On Men and Fathers and having a Daddy

I watch my husband sometimes with my kids and I wonder, in awe, how it is that I knew how to pick a good husband to be and a good father to be when I was only nineteen.  Engaged at nineteen.  Married at twenty.  Parents of three by 25.  Parents of 6 by 35.

And I did pick a good one.  I knew to expect to be treated well.  I knew I was lovable and beautiful and smart and deserving.  I knew that because my daddy had always told me I was.

I was his favorite Jennifer in the WHOLE WORLD.  And I knew I deserved a good guy because my dad showed me I did every single day of my childhood.

The words we heard this week were "terminal"  "limited options"  "aggressive".  And worse, "no cure".   We have some time to try to fight, but no one can really saw how much.  It was bad news. VERY BAD NEWS.

My dad is sick.  Really, really sick. His birthday this year is on Father's Day.  Sunday.

Honestly, I don't really know what to say other than I love him.  And that we need him.  My kids need him.  My sister needs him.  My nephews need him.  My step mom needs him.  I NEED HIM.

I have a hard time right now talking TO HIM.  I can talk about him just fine, but to him?  It is so hard to pick up that phone and say hello.   Why?  Because I know how badly he needs me to be OK.  He has spent his whole life making sure I am OK.  Checking my tire pressure every time I come over.  Topping up the oil, checking my wiper fluid. A quick hug and a glance  "You OK, Jen?".  "Yes dad!" and a smile of relief.

More than anything I know my dad wants us all to be OK.  It is not himself he is worried about.  In typical amazing dad fashion, it is ME.

And honestly, I am not.  I don't feel strong enough or wise enough or brave enough to face this battle with him.  I feel like a three year old who needs to know her daddy is the strongest man in the whole world and will fix anything and everything, always.   I want to hide and shut down and forget.   And he wants me to be OK.  Not to cry or sob or be a little girl scared of losing her daddy, but to be the capable woman he raised.

He has taught me strength.  And fortitude.  And how to be brave and strong and resilient.  He has taught me how to survive this and it is a lesson I never wanted to know.   Because his strength and bravery and hard work have been my foundation.  And can you survive without your foundation?  I really don't want to find out.

Happy Father's Day Dad.  Happy Birthday Dad.  I love you.

And I hate cancer.

All Things Horrible

This is a post that has taken me too long to write because saying it "out loud" makes it real. 

My father was cancer free for less than six months. 

After chemo and surgery and a miracle that gave us time, it is back.  The cancer is back.

It is harder this time.  Last time I had the merciful gift of shock and disbelief and then we all went to the mountain top of hope.  And now we have crashed back to the cavernous gully of reality. 

I love my dad.  My incredible, amazing, kind, funny, grouchy, hard working  and overly protective dad who adores my children maybe even more than he adores me, and that makes me happier than I ever thought possible.    My ever hopeful dad who has faced the idea of another round of chemo, then hopefully surgery and radiation, with a strength I cannot comprehend.  He wants to live and he will do what it takes to live as long as possible. 

And I want him to live.  I need him to live. 

Cancer doesn't care and it is never, ever fair.  It doesn't care that my son desperately wants his Papa to see him play hockey for a "Big" team because it is his Papa that is his biggest fan.  It doesn't care that my girls are too little to remember their Papa and they need a grandpa doting on them for many more years.  It doesn't care that my dad's parents are still alive and that means I should have him for many more years just like he gets his parents.  It doesn't care that I really, really love my dad or that he is a really, really great guy. 

This is a journey I do not want to be on and yet  I do not want you to be on it either.  And that is the problem isn't it?  None of us deserve this, or maybe in fact all of us do and its the random way it strikes or avoids that feels so unfair.  If I wish this away, am I wishing in onto another family?  Another dad and another daughter who looks like a woman but feels like a little girl who just needs her daddy?

The fight starts again today and once again my heart is being held by a monster called cancer.

A Year

Its the sound of  birds. 

The talk of hockey playoffs.

An afternoon sun that actually warms my back.

My body remembers the horror and fear.

A year ago we found out my dad had 9 months to live.

The day we were told we took this picture.

We took it because we thought it would be the last.

2 weeks later I was diagnosed with Cancer too.

They were dark days.  The darkest.

But the darkest days come before the brightest dawn.

365 days later my dad is cancer free.

It is a miracle noone ever thought possible.

I am cancer free.

Our family has grown by 2.

Thank God for the dawn.

My Dad, My Father, My Friend

Today's the day my dad has surgery - surgery, however serious and enormous, that could also save his life and give me years with my dad and my boys time to grow up with their Papa. It's an incredibly difficult surgery and beyond what my brain can comprehend complicated but needless to say we need to win this battle with cancer and today is a very big fight in that battle.

I know so many of us have been touched by cancer and hate the devastation it brings to so many families but today I just need to be presumptious enough to ask you to pray for my dad. Please. He needs it and his doctors need it. And if you have some spare prayers to throw in, pray for my sister and I, our step mom and my dad's large family that is all gripped in fear waiting for the doctors to do their job today.

I really love my dad.

The Perfect Gift

It's been another one of those weeks. Doctor's appointments and not great test results and more tests and a forecast of more tests and test results. And today I got this in the mail from my sweet, never swore outloud in her entire life, awesome, friend since we were 12, Pam.

She made my day!

The Cancer Recap - Post Surgery Update

My pathology report and I made our way to the doctor's office yesterday for my post-surgical appointment. Shel would have come too, but well ... he was in the van with the babies. THE BABIES!!! (if case you wonder, I am still in shock ... but back to cancer)

So, my tumor was clear cell carcinoma, that we already knew. The "Furhman Grade" was also higher than I expected and as such it has caused me some stress. This means it was a more aggressive form of cancer than we (ok I) had anticipated.

However, the tumor was also tiny, and well positioned. The actual tumor had a diameter of 1 cm and was resting on the edge of my kidney. Instead of losing a large percentage of my kidney as was expected, I lost only about 8%. The function of my kidney (or at least the cleanliness of my blood) has not been affected. All pathology of all other areas (lymph nodes, renal capsule, vessels, ureter, hilum and adrenal gland, pelvis, and fat tissue surrounding kidney) came back clear.

The tumor is considered fully encapsulated. As the doctor explained to me yesterday, it doesn't matter what kind of horses you have in the corral as long as they can't get out to wreck the fields (you can tell I live in ranch country?). In English that means my cancer was there, but was small enough to still be held in by the capsule around it. The doctor said I got the jackpot of cancers. Oh goody?!?

The final word came through as far as follow up as well. I will not have to see an oncologist again, instead I will have CT scans twice a year for the next little while, and yearly ultra sounds and blood work the rest of my life. Officially, according to the doctors, I am now a NED (No Evidence of Disease). All good news.

Emotionally? Its a different ball game. I want to know what I did to CAUSE this. I want to know what I can do to PREVENT this. I have never smoked. Ever, not once. And still I get a smoker's cancer? I am relatively healthy and in good shape. I get an cancer correlated with obesity? I logically know there is NO reason, or at least no reason I will ever KNOW as to why I got this cancer; that even if I had smoked that doesn't mean THATS the reason this cancer started.

The doctor called this "Health Confidence". He said it will return in a couple years of living well. I wonder if that's so? I wonder if I want to even forget how fragile life truly is? If I live to 86, I now understand that its NOT given. I want to appreciate old age because I hope I never forget how close I came to not seeing it.

Control

Warning: This is a ranting at God post. Easily offended Christians should, once again, not read. Today the burden seems too heavy and too wide.

The last two years have been an exercise in a lack of control.

First, a tiny little girl I loved with all my heart, and with whom I shared my home and family, was gone. No good-bye. No say. Just gone. My screaming into the heavens made no difference. It was something I couldn't fix or change. She was gone from our lives. Period. This pain almost cost me EVERYTHING. Everything I value, everything I hold dear was almost lost into the dark abyss of depression and grief and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control it or ignore it.

Then my Nan left, or was taken, depending on your perspective, to a town way too far away. And there her days would end. No control. No amount of screaming, begging or pleading changed anything. She would get sick AWAY. Then she died. AWAY. No control, no say.

My kids? They grow up! That whole freezing time concept, stay little and be my babies? Strangely they don't listen. Birth Family. High School. New friends. Different Choices. Ultimately I can guide but I cannot control. And it's scary. My role is different and new and I am unsure of the way to be a mom to independent teens.

Then, of course, there is a cancer. The Doctors MUST be wrong. They must. My dad is MY DAD. Listen to me God ... LISTEN TO ME. That's MY DAD!!! Please God, no. Please, just please, no. But I have no control over this. None. I have to sit back and watch the pain and watch the struggle and just control the tears, because that is all that is left to control. And still they come, unheeded.

And me. ME? Surgery is now days away. I try to control the details. What the boys will eat, who will watch them while I am gone. Where I will stay, when I will return home. But I can't control that tumor. I can't control the results of the pathology. I can't control the length of recovery. I can't control the reality that I have cancer too. I can't control if it will return. Or when. And I am scared and don't want to be, but it seems I can't even control my fear.

And now we come full circle, because the precious baby girl's life is falling apart, again, today. I know this, but I cannot share the details other than asking, BEGGING, you to pray. But I cannot DO anything to help her other than once again scream into the heavens for an innocent child who is paying a price too high for the grown ups issues. I am angry, and there is no point because there is nothing I can do.

If God is in control, then why? Why this pain? Why this loss? What's the point? Why should my boys go through the fear of losing another mother? Why should an innocent little girl suffer in uninmaginable, unnecessary ways when there are other options? When there were a million other options that would have spared her this agony.

I am out of control.

What Not to Say...

Warning: The following post is going to be a blog post where I alternatively preach, and swear. So if you can't deal with the mix of Faith and Reality, quit reading. If you can, read on.

Admittedly, I am sure I have said the wrong thing many times over the years in people's times of tragedy, but somewhere along the way I have picked up that a SAFE response to finding out about other's bad news is "I am sorry" and alternatively "Is there anything I can do?" and many, many have shared their thoughtful sentiments with me. And I thank you, but what would blogging be if I didn't have something to complain about?

I am learning that there is one thing in particular that I DO NOT want to hear. Ever. Again. And yes, I realize that approximately 350 people have said this to me in the last 3 weeks, and so no, I am not talking about YOU, and yes of course I forgive YOU for saying it. JUST DON'T SAY IT AGAIN.

When I recount the TWO cancer diagnosis and a death that befell my family in a two week period, more people than I can count have said "Well God won't give you more than you can bear".

Bull Shit. Bull Shit. Bull Shit.

First off, the verse that everyone is referencing (1st Cor. 10:6-11) has NOTHING to do with bad stuff happening in our lives, it has to do with resisting TEMPTATION. You know, the desire to DO bad stuff - meaning that God will always provide us the strength to RESIST doing that which we shouldn't (like possibly the swearing above). In other words, God won't allow you to be tempted more than what you can handle. That 6th piece of chocolate cake that would definitely catapult you over into the "glutton" category? You CAN resist that, its not too much to bear. See the difference?

Instead well meaning people toss these words out, twisting them, and instead of comforting, it hurts. A verse that has to do with our choices, and consequences, gets used to essentially blame God for the bad things that happened and tell me I should be tougher because obviously I can handle this just fine. Which means, at least to me when I hear it, its my fault if I am not sailing through grief, or fear, or loss. Because, you know "God" thinks I can handle it so he hasn't sent more than I can handle. .

Crap happens people.

Babies die. "Good" people get cancer. Wonderful mothers struggle with debilitating diseases. Innocent children get abused.

I choose to not believe that a God that loves me, made me, and that I worship and believe in is putting me through this to because "I can bear it". I can't. I am terrified of dying and leaving my sons. I need, in a primal way I can't explain, my dad. The loss of my Nan from my life has ripped my heart into two. And yes, some days I want to break under the weight of my problems, and you know what? Other people are daily facing things that ARE unbearable. Completely, totally, and thoroughly unbearable and unfathomable.

Mental illness. Death. Rape. Murder. War. Disease. Loss. Poverty. Racism. CANCER. Unbearable ills because we live in a broken world. A world in which evil wishes to rob of us of everything.

And MY GOD doesn't "do" this to me because I am strong. I can't bear it alone. And that is the point I think. I cannot bear it alone.

2 Corinthians 1:8.9: "For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself...But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God."

You ever have one of those days?

Our life, to be blunt, has been somewhat in the hellish range of fun for the last month or so. Stress. Cancer. Death. Surgery. Funeral. Sickness. You know, all those fun words that suck the very life out of you.

Shel and I decided that we needed a FUN day. Somehow, someway we needed a day with the boys that was not the same. We needed to just forget, even for a little while, that which is all consuming at the moment.

We packed up the boys (and their associated 6 bags of snacks) and the dogs, called some good friends and headed out into the local wilderness. Farwell Canyon, found down a lonely ranch road, is a place of amazing beauty where a hundred or more years ago some Pioneers set up a homestead, and for many more hundreds of years before that, the First Nations People of the Chilcotin River have dip netted for salmon there. Its a majestic place surrounded by hoodoos and pictographs and to be along the river inspires awe.

From down below along the river we could see tiny people on the edge of what appeared to be a sand dune. We have heard of the mystical sand dunes of the area from other locals for many years, but neither my friend Max who has lived in the area most of her life, nor we, had ever been able to find them.

To all of us that sounded like an adventure we could not resist. And without a doubt it was worth every single moment. What we found, nestled in the wild mountains was something that I can not describe in a way that does it justice. What it was was a natural sand dune in the middle of a range of mountains that cradles a gorgeous, winding river. Follow the trail through the sage bushes (watching for ticks the whole way!) and what you discover is this amazing, glorious, absolutely unmatchable piece of wilderness that makes you remember how Glorious a world we live in. And remember we did.

And I didn't think of cancer once while I was there and that is a gift in itself.

Where in the World has Jen Gone?

Let's recap shall we. It might help if you read all the way to the end because the disaster that this month started out to be, it ended with quite a bang.

Wednesday March 4th - a peer calls Greg a racist slur at school. School finds out (along with Greg). Kid's girl-friend decides that if she makes up story about Greg this will get her boy-friend out of trouble.

Thursday March 5th - Girl has told friends and family that Greg pulled a knife on her at school and that is why her friend called him the racist name. Her sisters, cousins, brothers, uncles and friends show up at the school to threaten Greg and his best buddy. Oooops her little lie is now threatening my child. School does not inform us of this gang showing up at school to "get" my child. School ejects these kids from the property and tells Greg to "watch his back". No phone call home.

Monday March 9th - threats continue at school. Parents have still not been informed, nor has Greg mentioned anything. Principal decides to "deal" with situation by meetin with the girl and telling her they know she is lying so to call off her posse. Meets with Greg as well continues to tell him he is under threat and to "watch his back" but that things should be fine. Still no phone call home to parents.

Monday Night March 9th. Parents find out. Parents call principal. Parents demand action.

Tuesday March 10th. Girls, associates and friends suspended or expelled from school. Greg pulled from the high school for the day as teachers, parents and staff meet to discuss their lack of protection offered to my child and how failing to inform the parents was a huge big deal. Principal is a friend, this makes it worse as he KNOWS that we would wish to be involved.

Friday March 13th - High School put on "lock down" when a gun shows up at school. Greg is totally fine but Jen has a break down.

Friday March 13th - Thursday March 19th - We attend hockey tournaments. Eric's team wins bronze, Greg's team finishes 5th in the province at Provincials. This a great place for him to finish as our town is small.

March 20th - My dad tells us he is diagnosed with something very, very serious. We tell the boys. We cry. We scream. We fall apart. Hope seems beyond our grasp. I have one of the hardest conversations of my life. Papa. Cancer. Serious. Chemo. Papa. We hold a photo shoot that night. It seems surreal.

March 25th and 26th - I am in hospital taking tests at the final stage to be a kidney donor for my cousin. Yeah, I know I haven't mentioned that on here yet, but I was waiting to know for sure. Lots of tests, meetings etc. I have a CT Scan and a Nuclear Renal gram. Things look cautiously optimistic for a donation to happen in late May or early June.

March 27th - I and the boys return home

March 28th - My Nan dies. I feel like I cannot handle anymore. My Nan is more in my life than I can adequately describe, although I have tried. We cry. We scream. We fall apart.

April 1st - I return to Vancouver to plan funeral.

9:30 am April 2nd - My cell phone rings. Its my transplant surgeon. Something is wrong, they have found something. When can we meet. I explain I am already in Vancouver, he goes on to explain its a tumor, probably malignant. We agree to meet at 8 am the next morning.

9:33 am - Call Shel and tell him

9:35 am - Meet with my Nan's lawyer to discuss will, estate. Descend deep, deep into shock.

10:00 am Call my dad. Make him cry. My dad who hasn't shed a tear over himself cries over my news.

10:30 am Shel leaves work and decides to immediately come to Vancouver with boys.

Rest of day. Google. Cry. Shock. Call. Google. Get Scared. At that point I realize that a tumor on your kidney means you have Kidney Cancer.

8:00 am - At hospital with Shel. Run into surgeon in elevator. He looks serious. I am sweating. We meet. He utters the words "Malignant Kidney Cancer". Its small. Its manageable. I need surgery. Donation is not possible. Small chance its benign but either way it needs to come out. Chance of re-occurrence. Terminal if not discovered. Surgery in Vancouver. Need a new surgeon. Chemo? Don't know yet. Radiation? No.

Shock. No tears. Just Shock.

1:30 pm Meet with boys and have one of the hardest conversations of my life. Mommy. Cancer. Going to be ok. I have to be ok. I love you. I will be here for you. Cancer.


Saturday, April 4th. We bury my Nan. I feel. All I wanted was to feel and I felt. I was worried the shock was going to freeze my emotions, but as much as I could I was present. I greeted, I hugged, I shed tears. I smiled.

Saturday Night - I crash. Have never, ever felt so emotionally and physically exhausted in my life. Sleep. Weep. Laugh.

Sunday - Drive Home. To exhausted to think.


Monday - I let you know. I get dressed and I am heading to work. To face the first day of my real life with Cancer. Please Pray. Sometimes life feels like too much.

Being willing to be a kidney donor probably saved my life. I just dont know how to come to terms with that yet.