Sunday, December 13, 2009

Stanford Cancer Center

We recently got results from Bobby's latest PET scan. One of our oncologist's office staff thought that there was some troubling results and he would need further evaluation. Our other doctor seemed much less concerned, telling us that PET scans can show a lot of false positives and that we need not worry about it. Both doctors, however, talked highly of Dr. Kaplan at Stanford, who is an ENT who exclusively treats head and neck cancers. We decided that if we could get an appointment, we would go and hope for some direction and answers to our questions. We spent hours at the cancer center last Monday, and were very pleased when Dr. Kaplan reassured us that Bobby is indeed recovering, and there is no need to pursue surgery at this time. He even said at one point that "it might be time for you to put this behind you." Music to my ears!! I know that it will be easier for me to move on and try to think of something else, or at least put cancer on the "back burner" for a while. For Bobby, I'm sure it will be much more difficult. For one thing, he still feels the effects of his treatments on a daily basis. He is still losing weight (around 30 lbs. total) because it is so difficult to eat. The nerve/circulation damage caused by the chemotherapy to his hands and feet bother him every single minute of the day. He was discouraged to hear Dr. Kaplan explain that those things can be permanent, and he may just have to live with it for the rest of his life. But, we hope it will be a nice, long, cancer-free life. I guess it is a small price to pay when your life has been spared. He is fatigued and weak, but is doing his best to live a normal life again.
This picture is very typical for him. He gets home from work and almost immediately falls asleep on the couch. He doesn't even have a chance to take off his shoes, gloves, or coat before he is knocked out.

Even though he struggles quite a bit, he really has come so far. When I look back at where we've been and what we've been through, it is really amazing to me. Bobby is truly inspirational. I know he is in pain or (at the very least) uncomfortable every moment of the day, yet no one (but me) is ever aware of it. He simply doesn't complain. He is just grateful. He does still on occasion feel depressed at the thought of not being cured, not knowing, or simply having to deal with the side effects forever, but again, largely keeps it to himself. I too, at times struggle with the unknown, but find comfort in Proverbs 3: 5-6 "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."


Monday, October 19, 2009

What I love about cancer

I imagine there are two types of people out there who may be reading this. Ones who have experienced cancer closely in their lives, and ones who haven't. In either case, I have decided NOT to share what I hate about cancer (the list is long, for one reason). If you are one who has dealt closely with cancer, you probably don't need the reminder of when you cried so much your eyes were dry and irritated for days. Or when you were so consumed with worry, fear, turmoil, you couldn't sleep at night- for days. If you are one who hasn't experienced cancer, you may feel as I once did- a heartache for one you love, admire, or even just know casually. No matter what your reason for reading this, one thing is for certain- there really is no point in sharing the bad news. You've either "been there, done that" or you are one who doesn't ever want to go there, do that.


Someday, when I look back, I hope to remember most the things that I love about cancer, and I'm pretty sure it will be easily recalled. Just to be sure, though, I'll record just a few here. I know there is no way I could list everything, since my list grows each day, even if it's just in one small way.


I love the nearly 3 month vacation I got from cooking all summer (wonderful women who gladly brought in meals 3x a week with enough left overs that I really never had to cook!). I loved to hear "I made a donation to the cancer society in your name and brought your family these LIVESTRONG bracelets." I love the hugs, even tears that were shared from so very many friends and family. I loved the clean house I was graced with a few times from the love of family and great friends. I love the new baby trees that my dad planted in our yard- our summer of cancer trees. As they grow and thrive, so will our family. A daily reminder for me that I truly love to see. I love Pitman High, or more particularly, the staff at PHS. Bobby has said so many times recently how much he loves everyone in his department and what "awesome people they are!" I love my dear friends, boss, and fellow employees at Turlock Fitness Club. When word got out about our family I was overcome with an outpouring of support- in so many ways. I love that I could go to work, and somehow turn off my brain for one hour to "escape" and no one ever complained about my lousy classes during that difficult time. I love the new quilt my aunt made for Bobby, which we use frequently and always think of her love and generosity. I love friends who shared their "been there, done that" tips on getting through chemo and radiation. I loved the family and friends who searched the internet for answers... something I really hated doing. I love friends who present us with gift cards for Jamba Juice (Bobby's current source of nutrition for getting through the day) or for restaurants for "whenever he can enjoy food again." I love the medical staff and doctors who treat Bobby so well, and always address our concerns with great care. I love the research that is being done every day to improve Bobby's and millions of others' chances for a cure. I love that Trina and Brent were brave enough to take 7 children under the age of 12 camping for a couple days so my kids could have ONE fun outing this summer. I love the friends and neighbors who stepped in and said things like "I'll give the kids a ride" or "Don't worry about Cub Scouts, I'll take over until you're ready" or "Do you need anything from Costco?" Simple acts mean so much. I love the many cards that were sent, the prayers offered, the emails, comments left here on the blog, etc. Rarely did I respond (please forgive me!), but ALWAYS did I appreciate. I love the tender prayers of my children as they remember their daddy is sick. I love the joyous outburst from Kaymbria on Sept. 30, "Mom! Daddy's going back to work!" I LOVE to hear them laugh and giggle with him again... the sweetest sound that I have missed for SO long! I love that my mom, dad, and Deb, who shared our load the most, never made us feel like they were burdened too. I love our caring bishop who took time out of his busy schedule to check in on Bobby several times. I love the spiritual experiences that have strengthened me beyond anything I thought possible. And most profound, is my love for Bobby. I thought I loved him 17 years ago while we were dating. I thought my love had deepened even more 15 years ago when we married. 12 years ago when our first baby was born I thought "how could I love him even more?" Eight more years, and 3 more babies found me asking that same question time and time again. Now here we are, traveling a road that we never anticipated, and I am amazed to discover that somehow, it is possible to love him even more.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

The first day of school

Brooklyn started 7th grade on August 12, 2009...


Carson started 5th grade on August 12, 2009...


Seth started 1st grade on August 12, 2009...

Kaymbria started preschool on September 9, 2009...


And, after 125 long, painful, emotional, difficult, and sometimes wonderful days, Bobby returned to school on September 30, 2009.
I stopped by to bring lunch to him, and as I turned the corner from the stairway to walk down the hall to his classroom, I saw a crowd of students at his doorway. Inside his classroom were balloons from some students. And a typical example of what he experienced with his return put a smile on my face as I watched it happen- a group of boys came up to him, hugging and welcoming him back. One gave him a big bear hug saying "Mr. Boice!!! I haven't even met you, but I love you!!" Others made him cookies, some interrupted his classes and walked right into his room to see him and welcome him back. I share in their joy, with just a tinge of sadness. I have grown quite fond of having him around, especially lately, as he's started to become himself again. Physically, the day was difficult for him to endure, but emotionally, I think a step in the right direction.





Saturday, September 19, 2009

Our big news for the week

First, Bobby had his PET scan on Monday. Then, on Thursday he had his feeding tube removed (good bye, my old friend!). The initial report on the PET scan is good news, showing a "nearly complete resolution" to the area. One of his doctors simply said "there is no activity in the area." Either way, we are breathing a little easier and are grateful for the good news. The plan is to repeat the scan in 2 months, continue to watch the size of the lymph node and hope that it reduces enough to the satisfaction of the doctors. If it doesn't, then we are off to Stanford for one last surgery.

So, we wait, and try to get on with life. It is time for us to discover what our new "normal" life will be. I know already that it will be better than before. We both have a deeper appreciation for each other, for different reasons, and we both have a deeper appreciation for our children, families, friends, co-workers, even acquaintances. A new perspective and value on life has been given to us, so I know that life as we know it will be better from here on out, even if that means more surgery, a recurrence, etc.

Bobby is doing his best to move on. He has been gradually tapering off his narcotics the last few weeks, and just went "cold turkey" a few days ago. He feels very weak, but the pain is subsiding quite a bit. His taste has returned to a degree, and the doctor yesterday said that he should notice a great improvement in his saliva function over the next few weeks. Lately, that is the most annoying thing for him to deal with. It is extremely difficult to eat and swallow food without saliva. We are back to using a humidifier at night to help with the dryness as well. He carries a water bottle around with him everywhere (thanks Allison, for your thoughtfulness on that!) He hopes to return to work on September 30. Right now, he is outside on the tractor mowing the lawn, something he hasn't done for months! Thank goodness for my dad and Larry, who have prevented the 3 acres from turning into a jungle!


Bobby's brother, Paul, recently came to visit. When I asked him if he liked Bobby's hair, he told me he didn't know what to think- was it a bad haircut, or was it from the treatments? Since I am the one who cuts his hair, I better clarify... the chemo thinned him out everywhere. The radiation gave him the bald spot behind his left ear, and the nearly bald spot across the back. The doctors say that in time, it should all grow back. If not, it's nothing a hat can't hide!

I must say, aside from his crazy hairline, he is looking pretty good! Many who have seen him lately comment on that. He isn't fitting the stereotypical cancer mold, I guess. If ever I am teasing, or kidding around with him about his cancer, he will correct me and say "you mean I had cancer" and emphasize the past tense. There are still difficult times, but for the most part things are looking up!

Friday, September 11, 2009

The glass is half full

Last night, for the first time in about 4 months, we sat down together, just the six of us, and had dinner together. Bobby dished up a plate of food just like the rest of us, and did his best to eat. I don't know if the kids even realized how significant it was for him to be sitting there with us, it was just another normal, rowdy, silly time for them. After the kids finished and disappeared to play or finish homework, I got up to go do dishes. Several minutes later Bobby was still at his plate, all alone, painfully trying to finish his food. A snowball of thoughts sort of hit me at that moment.

First, all the raw emotions came back, and I was nearly brought to tears by the pain and immense difficulty he has faced for so long. Can't he just be better now? When will this end? Something so simple as eating and sleeping are difficult chores for him. I know that I (and everyone else) don't even realize just how bad it's been for him... he simply endures quietly without complaining.

My thoughts then turned, however, in another direction, as they often do when I'm feeling down. I told myself that things could be so much worse. Right now at this moment, someone is dying in a tragic car accident. Right now, somewhere in the world, there are mothers despairing because their children are literally starving to death, and they are helpless to change their destitute situation. Right now, there are families in anguish over a terminally ill child, spouse, parent, friend. Right now, there are millions who are suffering from some form of physical, verbal, sexual abuse. Right now there are millions who live without freedoms and opportunities that we so frequently take for granted here.

The fact is, life isn't fair. It never will be. We will never know why some seem to pass through their mortal journey with one challenge after another, while others appear to have "their cake and eat it too." We all, at one time or another, pass through a refiners fire. It is up to us to decide- am I going to let the flames burn and consume me? Or will I come out of this more pure, stronger, changed. I am certain that if our attitudes are full of gratitude, we can pass through our trials and triumph over them. I am grateful for what my family has gone through for nearly 4 months. I will cherish always the things I have learned and the experiences we have had. And when I feel the weight of our trials beating me down once again, I will remember what Bobby recently said "The Lord is trying to bless us." The glass is half full...The glass is half full...The glass is half full...

Friday, September 4, 2009

Green jello makes me happy!



About a week or so ago Bobby said that he could maybe try to eat some jello. So I immediately walked over to my mom's house and stole a box from her pantry. I came home and quickly made it, put it in the fridge and was off to work. Several hours later I asked him how it was, and he hadn't even tried it yet. When I got home the next morning I saw a small bowl sitting on the kitchen counter with a spoon and jello remains at the bottom. Again, I asked him if he ate it, and when he told me "Yes, I got it down" I couldn't believe how emotional I got! Over jello! After about 2 months of never putting anything in his mouth (with the exception of his toothbrush) he was sipping water and eating green jello! Who cares if it was only about 3 tablespoons worth- he got it down! It hurt, it burned, but he did it. Since then he has braved Cream of Wheat and grits (both a post-tonsil surgery favorite), yogurt, and soup. Yesterday the soup he tried tasted like "how an ashtray would taste" in his words, but again, he ate it. His most dominant taste buds right now are salt, and everything just seems so overpowering and strong to him. Since he has started trying to eat food, the water is going down much better now too, so we are grateful for the slow, but steady progress.

This morning he did 25 push-ups with me, and has been dragging out his exercise bike a few days a week to slowly ride. His poor body has really been beaten down with the treatments, but I'm so proud of him for the effort he is making to overcome and move on. The pain he feels in his throat, ear, and at the site of his feeding tube are persistent, but, he endures and doesn't complain.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Daddy's girl (well, one of them!)


Every night at bedtime I spend a little time with each child doing our "bedtime" routine of singing, praying, reading, tickling their backs, etc. I always end with Brooklyn, because she 1. stays up the latest, and 2. always wants to chat more than the rest of them do. She always asks me how my day was, and we talk about hers as well. She usually always asks me how Bobby is doing too.
Last night when she asked me how he was I told her that he was in some pain and was getting ready to take more medicine. Then she caught me off guard when she said "I'm so happy, Mom! He's finally getting his personality back." She then shared with me how terrible it was all summer when he was so sick and slept most of the time. She even said it seemed like he was dead most of the time. I knew exactly how she felt! But then she told me how he had started to joke around with her, tease her, and tickle her like he used to. I'm so glad that she could recognize the small progress he is making! Of all the kids, I'm certain it was the toughest on her. Frequently during his treatments she would go in her room and cry if she could see or hear him barfing, gagging, or in any other distress. Several nights during his treatment (and still) I would come out from putting the other kids to bed to find her laying on his lap or shoulder while he slept on the couch. I know that he was aware of her sometimes, but I also know that MANY times he wasn't. How difficult that must have been for her to need and want her father, only to feel like he was "dead" to her.
Things are looking up, though! He is more aware of things now, and is trying to become a father again. Last night we were talking, and I told him that I needed to go do dishes. When I walked out Seth immediately asked me if I could read to him, so I sat down with him and Kaymbria and started to read instead of clean up. Bobby noticed, and went into the kitchen to clean up dishes and food that he can't even eat with us! He has been able to start reading again, and is certainly more mentally alert than he has been in a long time.
It's been exactly 3 weeks since his last treatment, and there is noticeable progress. Maybe not as quick as we had hoped, but he is headed in the right direction. I hope to be able to report more good news as his recovery continues!

Sunday, August 23, 2009

What I've learned

Ever since May 26 (the day I found out) I have prayed to know Heavenly Father’s will regarding this trial. I never questioned why this came to us, but did question Where do we go from here? and most importantly, What am I supposed to learn from this? I have prayed to recognize these things, and have prayed for the courage to accept His will, and move forward in faith, learning what I needed to learn.

Matthew 11:28-30 has always been a favorite scripture of mine, and with Bobby’s diagnosis, it seemed to immediately be in the forefront of my mind again. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

I took this counsel to heart, and began to “learn of Him” through fervent scripture study and words of the prophets. I immersed myself in study and prayer, and feel that I was able to understand the atonement in a way that perhaps I hadn’t known before. Christ suffered for ALL of us, and for ALL of our sins. BUT, his suffering reaches far beyond the sinners- it reaches out to those who have been sinned against, those who are down trodden, lonely, sick, depressed, confused. No matter what our burdens may be, we can lay them at the feet of the Savior, and he will take them up. The price has been paid already! There is no need for extra suffering, for that is the very gift that our Savior gives to us- relief from the pain and suffering we experience in mortality. I prayerfully and tearfully laid my burdens at the feet of our Savior and experienced an almost immediate relief, comfort, peace.

That’s not to say that things have been a piece of cake since then, though. There are certainly ups and downs, and times when I am afraid, worried, sad, lonely. But this is human nature, and I cannot escape those feelings entirely. John 14:27 says “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” I have learned something of the relationship of faith and fear. When one is dominant, it causes the absence of the other. Faith and fear do not walk hand in hand- one will dispel the other. When I have been overcome with fear and worry, I have learned that I must exercise more faith. As I do, my fear subsides and I carry on. Moroni teaches “ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.” This trial of my faith has proven to be a priceless experience.

I have experienced over this summer a sort of separation from Bobby. I miss him, I miss talking with him, doing things with him. I miss how he plays and laughs with the kids. I miss so many things, big and small about him. I see him now more than I usually do, but there is still a distinct feeling of separation there. Our relationship is intact, but for a time, it is not available. These things have made me think of Heavenly Father and Jesus. Before we came to earth, we each had a real relationship with them. Entering into mortality caused a separation from them, but yet, I truly believe that the relationship is still intact, and just as I miss Bobby, I feel that they truly miss us too. I cannot travel through “the valley of the shadow of death” that Bobby journeys in now, all I can do is be waiting for him on the other side when he returns. Heavenly Father waits for me to return as well. I truly believe that He is anxious for that reunion.

I thought, also, of how I have had a newborn baby 4 times in my life. I experienced extreme pain and fatigue as I gave birth, and then cared for that newborn day in and day out. During those first several weeks of the baby’s life all I did was nurse, bathe, change, hold, and love with everything that I had, that precious child. But what did that baby give me in return? Nothing. Until about 6 weeks later, and one glorious moment, the baby gave me that first REAL smile. The smile that brings such joy, your heart wants to burst. The smile that seems to say, “Yes, I know you! I love you too!”

Do you suppose that whenever we recognize our Heavenly Father and Savior in even a small way they feel that joy too? I have decided that I can recognize their love and acknowledge them and give honor to them by doing the very things that they would do if they were (physically) here. I will try harder now to serve others, to love unconditionally, to lighten the load of others, to be obedient to the gospel and more committed to it, to learn of the Savior, and follow His example. This, I know, will bring me lasting joy, and hopefully joy to others as well.

The gospel of Jesus Christ means everything to me and is an anchor during the storm-tossed seas of life. I haven't learned everything I need to know- this I am sure of. But what I do know gives me hope. I have faith and hope and peace of mind knowing that everything will be ok. I fiercely want Bobby to be cured, BUT, if that is not Heavenly Father's will, then I still know everything will be ok. I truly believe that my family can be together forever, and this provides comfort beyond measure.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Slow and steady wins the race

It turns out that I wasn't the only one who has lost patience with all this... Bobby shared with me a couple days ago just how tired he is of being sick. We saw our doctor on Tuesday, and he said that he still considers Bobby to be in the "treatment" phase, since the chemo stays in his system for weeks. The next day was tough for him, physically, but mostly emotionally. A dear friend of ours brought by his convertible and left the keys for Bobby and I to take a nice, long drive that evening. It was great for him to get out of the house, see the stars, and get some fresh air. Bobby is down, but doing his best to push through it. I pray each day that he will recognize any improvements, no matter how small they may be, so that it will lift his spirits and give him hope for a brighter tomorrow.

We ARE seeing small improvements. First, he is off the narcotic patch. He was due for another one on Tuesday, but insisted that he didn't need it any longer. He feels that his pain is under control, and is now back to just vicoden as needed. His gagging problem seems to be getting slightly better. He has tried to swallow water on a couple of occassions recently. I know that doesn't sound like much, but for him to even want to TRY to swallow is progress.

He has been comforted lately with wonderful fellow teachers at his school who are paving the way for a smooth transition back into work when he is ready.

We continue to be so grateful each day for the love and support we feel from so many. Some of our days feel long and difficult, some of our sleepless nights are lonely and exhausting, but we have developed stronger faith and hope through it all.

"Have courage for the great sorrows of life, and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake." -Victor Hugo

One day at a time. Slow and steady. He WILL win this race.

Friday, August 7, 2009

He's Done!!



Wednesday, August 5 was his last day of treatment! We came home with this certificate from the radiology team who has seen him every day since June. Later that evening, before my family left to return home, my sister organized a celebration parade for the kids to do. They marched right into our living room with signs and posters attached to Ensure bottles and put a smile on Bobby's face. Although he couldn't verbalize his appreciation, he did give them a round of applause for their efforts!





For 58 days Bobby has endured surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, endoscopies, CT scans, MRIs, PET scans, two biopsies, and too many blood tests and injections to even count. I have had to stand by his side and watch it all happen, mostly feeling like my hands were tied and there was nothing I could do to help. I have observed his quiet strength and awed over his ability to take it all, NEVER once complaining.
Wednesday was a good day, a true reason to celebrate. However, since then, I have felt my patience dwindling. I want so badly for him to be well again. I hate the pain he is in. I am anxious to have this entire experience behind us. I am ready to have a loving husband and father again in our home. His "absence" for the last 58 days has made me realize more fully just how blessed I am to have him.
I haven't been sleeping well for a long time, and last night I read something that hit home: "When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all up hill, When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you must- but don't you quit." So, I rested, and this morning awoke determined to move forward and recognize the small improvements that he is going to have each day from here on out.




Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Chemotherapy #3



July 30 was Bobby's final chemo treatment. The days following it have been much like this picture... he sleeps and sleeps. Our doctor switched him to a patch to manage his pain better, and he gets a slow, constant release of pain medication that lasts for 3 days. Once we started that, he was able to rest much better. There are so many things I hate about this disease, this treatment, this condition that he's in, but through it all, I am glad that he can sleep most of the time.
I miss him, though.
I'm sad for what he has missed... Bria's fourth birthday with Grandpa, celebrating with about 60 family members from all around the country.
She loved her cake and loved to tell everyone that she was the princess, and Grandpa was the frog. He serenaded her with one of his barbershop songs "Frog kissin" and they blew out the candles together.

I'm sad that he's missed most of our family reunion and the craziness that comes along with it!

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

My one day vacation

Mangrums invited the kids and I to go to the water slides yesterday. I felt torn about leaving Bobby, but decided that it would be good for me to spend one day focused on just having fun with the kids. And fun was had! Carson perhaps the most, since he isn't even pictured here... I rarely saw him as he quickly went from one slide to another. Brooklyn and Seth had a great time too, and it was so helpful to have cousins that they love with them to play with. Kaymbria was a little overwhelmed and did NOT want to go down any slides. She was happy to be held on my hip while I carried Seth's mat up several flights of stairs to the top of the slide, got him situated, then walked her back down to meet him at the bottom. We did that several times yesterday, and after a while I didn't feel so bad about missing the 3 classes that I usually teach on Monday. I was exhausted!

As we drove home I was anxious to get back to Bobby. He has been on a downhill slope for the last week or so, needing round the clock narcotics. He is at the point now where his voice is strained, and he can only speak about one sentence before gagging, thanks to the swelling, pain, and inflammation in his mouth and throat. The pain is worse now than it has ever been. His big success each day is when he can swish prescription mouthwash in his mouth without gagging or vomiting. Yet, through it all, he never complains. I anticipate that the worst is yet to come with our last chemo in two days. With our family reunion happening this week also, I am glad the kids will have loads of cousins and aunts and uncles to keep them totally happy and busy... maybe they won't even notice just how bad it gets.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The countdown has just begun!

Only 2 weeks left! Bobby spends a lot of his time like this... asleep. He has great intentions some days of mowing the lawn, or helping me with things around the house, or even something as simple as taking a shower, but usually, he just ends up asleep wherever he happens to sit down. And truthfully, I'm glad. If he can sleep through this terrible time, that's just fine with me. The kids and I try to just let life go on while his life stands still. There are some moments that I feel totally alone, but they quickly pass. I think of the love and support offered by so many. Whether it be through meals brought in, cards sent, hugs, phone calls, words of encouragement, prayers, etc. I (and Bobby) know that we can get through this.

So now begins the countdown. With only two weeks left of treatment, his side effects worsen a little each day. He vomited for the first time last night, and after I finished scrubbing up the mess he became a little bit emotional and thanked me for helping. I suppose he doesn't realize that doing things like that are really not drudgery for me... I truly believe that service to others yields a small sacrifice on my part, but in that sacrifice comes a deeper love... and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Superman!

This morning Bobby shared something with me that was so amusing I just had to share it here as well. As I was getting ready to leave and teach class Bobby came into our room and said "Good news!" Great! I thought. We need some good news! He then proceeded to tell me about a conversation he had just had with *James* (whose name I have changed... you know, to protect the innocent, or something like that!). It went something like this:



"Hi Bobby, How are you feeling today?" asks James. "Ok" Bobby replies. "Is your throat hurting really bad?" asks James. "Yeah, it hurts a little more everyday, but that just means the radiation is working" says Bobby. "But it's killing the cells, right?" asks James. "Yeah, it's killing the cancer cells, but a lot of the good ones too." After a brief pause James says "Wouldn't it be cool to have super human powers?" Bobby chuckles a bit and says yes, that would be cool. Then James tells him "You have about a one in twenty chance of getting super powers from the radiation." Even more amused now, Bobby says, "Oh, really?" Then James says "Yes, but it has to be from gamma radiation."



We got a good laugh, and then speculated on what kind of super powers he would have after he was done with treatment. You know, one in twenty is pretty good odds!! My vote was for superman. After all, he pretty much IS superman to me already. But if he could take me flying all around the world some night, that would just be the icing on the cake!

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Radiation #17- the half way day!





First, Bobby lays on the table and puts on the wrist straps. These pull his shoulders down and keeps tension there so he stays completely still. I think I was told that this is also a protective measure as well to keep as much out of the field of x-ray as possible.


Next, Bobby's new friend Clarence puts on his shield and locks it into place.


The technicians then begin to align the machine as precisely as they can with the markings on his shield.



Lastly, we all leave the room and he begins his treatment. In less than 10 minutes he's finished with the machine that's worth more than 2 million dollars, and the following day he gets to do it all again. I am so grateful for the state-of-the-art technology available to us. He's officially half way done with his treatment, and he says that the lump is smaller now than when he first felt it shaving several months ago. Both of his doctors recently commented on how well he is doing at this stage of treatment. Things are in no way easy for us right now, but we both realize that it could be so much worse. Thank you for your prayers and thoughts. It means more to us than you will ever know!

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Chemotherapy #2



Thursday, July 9 was Bobby's second chemo infusion. We were there for about 5 hours, and everything went well. He slept for a brief time, but mostly we talked while we had so much time to ourselves. An amazing thing has happened to him... he has been very introspective since receiving the diagnosis, and has a completely different outlook on life now. I guess when death stares you in the face it can be life changing in so many ways. He actually told me Thursday night that he is so grateful to have cancer. He now views this disease as a huge blessing in his life. I hope that when he is well someday he will take the time to share with you his thoughts. His perspective is wonderfully positive and hopeful for a bright future, and I'm certain that is helping him endure the terrible side effects. Where once, not long ago he was depressed and despairing, I find him now saying "I can't wait until I'm better so we can..."

My friend, the feeding tube

Bobby lost another 5 pounds, so we are very grateful to have the tube in place. I asked our doctor how many calories a day he should be getting, and was shocked when he said between 3-4 thousand! I guess his body is working so hard to handle the chemo and radiation that the more we can get in, the better. Eating on his own has mostly ended, so we are primarily using the tube. At first we did the "feedings" privately because I wasn't sure how the kids would respond to it. But as the frequency has greatly increased, they are totally aware now. Kaymbria always wants to help feed her daddy. She loves it! It it a little like having a newborn baby... round the clock "feedings" every couple of hours. I'm glad to do it, though, because I know that this is something I can do to help lessen the severity of his side effects, and hopefully speed his recovery. So each morning I put out 8-10 cans of "formula" and then watch the clock to remember when it's time to feed (since unlike a newborn, he doesn't cry to remind me). At least I don't have to burp him when we're done and then change a diaper!

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Poison and lasers

Many have asked how the kids are doing through all of this. I decided to start with my boys, because that is a more simple answer (I'll tackle the girls some other time). Carson and Seth have very different personalities, sort of like night and day. But surprisingly, they are both "coping" with Bobby's illness very well so far. We told them about everything the night before Bobby had his first surgery. Tears were shed, prayers were offered, they went to bed peacefully.

A few nights later I was in their room with them at bedtime, and after Seth said his prayer I thanked him for remembering Daddy in his prayers. Carson heard me, and immediately said "I am praying for Dad every night too!" I thanked him too, and told the boys that praying would help so much- not only Bobby, but it would help them too when they felt sad, or scared, or worried.

They both immediately started asking me questions about cancer, and his treatment. It didn't take long for me to realize that this is a tough thing for kids to understand. Especially when their dad felt great UNTIL he started having surgery and treatments- the very things that are supposed to make him BETTER. As simply as I could, I explained that chemotherapy is a very powerful kind of medicine that attacks the bad cancer cells. The cancer cells have to be killed off so they don't continue to grow and spread and cause more problems. When they wondered why he gets so sick I told them that the chemotherapy is sort of like poison for the cells. It kills the cancer cells, but it also kills a lot of his good, healthy cells too. With further explanation they both decided that it was pretty cool that Bobby's "good" cells can grow back, but the "bad cancer" cells won't. Radiation was interesting to explain too. I told them that it is a highly powerful x-ray beam that can focus directly on the spot where the cancer is and help kill it too. One of them asked if it was like lasers from Star Wars... well, sure, I guess? Then they both started talking about laser beams and offered their opinions on how cool that was- Dad's cancer is being zapped by powerful beams Star Wars style. May the force be with you!

Since then life has gone on for them as usual, and they continue to pray for him daily. We are trying hard to maintain "normalcy" for the kids as much as possible. They are wonderful boys whom we adore, and I'm so glad that they are still finding and enjoying the simple pleasures of summer.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Some things never change...


...like Bobby's need to make me laugh. Despite his current situation, he seems to still find a way to get a laugh here and there to lighten things up. Here he is after his second (and hopefully last) surgery. I have found it amusing to listen to him while he is coming out of the fog of anesthesia. Both times he has asked me over and over what the doctor found, and what time it is. But I got a good laugh when he looked at me and said "I think I'll go play basketball tonight...right after I take your Zumba class."


For my next example I have to jump back to Mother's Day. Bobby did a great job of making me feel loved and appreciated that day. He had a beautiful bouquet of flowers, my favorite kind of Sees candy (there's just one that I prefer, and he got me a full box of them!), and then sent me shopping the next day all by myself to buy something new to wear to church. Then he announced that he had one more Mother's Day gift to give me, but I wouldn't get it until July. His last gift to me was that he was going to lose 10 pounds. Why? You may ask? Well, we discovered some time ago (when he lost weight) that he no longer snored, and I tell ya, it was GREAT! Over time the weight came back, and so did the snoring. I thought it was a very thoughtful gift to give me. He knows that I am frequently awakened during the night by the kids, and decided that he wasn't going to add to my sleeplessness any longer. So before anyone thinks I'm a vain, heartless wife, please know that it was all about the snoring! I absolutely adore him, no matter how much he weighs! Ok, fast forward to the end of May... we are both down about his diagnosis... we are gathering as much information from our doctors as we can... we both worry, cry, stress, etc. about the side effects that we are told he will endure. Then, out of nowhere he looks at me and says "See, I told you I'd lose ten pounds by July!"


Guess what? He lost them in June! So, that was the reason for the surgery on Tuesday. He had a feeding tube put in. Our oncologist urged us to do this to prevent too much weight loss and to help keep him hydrated. Over and over Dr. Eldaly has said that keeping him hydrated and nourished is crucial to the severity of side effects, and to his recovery. As his treatments have progressed, eating has become more difficult, and with the tube in place we hope to avoid unnecessary pain and discomfort as he continues on. I must admit- I am slightly (well completely) grossed out by the thing. As I "feed" him I just think to myself "I can't believe I'm feeding my husband through a tube!" It just doesn't seem right. But I know that I will get over this feeling soon. I will quickly get back to the "let's just do what we have to do" mentality that I have adopted over the last month.


Since the surgery was just two days ago, he is finding relief with the pain medication. He has had a couple of bouts of terrible pain, but they subsided rather quickly, and he just quietly endures. He is saddened by the "loss" of his summer, a time when we usually go camping, on vacation, enjoy the fresh fruit off our trees, swimming, and just having more time together as a family. These simple things that we so often take for granted are giving us a keen awareness now. We are just in the early stages of this fight, but I already have a new, changed perspective on life. I hope that someday soon I will be able to share Bobby's new perspective with you. He's not there yet, but I know that he will be, and it will be worth the wait.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Day 1 of treatment



June 18, 2009 was the big day. The night before was kind of tough... neither one of us slept much with many thoughts and emotions running through our minds. But, Thursday morning we set off to see Dr. Eldaly and get started. Up until that morning, all of our appointments had been in the afternoon, and it always seemed that we were the only patients there. A couple times I thought to myself "I think we are the only ones in this town with cancer!" since we never saw any other patients. Well, that all changed when we arrived Thursday morning. The waiting room was full. We immediately noticed two lovely women whose hair was gone, another who was without a leg. We sat quietly. I tried to chit chat with Bobby... no luck. After a few minutes he turned to me and asked "Is it kind of warm in here?" It seemed like forever, but we finally got called back, Bobby had his blood drawn, and then we waited for the doctor. When he arrived he talked with us a bit, answered our questions, and then took us to the chemotherapy room. We were greeted by some wonderful nurses and were given a private room.


They started the infusion, and after a while Bobby felt like eating, so I went and got him some lunch. In our nearly 15 years of marriage, I can say that we've never had a lunch date like that before! We were ready to go home after about 5 hours, then followed up with his first radiation treatment.


That evening I sifted through the loads of anti-nausea medication and Bobby rested. Besides feeling fatigued and a little sore from his surgery, he was doing fine. Since he seemed to be doing well, I packed a bag at midnight and decided to go to my niece's wedding the next morning.


One of my favorite families in the world- The Rackhams. Welcome to the family Charles! It was great to see my family who lives on the wrong side of the country, and I look forward to seeing everyone again for the reunion this summer!


Unfortunately, while I was enjoying the wedding (rain and all), Bobby was having a reaction to one of his anti-nausea medications. Thankfully, Deb and Troy (another favorite family) stepped in and took care of the kids until I could get back Sunday night.


Each day since then has gotten a little better in some ways, and a little worse in others. He is now starting his second week of treatment, which includes radiation therapy Mon-Fri, and weekly blood tests and visits with his oncologist. The most noticeable side effect so far is his fatigue. Sometimes he says that his head feels "foggy" and that he is just wiped out with no energy. Eating has been difficult ever since the surgery, but as that has healed somewhat, the radiation has brought on other side effects that still make eating tough. This morning he was sitting at his plate of breakfast- eggs, toast with jam, juice, and just looked at it and said "I can't taste anything." Later when I asked him what he wanted for lunch he told me to make him whatever I wanted, because he wouldn't be able to taste it anyway. He is also starting to feel a bit of dry mouth, thanks again, to radiation. Deb brought him a case of gum from Costco yesterday in hopes that it might help a bit.


On a positive note, though, after one week of treatment, our oncologist examined him yesterday and said that he thinks the lymph node has reduced by about 25% already. It's working! It will be a long summer... but if it gets him well, then that's all that matters.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Just the facts

A brief history of how we got here...
  • several months ago Bobby felt a small lump in his neck while shaving.
  • after a few weeks he asks my dad about it. Dad prescribes an antibiotic that has no effect on the lump.
  • Dad says "Go see a 'real' doctor."
  • the "real" doctor puts him on a different antibiotic, does a chest x-ray, and blood work, which all show nothing.
  • since the "real doctor" isn't concerned, we aren't either
  • lump in neck is ignored/forgotten for the time being.
  • A few months pass, our parents are over for dinner, Bobby turns his head and dad sees that the lump is bigger. He is alarmed and strongly urges us to schedule a fine needle biopsy.
  • next morning I call and schedule appointment. The soonest they have is over a month away.
  • My dad then calls and gets one scheduled for 2 days later.
  • Fine needle biopsy is inconclusive.
  • referred to another doctor who does a core biopsy (much larger sample).
  • we leave the next day to go camping for Memorial Day weekend and try to ignore the sinking feeling that we are both consumed with.
  • Tuesday, May 26 I call for the biopsy report and the doctor tells me it is positive for squamous cell carcinoma in the lymph node.
  • We are immediately referred to oncology, radiation oncology, and ENT specialist. Since there are no naturally occurring squamous cells in the lymph nodes, they know the cancer started somewhere else, and they need to know where.
  • CT and PET scans show nothing.
  • Tonsillectomy is done June 8, and on June 12 the pathology report shows that the primary tumor WAS in the left tonsil.
  • Good news- nasty cancerous tonsil is gone. Bad news- it had already spread to surrounding muscle tissue. It's more aggressive than originally thought.
  • June 18 is Day 1 for cancer treatment. Chemotherapy and radiation begin.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

A Fork in the Road

"Life is Good" as my sister, Trina, so often reminds us with her favorite T-shirts. I must agree... our life is good. We are the family that has always had a "normal" life. Day in and day out we go to school, work, piano, dance, basketball, t-ball, church, scouts. We laugh, love, and have fun. I have always been glad for our "normalcy" and have been happy to offer help to others who were having tough times. And times can be tough...really tough. Over the last few years our extended family has had their share of tough times. I have shed countless tears and offered fervent prayers for the difficulties that others have faced. I have tried to offer help, and have silently learned from other's adversity. But through it all, I have always been grateful- very grateful for the simple life that Bobby and I share.

"Ignorance is bliss" I've thought to myself many times this past month. We've been cruising along in our simple life, completely unaware of the life-changing diagnosis that was quietly invading... then on May 26, I got a phone call that changed everything. It's funny how one little word- cancer- can turn your life upside down. I'm sure I felt everything that many who have experienced this before have- how can this be? he feels fine! what's his prognosis? can he be cured? how do we tell the kids? how will we pay for this? why couldn't it have been me? where do we go from here? I can't eat, can't sleep. I love him even more when I am threatened with the thought of losing him.

Like many things in life, time is a great cure all. We've had our ups and downs since May 26, and expect to have many more as we begin this journey. Acceptance has come peacefully, and now we are ready to get this show on the road. After loads of tests, biopsies, scans, doctor visits, and one painful surgery, we are very close to getting started with chemotherapy and radiation. It's going to be tough, no doubt about it, but we are confident that everything will (eventually) be ok.

One of my dearest friends is an 8 year cancer survivor. The day after we got the diagnosis I called her, and after several minutes of me going on and on about it, she surprised me with her reply. I expected her to tell me how sorry she was, but she simply told me "You and Bobby are about to have some of the most wonderful experiences you will EVER have...you will feel Heavenly Father's love in ways that you never did before... you will know more than ever that He has a plan for you and your family." After we talked for a couple of hours I hung up feeling so much better. Thanks, Stacey. That call meant more than you'll ever know. I decided right then that I had a choice. Will I wallow in despair? Will I look for the blessings all around me? Will I try to learn from this?

A fork in the road... a point in your life where you are living life as you know it, and then suddenly you are forced to choose one way or the other. Some may disagree and say "You didn't choose cancer!" and that's very true. BUT- we will choose how cancer changes us. I have decided to make the best of it, to become stronger, better, more loving, more faithful, more focused on my Savior. That's not to say I'm not sad, scared, discouraged or overwhelmed at times. That is human nature, and I can't escape those feelings completely. But I can tell you a few things that I've already seen that have brought me to my knees in prayers of thanks- The help of my dad. Being the doctor that he is, he was the one who made us get serious about this seemingly harmless lump in his neck. If it weren't for him, we would still be "blissfully ignorant." Thanks, Dad, for saving his life. Thanks, Mom, for saving mine. Another blessing is the outpouring of love and help from extended family (and friends). It has been so comforting and wonderful to feel the love from so many of you. The timing of this is also a blessing. If we had found this out during the school year, Bobby would have most likely lost his job. Getting the diagnosis just 3 days before he was off for the summer is something else to be thankful for. Having tough talks with the kids has provided the opportunity to share our faith with them, to teach them more fully about Heavenly Father's plan, the atonement, and that our family can be forever. This will be a difficult time for them too, but I hope that they will also learn and become stronger because of it.

We have only taken the first few steps down this new road, but are hopeful. We are very pleased with our doctors so far. We have confidence in the wonderful medical technology available to us. We know we will get through this with their help, and yours.