (But mom was the one who could get the lid off the jelly jar!) Then, I sort of skipped the pre-teen/teen phase of looking to sports figures and celebrities as heroes. Sure, I’ll admit I had a small poster of Scott Baio on the wall of my bedroom (Hey, in those days, he was a grade-A, certified FOX!) but I was never over-the-top for anyone like that.

One of the questions on my 10-year high school reunion survey was to list my hero. That, and the question, “Who is the one person, living or dead, that you would most like to meet?” …. Well, those questions have always been difficult for me to answer. There might be a celebrity or two I enjoy, or a historical figure I think it would be interesting to meet, but no clear-cut HERO figure has ever stood out for me. And especially to be asked to narrow it down to ONE. If I hail Jonas Salk for his polio vaccine, does that diminish Benjamin Franklin’s electricity? To say Ghandi was the greatest peacemaker of all times seems somewhat insulting to Mother Theresa, know what I mean? And while I might not be Catholic, I’m still not taking any chances by being disrespectful about the most important nun I’ve ever heard of.

Fortunately, the world of pediatric cancer is one place where it is not only OK, but wonderful to have more than one Hero. Having a few hundred or thousand to rally around you can certainly be uplifting at times!

First, of course, are the kids themselves. I know all of you are already inspired by these kids and all they go through, or you wouldn’t spend your spare time browsing Caringbridge sites and offering notes of encouragement. So, I won’t dwell on that except to say Kendrie is indeed my hands-down hero in this whole mess. Even when she’s whining about taking her meds, because I know she’ll eventually suck it up and take them each night. And she knows she will, too, but sometimes in life a little pre-medication whining is simply in order.

Secondly, where would any of our kids be without the medical staff that takes care of them, plowing along with our families through this un-chartered territory? Sometimes it’s even un-chartered for them ….. but if you are lucky and have doctors, nurses, nurse-practitioners, anesthesiologists, therapists, child-life specialists, technicians, radiologists, pharmacists, etc etc etc that you like as much as we like ours, its makes the entire journey a lot more bearable. We still have seven months of treatment to go and I’m *already* stressing over what I can possibly do or make or buy or beg or borrow or steal at the end to show all these people how much I appreciate what they have done for Kendrie. If any of you have any suggestions, please leave them in the guestbook --- I am all ears.

Thirdly, and what I want to talk about today, are the people who aren’t in the medical field, but who still feel called to HELP in some way. I had no idea when we began this adventure of ours, how many kind, caring, compassionate people there are in the world. It’s always been hard for me to ask for help. I was the kind of kid who would walk home from school before I would ask for a ride. As an adult, I’ve gotten better (ie, lazier) and asking for help isn’t quite as awkward, but I still hate to do it. I’ve learned, however, through our experience with leukemia, that there are people out there who really want to help and just need to be pointed in a direction. Others have a direction already and have done things for our family that I didn’t even realize we needed!

We have been helped by so many charitable organizations that I am almost embarrassed, except that each one has been fabulous and none of them have made me feel like they were offering charity. Perhaps that’s the mark of a truly great hero --- someone who does something for you without making you feel awkward or indebted. The least I can do is mention some of them by name and make public my thanks to all of them.

Supersibs!, whose mission is to honor, support and recognize brothers and sisters of children with cancer. Brayden and Kellen have gotten lots of neat care packages from Supersibs, and have been made to feel special during a time when they might otherwise have gotten overlooked. If you have a child with cancer who has siblings, consider signing them up for Supersibs. If this sounds like an organization you would like to support, please visit their website for opportunities. Brayden and Kellen are definitely heroes in their own right, considering how their lives have been spun and changed and oftentimes put on hold, through no fault of their own, and I think Supersibs! is a great organization to recognize that.


The Lighthouse Family Retreat If you’ve been following our website since last summer, you already know about our wonderful week at the beach courtesy of the Lighthouse. Their mission is to serve children with cancer and their families at a seaside retreat and help them to laugh, restore family relationships, and find hope in God. Words can’t describe how great that week was. I strongly encourage you to visit their website and learn more about the amazing people who have dedicated themselves to this ministry. Also, poke around the site a bit for some great photos of a *certain* family enjoying themselves last summer …. especially one extremely flattering photo of a certain someone, who shall not be named (Blaine) in a grass skirt and adorable coconut bra. Blaine and I hope to someday return to the Lighthouse as Family Volunteers, but I’m afraid the coconut bra picture might deem us (well, HIM, anyway!) as mentally unstable.

Camp Sunshine provides recreational, educational, and support programs for children with cancer and their families, and provides them an opportunity to develop friendships with others experiencing similar challenges, to participate in activities that promote normal childhood development, and to assist in their fight against cancer. Camp Sunshine has been a big help to us, not only allowing us to enjoy thier twice-yearly Family Camp Weekends and various family activities, but also providing us with a local area support group these past six months, which has been great for us, and also serving as a way for us to connect and keep in touch with quasi-local families who are experiencing the same things we are experiencing as a cancer-family. If you live anywhere near the Atlanta area, you should really check them out.

The Make A Wish organization, who facilitated Kendrie’s wish trip to Disney in February. Despite how it might have appeared in my journal entries telling about the trip, I do not hold Make A Wish directly responsible for the complete and total decline in manners and behavior my children experienced during their stay in Florida. I haven’t quite decided WHO exactly I *do* hold responsible, but I’ll let you know when I find someone or something to blame.

Give Kids The World, the amazing resort where we stayed for Kendrie’s wish trip ….. Give Kids the World (GKTW) is a 51-acre, non-profit resort that invites children with life-threatening illnesses and their families to spend a cost-free, week-long vacation in the central Florida area. Those are the “official” stats for the resort --- but what it really is, the spirit and kindness and generosity that was shown to our family there, can’t easily be put into words. After we volunteer back at the Lighthouse, volunteering at Give Kids the World is next on our list. Magical. Truly.

Here is a perfect example of a Hero born out of an otherwise intolerable situation. Grianne Owen’s son Killian passed away from leukemia --- determined to help battle on, in his honor, she came up with Coaching for The Cure. The idea is simple. At the end of every sports season, the team parent generally takes up a collection of donations from the parents to buy a gift for their coach. What "Coaching for the Cure" offers is a way to donate those funds in honor of the team coach. By going to the website and printing out the donation form, Team Moms everywhere can help "Kids Kick Cancer"! Coaching for the Cure accepts the financial donation in honor of the Coach and sends a T-Shirt and certificate to be presented to the coach by the team. Coaches help and inspire their youth and what better way to teach the invaluable lesson of helping others than by the example of giving! Coaching for the Cure has signed an agreement with Curesearch (formerly the National Childhood Cancer Foundation) to launch the idea nationally in January 2005.

"While survival rates have increased in the last forty years, 1 in 4 children (some studies show 1 in 3) diagnosed with cancer still do not survive. This is particularly intolerable when doctors are now saying it is possible to find a cure for childhood cancer in our lifetime if we have the funding needed to support the research being done. With your support, we can turn childhood cancer from a killer disease to a curable one! Please join our team and help us Kick Childhood Cancer! If you have kids who play on organized sports teams, this is a great way to help --- become a HERO yourself!"


CURE Childhood Cancer was founded in 1975 as a non-profit organization dedicated to conquering childhood cancer through research, education and support of patients and their families. "Until there is a cure for every child diagnosed with cancer - CURE will be there." This is a great resource for families with diagnosed children and I highly recommend you check out their website.

Candlelighters Childhood Cancer Foundation is committed to the mission of providing support, education and advocacy for children and adolescents with cancer, survivors of childhood/adolescent cancer, their families and the professionals who care for them. This is another great resource for parents of kids with cancer, or anyone looking for information. We received several free publications at the time of Kendrie’s diagnosis which helped us a lot, and you should visit the site to see what they have to offer.

As you might remember, we took part in the Leukemia & Lymphoma’s Society Light the Night fundraising walk in Atlanta last October, with our team raising close to $4,000. The Light The Night® Walk is The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's nationwide evening walk to raise awareness of blood cancers and funds for cures. Participants carry illuminated balloons to celebrate and commemorate lives touched by cancer. Funds raised support the Society's mission: cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease and myeloma, and improve the quality of life of patients and their families.

There’s a little bit of controversy within the world of pediatric cancer and the fact that the vast majority of funds raised by LLS go towards research to cure adult cancers. The same controversy surrounds the LLS’s other major fundraiser, Team in Training activities. I’m not going to quote the actual percentages, because it’s depressingly low and that’s not the goal of this journal entry. I understand the stink …. and naturally I wish more of their funds went towards pediatric cancer research. But I consider LLS to be a “roundabout” hero and believe that any money raised will help in some manner….. also, I think that knowledge gained through adult cancer research can hopefully be applied towards our kids, to help them fight their battles as well.

Another "round-about" hero, in my opinion, is the American Cancer Society, whose Relay for Life walks are currently taking place all over the country. Relay For Life is a fun-filled overnight event designed to celebrate survivorship and raise money for research and programs of the American Cancer Society. During the event, teams of people gather at schools, fairgrounds, or parks and take turns walking or running laps. Each team tries to keep at least one team member on the track at all times.

Again, the stink is that the ACS only donates a minuscule percentage of its funds to pediatric cancer research. Just like the LLS, the reasoning is that cancer strikes more adults than it does children, so the vast majority of the money should fund adult cancer research. I understand that, but as the parent of a child with cancer, it’s very discouraging. Again, that’s not what I want to dwell on.

I thought I would share with you some photos of our local Relay for Life event that took place Friday night. The elementary school that my children attend put together a team of teachers and administrators, and was kind enough to include Kendrie, another student at the school who had AML, a parent volunteer, and Blaine, as their “honorary” team cancer-survivor members. We had never taken part in Relay for Life before (shoot, I’ll admit it, before Kendrie got cancer I had never even heard of it!) but it was a very neat event last night and I’m glad we did it.



Now, I am not a particularly emotional person, but have to tell you how poignant I found the survivor’s lap to be. That’s the first lap of the walk, where survivors walk one lap around the track, to a continuous standing ovation from all the teams at the campsites. Naturally, I was running from one spot on the track to the next, trying to stay ahead of the walkers and hoping to get some good photos of our team. Our team was bringing up the rear (and I mean the VERY rear!) and when I saw them walking past, waving to the crowd, and saw how cute Kendrie looked, something just came over me and I welled up while I watched them walk past. In fact, for a brief moment, it occurred to me that half of the most important people in my life were walking a “Cancer Survivors Walk” --- how surreal is that? My husband AND my daughter. I’m sure I’m not the only one in that unique position, but it was emotional for me, nonetheless. For about half a minute … then I had to run ahead to get another photo.



But my opinion is that even though the ACS and the LLS often receive a bad rap in the pediatric cancer world for not doing enough to help our kids ……… the thousands and thousands of “normal” people who walk the laps, and run the marathons, and ride the bikes and swim the lakes and hike the canyons and raise the money ---- THOSE people are Heroes, too!

Along those lines, I have a few individual people I’d like to spotlight, and one more organization, but that’s going to have to wait for the next journal entry. I’m worried this one is so long I’m going to blow out the Caringbridge servers as it is.

Mainly, I wanted to let everyone know that we appreciate all that our heroes, known and unknown to us, have done to make our lives easier these past two years.

Hope you are all having a great weekend,

Take care,

Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:

Today was a pretty good day, although I was tired and grumpy from being out so late last night at the walk. Plus, mom bought me a blinky-light-necklace at the race last night and the cheap piece of crap didn’t work today. Ugh. And I was tired from doing that walk -- I don’t think I want to go back there ever, ever again.

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY:

Hey! Brayden found the battery that fell out of my blinky-necklace right before bedtime! How cool is that?? Now it works again! I LOVED that walk and can’t wait to go again and buy another necklace next year!

WOW, WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR MAKES!

220 Days to Go

I know, I know, I’ve used “Wow, what a difference a Year Makes!” as a journal title already …. probably more than once, if anyone's keeping track. But when the treatment for childhood leukemia lasts 26 months (and that’s your BEST case scenario!) well, you’ve got *several* chances to compare snapshots in time, a year apart.

So speaking of snapshots, today’s journal entry will be primarily photographic. Not because I don’t have a lot to say (when do I NEVER not have a lot to say?) but because I want to get these recent pictures put up on the site. Then I’ll update again in a day or two in my usual lengthy, wordy, ongoing, Good-Heavens-does-she-ever-stop-talking-manner.

So, as a preview, check out this picture of Kendrie taken one year ago, when she attended Field Day at her brother and sister’s school in May of 2004:



How pathetic is that? She was seven months into her treatment, which means she was right about at the end of her Interim Maintenance #2 phase. Bald, fatigued, nauseous and miserable. Not since the time I took Blaine to a scrapbook store have I seen a person LESS interested in their surroundings.

Now, check her out as a participant in THIS year’s Field Day extravaganza:





Jesse Owens, eat your heart out! Have you ever seen such baton-passing skill???




I don't know whether to be impressed or amused by the look of concentration on this face!




And of course, because no Pre-K activity or event would be complete with Kendrie's boyfriend Nicholas by her side .... the requisite picture of the happy couple.


In case her athletic prowess isn’t evident enough, what with the Field Day photos of all the baton passing and ball bouncing and what-not, check out her t-ball skills from the first scrimmage of the season:



Running to first base after her turn at bat. I love the image of the kid in the background, falling down trying to field her ground ball. That's a pose that happens a LOT in t-ball!




Crossing home plate, to the roar of the crowd ...... (or at least the enthusiastic clapping of one middle-aged mom with a camera around her neck)




"Hey, as much as I like the hitting and the running part, I have to admit that tagging these guys out at first base is kind of fun .... maybe *defense* is my thing!"


So, if you are really, really, really, really, really lucky (and we are) this is what nineteen months of chemotherapy treatment for leukemia looks like. Happy, healthy, pink cheeked and glowing. In case you hadn't realized, kids fall on both ends of the spectrum with regards to side effects from these treatment protocols. Obviously, even with her occasional nausea and fatigue and bone and joint pain, Kendrie is WAY at the good end of the spectrum. Way. As in freakishly-way. We understand that the effects from the various chemos are often cumulative and we still have seven months to go. Don’t think for one second we don’t count our blessings every day. We do. And one of our biggest blessings just learned to tag first.

Hope you all had a great Mothers Day!

Love, Kristie

PS. If you have a spare second, please visit our friend Caleb’s site. Caleb was diagnosed with leukemia in July of 2002 and has been on chemotherapy for almost three years. Remember when Kendrie said boys get an extra year of chemo because they’re stinky? Well, the real reason is because the testicles are a sanctuary site for leukemia cells and the extra year of chemo is to make sure none of the cancer cells are hiding there. Unfortunately in Caleb’s case, they were, and he has “officially” relapsed, only four months away from being done with treatment.

That’s the thing about this disease that is so frustrating and frightening to me. You can take your medicine just like you’re supposed to, never miss a dose or a day, do everything your doctor tells you to do, avoid all the germs and never skip a doctor’s appointment and wash your hands and everything else …. And BAM, sometimes the cancer comes back anyway. It doesn’t matter if you’ve completed a month of chemo, or six months, or a year, or two years, or even if you’ve been off-treatment for a few years. There is no 100 percent guarantee that what we are doing is going to be enough to keep the leukemia away forever, and that just sucks. It’s random, and it’s terrifying.

Sucking even more for Caleb and his family is that his dad is currently serving in Iraq, so please say a prayer, not only for Caleb’s health, and Caleb's doctors and family as they make some difficult decisions regarding his care, but also that his Dad is able to travel safely back and be with his family. I’m sure they would appreciate some notes of encouragement if you have time to sign their guestbook. I know we love it; I’m sure they would, too.

Hey, it's not my fault!

224 Days to Go!

I made an amazing discovery this past weekend. Despite what I might have previously thought about genetics, laziness, personal responsibility, and an inability to push away from the dinner table, it’s not my fault I am fat. The Air Force is totally to blame. Or, to be more specific, the commissary. And not for the reason you might think …. the fact that whenever I shop the cookies and candy and junk food has a tendency to fly right off the shelf and into my cart …. No, the reason is much more sinister and under-handed. It’s those damn “Work for Tips Only” baggers.

As anyone who has ever shopped in a military grocery store knows, baggers work for tips only. A fact they bring to your attention over and over with at least a dozen signs on every check-stand and notices plastered all over the doors. Since I shop with a credit card and rarely carry cash, I often find myself at the commissary, frantically digging in the seat cushions in the van for spare change. That’s embarrassing, so I try to remember to carry a few dollars whenever I go.

Last Sunday I got to the commissary and realized all I had in my wallet was a twenty dollar bill. I don’t care *HOW* friendly and helpful the bagger might be …. short of doing the shopping FOR me, there’s no way I’m tipping someone twenty bucks. So I drove over to the BX to find something, anything to buy, to break my twenty. But since it was a Sunday morning, nothing was open. Nothing except the kiosk selling heaven on a plate: Cinnabon. Sure, I know what you’re thinking ….. I could have just bought a small coffee and gotten change --- but I don’t *drink* coffee and that seemed wasteful. And I certainly could have bought a diet soda and simply been on my way. But there stood the cashier at Cinnabon, who had been “Baking Fresh Daily” (I know that because I can read other signs, too, in addition to the “Baggers Work For Tips Only” signs) and there was no way I could NOT get a cinnamon roll …. She was so friendly, so customer-service oriented …. Plus, I'm pretty sure they lace the air surrounding the kiosk with some sort of opium additive or something. To NOT buy a cinnamon roll seemed rude, almost insulting. And to buy the roll and then throw it out, well, anyone who knows me knows THAT ain’t happening. So I bought the roll. To break the twenty. To get some change. To tip the bagger. Who works for tips only. Because that’s the way they do it at the commissary. So it’s the Air Force’s fault that I’m fat. If I didn’t have to tip the bagger I wouldn’t have to eat the roll. And for the record, I did not enjoy any part of the cinnamon roll. Even the yummy, gooey icing that I practically licked off the plate.

And as more evidence, check out the comment Kendrie made to me the other night: I was sitting in the living room with all the kids while Kellen showed us his muscles. (A favorite pastime of his; I have no idea why.) So then Brayden had to show her muscles, and then Kendrie. They asked to see my muscles, and as I raised my arm in my sleeveless shirt, Kendrie pointed to the flab hanging off my arm and said, “Oh, look, Mommy’s got muscles in the BOTTOM of her arm!” (To add insult to injury, Blaine has LOST fifteen pounds in the past month due to his surgeries ……………….. bastard. I won't have to look hard to find them.)

Other comments made by Escoe kids this week:

I made a new brunch casserole this past weekend which Kendrie obviously didn’t like, based on the terrible, scrunched up face she was making as she choked down the bites she was required to eat before being allowed to leave the table. I looked at her, and the awful face she was making, and said, “Do you really hate it that much?” to which she replied, “No, my face always looks like this when I’m eating eggs.”

Brayden, talking about a boy she has in her class: “You know how Kendrie is a girl but she wants to be a boy and dresses like a boy and we call her a TOM-boy? Well, J. in my class is a boy, but he acts like a girl and talks like a girl and says he wants to be a girl … so that makes him a Tom-Girl, right?” And all I could think was, “Honey, that is **SO** not what it makes him.”

And finally, my favorite, proof that our children are indeed watching us and listening to us when we’re not aware …… and you just never know what habits or comments they might begin to mimic and use for themselves. Kellen and Kendrie were in their bedroom last night, settling in to bed for the evening, when the dog must have passed gas …. You know, the heavenly aromatic fragrance of rose petals wafting in the breeze …. And Kellen said, “Eww, something stinks!” to which Kendrie replied with a giggle: “Maybe it’s your UPPER LIP!”

These kids crack me up.

Take care,

Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Oh, this is SO easy. Last night was my first night of oral methotrexate since they increased my meds due to the roly-poly waistline I OBVIOUSLY inherited from my mother. So after taking my TWELVE pills last night, not only did I wake up this morning feeling crappy, and not only had my mom not refilled my Zofran prescription …. She wasn’t even home! Some crap about setting up for a Teacher Appreciation Breakfast. So Daddy had to take me to school, walk me to the nurses’ station, and get one of my zofran out of my school stash just so I could feel better before school started. Applications for my new mother figure will be accepted on Tuesdays after 4pm.

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Luckily she got the Zofran prescription refilled and I felt much better this evening … just in time for t-ball practice. My first scrimmage is Saturday; wish me luck! Can you believe there is a “no jewelry” policy and my mom had to get special permission for me to wear my medic alert bracelet? I guess on second thought …. She *does* have my best interest at heart, even if letting me run out of Zofran was a pretty big lapse on her part. She must have been daydreaming about a cinnamon roll.

Medical Mysteries of the World

(228 Days of Leukemia Treatment Left)

Thanks to all of you who responded so kindly about the wonderful journal entry penned for Kendrie’s site by Julianna Banana. It appears that I somehow missed the announcement that Julianna’s dad Terry’s birthday was this week, so if you have a second, hop back over to Julianna’s site and wish him a Happy Birthday. I’m not sure, but I think he’s 29 with 7 years practice.

So, getting back to the medical conundrum that IS my husband, let me catch you up to speed on his latest:

As you know, he went to the hospital for a routine follow-up ten days ago, and wound up admitted for surgery to remove the Blob-O-Crap that had developed in his post-surgical wound site in his lower leg. When I last left you, we were awaiting culture results to make sure he wasn’t growing any tropical diseases in there, and planned for him to be home in a day or two.

While he wasn’t harboring flesh-eating bacteria, it turns out that he DID, actually, have a staph infection in the site. And not just any staph infection, but a MRSA infection that is resistant to all front-line antibiotics such as penicillin. (Way to go, Blaine! Never settle for ordinary!)

Treatment for this type of infection is SIX WEEKS of twice-daily, heavy-duty IV antibiotic infusions. So he wound up having another surgery, to clean out the wound site again and have the surgeon nick off another portion of the tip of his leg bone …. just in case the staph infection had already spread to the bone -- which would be terribly difficult to treat -- they figured better safe than sorry and just sliced off another sliver of the bone. If he ever had considered donating his body to science, I’m afraid at this rate there won’t be enough of him left!!

They also inserted what is known as a PICC-line in his arm, a catheter of sorts that threads up the inside of his arm to the general area around his heart so he can administer the medication at home. The home health nurses are coming every few days to change the dressings, but it’s really a pretty easy set-up, just time consuming.

And that’s where he stands now; although the six weeks of IV therapy is, according to him, seriously cutting into his therapeutic post-op fishing time, his leg is feeling much better. I think with the Blob-O-Crap gone, the recovery will move along much more smoothly. But Blaine has already told me that he won’t be going to his follow-up appointment next week without an overnight bag packed!

So the entire process of events has left me with a few medical mysteries that I am unable to solve ………… maybe some of you have answers you can share:

**The fact that he not only has a staph infection, but has one that is resistant to 99.9 percent of all antibiotics ever manufactured --- does that make him an over-achiever or an under-achiever?

**Did the nursing staff really think they were helping him, when he asked for a razor, by giving him a surgical razor that ripped most of the hair out of one side of his cheek?

**Does the fact that I didn’t think to take him a clean pair of underwear when I went to pick him up mean I am a bad person, or just slovenly and thoughtless? Or how about the fact I thought to bring him a clean t-shirt, but then forgot and left it in the car?

**How can a fifteen minute exam lead to seven days and nights in the hospital, two spinal taps and a PICC-line insertion?

**When the doctor tells you, “We’re no longer worried about him losing his leg” ….. um, does that mean I *should* have been worried about that at some point? Because nobody told me to be!

**Why on earth, when I’m standing in the main lobby of the hospital with Blaine’s fresh cup of coffee from the cafeteria in hand, and he’s on the 9th floor, eagerly awaiting said cup of coffee, would there be a fire alarm at that very moment, rendering the elevators inoperable and requiring me to climb nine flights of stairs? Is that some kind of cruel trick of the Exercise Gods?

**Who decided Blaine must have his home-IV at 9 am and 9 pm every day, when the medication has to be removed from the fridge four to six hours beforehand to warm up to room temperature? Is anyone aware of what time that is???? And the infusions themselves each take about an hour and a half, so now he’s REALLY griping about the loss of fishing time.

**And one final medical mystery: Can someone tell me why, a reasonably bright person such as myself, who has a relative grasp on most of the daily functions necessary to lead a normal life, is apparently completely unable to tell time? Because see … here’s the deal. When I talked to Blaine’s doctor Tuesday night I asked him what time Blaine would be released from the hospital the next day. First of all, I think the medical staff at that hospital must assume we have some “in-name-only” sort of marriage, since I left him there by himself for the entire week he was in the hospital, having bones sliced and blobs cultured, undergoing spinal taps, and without bringing the man a clean pair of underwear. Never mind that the hospital is three hours from home and I have three children here, who on a daily basis, make constant, completely unreasonable demands for food and parental care and what-not.

So, anyway, the doctor told me Blaine would be able to come home by noon. “Noon, you say?” I double-checked, “as in 12 o’clock?? ….. because I have one girlfriend who is riding up with me, who has agreed to have someone watch her own children so she can follow us home in Blaine’s truck so we don’t have to leave it in Augusta, and another girlfriend who is not only picking my kids up from school, but offered to bring us dinner that night when we get back home. So, you said NOON, right?” Yes, Mrs.-You-Must-Really-Hate-Your-Husband-To-Not-Even-Show-Up-At-The-Hospital-For-His-Surgery-Escoe, he’ll be ready to go home by noon.

So the next evening, when we were walking out of the hospital at 6:15 pm, I’m wondering just where MY definition of noon and the MEDICAL definition of noon have swerved paths. My girlfriend Renee and I were there by noon …… Blaine was ready to go (more than ready, practically pacing the halls) yet it took over six hours to line up his home health care and get him checked out. Given as I had over six hours to think about it, this is the best explanation I can come up with:

(ahem::clearing throat::) When the doctors said NOON, what they really meant was HIGH NOON, as in, the sun at its zenith. Which, if you lived in Australia, would actually be midnight our time. And as everyone knows, midnight in Greek is referred to as “Illuminos”, which means “to brighten” and as is perfectly obvious, most people brighten up at the end of their workday, which for the average American worker, is 5 pm in the evening, so if you add the hour for the recent daylight savings time, THAT explains why Blaine wasn’t released until after 6pm. I mean really, how could I have been so stupid? It was SO blatantly obvious!

So anyway, my poor girlfriend Renee, who had told her babysitter (thank goodness for Grandmas!) that she would be home by 4pm, didn’t get home until almost 10pm. My poor girlfriend Kelly, who thought she was going to have my kids for an hour or two after school, not only got stuck watching them for seven hours, she had to feed them and do their homework with them to boot. The home health nurse came to our house to show Blaine how to start the infusions and didn’t leave until after 11pm. Then, the next morning, I had to get up at 5am to take Kendrie to Atlanta for her monthly chemo appointment …….. oh yeah, that’s right, we’ve got a kid with cancer here, too!

Funny, but that’s almost how it felt last week. Her nightly chemo was practically an afterthought each evening, after talking to Blaine and his doctors on the phone to find out what was going on there …. Fortunately, her visit went very well. This was one of the Every-12-Weeks appointments, meaning she also had a spinal tap (something else she and Blaine have in common now) in addition to her IV-medication (hey, yet another thing!)

Once again, her ANC was high (1900’s) but despite what I *thought* would happen, her oncologist did NOT up her dosages of chemo. Well, let me rephrase that. ALL of her chemo dosages were upped, but due to the weight/height gain that she has had in the past three months, and not due to her consistently high counts. The chemo medication amounts are formulated based on the size of the patient, so every three months they review her chart and recheck her growth, to see if she needs more drugs. Lucky us, this time she does!!! (The sarcasm comes into play because that means she’s on a higher dose of steroids this month -- woo hoo!)

I swear, the night-time medication ritual is often complicated, based on what day of the week it is, and is it a steroid week, or a week day or a week end, or a spinal week, or an oral methotrexate week ….. and just about the time we get it all figured out in our heads and are no longer obsessively double-checking the medication chart on the fridge ….. they go and increase the dosages!!! (OK, I’m kidding; we will obsessively double-check the medication chart until she is finished.)

And that rounded out our week in a nutshell. Blaine is suffering the common side effects of these high-dose antibiotics (night sweats and nausea ……. now he knows what it’s like to be peri-menopausal) and Kendrie is not yet launched into her Steroid Personality From Hell Behavior …. We’re battening down the hatches and hoping for the best. As for me, my only problem is the back strain I have from carrying around this debt of gratitude to Renee and Kelly --- you girls rock! Thank you! What would we have done without you both????

Thanks so much for checking in on us. I really enjoyed all the messages in the guestbook last week and hope you are all doing well, also!

Take care,
Kristie
******************************************************8
KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Well, I was feeling a little hungry (steroids will do that to a kid!) and I knew Mom was cooking dinner and probably wouldn’t let me eat anything. So I told Dad that Mom said it was ok for me to have a snack, and then told Mom that Dad said it was ok, and then I ate me some Pringles before dinner! Alas, I heard Mom make a smarmy comment to Dad about “Why do I even bother cooking when you let them have snacks before dinner?” and I knew the jig was up. Sure enough, they caught on to my treachery. Damn! Parents united are never a good thing! Divide and conquer, I'm telling you, divide and conquer!

BEST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: It was raining here all afternoon and I was still feeling a little punky from my clinic visit, so I curled up on my bed and took the best nap ever! And because of the rain, I didn’t even miss any good outdoor playtime!

Notes from Julianna

(Note from Kristie: If you don't know who Julianna Banana and her dad Terry are, or what they represent to the world of CaringBridge, well, that's one big rock you're living under! You guys are going to get a kick out of the following journal entry ---- although I'll admit that now I'm a little worried about the security of my position as author on this site ..... would Caringbridge actually allow an overthrow just because he's funnier???)
**********************************************************
We interrupt your normal eloquently-crazed rantings for a Special Caring Bridge News Bulletin:

The ballots have been cast and burned, and the white smoke has billowed out the chimney. The Escoe Family has given in to my pleading and has agreed to let me commandeer this wonderful journal for one day. I’m Canadian correspondent Julianna Banana filling in for Kristie. If you’re looking for Kristie and Kendrie, well, you’re just going to have to slum it over at my Caring Bridge page where the Escoe gals have agreed to class up the place and update my journal for me.

So let’s get this party started the best way I know how…in song! Start humming the Brady Bunch theme song and please, please feel free to sing out loud in your chair with me.

Dada da dada da…

Here's the story of a lovely lady,
Who was bringing up two very lovely girls.
Both of them had hair of gold, unlike their mother,
The youngest one’s getting back her curls.

Here's the story, of a man named Blaine-y,
Who was busy with one boy of his own.
They were two men, clearly outnumbered,
Surrounded by chick hormones.

Till the one day when the lady told her fellow,
That the world must know of Kendrie’s non-stop steroid lunch.
So she started this up this page to share her family.
That's the way we came to know the Escoe Bunch.
The Escoe Bunch, crazy Escoe Bunch.

That's the waaay we came to love the Escoe Bunch!



As I said above, my name is Julianna Banana. I am a 4 year old button-cute girl fighting off the same kind of leukemia as button-cute Kendrie. My personal assistant/man-servant is my poor dad, who types for me as I dictate. I first had the good fortune of “meeting” Kendrie and her mom Kristie thanks to the wonderful ALL-Kids email discsussion group. Kristie joined ALL-Kids about a month after my parents did, and I’ll never forget those words from her first email…

“I’m trying to come to terms with my daughter’s cancer diagnosis. Are there any fat, balding men out there who can comfort me?”

Or something like that, I’m paraphrasing. Not long after that, Kristie started up this Caring Bridge page to help her spread out family and friends stay up to date with Kendrie’s treatment progress. Almost from the get go, the rest of the world could tell that this page was going to be a little, um, shall I say, “different” than the others!

One of the misconceptions about us pediatric cancer families is that we are fate’s helpless victims, that we need to be treated with kid gloves. We somehow become relegated to the sucks-to-be-them, “how are YOU doing” class (cancer families, you know exactly the tone I’m talking about). Well, there is some truth to that, but maybe not for the reasons that the “doesn’t-suck-to-be-them” people realize. Yes, fate kicked us in our collective groin. But this not-so-glamorous job of cancer fighting, particularly leukemia, isn’t always a 24-7 job. In between the clinics, chemo and hospital stays, there’s a whole bunch of living to do! Us kids, we still need to learn to read, we still need to paint pictures and eat glue, and we still need to make friends and play. And we still need to laugh! Yes, cancer changes our lives, but our lives are a lot more normal than you may think.

Enter the Escoes!

There’s no glamour in the steroid-induced 3 a.m. cheese run to Krogers. There’s no laughing when we won’t eat our 3:30 a.m. grill cheese sandwich because we wanted cheese SLICES. There’s no life lessons at the bottom of the 4:00 a.m. puke bucket.

Or is there? Somehow, when Kristie tells it, it IS glamorous, it IS funny, and there IS something profound that seemed to give purpose to it all! We relate, we relive and we connect. And, of course, we laugh. For every documented Kendrie adventure, there’s hundreds of people spread out across the globe saying, “oh don’t I know it, sistah!” And there’s hundreds more who no longer say “sucks to be them”, they read this journal and say “sucks to have cancer, but I bet I would totally do the same thing if my kid wouldn’t eat my grill cheese sandwich because I cut it into triangles instead of squares!” Kristie once told me that she re-read through her journal history, and to her, it seemed like all she did was complain about her kids. Far be it from me to disagree with my elders, but this journal isn’t a crab session, this journal is an entertaining and insightful transcript of an ordinary family living through extraordinary circumstances. It’s like a shelter for us pediatric cancer familes, it’s a place that we can feel normal.

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been over a year and a half since I first came to know of my long distance Georgia peach sister Kendrie. I guess time flies when you’re eating crap sandwiches!

Luv,
Julianna Banana


P.S. – By now you are probably thinking to yourself, “Hey, where’s the rest of this entry? Kristie doesn’t get out of bed for under 5000 words!” Just between you and me, I think Kristie must be on the juice to have as much digital endurance as she does. But you don’t have Kristie today, you’re stuck with me :-) If you want the major verbage, go check out the full screenplay that Mama Escoe wrote back on my page!

Found

OK, I'll admit that I was a little frazzled in my last journal entry when the hospital couldn't seem to locate Blaine .... he's a grown man in a revealing hospital gown, just how far could he have gone??? He told me surgery was first thing this morning and when he wasn't back in his room six or seven hours later, I started getting a little antsy. But let's examine the real reason why. In my paranoid, delusional world, the following scenario was playing out with startling clarity:

"Blaine goes in for surgery to remove a suspicious mass in his post-operative wound site. Come to find out, the reason I couldn't get hold of him in the hospital today is the surgery took longer than anticipated because it's not just a cyst, its an aggressive form of flesh-eating disease and in order to save his life, doctors have to amputate his leg at the knee. So he comes home and a few weeks later he's walking around on his new prosthetic leg. We go to dinner at Ryan's buffet, where his fake foot slips on some green beans on the floor and he falls on a salad fork, putting out both of his eyes, rendering him blind. So a few weeks after that he and I are shopping at Staples, him with his prosthetic leg and patches over both eyes, when he accidentally knocks his white-tipped cane into a display of office furniture, causing an extremely large and heavy bookcase to fall over and crush his internal organs, requiring a kidney transplant. A few weeks after the transplant he suffers an allergic reaction to the anti-rejection drugs, which causes his lung capacity to decrease to only 25%, which requires that we carry an oxygen tank with us at all times."

So this afternoon, when I couldn't track him down anywhere .... all I could think was, "I am too damn young to be married to a man with this many problems."

What *actually* happened was that his surgery wasn't until late morning, and there appears to have been a miscommunication with the nurse that Blaine asked to have call me after the surgery. The miscommunication being ... she didn't do it.

So although I didn't get to talk to anyone "official" from the hospital until 8:30 this evening, I did learn that things are ok. (I talked to Blaine earlier than that, but he was wonked out on so many pain meds that he doesn't count.)

He had a very large hematoma (fancy name for icky, gooey, gelatinous glob of blood) that had formed in the area where his lower leg bone used to be. Although they don't suspect anything will develop, they did call in an infectious disease specialist to do cultures on the mass to make sure it's not harboring any form of freaky bacteria or anything. We should have the culture results in a day or two. In the meantime he has a drain tube in his leg and is resting comfortably. Not sure when he will be cleared to come home, probably Monday or Tuesday.

I want to take a quick minute to thank all of you who are checking in and leaving notes of encouragement in the guestbook. I especially got a good laugh out of the comment about "now we know why our moms were always telling us to wear clean underwear every place we went" HA! :)

Thanks also to my local friends who have offered to help in various ways. You know who you are, you know *I* know who you are, and you know that I appreciate it.

PS. For those of you who somehow got the misguided impression that this website was dedicated to my daughter and her fight against leukemia, and not for the bizarr-o trials and tribulations of my husband .... let me just tell you that she is doing fine. Better than her old man, that's for sure!

Kristie

BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!

(that is the sound of my head exploding)

Well, I'm *assuming* Blaine had his surgery this morning. I say this with some confidence, for a number of reasons:

1. Mainly, because he didn't come home last night.

No, I'm just kidding. I know the surgery was scheduled for today, but they can't seem to find him in the hospital. I keep calling, and calling ...... Same-Day Surgery has never heard of him (makes sense, since he is inpatient) .... Surgery Recovery is unavailable by phone .... no one is answering in his room .... the girl at the nurses desk on his floor says he left for surgery, but she's not sure when. In response to my query, "Well, do you have any idea what approximate time he might be returning to his room?" I received the highly intelligent reply: Huh-uh.

So, if anyone is in Augusta and sees a man, badly in need of a shave, limping along the parade route on Ft. Gordon Army Post with a drain tube hanging out of his leg ... tell him his wife is looking for him.

K.

HEAD BURSTING ALERT!! HEAD BURSTING ALERT!!

Remember a few entries back when I oh-so-sagely said if something exciting didn't happen soon I wouldn't have anything to write about???? Weeeeeeellllllllllll.......

Blaine, who is still home recuperating from his surgery, is in Augusta today (3-hours from home) at the Army base having his leg looked at. He left the house at 5am; it's now almost 5pm. He's been having it looked at every few days since the surgery because quite frankly .... well, I have no idea WHY the doctors are looking at it because it's disgusting. I swear every single time we go to the base hospital someone asks him what kind of land mine he stepped on because that's how nasty the scar/wound is. Blech! (PS and I mean absolutely no disrespect to the brave men and women serving in Iraq or places where they seriously have land mines. .... just making a comparison, that in hindsight, is probably inappropriate but I'm too lazy to go back and change it although as much time as I've spent typing this PS I could have just gone back.)

Anyway, a few nights ago the area of the skin graft started bleeding profusely (surgery was a month ago, so you'd think it would be better by now) and then two days ago his foot went numb. His surgeon in Seattle predicted a clot .... his doctors in Augusta suspect an abscess. His cat-scan from today shows a "suspicious looking area" (again, thinking abscess) but his white count, which should be high if he does indeed have an infection, is normal. What to do .... what to do? (sigh)

So, they are deciding (as I type this) whether or not to take him to the OR --- TONIGHT --- and operate on this suspicious abscess-y looking area. Bear in mind, they told him he would be in the hospital for several days, and he is three hours from home without a change of underwear or a toothbrush to his name, he forgot his cell phone, probably has no more than five bucks in his wallet, he has NONE of his medication, and *I* am scheduled to go out of town first thing Saturday morning!!!

So, it appears I will be spending tomorrow doing one of three things:

a) Dropping the kids at school and driving like a bat out of hell to bring Blaine his crap while he recuperates (alone in the hospital) after surgery .....

b) Saying the heck with it, it's a hospital after all, they can get him some replacement meds, and spending all day trying to find a sitter for Saturday since *MY LIFE* is the important one I don't want to disrupt ....

or

c) Watching Blaine sleep on the couch because they decided surgery wasn't necessary.

Pray for "C" people, pray for "C" !!!

Kristie

DON’T GIVE AWAY MY PARENTING TROPHY … JUST …. YET ……

241 Days of Treatment to Go

OK, so, you know how I complain, in pretty much every journal entry, that my kids are spoiled rotten brats, but secretly I blame it on the steroids? (At least in Kendrie’s case …. I’m still trying to come up with a good medical excuse for Brayden and Kellen.) Well, that’s a concern of many cancer parents, I think, the dilemma over just how much we should let the little rugrats get away with because of all the crap they’re going through for such a long time. How much slack should we cut them? How much really, truly, IS a side effect from the chemo and the steroids and procedures? How much is normal childhood behavior? And how much is bad parenting? Or in my case, *lazy* parenting. There, OK, I said it out loud!! I AM A LAZY PARENT!!

Here are two examples from this past week, then I’ll get to my point. First, Kendrie came to me on Thursday morning and said she wanted to wear her “Bat Attitude” Halloween t-shirt to school. I had recently swapped the summer clothes and winter clothes out in the kids’ closets and she re-discovered this long-lost favorite t-shirt--according to her, anyway, it was a long-lost favorite. I said “Don’t be silly, it’s April, you can’t wear a Halloween t-shirt.” And she started whining. And complaining. And asking “Why???” (You have to make the droning, nasally, whiny noise in your head to really get the full experience.) And so I stood there and the lazy part of me thought, “Well, why not? It’s not like if she ruined it I wouldn’t be able to find another t-shirt for her to wear next Halloween, right? What's going to happen, the Halloween police show up and arrest her for wearing the shirt in April??” (That’s the lazy part of me, who just didn’t want to argue with her … pick your battles, right?) Then, the cancer parent, paranoid, anxiety-ridden part of me (that doesn’t surface very often, but when it does, it’s vicious) thought, “For all you know your worst nightmare could come true and the cancer could return and she won’t even be here next Halloween; just let her wear the shirt now while you know she can and make her happy!” So of course Kendrie, after the whining and complaining, got to wear the shirt. And I wonder why she insists on arguing about everything. Because Usually She Gets Her Way, that’s why! …. She’s not stupid!

Example #2: I spent an hour and a half in the commissary (grocery store on base) buying all sorts of nourishing and healthful foods for my family. My cart was so loaded down with stuff that I was balancing items on my head … like those Ugandan women with the water basins, only in my case it was a 24-pack of Charmin and I was having to steer the cart with only one hand because I had the 12-pack of Bounty and 6 bottles of Purell under the other arm. I checked out (writing a check for a very painful amount, I might add), tipped the bagger, drove home, and began unloading. Kendrie walks in the kitchen, takes one look at the two dozen bags of nutritious food, and her only comment is “Did you remember the Doritos?” I said yes, and her next comment was “I’m hungry and want a grilled cheese.” So I explained, calmly, that first I had to unload the groceries and put them away …. maybe if she wanted to help, the quicker I got it done the quicker I could make her a sandwich. Well, *that* fell on deaf ears, and I continued unpacking by myself. Every few minutes she would holler from the living room, “Are you cooking my grilled cheese yet???” and I would grit my teeth and unload another grocery bag. Finally, finally, I was done and I cooked her not one, but TWO grilled cheese sandwiches like she wanted.

I asked her, “Do you want them cut into squares or triangles?” and she said “Squares”. In between trying to find something for Brayden and Kellen to eat, because "I hadn't bought anything good" and feeding the dog, I had a momentary lapse of memory and cut the sandwiches into (gasp!) triangles. Kendrie took one look and said, “I asked for SQUARES! These are TRIANGLES!” Very sarcastically, I said, “Well, I’m sorry … Lord knows they won’t taste the same. Here, let me throw these in the trash and make you a new sandwich in squares.” (Let me interject here that Brayden had already tasted the new yogurt I brought home and deemed it inedible and thrown it in the trash.) and Kendrie said, “Yes, please, I want squares. Throw these away.”

I mean, I understand they’re kids and don’t perhaps get the concept of money …. but I was so perturbed by her attitude that I just walked off, making all kinds of comments about how “No big deal that I just spent three hours looking up new recipes and shopping for food and putting away food and cooking food and you guys don’t like anything I bought so you think it’s ok to just throw it in the trash” (although I did refrain from mentioning the starving Cambodian children, though I was sorely tempted to throw that in my lecture.) Kendrie said, “Fine! I’m taking off all the bread!” (in an I’ll-show-you tone of voice) and I hollered back, “Well, next time let me know and I’ll melt you a bowl of cheese …. No sense wasting four perfectly good pieces of bread!” (For some reason, all of a sudden the waste thing was seriously bothering me!) and Kendrie said, “I’m not eating the cheese, either!” and I’m left wondering, if you’re not eating the cheese or the bread, what is left in a grilled-cheese sandwich???

So that was about the time I decided that I couldn’t blame the steroids (she hasn’t been on them for two weeks) and I had no excuse for the other two children … obviously, it’s bad parenting, right? What else can it be? But, what kind of person am I that I have raised children who are so incredibly ungrateful? I’m sure Dr. Phil would have a field day. How depressing.

Fast forward to our dinner at Chick-Fil-A the other night. Now, I realize it’s not fine dining, but we were meeting friends and there’s a play-land … so it’s an automatic success in my book. We were sitting at one table and our friends were catty-corner to us in a booth. In the booth to my immediate right was a dad with three kids. Not to sound rude, but none of those kids had seen the wet end of a bath in quite some time, or a Kleenex, just going on appearances. There was a little boy, about four years old, turned around in his seat looking at our friends. I glanced over at him and caught his eye, I gave a little smile …… and the kid flipped me off! Not a subtle motion either …. I’m talking, flipped me the full bird! What was even more surprising to me was his dad walked up just then, *had* to have seen the whole thing, but said nothing to him! I was dumbfounded. He started rounding up his kids, telling them it was time to leave, and they were completely ignoring him. So he started in with threats about throwing their kids’ meal toys in the trash … then threatened to throw their shoes in the trash …. then (my favorite) threatened to leave them at the restaurant if they didn’t put their shoes on RIGHT NOW. (ps. I hate parents who do this. Don’t make a threat you’re not willing to follow through with. It’s called BLUFFING and kids will beat you at it when you make stupid threats like leaving them at a restaurant, which everybody knows {including the kids} that you’re not going to do!)

And I suddenly realized …. I am not the worst parent on the planet! I might not be the best, and that guy probably isn’t the worst, either, but at least my kids don’t give middle-finger salutes to total strangers. Or if they did, you can bet your bottom dollar I’d do something about it! And the next day, when we got stuck in a parking lot next to a car whose owner had invested a little too much cash in the stereo system, which was spewing forth a clamor I can only imagine must pass as music on another planet, Brayden said, “It’s rude to play your music so loud when other people are nearby. That’s not being very thoughtful.” and I could almost hear the chiseling sound from my name being engraved on the Parent of the Year trophy! My child was talking about thoughtfulness!!!

So to all of us who face these types of parenting issues (Weekly? Daily? Hourly???) let us have faith that despite the extra challenge of kids on steroids, or kids who are nauseous or fatigued, or siblings who are sick of taking a back seat to the “sick one”, or kids who are just plain pushing their limit …. There will always be someone doing a worse job than you!!! Yippee!!! I don’t know about you, but that makes me feel a whole lot better about myself!

I was so thrilled with my new-found parenting confidence that I decided to put on a DVD and let the kids dance away part of the evening. It is part of my “Happy parents help make happy memories” philosophy. Ask me again in a few days after the kids are driving me crazy and I’ll most likely have a new philosophy … one that involves military school in a far-away land. But for tonight, I want to share a few pictures from our Freeze Dance frenzy in the living room.

FREEZE DANCING FROM AROUND THE WORLD:


Brayden and Kendrie, square dancing.




Kellen, air guitar. Or seizure, I'm not sure which.




The "pick me up and swing-me around the room" dance.




Yep, that Lord of the Riverdance guy ain't got NOTHING on me!!




Conga!




Hey, I said FREEZE!




Joy comes in many forms. So does a need for Ritalin.




Did somebody say Vogue?? Hello? Madonna?




Hey, it's not really a dance, but I can do the changing-knees movement .... just not very good.




Believe it or not, this is the kids doing the Worm.




I have no idea what this dance is, but she seemed to be doing it a lot tonight!

So ends our weekend. We started out sad because we had to miss our weekend at Family Camp, but ended on a high note. Hope you all had a great weekend as well!

Love, Kristie
******************************************************

KENDRIE'S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: A very brave boy on my mom's list-serve, whose cancer came back a little over a year ago, went through a bone-marrow transplant last year with his older brother as donor. I am very sad to find out that his cancer has come back again ... Please visit his site at Cam's Page to cheer him up as he starts his treatment protocol for the third time. Geez, Louise ... when is enough enough for this poor kid???

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Zofran. No need to elaborate.

Eighteen Months Into This Thing ....

I’ll admit, I haven’t updated the site in a week because quite frankly, I don’t have much to report. I have NOTHING to report on the medical front, which is a good thing. Kendrie keeps rolling along with her at-home chemo, no problems there. I’m hesitant to report that the Singulaire seems to be helping her cough because as sure as I do I’ll jinx it, and then she’ll be up all night, hacking up a lung. Once the nurse mentioned “Exercise induced” it was indeed obvious to us that she coughs more when she is exerted --- and also in the middle of the night, usually in direct correlation with how little sleep Blaine and I are getting. If we’re well rested, she sleeps like a log. If it’s a night we're trying to catch up on our sleep, she’s coughing like a madman. Isn’t that always the way it works?

I’ve mentioned many times the wonderful list-serve I am on for parents of kids with leukemia (ALL-Kids) and how much support and encouragement I’ve gotten from these parents. We have new members join (sadly) on a pretty regular basis and we had another new member sign up tonight and send an introductory e-mail. I responded with a welcome, and typed in that “my daughter Kendrie was diagnosed ……” and I sat there and counted up the months … October to April ….and hey, wait, what’s the date today??? And it suddenly occurred to me that Kendrie’s diagnosis was exactly eighteen months ago TODAY. How funny is that? Well, obviously, not funny in the ha-ha way, like when you see those people on AFV whose pants fall down while they’re dancing at a wedding, but funny to me that only six months ago, when she hit her one-year anniversary, I was so uptight about it I practically had a nervous breakdown in the parking lot at my hairdressers shop. Today’s 18-month anniversary date would have gone by completely unnoticed if not for that e-mail. I guess that’s a good thing, right? We’re so comfortable in our normal lives that I sort of forgot all about it. Or, well, the part of my brain that isn't obsessed with it, forgot about it.

Anyway, I thought I would share with you a few photos of Kendrie and her “boyfriend” Nicholas. They are neighbors, classmates, buddies, and (unbeknownst to Nicholas) betrothed, at least if Kendrie has her way. She even asked me the other day if she wanted to marry Nicholas, did that mean she would have to be a girl? So maybe there’s hope yet that I’ll get her in a dress someday! Kendrie is aware that we will probably be leaving Georgia sometime next summer (2006) and she has already asked Nicholas’s mom if they can move with us. She hugs him way too much and is thrilled to be on the same t-ball team as him (Nicholas’s mom and I successfully negotiated {ie, begged} that they be placed on the same team!)


Kendrie and Nicholas at school, working on a project together. Hasn't she realized that it's never a good idea to get involved with a co-worker???



Kendrie has long been obsessed with playing t-ball. Now that she's on the same team as Nick-Nick (her pet nickname for him) there is truly nothing on earth that could make her happier. More t-ball details to follow.




From the looks of things here, Nicholas is re-thinking his decision to spend the afternoon at our house for a playdate. She totally adores him! It's a good thing it's so young and innocent, otherwise Blaine would be cleaning his guns already. :)

Otherwise, not much is going on here. We did have to cancel our plans this weekend to attend Family Camp, which was sad but necessary. Blaine is just too gimpy to manage walking all over the campgrounds, from the cabins to the mess hall to the lake to the various activity locations, etc. The kids were disappointed, but to be honest, I think Blaine and I were more disappointed than they were! What does that say about our social lives???

I hope you all have a nice weekend. While I certainly don’t wish any drama or natural disasters upon our household, I hope something happens soon, so I have something to tell all of you in the next journal update! Otherwise I’ll be forced to report on the new brakes we had to buy for the van, or the upcoming PTO elections, or something equally as mundane. Let’s see, winning the lottery would make for a nice journal entry! (Of course, that would entail actually *playing* the lottery, which we don’t do …. So I’ll have to think of something else.)

Take care,
Kristie
**********************************************************
KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Same bad thing that happens every week -- having to take those twenty bazillion pills before bedtime. Nasty!

BEST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Well, the fact that I am eighteen months into my treatment means that there are only eight more months to go --- then I am done, baby, DONE!

Um, the residual side effects from steroids last HOW long???

252 Days to Go




How much do you love that new picture of Kendrie in the strawberry field on the top of this site?? Well, maybe the better question would be “how much do *I* love that picture?” and the answer would be “Pretty darn much”! Her Pre-K class took a field trip to a local pick-your-own field on Tuesday and we had such a nice time …. The weather was perfect, the kids were agreeable, and I even got Kendrie to laugh for this picture (I won’t mention the dozen or so others I deleted before taking this one.) But isn’t this one great?!



Anyway, she had a good time and was quite motivated to fill up her clamshell to share with the rest of the family at dinner that night. I was so carried away by the happiness and spirit of the moment that I even promised we could dip the strawberries in chocolate and have them for dessert.



In a small way, it made up for the day before, when I had to cancel our plans to go to a nature park for a picnic. My goal was to make the last day of Spring Break (Monday) a fun one for the kids, but they woke up in incredibly foul moods --- grumpy to the point of abuse, so I nixed those plans before 8am, explaining to them that I don’t take kids that act **that** ugly out to do fun things. Then I had the rest of the morning to watch them sulk. Except for Kendrie, who started complaining that she didn’t feel very good. I thought she was just tired, but around lunchtime she threw up twice and then laid down for a nap. I chalked it up to the chemo from the night before and secretly congratulated myself for keeping them home. So needless to say, having a nice day with her on Tuesday helped make up for the lousy day we had on Monday.

WELL! Fast forward to Tuesday night around 5:15pm. I was putting the finishing touches on dinner (Who am I kidding? My scrapbooking friend Renee felt sorry for us and brought us a meal, so all I had to do was set the table! Thanks, Renee!) when Kellen asked if he could have some strawberries with dinner. I said sure, and Kendrie reminded me, in no uncertain terms and VERY LOUDLY, that I had said we would dip them in chocolate for dessert. When I replied that it would be ok if we had them both ways, she informed me that SHE picked them, they were HERS, and SHE was the BOSS of the berries! My head began to pound a little.

We sat down to dinner, Kendrie still pouting because Kellen had the nerve to eat a few of HER berries, and I realized that my head was seriously starting to hurt. By the time the meal was half-over, not fifteen minutes later, it was a full-blown migraine, complete with nausea and hot and cold flashes and other bodily functions that don’t need mentioning here. I croaked at Blaine, “I’m sorry that you’re on morphine and basically crippled but I need to you clean up after dinner so I can go lay down” and stumbled into the bedroom. So I’m laying in bed, alternating between sweating to death and freezing, thinking to myself that under no circumstances can I throw up or my head will literally explode …… when I hear Kendrie screaming, “BUT MOM SAID WE COULD MAKE CHOCOLATE FOR THE BERRIES!!!”

Oh Dear God, somebody just melt some chocolate chips for the girl!

Apparently Blaine told her no, that it would have to wait until I got up, and she was crying because she knows that she is cut off from all food about half an hour after dinner and she’s going to run out of time, and she’s running into the bedroom, jumping on the bed (my head, Dear Lord, my head!) howling that her Daddy doesn’t know how to melt the chocolate. She’d been off the steroids for 48 hours, but it was one of the biggest tantrums yet. (And really, can you blame her? If someone promised me chocolate-covered strawberries and didn’t deliver, I’d probably do the same thing!)

So in the meantime I’m curled up in the fetal position, wondering what the heck has happened to me. I haven’t had a migraine in years, and I’ve never had one come on that fast, and I’ve never had one located directly behind my left eye. Was it allergies? I mean, I don’t *have* allergies, but everyone is talking about how bad the pollen is. Was this the same thing Kendrie had the day before?? Poor thing, no wonder she felt terrible. Was it the last vestiges of the measly cold I had? Was it a tainted bag of beef jerky? Then suddenly it hit me as clear as a bell. I mean, it’s obvious, given everything our family has gone through -----------

I have a brain tumor. Who the hell is going to hold this family together now?

And as I lay there, feeling sorry for myself because I’m obviously dying, all I can hear is Kendrie screaming about the chocolate for the berries. Blaine comes in to check on me and I whisper to him that there is some chocolate almond bark in the cabinet and if he’ll just melt it in the microwave for a minute the kids can dip the berries themselves. We do it a lot in the summer (I like them as much as the kids do!) and it really won’t be much work for him. So he’s grumbling, and limping out of the room (poor guy, like he needed THIS extra chore tonight?) and I hear him go in the kitchen, get the strawberries ready, take out the almond bark, melt it in the microwave, put plastic wrap on the table, Kellen and Brayden are hollering “Woohoo! Chocolate covered strawberries!” and the next thing I hear is Kendrie screaming, “Well I don’t even want any! I’ll make Mom buy me more berries tomorrow and I’ll make them all by myself and for now I want SPAGHETTIOS!!!”

I’m not sure what happened after that, but I distinctly remember Kendrie coming in to my room, bringing me a wet rag and the thermometer, and kissing me on the forehead, which was pretty much the sweetest thing she could have done. If it hadn’t made me nauseous to move I would have rolled over and kissed her back. She wound up falling to sleep on Blaine’s side of the bed and spent a good portion of the night there, until she got tired of having to share my pillow and gave up and went to her own bed.

So this morning when the alarm went off I cautiously opened one eye, sort of testing the waters to see how I felt. And when I got up, and realized my head no longer hurt and my stomach was no longer pushing the eject button on its contents ….. well, you know that scene from The Sound of Music where Julie Andrews is spinning around on top of the mountain, with her arms out wide, sunshine on her face, singing, “The hills are alive … with the sound of music” ? That’s pretty much how I felt today.

And I’ve decided it’s probably not a brain tumor.

AND! Kendrie extracted a promise from me to buy more strawberries, and more chocolate, for tomorrow. I was so happy to be alive I agreed.

Thanks for checking in,
Kristie

PS. I want to share with you guys a really good picture I got of Kellen the other day. I know, I know, this caringbridge site is turning into my own personal photo and music forum --- but how cute are my kids?!?!?!



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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Today was a good day. My mom was in a good mood and had lots of energy, probably from sleeping eleven hours straight last night. She was even willing to drive back home this morning to get me my Power Rangers watch that I forgot to wear to school. See? A good day!

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Well, duh, the part about wearing my Power Ranger watch to school! And did you know that I am a champion strawberry picker???

Steroid-Baby is Back!

(PS. This journal entry is a hodge-podge of nothingness)

255 Days to Go!

First of all, let me thank all of you for taking the time to check on Molly and her family as they struggle through this incredibly painful week. As if things weren't difficult enough for them, in addition to the funeral, Molly has been having uncontrollable nosebleeds and is actually in-patient right now for transfusions. So I would like to encourage you to please, bookmark Molly’s page (Caringbridge no longer allows us to put up permanent links to recommend sites) and visit again. Her mom, Donna, has posted both on the site, and to our ALL-Kids list, how very much the notes of support and encouragement have helped them all. Thank you for doing that.

As for us, I think things in the Escoe-household are settling back down to normal. Not sure if that’s good or bad, but normal irregardless! Blaine flew home from Seattle on Tuesday and I need to give a huge public THANK YOU to our friends Erin and Joe; Joe flew up to Seattle to be with Blaine his last two days there, helping him to his follow-up appointment at the hospital and helping him navigate the airport and flight home. We had anticipated Blaine being able to do those things by himself and hadn’t made any sort of arrangements for help …. Blaine said afterwards there was no way he could have gotten through the airport alone, so I really hope Joe and Erin know how sincere our appreciation is.

Mom and the kids and I spent Tuesday morning at the clinic for Kendrie’s monthly chemo appointment. It was a “quick” appt, just vincristine through her port, count check and exam. Yet again, Kendrie has an ANC higher than the desired window of 1000-2000. Being the overachiever that she is, she checked in at 3440. I am confident that at her next appt she will be bumped up to a higher dosage of at-home chemo (because it appears 125 percent isn’t enough for my chemo-burning child!) Our nurse-practitioner was also concerned about her cough, which Kendrie has had for three months, and a little bit of wheezing she heard in the lungs. We all suspect it is nothing more than allergies, but the term “exercise-induced asthma” was tossed around as well (since when does doing the hula in front of the TV with a t-shirt wrapped around your waist constitute exercise???) So, we’re adding Singulaire to her nighttime meds, in addition to the Claritin she has been taking. Add to that the 6MP, Methotrexate, and steroids she is on this week, and that means on Tuesday night she had to take 12 pills before bed. Gag.

After the clinic appointment, we spent a few hours at the zoo, then went to the airport to pick up Blaine. The kids were so excited to see him and were standing in the passenger pick-up area, holding up their poster-board “Welcome Home!” signs and asking “Is it him? Is it him?” every time the handicapped elevator opened up. Naturally, their plane entered through a different terminal and Joe came up behind us to tell us that Blaine was already waiting for us in baggage. Poster-board disappointment aside, it was a great homecoming and nice to have him back with us, peg-leg and all.

** I have to tell you that in the course of typing this journal update I have gotten up to check on my kids three times because I could hear one of them crying, yet when I went in their rooms, total silence. What on earth? I swear I could hear crying. It wasn’t until the 4th time I realized the noise was coming from outside and went out to find cats (doing who knows what) under my window --- no wonder I am a dog person. **

So, mom stayed with us this week until Friday which was a huge help. Blaine had doctors appointments on Thursday and Friday morning and since the kids were on Spring Break, she was able to keep them home with her. Her flight back home to OKC was on Day 3 of Kendrie’s 5-day steroid pulse, so she missed out on some of the best (worst?) behavior, which usually takes place near the end. She’ll never believe me now when I try to blame any of Kendrie’s behavior on steroids … although mom *was* still here the night Kendrie had a tantrum at dinner because the angel-hair pasta I used for spaghetti didn’t taste like “regular noodles”. And yes, in case you were wondering, it was served with Ragu. :)

Mom missed, however, the crying jags, the whining jags, the pouting jags, the argumentative jags, and everything in between. Like today, when she went out to play in sweat pants and (what else?) hiking boots. She came in because it was “too hot” and wanted to change, but didn’t want to take off the hiking boots. When I told her the pants wouldn’t come off over the boots, she started rolling around on the floor, flailing about and crying that if she took time to take off the boots, she would miss all the playtime with her friends outside. I refrained from pointing out that the rolling around on the floor was actually what was keeping her from playtime. Great self-control I have, don’t you think?

Mom also missed this month’s obsession with cheese slices and extreme displays of inability to share toys. She didn’t get away with as much this month, though, I don’t think, because to be honest, I have a smidgen of a head cold and just don’t feel like putting up with it. I have to admit that I feel somewhat betrayed that my barrier of Purell was somehow penetrated by a single, solitary germ. I use that stuff regularly; faithfully; obsessively. How on earth did I still catch a cold? Oh well, at least it’s a mild, “just a few Kleenex and a Sudafed and I should be fine” kind of cold as opposed to a “in bed for a week, miserable and hating life” kind of cold.

Mom also missed the lasting impression her gift of Home Alone 3 has made on my kids, evidenced by the extremely elaborate “Burglar Booby Trap” Kellen and Kendrie made last night under the window in their bedroom, utilizing (in some manner I’m still not exactly quite sure would work) string, toy cars, a wooden sword, a flashlight, a book, a suction-cup dart gun, and Shrek slippers. Deep down, I was a little worried that if one of them had a nightmare and I went rushing in the room in the middle of the night, I might wind up slipping on the book, getting bonked in the head with the flashlight and landing flat on the floor with slippers on my feet! Which, I think, was sort of their plan for any would-be home invaders.

Tomorrow is the last day of Spring Break for Brayden, Kellen and Kendrie and as long as the weather continues to be nice, we’re going to a nature preserve to look at animals and have a picnic lunch. We will ALL attend Blaine’s doctor’s appointment with him beforehand, and I’m not sure who will be happier when Blaine’s leg is healed enough for him to drive himself; me or him. Or the doctor, who’ll have to put up with all three kids tomorrow as well.

Along those lines, the harvest site (leg) is definitely more painful than the transfer site (head) for Blaine, but I’m so very happy to report that so far, so good. It appears the surgery was a complete success. Blaine is able to eat more and more solid food each day (can you believe he lost ten pounds during the surgery? I gained ten, and he lost it!) and he continues to improve in speech each day as well. The only bad thing is since he can’t quite close his mouth all the way, he snores like a maniac and I have spent more than one night this past week on the sofa in the living room. Someone unfamiliar with our plight would think we were on our way to Divorce Court. Thanks to all of you for your support and prayers during his surgery and his recuperation.

I’m putting the song “Crazy” back up on the site; it’s how Kendrie acts on steroids and it’s how she makes me feel during that week each month. Thank goodness today was the last day!

Thanks for checking in,

Kristie
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KENDRIE’S PERSPECTIVE:

WORST THING ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: Well, my neighbor friend and classmate Brittney came over to play and I know that when I am the host I am supposed to share my toys but she took Kellen’s toy gun and I just had to put my foot down! Things got pretty ugly, let me tell you.

BEST PART ABOUT HAVING CANCER TODAY: That today was my last dose of steroids this month (Mom made me type that).

Loss

If there's one thing I've learned from posting in this Caringbridge journal and surfing the sites myself for these past eighteen months, it's that notes and words of encouragement, even from a total stranger, can make a world of difference. I have been so amazed by the support and strength our family has gotten from all of you, and feel so appreciative that you continue to check in on a regular basis.

Today, there's another family who drastically needs support and I'd like to ask all of you to offer it to them, like you've offered it to us throughout this journey.

Molly from New York is a 4-yr old whose mom Donna is on my ALL-Kids support group list for parents of kids with leukemia. Donna and I have e-mailed and spoken on the phone a few times in the past few weeks because their family went on their MAW trip shortly after we went on ours and we were exchanging pointers on the vacation. Tragically, Molly's dad was killed yesterday in a subway accident, less than two weeks after they returned from their MAW trip.

Please stop by Molly's Page and let them know you are thinking about them.

Thanks,
Kristie

Are you kidding me with this?

(very long, extremely long journal update!!!)

Thanks to all of you for your nice messages and notes of concern for Blaine regarding the loss of his mother. It’s a difficult time, obviously, made more difficult by the logistical circumstances, but there’s really nothing that can be done about it except to focus on our happy memories of her and get through it as best we can. All our best, though, to our family in Oklahoma and Texas; we wish we could be there with you.

I thought I would share with you guys a few examples of the “Oh my goodness, that sort of thing could only happen to ME” experiences I’ve had the past few days. Shirley had a good sense of humor and something tells me she’s looking down from Heaven and having a good laugh at my expense. So I’ll go ahead and put them out there, so you guys can have a good laugh at my expense, too. :)

Wednesday morning is when she passed away, and also when Blaine was told he could leave the hospital. I was at his room by 7:30 am and we had been assured that the paperwork was signed and ready to go; he just needed his facial stitches removed, the iv’s and tubes removed, and we’d be ready for discharge. He thought he would be gone by 9am …. I, being more realistic, was hoping for noon. He was sick and tired of being in that hospital and wanted O.U.T. So we waited, and waited. And waited some more. Those of you with hospital experience understand that for some strange reason, there is never any rush to get a person discharged. Blaine was getting annoyed. And more annoyed. Pacing, literally. Well, as much as someone who’s had a bone removed from their lower leg can pace.

Finally, at 2pm, we were ready to go, with instructions to stop by the outpatient pharmacy on the main floor to pick up his medications. We walked from his room to the main entrance. Let me rephrase that: I walked … slowly, carrying my winter coat, purse, his gym bag, and the huge plastic laundry bag of medical supplies the nurses gave us. He limped along behind me like a walking wounded …. Slower than a retiree in the commissary on pay-day. (Our military friends will understand what I mean!) I thought after being stuck inside for nine days he might enjoy some fresh air, so I took him outside, propped him on a bench to wait for me, and went back in to get his meds, which naturally took longer than I thought it would. When I finally turned around, bag of medication in hand, I saw him standing in the lobby with all the bags at his feet. He explained that he had gotten cold outside …. But I felt guilty that he had to drag all that stuff back in; the gym bag was heavy! And here, I was supposed to be making things easier on him!

I hated the thought of him having to wait … longer … while I called for a taxi, when over his shoulder I saw a cab pull into the main drive of the hospital and drop someone off. “Aha! Here’s my chance to make things happen quickly!” I thought. So I sprinted out to the cab and asked the driver to wait. I turned around to get Blaine and saw him limping out to the cab, dragging all the stupid bags with him. By now, I was getting annoyed with him. I came all this way to HELP him and he wasn’t letting me help. So I grabbed the gym bag, the medical supply bag, slung my purse over my shoulder and tucked the bag of pharmacy meds under my other arm. Meanwhile, the traffic-director guy in the drive-through was griping at our cab driver that he couldn’t just PARK there … and I’m hollering, “Wait, don’t go! We’re coming!” while Blaine limped along behind me.

I opened his door for him and ran around to the other side of the cab, mumbling under my breath about the rudeness of these people…. Could they not SEE the shape my husband was in??? The poor guy was moving as quick as he could! I threw the bags into the back seat, leaned in to sit down, and as if it were happening in slow motion, the bag of pharmacy meds slipped the other way and all the drugs fell out of the bag and into the driveway. So on my right, I’ve got Blaine, who can barely move, trying to get himself settled into the cab. On my left, I’ve got a traffic director with an over-inflated sense of self telling me I’m moving too slow, and all I can see is the medication spilling out all over the lot.

Then, I swear, I couldn’t have planned it or done it this way on purpose in a million, zillion years, but as the tubes and vials and bottles landed on the parking lot, the pill bottle with his pain medication in it kept rolling away from me, away from me …. And (no lie, I swear I’m not making this up) directly under the tire of a moving shuttle bus in the parking lot. I’m hollering, “No, no! Shit! Stop, stop! Aaagghh!” and I’m trying to get out of the cab and Blaine is trying to get into the cab and my purse is stuck on the door handle and I was lurching my body out of the cab, frantically trying to grab the pill bottle out from under the rolling wheels and sure enough, the bus kept going and CRUNCH …………. There I was, staring at the crushed pill bottle and little mountain of squashed pills that were supposed to keep Blaine out of pain for the next six days.

At this point there was a litany of foul words coming out of my mouth -- LOUDLY -- and then Blaine was trying to get himself back out of the cab to come around and help me pick up all the little pills, and the cab driver was telling me in broken English that he couldn't sit and wait on us any longer. I snapped “No shit, Sherlock, thanks for the help” and grabbed our bags out of the back of the cab. The traffic director is even more annoyed with us now because my bloody stump of a husband has to sit down in the drive-through because all this activity has exhausted him, and we’re REALLY blocking traffic, and I’m on my hands and knees trying to pick up all the pills, trying to get him settled somewhere, and keep up with the bags. Truly, I was not the best example of grace under pressure at that point.

Finally, I got Blaine settled, I went back into the hospital, got back in line for the outpatient pharmacy, crushed pill bottle and mound of pills in hand ….. and explained what happened to the pharmacy tech. Her first response was to tell me, in so many words, too bad so sad, they don’t take meds back under *any* circumstances. I told her I understood that, but obviously my husband couldn’t ingest these pills … they had been on the ground in a parking drive and under the wheels of a BUS TIRE, for pete’s sake, not exactly hygienic, and we obviously would need a new prescription. At which point she felt compelled to mention to me that these were pain pills, (because I am obviously so stupid I didn’t already know that) a CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE, and we couldn’t have another prescription. That’s when it hit me: “She thinks I’m some sort of drug addict, trying to score more pills!” She’s saying to me, in broken English (Seattle is a very ethnic town, let me just say that) “I don’t know what to do; there is no policy for this sort of thing; my supervisor is not here; we can’t give those pills to anyone else and I can’t give you more pills” and the response that went through my head was thankfully not the response that came out of my mouth. It took a few very-restrained comments from me and required the doctor (who also thinks I am a drug addict, by the way) having to hand-deliver another written prescription to the pharmacy, but half an hour later we left, new bottle of pills in hand. And to add insult to injury, they made us pay full price for them, since the insurance would only pay for one prescription! Whatever.

So we got back outside to a cab, back to the hotel, went up to our room on the 8th floor; Blaine, not moving any faster and in quite a bit of pain from all this activity; me, hauling all the crap, being extremely careful not to spill anything this time. I got him settled in the room and decided now was as good a time as any (meaning while it was still light outside) to walk the 200 yards up the road to Safeway and buy some food for our hotel room. We have a mini fridge and microwave, thank goodness, since Blaine can’t really leave the room for the next six days. We made a list of things eligible for his “soft foods” diet, plus drinks like milk and Ensure (for him) and pop (for me) and then I realize, being the weakling that I am, there is no way I can carry all this stuff back to the hotel.

So, necessity being the mother of creativity (or whatever that saying is) I decided the best thing to do was take one of our rolling suitcases to the grocery store. Blaine suggested I take the big suitcase, but I was thinking how embarrassing it was going to be, walking down the street with a suitcase full of groceries, and how the smaller suitcase might be less conspicuous. So there I go, still slightly frazzled from my run in with the pharmacy tech, missing my mini-van and life in the suburbs more than you know. I mean, is this what people who live in the city DO???? Drag a suitcase with them whenever they need to buy something? Lori and Darren, if you’re reading this … you lived in downtown Manhattan with no car before the twins were born … how do you get groceries into your apartment? How in the hell can you get a 24 pack of double roll Charmin home from the store????

Anyway, I digress. I bought the smallest size of everything they had in the store, but as you might have guessed by now, it still wouldn’t all fit in the suitcase I had brought. (Damn Blaine and his being right about the big suitcase!) So I put the heavy stuff like the soup and oatmeal and Boost in the suitcase, balanced the 12-pack of soda on top of the suitcase, carried the bags of the lighter stuff like paper plates and bowls (to hold the soup and oatmeal) and Twizzlers (because come on, *I’m* not on a soft-food diet!) over my arms and set off. As I’m walking back to the hotel, I’m struck with the irony that I am now a bag-lady if ever there was one, and wouldn’t it be funny if somebody tried to mug me and all they got was a suitcase full of yogurt and grits.

Then, I hit a curb, the 12-pack of pop fell off the suitcase, when I picked it up the bottom fell out and two cans landed on the ground, one of which was punctured on a rock and started spewing Coke product all over the street. As long as it wasn’t on ME, I didn’t care. I think if I had been hit in the face with a spray of Coke at that point, I would have exploded, too.

So I got back to the hotel, unloaded all the groceries in the room, made Blaine something to eat, wondered if I could take my suitcase into the local liquor store (kidding) and realized that thanks to the three extra days in Seattle, I didn’t have enough clean clothes to make it until Sunday. I’m not above wearing the same sweat pants for two (or even three) days in a row, but I draw the line at pulling a pair of dirty underwear out of a laundry pile for recall duty. So I called the front desk and they told me there is no laundry service available, but there is a public Laundromat just up the street. Hmmm. OK, maybe I am a spoiled rotten brat, but I have never used a public Laundromat in all my life. But at this point I figured well, what else could go wrong? And so I loaded the suitcase back up with dirty clothes and set off again.

Things started off well; the coin machine actually worked and the booth to buy laundry detergent was manned, so I’m thinking “Hey, this isn’t so bad.” And you’ve got to admit, the convenience of doing three loads of laundry at once (figured I might as well wash all Blaine’s clothes while I was at it) is pretty handy. Then, a moment of panic when I realize the fronts to all the dryers are see-through. I’m the kind of girl who hides her underwear under her pants in the chair in the corner when I go for my yearly physical, and now I’ve got to watch my bras and panties on public spin cycle for the whole world to see???

But I do it and try to sit, without being noticed, in the corner. To be honest, it’s been a long, hectic day and I just want a few minutes peace and quiet to sit down, enjoy my book and wait for my socks to dry. Then I hear a deep, guttural voice ask, “Dis is unbeleeevable, no?” The question is repeated and I look up to realize the man sitting a few seats down from me is holding a newspaper and pointing to a picture of Terry Schiavo. And he’s talking to me. I said, “I beg your pardon?” and he just LAUNCHES into a monologue with the most unbelievable Russian accent, about everything that is wrong with our country with regards to health care and government intervention and George Bush and the law.

Now, don’t worry, I’m not going to use this journal as a platform to state my personal feelings on this issue, and I wasn’t about to get into a discussion with this gentleman, either, especially considering his accent was so thick I could only understand about every third word. But he just kept talking and talking and talking! I was nodding, and mumbling neutral comments like, “yes, the whole thing is too bad” and “yes, a lot of people on both sides of the issue are very upset” and I was so eager to get away from him I didn’t even wait for the dryer to finish completely before packing up my suitcase and getting the heck out of there.

So .... Seattle is great. It’s beautiful, cultural, and interesting. But it’s time for me to go home. It's been almost two weeks for me and almost three weeks for Blaine. Today is Kellen's birthday and we missed it. I also miss my mini-van, and I miss my washer and dryer in my very own utility room.

At the very least, I hope Shirley is getting a chuckle out of this.

Thanks for checking in,
Kristie

Shirley

Sometimes in life, the timing of certain events is so fantastically awful that really, all you can do is laugh. Other times, there’s nothing funny about it at all. This is one of those times.

Blaine’s mother Shirley passed away this morning in Oklahoma. We had been warned throughout the day yesterday that it was likely, but I still don’t think you’re ever ready to believe it. She suffered several heart attacks beginning Monday evening so I suppose the cause of death will be listed as heart failure ….. however, she had been in poor health for awhile so, to me, it’s more a case of a body that was simply no longer able to keep up with a spirit.

Blaine, naturally, is crushed. Even more so because he won’t be able to attend her funeral --- to be there for his brother and sisters and most of all, for his dad. He got out of the hospital today but isn’t allowed to fly yet, and that’s the only way we could make it there in time, plus get back to Seattle for his follow up care and appointment on Monday. It sounds so inadequate …. “sorry, we just can’t make it” …. I know his family knows how much he cares and his Dad knows, too, but that doesn’t make it easier on anyone.

So, since we can’t be there in person to tell them all how much we love them and say our goodbyes to Shirley, I thought I would once again use this Caringbridge journal as a cathartic way to speak my piece and hopefully pay tribute to the 4 foot 11 inch, red-headed dynamo that we’ll miss so much.

So, this is what you would hear if I were able to attend Shirley’s funeral and say something about what a wonderful person she was:

THUD! (That’s me, collapsing behind the podium from the fear of public speaking that I have.) :)

OK, seriously, here is what you would hear if I had the courage to speak in public about my mother-in-law:

Shirley Christine Escoe was, at times, a hard act to follow. I remember when Blaine and I first started dating, many (many!) years ago. I was 19, he was 21. He was still in college, living with his parents and I had my own apartment. I wanted to impress this new, “older” guy I had met, so I invited him over for dinner and offered to cook for him. My cooking repertoire was, shall we say, limited at that time.

I went to the grocery store where Blaine worked evenings to buy the ingredients for dinner. He and I were standing in the aisle visiting, and he glanced down at the items in my cart.

“What’s that?” asked Blaine, the suave, smooth talking college-man.

“Um, I thought we would have spaghetti for dinner” I replied, thinking, “Crap, what if he hates spaghetti? I don’t know how to cook anything else!”

Blaine looked down in the cart again, then looked up at me and said, simply and a little bemusedly, “My mom doesn’t use Ragu.”

Total. Silence.

I looked Blaine square in the eye, and said levelly, “Then maybe you should stay home and have dinner with your mom tonight.”

(Blaine still thinks that story is funny, even this many years later!)

Blaine and I have been married for seventeen years and I think he has finally come to terms with the Ragu that I still buy. I do not, however, think he has ever gotten over the disappointment that I never learned to bake an apple pie from scratch, homemade crust and all, like his mother could.

The first eight months of our marriage we lived in the same town as my in-laws and *never* turned down an invitation to dinner at their house. Reason a) because we were hungry and poor. :)

Reason b) because the woman could cook! Those will be my most prominent memories of her; food and family. It always seemed to me that she enjoyed herself best when surrounded by family. She had five kids, ten grandkids (did I count them all?) and even a few great-grandbabies snuck in there. With the two of them in Oklahoma, three of her children and their families living in Texas, one in Germany for many years, and one bouncing all over the place in the Air Force, it wasn’t often that we were able to corral everyone into the same place at the same time; but when we did, she relished the time with everyone together.

I remember hearing once (magazine? Book? Oprah?) about a woman who sent her mother-in-law flowers every year on her husband’s birthday. I thought that was a great idea and made a mental note to do it last year for Blaine’s 40th birthday. However, like so many of my mental notes, unfortunately, it slipped through the swiss-cheese portion of my brain and I forgot to do it. Now I’m sorry I didn’t do it this year, for his 41st. I should have told her "Thank You" for raising such a spectacular son. My life is blessed thanks to the wonderful job she did with him.

Shirley, I wish we had lived closer so we could have spent more time together. I wish my kids could have gotten to know their granny a little more. I wish I could have your home-made mashed potatoes just one more time. Most of all, I wish we could be there to say our good-byes in person.

Love, your daughter-in-law,
Kristie
Ps. I promise to try harder on the homemade apple pie, ok?