True confession...I have never been to Magic Mountain. As a southern Californian, I hear that this is apparently quite a travesty. My high school senior class went on "ditch day" but I missed the bus...kind of on purpose. But all of those death-defying drops and swirls and twirls just held no appeal for me. I have no desire to be suspended upside down in the name of fun.
Which brings me to today. There is this ride at Magic Mtn. called Viper that apparently features the world's tallest vertical loop, two additional loops, a corkscrew and a double barrel bommerang turn. It is not for the faint of heart. But I'm beginning to think I could handle it after the past three weeks. Viper can't hold a candle to this new thrill ride known as lung cancer.
Less than 48 hours after being discharged from the hospital, the nausea and pain are back. A trip to the day hospital got things under control for the time being, but my dad's stomach is so weak and he has no appetite. He's lost 6 more pounds. He hallucinates like I've never seen and his body is so agitated that he twitches while he sleeps. I think this week there will be no choice but to hook him up to a PCA - a personal control assistant (?) that will allow him to push a button whenever he is in pain. Oral meds just aren't doing it. You'd think the doctors would have figured it out by now, but every time he goes in the hospital he starts feeling better and they send him home. Um, perhaps the reason he feels better is because he has access to IV pain control?!?!?!?
The night he got home from the hospital, Dad was so excited that he'd soon be back on the upswing and things would be getting back to normal. But I think the definition of normal has changed. The "ups" are small victories such as him having one lucid hour in an entire day and the "downs" are beginning to be far too frequent.
So bring it on, Viper. You ain't nuthin'.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Home Sweet Home
Dad was (finally) discharged from the hospital yesterday. They took him off IV pain control Thursday night to see how he responded to oral meds and apparently he did okay. Although his new doctor, a pain specialist, warned that the pain would increase once he got home because he'd be moving around more.
There is an elaborate list posted in the kitchen with all of his meds. We're keeping CVS in business.
There is an elaborate list posted in the kitchen with all of his meds. We're keeping CVS in business.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
IV Drugs ... A Cancer Patient's Best Friend
Well back to the hospital we go. Despite a completely vacant stomach, Dad's nausea revved back up last night so he was readmitted this morning. I went by on my lunch break and he was extremely groggy so I'm headed back there now to spend the evening chillin' with Dad.
Argh...
Argh...
Monday, August 13, 2007
It Hurts
Imagine the worst pain possible. So bad you can barely move, much less breathe. Every tiny motion sends waves of indescribable knife shards into your body.
Now multiply that pain by about 1,000.
That was Dad's pain today.
He woke up this morning with a shoulder that felt like it was about to split in half, and nausea to boot. Despite a trip to the day hospital for some pretty heavy drugs, he continued to rate his pain at an 8 on a scale of 10 for the rest of the day. He finally got some rest about 6:00 this evening, but it didn't last long. A good friend of ours who happens to be an orthopedic surgeon says that the tumor in his shoulder has probably grown to the point that it split open the bone where it is growing. Just the thought makes my own body hurt.
Not to mention my heart. The worst part of all of this (for me) is watching the man who has always been my rock, physically, emotionally, practically, be so vulnerable that he can barely lift his arm. Seeing him shrink into his pillows and be unable to find a position that doesn't hurt. Seeing him keep his eyes wrenched shut to avoid any light that might sneak in and overwhelm his dizzy head. I had to leave the room for a few minutes and let the tears fall this afternoon. They just wouldn't stay put.
A very close friend of my father's (and a palliative care specialist) uttered the dreaded word to my mother: hospice. He also mentioned that the oncologists' estimate of 3-6 months is "optimistic." The plan is still to try round 2 of fighting this sucker but the fact that end-of-life issues are at the front of peoples' minds is not reassuring.
This is moving way too fast. I'm not ready for this at all.
Now multiply that pain by about 1,000.
That was Dad's pain today.
He woke up this morning with a shoulder that felt like it was about to split in half, and nausea to boot. Despite a trip to the day hospital for some pretty heavy drugs, he continued to rate his pain at an 8 on a scale of 10 for the rest of the day. He finally got some rest about 6:00 this evening, but it didn't last long. A good friend of ours who happens to be an orthopedic surgeon says that the tumor in his shoulder has probably grown to the point that it split open the bone where it is growing. Just the thought makes my own body hurt.
Not to mention my heart. The worst part of all of this (for me) is watching the man who has always been my rock, physically, emotionally, practically, be so vulnerable that he can barely lift his arm. Seeing him shrink into his pillows and be unable to find a position that doesn't hurt. Seeing him keep his eyes wrenched shut to avoid any light that might sneak in and overwhelm his dizzy head. I had to leave the room for a few minutes and let the tears fall this afternoon. They just wouldn't stay put.
A very close friend of my father's (and a palliative care specialist) uttered the dreaded word to my mother: hospice. He also mentioned that the oncologists' estimate of 3-6 months is "optimistic." The plan is still to try round 2 of fighting this sucker but the fact that end-of-life issues are at the front of peoples' minds is not reassuring.
This is moving way too fast. I'm not ready for this at all.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Worst Fears Put To Rest
Dad's nausea and pain continued to worsen yesterday and last night. Despite a completely empty stomach, he hasn't been able to stop throwing up and when he tried even a couple bites of an apple, he couldn't keep it down. His scheduled appointment with the oncologist this morning resulted in an admit to the hospital to get some of these symptoms under control. The doctor was also very worried that the increasing nausea was a sign that the cancer had spread to his brain so they did an MRI - it was CLEAR! Dad wanted to jump up and kiss the doctor when we found out! As a neuropsychologist, his worst fears are brain mets.
Whatever they gave him at the hospital seemed to work wonders. Dad wolfed down his dinner and has kept it down and is already looking forward to his lunch tomorrow! It will be a tricky day because they now have to wean him off of the heavy meds and see how he does. Good news is, his old buddy from college is visiting for the weekend and just happens to be a physician who specializes in palliative care and pain management.
So a roller coaster day to say the least but we can all go to bed with smiles on our faces tonight.
Whatever they gave him at the hospital seemed to work wonders. Dad wolfed down his dinner and has kept it down and is already looking forward to his lunch tomorrow! It will be a tricky day because they now have to wean him off of the heavy meds and see how he does. Good news is, his old buddy from college is visiting for the weekend and just happens to be a physician who specializes in palliative care and pain management.
So a roller coaster day to say the least but we can all go to bed with smiles on our faces tonight.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Sabbatical
That word has a bittersweet meaning these days. Dad has decided to retire and go on disability, and go on sabbatical from his teaching jobs. He was waiting on this week's scan results to make a final choice about work and alas, the scan results were not promising.
The gist of it is that the cancer has progressed. Despite six rounds of extremely aggressive chemo and 2 weeks of radiation, those stubborn little bone mets are putting up a good fight. In Dad's terms, at the end of the first period: Cancer 1, Team Dougie 0. The primary tumor in his lung has shrunk but not enough and there are a number of new spots throughout his bones, plus a new soft tissue spot in his lower back and growth in the soft tissue spot in his neck.
We all had a feeling the news would not be good. Dad has experienced increased breakthrough pain and nausea and has spent four out of the last five days receiving hydration, IV pain meds and anti-nausea drugs at the day hospital. We knew this was coming, but it doesn't make it any easier to swallow.
So it's on to Plan B. There are a couple of different "second-line" options that are being considered, and Dad has appointments with lung specialists at three major university hospitals in the next three weeks. Two of his appointments are with doctors who conduct many of the area's clinical trials, so it is good to establish relationships with these docs in order to have a trial as an option. Really though, we're talking in terms of buying time, in months rather than years.
I'm glad that I came home.
The gist of it is that the cancer has progressed. Despite six rounds of extremely aggressive chemo and 2 weeks of radiation, those stubborn little bone mets are putting up a good fight. In Dad's terms, at the end of the first period: Cancer 1, Team Dougie 0. The primary tumor in his lung has shrunk but not enough and there are a number of new spots throughout his bones, plus a new soft tissue spot in his lower back and growth in the soft tissue spot in his neck.
We all had a feeling the news would not be good. Dad has experienced increased breakthrough pain and nausea and has spent four out of the last five days receiving hydration, IV pain meds and anti-nausea drugs at the day hospital. We knew this was coming, but it doesn't make it any easier to swallow.
So it's on to Plan B. There are a couple of different "second-line" options that are being considered, and Dad has appointments with lung specialists at three major university hospitals in the next three weeks. Two of his appointments are with doctors who conduct many of the area's clinical trials, so it is good to establish relationships with these docs in order to have a trial as an option. Really though, we're talking in terms of buying time, in months rather than years.
I'm glad that I came home.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Home Sweet Home
So we made it. 3,400 miles later my sister and I are safe and sound in good ol' Newport Beach. We actually got home last weekend, but were back for less than 12 hours before proceeding to board the Jet Cat Express, bound for Santa Catalina Island.
Catalina is a magical little place where we practically grew up - my dad and his brothers co-owned a condo with their father for years and years and we spent about half of every summer and several weekends over in the seaside town of Avalon.
It was the type of place where we'd spend the morning at the penny arcade downtown, stop at Rosie's for fish and chips, then Big Olaf's for ice cream, and then hike back up the hill to Fairview Terrace and turn into water babies for the duration of the afternoon. There are a lot of really special memories on that island, so we figured it was only fitting we take a family vacation there. Several longtime friends came over for a few days here and there, so it was quite an adventure! Dad didn't really have the energy to fill the days like we used to, but it was still special for everyone.
While we were there, Dad reached the end of round 6 of his chemo. Scans are next week to determine how effective the treatment was. He's felt progressively worse over this week and some of the mets in his bones have really been bothering him, especially in his hip and shoulder. We're hoping that's a sign that the chemo is working and the pain is the mets losing the battle. But honestly I don't know.
There are still a few treatment options, whether or not the chemo was effective. But I have a sinking suspicion that there are so many "hot spots" throughout his body, it would be hard for ANYTHING to wipe them out completely. Let's just hope we shrink those little bastards enough to relieve his symptoms and give him lots of quality time!
It's strange to picture your future without someone who has been so integral to your life, especially a parent. Dad and I have grown closer as I have grown up, and I'm not ready to raise the white flag by any means. But it scares me to think in terms of my children not knowing their grandfather, my siblings not having Dad there on their own wedding day....
What an empty feeling.
Catalina is a magical little place where we practically grew up - my dad and his brothers co-owned a condo with their father for years and years and we spent about half of every summer and several weekends over in the seaside town of Avalon.
It was the type of place where we'd spend the morning at the penny arcade downtown, stop at Rosie's for fish and chips, then Big Olaf's for ice cream, and then hike back up the hill to Fairview Terrace and turn into water babies for the duration of the afternoon. There are a lot of really special memories on that island, so we figured it was only fitting we take a family vacation there. Several longtime friends came over for a few days here and there, so it was quite an adventure! Dad didn't really have the energy to fill the days like we used to, but it was still special for everyone.
While we were there, Dad reached the end of round 6 of his chemo. Scans are next week to determine how effective the treatment was. He's felt progressively worse over this week and some of the mets in his bones have really been bothering him, especially in his hip and shoulder. We're hoping that's a sign that the chemo is working and the pain is the mets losing the battle. But honestly I don't know.
There are still a few treatment options, whether or not the chemo was effective. But I have a sinking suspicion that there are so many "hot spots" throughout his body, it would be hard for ANYTHING to wipe them out completely. Let's just hope we shrink those little bastards enough to relieve his symptoms and give him lots of quality time!
It's strange to picture your future without someone who has been so integral to your life, especially a parent. Dad and I have grown closer as I have grown up, and I'm not ready to raise the white flag by any means. But it scares me to think in terms of my children not knowing their grandfather, my siblings not having Dad there on their own wedding day....
What an empty feeling.
Monday, July 23, 2007
And We're Off!
Well folks, the next chapter of this adventure begins in about an hour. My sister arrived from D.C. yesterday afternoon and we picked up our rental car - a Chevy Trailblazer with a navigation system. Quite a sweet ride! 'Loaded up the back yesterday afternoon (thank God for unseasonally mild weather). It is PACKED!!! No room for nuthin' and I ended up having to leave some of my favorite pictures behind with Mr. D for the time being.
Mr. D found a room to rent with a very nice couple just 10 minutes from our house. We are putting the house up for rent to save money. Hopefully the market will get better and we can try to sell next summer.
I'll try to blog from the road but I don't know what internet access will be like.
Here's the route in case we disappear off the radar:
Day 1: Durham to New Albany, IN (just NW of Louisville, KY)
Day 2: New Albany to Lincoln, NE
Day 3: Lincoln to Evanston, WY (just east of the WY-UT border)
Day 4: Evanston to Reno, NV ... stay with our wonderful cousin Jenny
Day 5: Reno to San Francisco/Berkeley ... apartment hunting with my sister to find her a place for grad school adventures
Day 6: Bay Area to HOME (Newport Beach, CA)
Day 7: Home to Santa Catalina Island ... 26 miles across the sea for a much needed vacay in our family's little paradise - the seaside town of Avalon
Lots of pics to come!
Time to road trip...
Mr. D found a room to rent with a very nice couple just 10 minutes from our house. We are putting the house up for rent to save money. Hopefully the market will get better and we can try to sell next summer.
I'll try to blog from the road but I don't know what internet access will be like.
Here's the route in case we disappear off the radar:
Day 1: Durham to New Albany, IN (just NW of Louisville, KY)
Day 2: New Albany to Lincoln, NE
Day 3: Lincoln to Evanston, WY (just east of the WY-UT border)
Day 4: Evanston to Reno, NV ... stay with our wonderful cousin Jenny
Day 5: Reno to San Francisco/Berkeley ... apartment hunting with my sister to find her a place for grad school adventures
Day 6: Bay Area to HOME (Newport Beach, CA)
Day 7: Home to Santa Catalina Island ... 26 miles across the sea for a much needed vacay in our family's little paradise - the seaside town of Avalon
Lots of pics to come!
Time to road trip...
Sunday, July 15, 2007
The 3,000-Mile Budget
Pop quiz, hotshot....
You're quitting your job in one week's time, which means you will not get a full paycheck on July 31st (which must be mailed to you since you'll already be gone). Your bills remain the same through mid-August while you make the transition to move. You are hoping and praying that unused vacation days will help cover those expenses and crossing your fingers that your checks for your other part-time job will get to the correct address in California.
You won't start work again until mid-August, which means your first paycheck will not be full either ... your next "real" pay will be September 5th, the final day to pay your mortgage.
You also have some atypical expenses in the next week. You owe the property management company helping you rent your home, plus your husband must pay a security deposit, and July/August rent.
What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?????
You're quitting your job in one week's time, which means you will not get a full paycheck on July 31st (which must be mailed to you since you'll already be gone). Your bills remain the same through mid-August while you make the transition to move. You are hoping and praying that unused vacation days will help cover those expenses and crossing your fingers that your checks for your other part-time job will get to the correct address in California.
You won't start work again until mid-August, which means your first paycheck will not be full either ... your next "real" pay will be September 5th, the final day to pay your mortgage.
You also have some atypical expenses in the next week. You owe the property management company helping you rent your home, plus your husband must pay a security deposit, and July/August rent.
What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?????
Saturday, July 07, 2007
"To-Do"'s
I've come to the conclusion that my life would not be my own if it weren't for sudden changes of plans. Mr. D will now be moving out at the same time I do into a rented room, so that we can rent out the house for a year (and wait for the market to improve to sell it next year - knock on wood). So that leaves quite a laundry list of things that must be done before July 23rd (or July 28th), depending ... see below.
I'm sort of scared to actually put this into writing for fear of overwhelming myself, but I figured this blog was a good place to record the small victories that are accomplished in preparing to uproot one's life and move 3,000 miles away. If I report daily what I actually did get done, I'll feel better that I'm on track.
By the way, since I moved to Durham 3 years ago, I pledged no less than three times that each move would be my last. Then the rent went up, or we decided to become homeowners or life threw a curveball and I decided to go back to CA. So much for that!
1) Go over bills with Mr. D
2) Decide what to keep and who is keeping it, and what to sell
3) Sell furniture on Craigslist/Facebook
4) Decide whether to road-trip it (leaving July 23rd) or fly (leaving July 28th). If I drive, I need to find at least one travel companion (4 possibilities right now), rent a car and pack my things decently enough to fit in a standard SUV. If I fly, I need to pack and ship almost all of my belongings and fit more necessities into two suitcases, one carry-on and a personal item.
5) Pay ALL bills through mid-August before departing
6) Purge closet: donate, trash or pack?
7) Clean out car trunk (aka throw out anything that's been in there since before we moved to the house last April)
8) Finalize contract with property manager and pay $200 escrow fee
9) Have master suite repainted
10) Help Mr. D move
11) Get more boxes!
12) If road tripping, map out route, find hotels along the way.
I'm sure I'm forgetting about 20 things but the list will grow as needed (and hopefully shrink even faster).
AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
I'm sort of scared to actually put this into writing for fear of overwhelming myself, but I figured this blog was a good place to record the small victories that are accomplished in preparing to uproot one's life and move 3,000 miles away. If I report daily what I actually did get done, I'll feel better that I'm on track.
By the way, since I moved to Durham 3 years ago, I pledged no less than three times that each move would be my last. Then the rent went up, or we decided to become homeowners or life threw a curveball and I decided to go back to CA. So much for that!
1) Go over bills with Mr. D
2) Decide what to keep and who is keeping it, and what to sell
3) Sell furniture on Craigslist/Facebook
4) Decide whether to road-trip it (leaving July 23rd) or fly (leaving July 28th). If I drive, I need to find at least one travel companion (4 possibilities right now), rent a car and pack my things decently enough to fit in a standard SUV. If I fly, I need to pack and ship almost all of my belongings and fit more necessities into two suitcases, one carry-on and a personal item.
5) Pay ALL bills through mid-August before departing
6) Purge closet: donate, trash or pack?
7) Clean out car trunk (aka throw out anything that's been in there since before we moved to the house last April)
8) Finalize contract with property manager and pay $200 escrow fee
9) Have master suite repainted
10) Help Mr. D move
11) Get more boxes!
12) If road tripping, map out route, find hotels along the way.
I'm sure I'm forgetting about 20 things but the list will grow as needed (and hopefully shrink even faster).
AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Waiting on the world to change...
My latest iMovie project...
My personal life may be a bit nuts right now, but I'm still all about Obama!
My personal life may be a bit nuts right now, but I'm still all about Obama!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Where People Know Your Name
Work closed early due to office renovations and I'm hanging out this afternoon at my favorite coffee shop in the world ... Sips Coffee and Tea. Best coffee, best staff, best big comfy leather chairs, and free wireless internet. Every starving student's dream. This morning I had to break the news of my impending move to Kristen and Shon (the a.m. staff that keep me caffeinated and make me smile) and it was actually really sad. The closest I've come to tears since making this decision. At a coffee shop, of all places.
I guess the emotions were spurred by the knowledge that I'm leaving behind a lot of really great memories here. The last few years were some of the most challenging I've faced in my young life and they all happened here in Durham, so you'd think I'd be chomping at the bit to get out of here. But instead I dwell on the good things and Sips has been one of the best there is.
This is the kind of place where the correct coffee cup size and your favorite pastry have been laid out for you the minute they see your car pull up in the parking lot. I've actually arrived to find my Mocha Blenz already blended. The morning patrons know each other's names and newcomers are made to feel like they are part of the family the moment they step in the door. In the midst of my crazy life, I knew I could come here and breathe.
There's nothing better than escaping to a place that is yours to enjoy. I've shared this place with friends and arranged for meetings here, but I still consider it mine. I come here alone to be alone but also be surrounded by people who are always up for conversation. I hope there's a Sips-like place back home that I can discover by accident. This place has saved my sanity.
I guess the emotions were spurred by the knowledge that I'm leaving behind a lot of really great memories here. The last few years were some of the most challenging I've faced in my young life and they all happened here in Durham, so you'd think I'd be chomping at the bit to get out of here. But instead I dwell on the good things and Sips has been one of the best there is.
This is the kind of place where the correct coffee cup size and your favorite pastry have been laid out for you the minute they see your car pull up in the parking lot. I've actually arrived to find my Mocha Blenz already blended. The morning patrons know each other's names and newcomers are made to feel like they are part of the family the moment they step in the door. In the midst of my crazy life, I knew I could come here and breathe.
There's nothing better than escaping to a place that is yours to enjoy. I've shared this place with friends and arranged for meetings here, but I still consider it mine. I come here alone to be alone but also be surrounded by people who are always up for conversation. I hope there's a Sips-like place back home that I can discover by accident. This place has saved my sanity.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Change of Plans
Sooooo.... After a great deal of soul-searching, I've decided it's time to go home and be with my family. It actually wasn't a hard decision to make. Do I a) put off nursing school for one more year and be with the people I love or b) try to focus while 3,000 miles away doctors are doing God-knows-what to keep fighting this beast in my dad's body? It's so obvious.
Yes, there is much unpredictability about what will happen. But I have options. Duke knows my situation and has said I can choose to defer and know I have a spot to come back to with next year's class. So I can go home and if things go swimmingly, I know I have something to come back to. I can also apply to programs out in California (UCSF is one of the top nursing programs in the country) so that I start next summer instead of this August. So in a way I'm one year behind, but most of the programs out there are Master's Entry programs, meaning you start a graduate nursing program with a Bachelor's degree in something besides nursing. It's three years instead of 16 months, but I'd have a Master's on the other end and be preparing to be licensed as a nurse practitioner to boot. I'd probably get there faster through this route than through 4 semesters at Duke, a couple of years of working to pay off loans, then another 2-3 years in a graduate program.
Actually the most daunting part of this are the hellish logistics to take care of in the next 6 weeks. Will Mr. D be coming with me or stay behind for about a year and then join me next summer, hopefully in San Francisco? Do we try to sell the house or put it up for rent? Do we REALLY have to pack and move AGAIN? How will we be able to afford living in CA when we're barely surviving here? Do we pack and ship, or use a Pod and pay to have it stored in a Pod warehouse until we know what the heck we're doing? Do we try to trade in Lola for a better car (if we can afford it) and then do the cross-country road trip (which I've always wanted to do)? Do I quit work a week earlier than planned and we drive out to meet my family for the August trip to Catalina? Or do we fly out for the trip, fly back to finish packing and then make the big drive? If we're not working in August where will the money come from to pay the bills? Our savings is nonexistent right now.
But all that pales in comparison to this.... there will be no regrets that I wasn't there or didn't do enough or didn't spend enough time. The logistics will be taken care of one detail at a time. So where to begin...
Yes, there is much unpredictability about what will happen. But I have options. Duke knows my situation and has said I can choose to defer and know I have a spot to come back to with next year's class. So I can go home and if things go swimmingly, I know I have something to come back to. I can also apply to programs out in California (UCSF is one of the top nursing programs in the country) so that I start next summer instead of this August. So in a way I'm one year behind, but most of the programs out there are Master's Entry programs, meaning you start a graduate nursing program with a Bachelor's degree in something besides nursing. It's three years instead of 16 months, but I'd have a Master's on the other end and be preparing to be licensed as a nurse practitioner to boot. I'd probably get there faster through this route than through 4 semesters at Duke, a couple of years of working to pay off loans, then another 2-3 years in a graduate program.
Actually the most daunting part of this are the hellish logistics to take care of in the next 6 weeks. Will Mr. D be coming with me or stay behind for about a year and then join me next summer, hopefully in San Francisco? Do we try to sell the house or put it up for rent? Do we REALLY have to pack and move AGAIN? How will we be able to afford living in CA when we're barely surviving here? Do we pack and ship, or use a Pod and pay to have it stored in a Pod warehouse until we know what the heck we're doing? Do we try to trade in Lola for a better car (if we can afford it) and then do the cross-country road trip (which I've always wanted to do)? Do I quit work a week earlier than planned and we drive out to meet my family for the August trip to Catalina? Or do we fly out for the trip, fly back to finish packing and then make the big drive? If we're not working in August where will the money come from to pay the bills? Our savings is nonexistent right now.
But all that pales in comparison to this.... there will be no regrets that I wasn't there or didn't do enough or didn't spend enough time. The logistics will be taken care of one detail at a time. So where to begin...
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Lord Stanley's Chalice
My father and brother are humongous Anaheim Ducks fans! I take pride in turning them onto hockey 15 years ago, before there even were Ducks and we cheered for the L.A. Kings. When the Ducks (then the Mighty Ducks) first came to town, I teased my brother endlessly about cheering for a team named after a Disney movie. A hockey game is the perfect place to drown in testosterone. So a team whose cheer was "Quack quack" was not going to get my respect.
But as the years have passed, Dad and bro have gone to more and more Ducks games, and every once in a while have taken along me or my sister. The Mighty Ducks of yesteryear featuring the cartoonish "Wild Wing" are no more - they're now just "The Ducks" with a catchy logo, crazy colors and kickass players. Testosterone reigns at the Anaheim Pond, er, the Honda Center. Damn corporations! I've never seen such hard checks, such fearlessness, and such skill combined into one team.
The season started magically and rarely was less than that. Our boys in orange and black dominated the Pacific Division and the Western Conference, and stormed through the Stanley Cup playoffs to face Ottawa in the final round. It only took five games for them to knock off the final obstacle to hoisting the cup above their heads.
The best part of it all was that my dad and brother got to be there. They were one of the screaming fans that lit up the Honda Center last night. Dad had said before the series started "I hope they win the first two at home and then lose one of two away, so they can come home to Anaheim and win the Stanley Cup here in Game 5." They must have read his mind, because that is exactly what they did.
Who knows what the future holds for my dad or my family. But I'm just thankful that for this time, all of our minds are off the cancer and on the Cup.
Thanks for winning this one for Dad, guys!
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Tragedy Back Home
Just when you begin to come to terms with the ups and downs of life, you get hit in the gut with news like this.
I attended elementary and junior high school with Amy and it is safe to say she was one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I have EVER met. She was just one of those people that everyone loved. I grieve for her family and her young husband but I take comfort in the fact that she lived her life to the fullest and made such a huge difference during such a short life.
Why do horrific things like this always seem to happen to the good people?
I attended elementary and junior high school with Amy and it is safe to say she was one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I have EVER met. She was just one of those people that everyone loved. I grieve for her family and her young husband but I take comfort in the fact that she lived her life to the fullest and made such a huge difference during such a short life.
Why do horrific things like this always seem to happen to the good people?
Pilot writer's daughter killed
Religion columnist and daughter were traveling on I-5 when the van's left rear tire burst and sent the vehicle off the road.
By Kelly Strodl
Amy Strutzenberg was the kind of person who made things happen.
At 21, she earned a master's degree from Stanford University, and the Corona del Mar High School graduate was moving back to the area to get her MBA from UCLA.
Those plans ended when she died in a car accident on Sunday. She was 25.
The daughter of Newport Beach residents John and Cindy Trane Christeson, a religion columnist for the Daily Pilot, Strutzenberg was a passenger in the car her mother was driving on a trip from Strutzenberg's home in the Bay Area when the left rear tire of their van burst and sent the vehicle rolling off the road.
Christeson, who has written "The Moral of the Story" column for the Pilot for about 10 years, was driving south on I-5 near Bakersfield when the accident happened, CHP authorities said Tuesday. She attempted to turn off the highway but instead lost control of the vehicle, Buttonwillow Highway Patrol spokesman Rick Jorgensen said. Strutzenberg was ejected from the van and died on impact, Jorgensen said.
It is unclear whether Strutzenberg was wearing a seatbelt, but she was seated in a reclining position that would have negated the restraint's protection, Jorgensen said.
Christeson was taken to Kern Medical Center in Bakersfield and treated for minor to moderate injuries.
"Her heart is broken," husband John said. "She's … grateful that she was with Amy when it happened. Our challenge now is to not be sad. Every minute we spent with her was just joy."
Strutzenberg and her husband, Tyson, had just sold their home in San Mateo and were in the midst of moving back to Southern California to pursue graduate degrees from UCLA.
Cindy Christeson flew up over the weekend to make the trip south and spend some time with her youngest daughter.
John Christeson spent the past two days calling Amy's family, friends and co-workers to break the news.
Monday, he spoke with David Poe, managing director at Edgar, Dunn & Co., where Strutzenberg worked for the last three years as a financial consultant.
After they heard the news, the firm's staff gathered to grieve and reminisce about the good times with someone who personally invested in all of their lives.
"She was the kind of person who was always going out of her way to do things for people," Poe said.
"Whenever anybody needed help, they knew she would always make time for them, and she was in such high demand because she was always thinking beyond her responsibilities to others," he added.
"When she knew people needed an uplift, she would bring in her bread. We couldn't wait for the day Amy would bring in the banana bread."
Poe saw Strutzenberg for the last time Sunday, when he took her to lunch for a chat about the future in the hopes he could keep her involved with the firm.
"Amy was probably the brightest, most capable person we've ever hired," Poe said.
"I hated to see her go to graduate school but knew she was destined to go … improve herself and the lives of others," he added.
Last year, she became the youngest senior consultant at the global financial firm in San Francisco since the firm opened in 1978.
Before re-embarking on their educations, Strutzenberg and her husband planned a trip to Vancouver, B.C., in July, then planned to fly to Peru and spend the summer building houses for the needy.
"She had an idea and went and made it happen," Christeson said. "She was just that kind of person."
The family is in the process of planning memorial services.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Shameless Self-Promotion
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Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Conflicted
So I'm back in North Carolina after a very enjoyable 8 days with the fam! 'Got to meet my dad's oncologist and the nurses and spend a day at the infusion center with him while he received Round 4 of the dreaded chemo. Very interesting but very sobering...really hit home what my dad is facing. Mom and I pored over the radiology reports from the March diagnosis so she could point to various anatomical words and ask me what they meant. 'Don't know whether knowing what these reports mean is a good or a bad thing.
The mid-point scans they did a few weeks ago actually look pretty good. Several of the smaller spots in his bones seem to be clearing up, leaving the bigger ones more glaringly obvious and easier to see. He can only take 6 rounds of this particular chemo so we'll know a lot more in July when they do the next round of scans. Hopefully continued progress will be made and they'll be able to put him on a maintenance protocol that at least keeps the little bastards at bay, if we can't kill them all. But who knows how long that will last...
The most intense part of the week was a therapy session we attended Wednesday night with a psychologist who specializes in working with cancer patients and their families. There's such a fine line between being hopeful and being realistic and this lady made us look squarely in the eye the possibility that this disease could very well kill him. Not a fun thought. But she also reminded us that if we allow ourselves to go there, we will treasure our time now that much more. She referred to it as a "window" - we have a certain period of time to enjoy with Dad and we have no idea how long it will be. But we should live it to the fullest so that if the time is short there are no regrets, and if the time is long, it's full of warm memories.
To that end I face the inevitable question: what the hell am I doing 3,000 miles away, about to enter a rigorous 16-month program that will consume my life at the very time when I should be with my father? Then again, where do I get off thinking I can just drop everything and move back to CA, leaving my husband with a mortgage and bills to pay? How do I weigh logistics against what I truly want, which is to be around my dad as much as possible? If I could find a way to realistically be there and take care of my everyday responsibilities, I'd be in a much better place.
It's frustrating to think I've worked so hard for the past two years to get ready for this next adventure, only to be foiled by f*cking cancer. But then I kick myself for being so selfish. Nursing school will always be there, there's no hurry. But what happens to my marriage, which is already facing its share of struggles? What happens to my roommate if I ditch her at the last minute? Too many questions and never any answers.
The mid-point scans they did a few weeks ago actually look pretty good. Several of the smaller spots in his bones seem to be clearing up, leaving the bigger ones more glaringly obvious and easier to see. He can only take 6 rounds of this particular chemo so we'll know a lot more in July when they do the next round of scans. Hopefully continued progress will be made and they'll be able to put him on a maintenance protocol that at least keeps the little bastards at bay, if we can't kill them all. But who knows how long that will last...
The most intense part of the week was a therapy session we attended Wednesday night with a psychologist who specializes in working with cancer patients and their families. There's such a fine line between being hopeful and being realistic and this lady made us look squarely in the eye the possibility that this disease could very well kill him. Not a fun thought. But she also reminded us that if we allow ourselves to go there, we will treasure our time now that much more. She referred to it as a "window" - we have a certain period of time to enjoy with Dad and we have no idea how long it will be. But we should live it to the fullest so that if the time is short there are no regrets, and if the time is long, it's full of warm memories.
To that end I face the inevitable question: what the hell am I doing 3,000 miles away, about to enter a rigorous 16-month program that will consume my life at the very time when I should be with my father? Then again, where do I get off thinking I can just drop everything and move back to CA, leaving my husband with a mortgage and bills to pay? How do I weigh logistics against what I truly want, which is to be around my dad as much as possible? If I could find a way to realistically be there and take care of my everyday responsibilities, I'd be in a much better place.
It's frustrating to think I've worked so hard for the past two years to get ready for this next adventure, only to be foiled by f*cking cancer. But then I kick myself for being so selfish. Nursing school will always be there, there's no hurry. But what happens to my marriage, which is already facing its share of struggles? What happens to my roommate if I ditch her at the last minute? Too many questions and never any answers.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Change of Course
Three weeks after my last post, the charming world I had known came crashing down when my 56-year old father was diagnosed with lung cancer. And not just any lung cancer. Stage IV non small cell adenocarcinoma that had already metastasized to several of his bones by the time they caught it. Dad had been suffering from lingering upper respiratory problems for months but no one ever suspected this because he wasn't a smoker and never had been. Chest x-rays were clear, it turns out because the tumor was hiding behind his trachea and couldn't be seen on a chest film.
The bad news is that statistically the five-year survival rate is less than 2%, and that radiologists seem to have missed a couple of spots that were there all along (a frightening thought!). The good news is that Dad's oncologist is trying to defy the odds. His philosophy is that the only statistic that matters is individual - your survival rate is 100% or it is 0%, and he is encouraging us all to fight hard. Given all the negatives, Dad is in wonderful health and great shape and because he never smoked, his chances are better overall. The other week he met an 88-year old survivor of six years with the same kind of cancer. So there is hope. After three rounds of chemo and radiation to some of the scarier spots on his spine and in his femur, all of the tumors are shrinking gradually. Dad is skinny and bald, save for a soft tuft he calls his "peach fuzz", and fatigues easily. But he is still working half-time, and he is still the same silly Dad we all grew up with.
But this means "People Are Crazy" will no longer be filled with rants and raves about the state of our world today. I'm even considering changing the name of this blog, if I can figure out how. What matters is here at my parent's house, where I sit after coming home to CA to participate in the Relay for Life. What matters is family and friendships. There will always be crazy people and there will always be something to bitch about, but all that seems so much less significant. I'm even looking for nursing jobs out here for when I graduate next December. North Carolina has been home for 8 years, but my real home will always be here.
Our parents are headed to Hawaii in June to celebrate their 30-year wedding anniversary. We're all going to Santa Catalina Island in August for a family vacation. Life is good. So it's time to tell our story...
The bad news is that statistically the five-year survival rate is less than 2%, and that radiologists seem to have missed a couple of spots that were there all along (a frightening thought!). The good news is that Dad's oncologist is trying to defy the odds. His philosophy is that the only statistic that matters is individual - your survival rate is 100% or it is 0%, and he is encouraging us all to fight hard. Given all the negatives, Dad is in wonderful health and great shape and because he never smoked, his chances are better overall. The other week he met an 88-year old survivor of six years with the same kind of cancer. So there is hope. After three rounds of chemo and radiation to some of the scarier spots on his spine and in his femur, all of the tumors are shrinking gradually. Dad is skinny and bald, save for a soft tuft he calls his "peach fuzz", and fatigues easily. But he is still working half-time, and he is still the same silly Dad we all grew up with.
But this means "People Are Crazy" will no longer be filled with rants and raves about the state of our world today. I'm even considering changing the name of this blog, if I can figure out how. What matters is here at my parent's house, where I sit after coming home to CA to participate in the Relay for Life. What matters is family and friendships. There will always be crazy people and there will always be something to bitch about, but all that seems so much less significant. I'm even looking for nursing jobs out here for when I graduate next December. North Carolina has been home for 8 years, but my real home will always be here.
Our parents are headed to Hawaii in June to celebrate their 30-year wedding anniversary. We're all going to Santa Catalina Island in August for a family vacation. Life is good. So it's time to tell our story...
Saturday, February 10, 2007
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