JOSE’ EBER WOULD BE **SO** PROUD

6 Days to GO!

Tonight’s journal entry and Top Six List is a blatant cut-n-paste from a previous journal entry --- but really, how can I NOT reminisce about the six most interesting cancer hairdos EVER??? (Hair entries narrated by Kendrie.)
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Stage One -- The Beginning

SEPTEMBER 2003 -- ONE MONTH BEFORE DIAGNOSIS:


Wow, it's hard to remember when I had this much hair! What I DO remember is fussing every time Mom tried to brush it!!


But Mom always said she thought I looked like the Little Dutch Boy. (((Mom wonders if I heard her saying this, and that's when the gender-confusion began???)))

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Stage Two -- Going, going ......

NOVEMBER 2003 -- ONE MONTH AFTER DIANGOSIS


Oh, geez, the hair is really starting to come out now -- see how thin it's getting? You can actually see my scalp in certain places. (Mom was surprised to find this photo ... she doesn't remember me smiling, let alone laughing, any time before mid-December!)


But hey! If Donald Trump can pull off the comb-over from Hell, I think I should be able to do the same thing!


DECEMBER 2003 -- TWO AND A HALF MONTHS INTO TREATMENT


Yeah, it's getting hard to avoid the truth .... it's definitely on the way out.



But you know what? This Mark Miller guy sings lead for a band called Sawyer Something and *HE* looks pretty cool with his bald head and a microphone -- maybe there's still hope for me with my karaoke Christmas present! I just have to work a little harder to pull off the rock-star thing!

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Stage Three --- GONE!!!

MARCH, 2004 -- SIX MONTHS INTO TREATMENT



Well, it's March, and its DEFINITELY gone now! Here I am, bald as a cue ball, practicing medicine on my poor dolls and stuffed animals (who, by the way, are much better sports about getting stuck and poked and prodded than I am.)



Check it out, though -- this guy was pretty kick-ass, from what my mom tells me about TV shows back in the 70's. And if HE gets credit for being so tough just by chasing bad guys and sucking on a lollipop, shouldn't I get even more credit for kicking so much cancer butt?????



And this guy is well-known for kickin' alien-ass .......



Hey! She kicked ass, too!! These people are all tough just like me! Maybe being bald is a badge of courage in this case! (do you think I'll get in trouble for saying "ass" so many times?)


APRIL 2004 -- SEVEN MONTHS INTO TREATMENT



Well, I guess Dad figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. We make a pretty cute team, don't you think?



My dad must know how to handle dirt just like this guy. In fact, sometimes I hear him saying "Who do you think I am, Mr. Clean????" At least that's what he mumbles when he's mopping the kitchen floor.

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Stage Four -- The Rebellious Look

JULY 2004 -- NINE MONTHS INTO TREATMENT



Hmmmm, why does mom start humming "White Wedding" every time she lubes up my head with suntan lotion before we go swimming??? Can anyone tell me????




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Stage Five --- What on Earth????

JULY 2004 -- NINE AND A HALF MONTHS INTO TREATMENT



What the heck??? It's gone again! How did that happen????



I heard a rumor that this guy is pretty noble. Or at least he plays somebody noble on tv. So maybe I'll go for "nobly bold." Ugh, stinks anyway.


AUGUST 2004 -- TEN MONTHS INTO TREATMENT



Well, here I am on the first day of Long-Term Maintenance -- and I'm still in ass-kicking mode! Plus, my mom is hoping I see that girls can be bald and beautiful and tough at the same time, just look at the lady below!



Don't tell mom, but I already knew that. ALL kids that fight cancer are tough and bald and beautiful.

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Stage Six -- Houston, we have growth again

SEPTEMBER 2004 -- ELEVEN MONTHS INTO TREATMENT



You know what I love about this picture of me, and the picture of the girl below me? When *SHE* went out in public like that, people all around the world commented on how bald she was and how on earth could she go out without being embarrassed?? We look almost exactly alike, and when *MY* hair finally got this long, I quit wearing hats --- I thought it was a long, flowing mane at this point!!! Heck, I've even started using shampoo again!



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And One Stage to Grow On ..........

(Narration by Kristie) OK, anyone born after 1975 is probably not going to get the extreme social relevance of the following celebrity hairstyle comparison, but I think my fellow age 30 comrades will grasp the connection immediately, and, dare I say, enjoy a bit of nostalgia at the same time ..........



At the rate Kendrie’s hair is growing, I’m concerned we’re going to be looking like this before too long:








MAY I INTRODUCE CHAKA, FROM THE LAND OF THE LOST!!!










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And notice that we didn't add any of the photos from when her hair fell out a THIRD time this past summer, during long-term maintenance!!! But there you have it, the six stages of hair growth that cracked me up the most.

7 SWANS A SWIMMING (oh, wait, wrong song)

7 SUPER SOCIAL SUPPORTS



7 Days to Go!

Not that you ever *want* your child to get cancer, of course, but if it’s going to happen, it’s great if it happens in Georgia. Well, wait, that didn’t sound quite right. Hopefully you understand what I’m trying to say. The whole thing blows, but I don’t think there is anyplace else in the country we could have gotten the same kind of amazing social support that we have received here.

It’s funny (as in ironic, not as in ha-ha) when you’re in the military and you think you know where you’re going and where you will live and what your next job will be, and you have a 3-yr or 5-yr or 10-yr plan for your career …. and then nothing goes as planned. There were two places we were supposed to go instead of Georgia, but like a giant-falling-domino-game-of-LIFE, and assignments that didn’t work out for one reason or another, this is where we wound up. Robins AFB, Georgia. And, it’s exactly where we needed to be. Fate? Luck? Divine Intervention? You choose… I already know what I think.

Not only is Kendrie’s hospital, Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, Scottish Rite, ranked in the top three for cancer services by "Child" magazine, the Aflac Cancer Center was completely renovated and redone last year and is like the Rolls Royce of pediatric cancer clinics. Not only do they have arcade games and pinball machines and dvd players and personal tvs and games and books and magic screens and big screen TVs (even in the sedation rooms!) and child-size furniture and a stocked kitchen …. But the doctors and nurses and personnel have been wonderful to us. Most importantly, they have taken excellent care of Kendrie and treated us kindly …. We weren’t just another patient family, ever. I can’t imagine getting her treatment anyplace else, and thanks to Uncle Sam agreeing to let us stay here in Georgia for six years total (something that is unHEARDof in the military!) we won’t have to. Hey, you didn’t think we were staying here because we enjoyed the ants and humidity, did you? We're tough, but we're not that tough!

Medical bias aside, another reason we are so fortunate is the vast network of organizations in the Atlanta area that support pediatric cancer patients and their families -- socially, collectively, emotionally. Other families have become like extended family to us. I normally run into at least one family we know at clinic, often several. Sometimes we’ll meet for lunch beforehand, or go out for lunch after our appointments. If you’ve never appreciated the significance of peer-support, well, you sure would if you lived here and experienced this like we have.

My online group is great … hundreds of leukemia parents … they *get* it. But these other Georgia parents, some leukemia, some brain tumor, some neuroblastoma …. and others …. They get it as well. And even better, we get to meet and hang out and laugh and cry and pray and socialize and bullshit with one another, thanks to the organizations that understand what a benefit that is for us, and work so hard to make it happen.

So let me take a moment to thank 7 Super Social Supports and what they’ve done for our family (even before we realized we needed support!)


7SSS #1:



CURE Childhood Cancer --- the first group to reach out and help us .. our very first day in the hospital! Bringing us a Welcome Bag and inviting us to their weekly Open Arms Gathering at the hospital, I was still too "deer-in-the-headlights" to fully appreciate this at the time, but I sure do now. We also appreciate the fun events they plan for local families each year, like their annual CURE Family Picnic (photo above) and the Off-Treatment celebration they hold each year at Six Flags --- reserve our spot for the 2006 Celebration NOW!


7SSS #2:



The Lighthouse Family Retreat --- there just aren’t enough wonderful things to say about this organization and the people who run it. Begun in 1999, 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 explain how great this was and how great it was to spend time …. real, quality time, with other families. Families who became friends. We’ve been fortunate to attend twice, and have already begun saving our pennies so we can go back as a volunteer family in a few years. If they'll have us, that is. *That* might be still up in the air. :)


7SSS #3:







Another fantastic Atlanta organization run by wonderful people: Camp Sunshine. They have a Camp Sunshine House in Atlanta where they offer family support group meetings, spa nights (my favorite!) and all kinds of local activities. If we lived in Atlanta, we’d probably be there so much they’d issue a restraining order against us. As it is, we consider ourselves fortunate that we’ve been able to attend so many of their events; several Family Camp Weekends at Camp Twin Lakes, Middle Georgia Support Group Get-togethers, Big Apple Circus, etc. Next summer, I think Brayden and Kellen want to attend Sibling Camp … and since we are living here in Georgia a few more years, Kendrie will even have a chance to attend as a camper herself. Not that I think she’ll ever be that courageous, considering she still tries to sneak into bed with us most nights, but it’s good to know it’s there if she wants to!


7SSS #4:





“CureSearch unites the world's largest childhood cancer research organization, the Children's Oncology Group, and the National Childhood Cancer Foundation through our shared mission to cure childhood cancer. Research is the key to a cure.” Although it’s a national organization, CureSearch offers local happenings for families, fundraisers, and special events like the Quiet Heroes Luncheon I got to attend this fall, with 100 other mostly-local cancer moms. The photos above were of us at an Atlanta Braves game, tickets courtesy of CureSearch.


So as you can see, we are the fortunate beneficiary of some great Georgia support. There are other organizations that have helped our family as well, for which I’m grateful:

7SSS #5:



Supersibs! has made sure Kellen and Brayden haven’t been lost in the shuffle or overlooked during this process. Ok, who are we kidding? Of course they’ve been overlooked at times! But the trophies and t-shirts and cards and newsletters that they receive from Supersibs! do help them to feel less neglected. It has certainly helped balance the extra attention that Kendrie has received. Kendrie, of course, would deny that.


7SSS #6:

I don’t have a photo for Candlelighters, unless I go to my kids’ bookshelf and take a picture of all the smart, sweet, funny books about kids with cancer that I’ve received from them. As new books come out, like “The Amazing Hannah”, “Oliver’s Story” and “Chemo, Craziness and Comfort”, they are offered free of charge to cancer parents. Those books have been very helpful to Kendrie and her siblings, especially at the beginning of her treatment, and I appreciate receiving them. Let’s be honest, the “I’m a Kid and I’ve Got Cancer” section at the local Barnes & Noble isn’t that big …. so this was a real help for our family.


7SSS #7:

When Kendrie was first diagnosed and in the hospital, the social worker came to talk to Blaine and me about all sorts of things … supplemental insurance, educational programs, financial aid, counseling services … and near the end of the conversation, she sort of threw out there, “Oh, and don’t forget, Kendrie will be eligible for a Wish now!” A Wish? A WISH??? Like something those dying kids get????? I burst into tears …. who wants their kid to be eligible for a Wish? (In hindsight, I really think that lady should be trained to handle the situation a bit more delicately.)

But eligible we were, so we took advantage of the opportunity for our local Make-A-Wish chapter to send us to Disneyworld/Universal Studios … the very trip we had planned as a surprise for the kids, scheduled for the month after Kendrie was diagnosed. (Whew! Thank goodness we hadn’t actually told them about it! They’d STILL be whining about not getting to go!)








While in Florida, we stayed at the single most remarkable resort village in the world; Give Kids the World. You have to be on a Wish Trip to stay there, and you can only go once, although you are allowed to go back anytime as a Day Visitor. I’m not even going to try and put in words how much we loved this village. You can go back in my journal history to last February if you’re interested … but suffice it to say, when I grow up, I want to work at GKTW.



So, all this waxing nostalgic about the opportunities afforded our family by these organizations leads me back to a perplexing situation I have found myself in before …. How can I feel lucky that we’ve gotten to experience these things, and still stay grumpy (as is my nature!) about the cancer in the first place? The comment “Relax, enjoy, your family deserves these things” annoys me as well. We didn’t do anything to deserve these things, any more than Kendrie did anything to deserve cancer. And it’s hard to stay mad at cancer when I feel so blessed about the chances it has given us.

As grateful as I am for all these things, and these organizations, and the heroes who run them, I’d trade them all back. In a heartbeat. Except for the friends we’ve made. Those, I don’t want to give back. But that's it. Otherwise, back it goes.

EIGHT BLISSFUL MOMENTS

8 Days to Go!!!

My gosh, I’m starting to feel like Dick Clark on New Years Eve …. Will the damn ball EVER drop?!?!? Just kidding, these days are passing by very quickly and while there have been times during the past two years I thought we would NEVER get here, I’m sure next Thursday night, our personal Times Square Celebration will be here before we know it. :)

Just a few comments from the guestbook I want to address:

**All these songs have been from the TSO CD “The Lost Christmas Eve”. They have several other really great Christmas CD’s that I’m too lazy to walk out to my car and retrieve, so for now, everything is coming off that one album that I happen to have here in the computer room.

**Yes, the “okc” in Kristieokc stands for Oklahoma City. That’s where I was born and raised and lived for twenty happy years until my military husband ripped me from the bosom of my family. Whatever. I’m not bitter, just eager to return home when he retires.

**Yes, we would be happy to give out our personal address if you would like to send Kendrie a congratulations card for finishing treatment …. I just have a “thing” about putting it out there on the web, so please e-mail me privately (address at the bottom of this site) and I’m happy to give it to you in a return e-mail. Burglars and axe-murderers need not apply.

**My camera is a Canon Digital Rebel …. I think the good photos have less to do with photographer talent and willing subjects and more to do with an expensive telephoto lens and high-quality photo-editing software!! Now, if I could just figure out how to erase my double chin and big butt, I’d be in business.....

**I didn’t want to make anyone else feel guilty about the fact I am done shopping, wrapping and all the gifts are already under the tree, so today’s photo was taken in front of the small tree in Kendrie’s room -- no presents at all. Yes, I am a freak …. We have five decorated Christmas trees in our house, and no, we don't live in a mansion. Blaine is grumbling that it's starting to look like a rain forest in here. If it makes you feel any better, those of you who haven’t yet shopped or wrapped or decorated, I am a stay-at-home mom who rudely turned down the request to volunteer at the Secret Santa Workshop this week at school, so I could get all that stuff finished. Hey, my family is coming here from Oklahoma for Kendrie’s Off-Treatment party and an early Christmas, so I had pressure to finish!!

**In case you noticed, or didn't notice, no, Blaine himself was not listed as one of my "Nine Things I am Grateful For" items. In case you're not sure why, let me give you this little example: After reading my update yesterday, and reading the paragraph (which was intended to be humorous) about living in the backwoods and making our own butter and furniture and living without electricity or any contact with the outside world, he looked over at me and said, "What would be so bad about that?" And He. Was. Serious!!! Does that tell you the kind of man I am married to????

Again, thanks to all of you for the kind, enthusiastic messages in the guestbook. It is hard to believe we could be any more excited about this milestone, but your notes to our family have made it, if possible, even more special. And now, on to today’s list:

EIGHT BLISSFUL MOMENTS --- I hope it goes without saying that we’ve had more than eight moments that have made us happy in the last twenty-six months. I’m pretty sure I’d have to turn in my parenting license if I couldn’t find happiness, or provide happiness for my family, more often than that.

But these are photos taken during treatment that for one reason or another, really touched my heart. Some of these events took place *because* of cancer, some of them took place *in spite* of it. I seriously doubt that Geocities will be able to support ten photos in one journal entry (despite the fact they accidentally charged my credit card a $500.00 fee last month; it’s supposed to be $5.00!) so if you come to the site and see little red x’s instead of pictures, please check back again later. They reset the bandwidth every hour. Or something technical like that.

Photo #1:



Photo taken during her first week in the hospital after diagnosis, Oct 2003. Notice the bruises on the back of her hands from all the needle sticks??? Kendrie turned from a happy, laughing, bubbly child to a sullen, withdrawn, distrusting little girl in a matter of days. It broke my heart to see her so suspicious of every adult that had suddenly come into her life, and on this day, when I was able to simply color with her, and joke with her, and get her to smile for the first time …. it meant a lot to me to see her being silly again, even if just for a moment.


Photo Group #2:





Pictures taken Dec, 2003. The kids were out of school for the Christmas holiday and we took them with us to Atlanta for one of Kendrie’s appointments. This was the beginning of treatment, when we were often driving to clinic once or twice a week for chemo in one form or another. It was an unseasonably warm day and we spent the afternoon playing in a local park. The sun was shining, all three kids were laughing and having fun, after two months of turmoil and upheaval and confusion, and on this afternoon, I started to allow myself to nurse the very small flame, buried deep in my soul, that our family might just possibly come through this ordeal intact.


Photo #3:



The very end of December, 2003, Blaine had what is called a “Pinning On Ceremony” on base. (Another name for a promotion ceremony …. and by promotion, I mean bringing home slightly more money that we had to spend on Kendrie’s unbelievable, non-stop steroid cravings!) It was one of the first times our family had ventured out into public in such a social manner, and for one brief afternoon, for what felt like the first time since diagnosis, the spotlight was on something POSITIVE that was happening for our family. It was a really great feeling.


Photo #4:



a.) Neil Armstrong taking the first steps on the moon.

b.) Jonas Salk inventing the vaccine for polio.

c.) The discovery of penicillin.

d.) The Wright Brothers taking flight for the very first time.

Yes, all these things were amazing, inspiring, and did much to benefit the advancement of the human race. But we had an event of such unbelievable magnitude take place here this week that I believe the history books will have to be re-written to include this earth-shattering incident. My palms were sweaty; my heart soared ….. are you ready to share in the mind-blowing, wonderful news?

KENDRIE LEARNED TO PUMP HERSELF ON THE SWING IN THE BACKYARD!!!!!

Really, have you ever seen a more self-satisfied look? (Photo and journaling, June 2004)


Photo #5:



I know, I know, I’ve used this picture of Kendrie to death and you are all sick of seeing it --- but I just love it! We were attending our first-ever family Lighthouse Retreat in Florida, July of 2004. It was fabulous to see my kids enjoying themselves on the beach, escaping the cancer-routine for a week, and for the opportunity to make friends with other families going through some of the same trials as we were. I’d much rather have met them all at some community get-together, like a big ol’ pig roast with wet-naps and huge vats of cold beer, but I’m grateful for these families just the same. And I will always love this picture of Kendrie, embracing life.


Photo #6:



After being pulled out of pre-school the year before when she got sick, and being forced to spend an entire school year at home with boring old Mom, watching movies, reading books, and doing puzzle after puzzle after countless puzzle (my God if I never see another Clifford puzzle it will be too soon!) I don’t think this child could have been any happier about starting her first year of public school in Pre-K-4. How can you NOT be happy for a kid who looks this thrilled???? August 2004


Photo #7:



One of the few (and if you were following along in my journal entries back then, you will remember that I mean VERY FEW) happy moments on our Make-A-Wish trip. This hour spent in Curious George’s Water Play Area was one of the best hours of the entire trip. In hindsight, I guess we should have just spent the whole six days right there, stealing dry towels from unsuspecting tourists and having the Corn Dog and Dippin' Dots guys deliver to us.


Photo Group #8:



Kendrie talked about playing t-ball, dreamed about playing t-ball, strategized her t-ball career, and couldn’t wait to get out there with the other kids. I was never so proud in all my life as her first time at bat … seeing the sheer joy on her face to be taking part in an activity she loves and had so looked forward to, for months and months and months.



Then, there were other moments when we really weren’t quite as proud of her skills.


There's another photo I just love of Kendrie going off the slide at our friend Ms. Renee's house this past summer that I would like very much to share with you --- the goggles on her eyes and the smile on her face is simply priceless. But you know my tom-boy girl.... she was swimming in her brother's swim trunks and no top, and I'm pretty sure if I put that on this site, the Internet Porn Police will be after me straightaway .... So, that’s it for today …. Eight Blissful Moments, brought to you (hopefully!) by my web server. Thanks again for checking in,

NINE DAYS TO GO!!!

Photo taken December 2005; Only NINE days of treatment left!!! Wahooooooooooo!!


Thanks to all of you for your kind words in the guestbook and private e-mails you sent me, congratulating us on reaching the “10-Days to Go Milestone.” Believe me, we would be celebrating and counting down the days even if we lived alone in a shanty in the back-woods of Alaska with no phone or TV or computer or radio, scraping out an existence for ourselves by setting wolverine traps, churning butter ourselves, hauling water from the stream and making our own furniture out of corn cobs. But the fact we can have all of you celebrating WITH us (Man, I love technology. And furniture that’s not made out of corn cobs) makes it even more special!

So, today, we have NINE DAYS TO GO!! (Have I mentioned it's only nine more days to go?) And in keeping with my theme (it’s always me and a theme, isn’t it?) here is my list of the Nine Things for Which I am Most Grateful with Regards to Kendrie’s Leukemia:

1. Emla cream. Topical numbing agent, aka “Magic Cream” at our house. At this point in her treatment, I guesstimate Kendrie has been stuck with a needle in her chest, arm, finger, leg, or spine, approximately 115 times. She has either cried, fussed, whimpered, whined, or protested, or a combination of those things, 115 out of 115 times. And that is WITH the Magic Cream. Can you even imagine my life without it??? I considered using it myself for my flu shot last week but Blaine called me a wimp. (Have you **had** a flu shot? I’m telling you, they sting!)

2. Zofran. Anti-nausea pills, worth their weight in gold. And considering they cost $25 a pill, they practically ARE. (Obviously, this list is in no particular order, because believe me, if it was, Zofran would be in the number ONE spot!)

3. Good health insurance. (See number 2.)

4. Julianna Banana and her ghost-writer dad, Terry. I can still remember going to her site for the first time and seeing a cute little photo of an adorable kitten titled “This is Me”. Then, the corresponding photo was of a huge, roaring lion, “This is Me, On Steroids.” I think it was the first time since Kendrie’s diagnosis that I laughed out loud. Thank you, Julianna and Terry, for showing me that it was not only OK, but therapeutic to poke fun at ourselves. Or at other people, which isn’t as nice, but lots more fun.

5. ALL the Caringbridge sites I have visited over the past two years, and the families who opened themselves up and allowed me to follow along on their journeys …. And the people (YOU, if you’re reading this!) who have been kind enough to follow along on ours. I’ll be honest, there were close friends and family who let us down, and I was severely disappointed about that in the beginning. But, I never reached out for support on this site that I didn’t get it. For that, I am profoundly thankful. (And a little bit concerned that you people can’t find something more interesting to read than stories about my dysfunctional family and my corny analogies all the time! You know, CNN has their own website that would probably be LOTS more informative!) :)

6. The friends I have made via my online support group, All-Kids. I have sympathized, laughed, worried, grieved, gotten advice, given advice, and celebrated with these families. I talk with some of them more than I talk to my “old” friends and relatives. (What, exactly, does that say about my personal-relationship skills?) I have made arrangements to meet them in person from coast to coast --- California, DC, New York, to name a few, and there are several families in Canada that aren’t safe yet, if I ever get my passport updated! I’m so sad about the common thread that brought us all together, but so grateful for their support.

7. To my children, as bizarre as this might sound, for their fighting, bickering and arguing. For letting me know, in a million disagreeable ways, that they are still normal siblings with the normal urge to kill one another on a regular basis, or more likely, band together and thwart me in the process. If they were *too* nice to each other, I’d know that the thought of cancer and its possible consequences was always on their minds. Instead, although they drive me crazy with their skirmishes and attitudes and power struggles, I know that they are typical, ordinary kids. Usually. Or, sometimes I just think they’re insane.

8. Oncologists, nurses, med techs, lab techs, nurse techs, child life specialists, appointment clerks, physicians assistants, nurse practitioners, researchers, secretaries, receptionists, insurance specialists, triage specialists, ER nurses, ER docs, pharmacy techs, hospital kitchen staff, janitors, maintenance people, Volun-teens, pediatricians, fundraising specialists, corporate donors, private donors, psychologists, and anyone else who has ever given even a single penny or a moment of their time --- or, made it their life’s work to take care of these kids and work towards the day when pediatric cancer is 100 percent curable and not so miserable in the meantime. For my daughter’s life, I thank you.

9. Georgia’s Toll Authority Speed Pass. I love that little device on my windshield that lets me zip through the tollbooth on the way to and from the hospital more than anything.

And there you go. I know there are others --- many, many others. Perhaps I should have started this countdown list several weeks ago. But that’s it for today. Check in again tomorrow, when I list the eight …. Um …. the eight, ugh, well, I’ll think of eight of something!

10 DAYS TO GO, MY FRIENDS, 10 DAYS TO GO!

Photo taken December 2005; Only ten days of treatment left!!! Wahooooooooooo!!

(not that we’re counting down, or anything)

First things first, thanks so much to all of you who checked in over the weekend and helped push our Caringbridge visitor counter over the 500,000 mark. What a nice milestone to hit right before going off-treatment (have I mentioned we only have ten days to go before Kendrie is done????)

I have a sneaking suspicion that five or six or you might have pushed refresh a time or two …. but that’s ok! Whether it’s half a million different people checking in on us once, or ten or twenty family members and close friends who check in on a regular basis, we’ll take all the support we can get! Special thanks to Dagny D. from Powder Springs, GA, for being right on the money with 500,000 and letting us know who our special visitor was. Ironically, 500,001, Pam D, was ALSO from Powder Springs, GA … they must have some speedy internet connections in their neck of the woods. I also want to offer a shout out to Cindy, the Postcard Lady from Sonoma, CA, who has been a great support to our family …. She was number 500,002 and is blaming the Fed-Ex man who rang her doorbell and made her late for checking in.

So, with only ten days of chemo to go, what is going through our minds? Here is a snippet:

Mom: “Kendrie, do you realize that you only have to take chemo for ten more days and then you are done with cancer? What do you think of that?”

Kendrie: “Does that mean I can eat ice cream before bed again …. Finally???”

Kellen and Brayden: “Woohoo, if she can, that means WE can, too!”

(Happy dance around the living room, in anticipation of the ice-cream frenzy that is sure to take place next weekend.)

No profound, life-altering declarations about the strength and courage of our cancer survivor ….. it’s all about the chocolate and sprinkles, baby!

So since I can't depend on my kids for any kind of wise, sage comments, I thought I would share with you the TOP TEN THINGS THAT HAVE BEEN MOST DIFFICULT FOR ME. (After all, I might *pretend* this site is about Kendrie, but surely you have figured out by now that it’s Really. About. ME.)


1. First thing that was difficult:



This photo was taken about three weeks before Kendrie was diagnosed. She had been complaining off and on of leg and arm pain for a few weeks and on this day, we took the kids to an amusement park as an end-of-summer treat. Kendrie didn’t even last an hour before she started complaining about her legs and begging to be carried. I remember snapping this photo not because I thought she was cute, but because I was annoyed with her for being so lazy. In fact, I think my exact words to her were, “You are annoying me by being so lazy … there is nothing wrong with your legs …. WALK!” I planned to scrapbook the photo about “Our 4-yr old lazy kid who still wants to be carried everywhere”. Of course, you can imagine my guilt when we found out what was wrong.


2. Second thing that was difficult:



I took this photo in the hospital on the day after she was diagnosed. I was in shock, Blaine was in shock, and she was NOT a happy camper about the needles and tubes and wires everywhere. I remember feeling morbid about taking my camera to the hospital to take pictures of my daughter who had just been diagnosed with cancer, but (no drama intended) I honestly thought she was going to die. No-one had explained to me yet that there were relatively successful treatment options for leukemia. We weren’t sure what kind of leukemia she had, and I remember thinking if she only had a few weeks to live, I needed to take lots of pictures of her. I have never been so sick to my stomach with fear. I hope I never am again.



3. Third thing that was difficult:



The physical changes that the Induction stage of treatment – and more specifically, the boat-load of steroids we gave her – brought about. This photo would almost be funny, if you could get past the sad, chubby look on her little moon face. Hmmmmm, let’s take stock, shall we? Grilled cheese, French fries, cheese and crackers, mac and cheese, Pringles, apple juice, Pepsi … anything else? By now, 28 days later, I understood better that we had a good chance of beating this. Kendrie was in remission …. I could take photos with a slightly lighter heart (although I was still sick to my stomach most of the time in private.)

4. Fourth thing that has been difficult for me: Accepting help in all the varied ways it came to us. Whether it was my scrapbooking friends and military wives who cooked us meals at the beginning, my friends who watched Brayden and Kellen while we were in Atlanta, sometimes even overnight, the gifts, cards, toys, and everything else that poured in …. Accepting help means you have a NEED, and that’s never easy to admit. At least not for some of us.

5. Fifth thing that has been difficult for me: Acknowledging that I can’t fix this. I can’t trade places with her, take away the pain, make her feel better. All I can do is be the best parent I know how to be, and show up for my job with Zofran and a warm, loving touch. Listening to your 4-yr old beg and cry, “Mommy, please don’t let them do this to me anymore” when the nurse is coming at her with a needle is something NO parent should have to go through. I still feel nauseated just remembering it.

6. Sixth thing that has been difficult for me: Knowing we have sometimes neglected our older kids throughout this ordeal, and wondering if they are scarred for life because they got the short end of the stick for twenty-six months. Are there unflattering tell-all autobiographies in their future? Counseling? Shock therapy? Family reunions on Jerry Springer???

7. Seventh thing that has been difficult for me: Accepting that nothing I did or didn’t do could have prevented this, or caused this. I took pre-natal vitamins, ate well, breastfed, immunized, rocked, cuddled and loved. Was it the landfill we lived on in Ohio? I hope not, because that means Brayden and Kellen are at risk, too. Was it some defective gene I passed on in utero? I hope not. Am I being punished for some prior transgression? Nope, that’s not how I think. But as a parent, it’s your job to protect your child and it’s hard to think of yourself as a good mother when something like this happens.

7. Eighth thing that has been difficult for me: My total and complete loss of empathy for other people and their petty problems. Well, that’s not completely true. I’ve always hated self-absorbed assholes. It’s just now I can blame my lack of empathy/sympathy on cancer, instead of some personality defect of my own. I don’t CARE if you’re having car trouble, or in-law trouble, or school trouble, or work trouble --- JUST SHUT UP! (Oh my gosh, it’s a miracle I have any friends left!)

9. Ninth thing that has been difficult for me: Some people just don’t get it. They never have; they never will. The people who (true story) twenty five months and twenty days into Kendrie’s treatment plan, who are shocked to find out she gets chemo EVERY DAY at home --- what?!?! They thought it was just once a month at the clinic?!? Not only have they just outed themselves as someone who never checks our website … and someone who has no idea what is going on … they are also the ones who will ask in the most ingratiating way in public, “So, just how is she doing? Really, truly doing ??” like they really, really, really want to know.

10. Tenth thing that has been difficult for me: Listening to myself bitch and moan and whine like this. I drive myself crazy --- tomorrow’s Top Nine List is going to be the Top Nine things I am most grateful for!

Hope your week is off to a good start!

PS. Did I mention that we only have ten days to go?!?!?!

FOUR THINGS FOR TODAY:

13 Days to Go

1) Anyone who has been around Caringbridge very long knows the song “He’s My Son” by Mark Schultz. It was written for a friend of the songwriter whose son was diagnosed with leukemia, and it’s beautiful. I’ve never put it on Kendrie’s site because although she *thinks* she is a boy and she *wants* to be a boy, she in not, in actuality, my SON. Today, however, I saw the live performance video of the song. You remember I mentioned that since Kendrie was diagnosed I cry at the drop of a hat? Well, it’s official, I am a wreck after watching the video. I cried for the entire seven minutes and forty-six seconds and went through two perfectly good Kleenex. Visit it for yourself if you'd like to see it. But be prepared ... have a Kleenex ready! (there is a commercial at the beginning, so just be patient.)

2) A much HAPPIER video follows: TSO Wizards of Winter. If you followed Kendrie’s Caringbridge site last holiday season, you know I am a little obsessed with the songs of Trans-Siberian Orchestra. That’s the music you are listening to now, and the music which I’ll have on the site for most of the season. I’ll change it every few days, though, just for variety. I think most of the internet-world has seen this video already, but just in case you haven’t, take a look.

3) Kendrie came home from school again today, complaining of a stomach-ache. She tried to come home Wednesday, but since I didn’t answer the phone, she had no choice but to stay. (oops) She likes school; she really does. So I know when she comes home, that she genuinely doesn’t feel well. They say chemo can be cumulative. I would guess after two years, one month and two weeks of treatment, she might be feeling the effects. She doesn’t miss that many days overall, but I am happy that her treatment is coming to an end, just in case. I hate that she feels punky, even occasionally. I’m sure she hates it, too. Oh my gosh, Kendrie has been taking chemo for two years, one month, and two weeks --- her treatment is two years and two months long --- do you realize what that means??? Two weeks baby, only two weeks left!!!

4) Check out the counter at the bottom of the page --- sometime this weekend or early next week, we should hit the magic number 500,000!!! What’s magic about it? Well, absolutely nothing! But I still think it’s exciting, so please log in to the guestbook and let us know if you are visitor 500,000 …. Or even CLOSE to 500,000!

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend. We will be watching Brayden ride a fire truck in a local Christmas parade, attending our first Christmas party of the season, and avoiding the mall at all costs. :)

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QUOTE OF THE DAY: Said today, by Kendrie, to me, when she saw me return from the hairdressers after having my blonde highlights replaced with red ones, "Um, maybe you should stick to yellow next time."