The doctor told us Alison's cancer had essentially held fast. This time there was no side note, like previous ones with words like 'multiple,' pronounced,' and 'differentiated.' The cancer hasn't shrunk or grown. So why weren't we high-fiving? We certainly should have been. It's the best news yet. But somehow with her feeling good, I think in our hearts we were wanting more.
Our hearts are never reasonable.
We don't know for how long the chemotherapy will work. We are going to continue dripping toxicity into her veins, and hoping. Cancer is a terrible thing. It brings everyone to our knees. It makes us consider the leases that we have on our lives, and stare plainly at their language. But once we make peace with it, we're free to live. We're free to laugh and enjoy our lives. And I feel better for it; I appreciate every giggle Alison commits, and every moment I share with her. I'm most thankful for her quality of life right now. She's enjoying herself.
Our friends and family have been amazing along the way. I see many more families at the doctor's office than I thought there would be. And more and more my singular wish for them is that they would know similar support, and be comforted.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
All is Silence
I've hurt my hand or foot before and pondered at how much I use it without really realizing it. Now I've lost my voice in a more severe manner that ever before. It hurts to whisper. The same thing happened: I'm left marveling at the apparent ease which others communicate.
And I'm realizing how much of my job depends on interacting with others.
So today is my email day. One line zingers to people I can see at their machines.
Simple stuff, like "Yeah, I'm going to need you to come in on... Saturday." Or "Have you completed your TSR reports?"
Voicelessness.
And I'm realizing how much of my job depends on interacting with others.
So today is my email day. One line zingers to people I can see at their machines.
Simple stuff, like "Yeah, I'm going to need you to come in on... Saturday." Or "Have you completed your TSR reports?"
Voicelessness.
Monday, March 19, 2007
The News
Alison has a CT scan scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. We'll find out the results on the following Tuesday, when she starts her next round of chemotherapy. For the most part she's feeling good. Her stomach has been upset as of late, and she has an annoying pain in her hips that make it hard for her to relax or stay still. But it's nothing like December/beginning of January.
Other than that, my mom is scheduled to visit this weekend. That should be fun. Oh, and in more somber news, my boat is now for sale:
Good times were had on that boat. Good times. But it's time to sell, what with Alison's health and all.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Note To Self
Alison calls me from another room, "Sweetie?".
I call back, "YeAH?"
"Sweetie?"
I think to myself that there's no way she didn't hear my yeah, but instinctively I call, "YEAH?!"
She holds her silence. It's her non-verbal command for 'come here, please.'
I grimace. This has happened approximately 239 times in the last three years. Each time is happens I think to myself that she, in the common/understood-etiquette-laws, owes me a verbal 'could you come here please?'
But I know it isn't coming. She'd wait until she was certain that I wasn't coming, then reserve the right to be upset with me. Of course a kiss when I enter is payment for her trouble.
I've concluded during the course of this study, that women are programmed with non-verbal commands, backed with stubbornness, that is impenetrable to men. We cannot break it. It's a losing battle. And on this particular night, I log it in as one of the things I think is cute about her.
I call back, "YeAH?"
"Sweetie?"
I think to myself that there's no way she didn't hear my yeah, but instinctively I call, "YEAH?!"
She holds her silence. It's her non-verbal command for 'come here, please.'
I grimace. This has happened approximately 239 times in the last three years. Each time is happens I think to myself that she, in the common/understood-etiquette-laws, owes me a verbal 'could you come here please?'
But I know it isn't coming. She'd wait until she was certain that I wasn't coming, then reserve the right to be upset with me. Of course a kiss when I enter is payment for her trouble.
I've concluded during the course of this study, that women are programmed with non-verbal commands, backed with stubbornness, that is impenetrable to men. We cannot break it. It's a losing battle. And on this particular night, I log it in as one of the things I think is cute about her.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Hero At Home
I'm back at work full-time now, as long as Alison continues to be self-sufficient. I have my work cut out for me too, seeing as it's been without attention for such a long time.
My bosses have been so tremendous in their compassion for our situation, and I asked to stay longer so I could put things back the way they were before Alison got sick. That was granted.
I hate the way it went down with work; I used to do such a good job for them. They needed me. (And at least with respect to paperwork, they still do)
Yesterday I was asked whether or not I could have put in more hours while she was worse. It took me a long time to think about it, but I came up with 'no.' Well yes, physically I could have been there more, but if I would have I wouldn't be able to be there as much in spirit now. I'd march through the days begrudgingly. All my passion would be gone. I needed the time to care for her. To adjust. And in some ways to heal myself.
It didn't stop me from feeling terribly bad about letting people down. But Alison said something last night that put it right. She said, 'You couldn't have been a hero there, when I needed you to be a hero at home.'
I think I married the right woman.
A friend told me no one dies and wishes they spent more time at work. But I'm at work now, being as productive as I can in the time I still have there (I'm moving jobs). I'm reinvigorated. And maybe a little, I want to prove myself all over again. But I know that Ali's words weren't truly past-tense, and that we've got a good haul in front of us too.
In the end I think the lesson here is to do what you can when you can do it, the best you can do it.
That and perspective is everything (and having a wife to give you it ain't bad either).
My bosses have been so tremendous in their compassion for our situation, and I asked to stay longer so I could put things back the way they were before Alison got sick. That was granted.
I hate the way it went down with work; I used to do such a good job for them. They needed me. (And at least with respect to paperwork, they still do)
Yesterday I was asked whether or not I could have put in more hours while she was worse. It took me a long time to think about it, but I came up with 'no.' Well yes, physically I could have been there more, but if I would have I wouldn't be able to be there as much in spirit now. I'd march through the days begrudgingly. All my passion would be gone. I needed the time to care for her. To adjust. And in some ways to heal myself.
It didn't stop me from feeling terribly bad about letting people down. But Alison said something last night that put it right. She said, 'You couldn't have been a hero there, when I needed you to be a hero at home.'
I think I married the right woman.
A friend told me no one dies and wishes they spent more time at work. But I'm at work now, being as productive as I can in the time I still have there (I'm moving jobs). I'm reinvigorated. And maybe a little, I want to prove myself all over again. But I know that Ali's words weren't truly past-tense, and that we've got a good haul in front of us too.
In the end I think the lesson here is to do what you can when you can do it, the best you can do it.
That and perspective is everything (and having a wife to give you it ain't bad either).
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Friday, March 9, 2007
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Money is Contrary to Life
Lately I've been thinking rather than posting. My thoughts were such that as soon as they were completed, they departed, and I couldn't convince them to go through my fingers into the keys. But before I say anything more, let me update you on Alison.
She continues to feel good. There have been two signs that I've drawn more hope from than any other. The first sign is six weeks without transfusion. That ended Friday, when we learned her hemoglobin and platelettes were really low, and had to beg the nurse at the transfusion center to stay late on a Friday so that Alison wouldn't have to check into 24hr operations at the hospital for a transfusion over the weekend (they require you to stay for observation because there is no "well, we can just go in first thing tomorrow.")
The second sign is that she's actually putting on weight. Before, neither content nor quantity could help her weight loss. Now she's actually gained 10 lbs back. She looks really fit. Her next chemotherapy session will likely be delayed a week, because the doctor feels that her platelettes need time to recuperate.
Back on thoughts. I finally got one to transfer, and that thought is that life theory is very different than money theory. I was looking at my newest and most fabulous birthday present, seen below, when I thought about having to save for something bigger. I never do. I generally spend every penny. I spend it right when I get it. That's better than spending pennies beforehand, right?
But I know proper money theory says it's better to save for bigger things than to buy several small things. In other words, you'll get more from saving for a real vacation rather than having a daily vacation at Dairy Queen. That's how money works, but that's not how life works. We can't save it. It's perishable and not guaranteed. So we're supposed to enjoy it as we receive it, which means each second.
It means now.
She continues to feel good. There have been two signs that I've drawn more hope from than any other. The first sign is six weeks without transfusion. That ended Friday, when we learned her hemoglobin and platelettes were really low, and had to beg the nurse at the transfusion center to stay late on a Friday so that Alison wouldn't have to check into 24hr operations at the hospital for a transfusion over the weekend (they require you to stay for observation because there is no "well, we can just go in first thing tomorrow.")
The second sign is that she's actually putting on weight. Before, neither content nor quantity could help her weight loss. Now she's actually gained 10 lbs back. She looks really fit. Her next chemotherapy session will likely be delayed a week, because the doctor feels that her platelettes need time to recuperate.Back on thoughts. I finally got one to transfer, and that thought is that life theory is very different than money theory. I was looking at my newest and most fabulous birthday present, seen below, when I thought about having to save for something bigger. I never do. I generally spend every penny. I spend it right when I get it. That's better than spending pennies beforehand, right?
But I know proper money theory says it's better to save for bigger things than to buy several small things. In other words, you'll get more from saving for a real vacation rather than having a daily vacation at Dairy Queen. That's how money works, but that's not how life works. We can't save it. It's perishable and not guaranteed. So we're supposed to enjoy it as we receive it, which means each second.
It means now.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
HILLJACK NO MORE
We're home again. Here are some pictures of Ali and I at the pool. 
The last is a picture of my new grill. Noone told me that it would feel foreign, like I'm licking a dandelion shaped bowl made of porcelain. It's going to ta
ke adjusting. (bottom right)
The last is a picture of my new grill. Noone told me that it would feel foreign, like I'm licking a dandelion shaped bowl made of porcelain. It's going to ta
ke adjusting. (bottom right)
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