Live from Little Rock – it’s…oh, my G-d it’s Little Rock.

Yep, I’m here. First, let me say that Little Rock is a lovely little town. Everyone is very nice. Really nice. Like, cars actually stop and wait for a pedestrian to cross the street nice. It’s unnerving. Rush hour traffic is 4 cars waiting at a light. Seriously!

My folks were lucky enough to score a very sweet pad in an awesome high-rise building that overlooks the river for their stay here…too bad they aren’t here – the hospital has nothing on this place. Out the window in bedroom number one is the (wait for it)…Clinton library…complete with his 6,000 square foot residence on the top. I can’t even look at it.

After visiting with my mom at the hospital for awhile, Dad and I went to grab a bite of dinner. Actually, we decided to go find a restaurant where we could pick something up and bring it back to the FabuPad to eat. So he took me to the Dixie Café (or something like that). The menu was as you’d expect, fried catfish, fried chicken, fried okra and… fried corn on the cob.

I shit you not. My arteries got a little constricted just reading it.

I didn’t know what to expect when I came here, but I will carry the following image in my head as a landmark memory of my time in Little Rock, brief though it may be. I got off the plane and headed straight to baggage claim. I was waiting at the carousel for the handlers to start throwing baggage down the chute when I noticed the carousel next to us was for a Delta flight coming in from Orlando. The passengers had on the requisite Mickey Mouse shirts, bags with Magic Kingdom on it and many, many Disney Princess items scattered about. But upon second glance, I realized most of the passengers also resembled each other in another way.

Most of the men were dressed as follows:

Cut off shorts (khaki)

Flip flops of varying degrees of “worn”

Hunting shirts

HUNTING SHIRTS, people. Not t-shirts with hunting slogans. ACTUAL HUNTING SHIRTS.

That is all.

Mom is holding her own, but not out of the woods just yet. I am of no help to her whatsoever, except that I bring stories from home and can try to carry on a conversation about something other than drugs, nurses and vital signs for a short time. She’s had some terrible nurses (OMG) and upon hearing these stories I immediately told my dad to pick up the phone to call a family friend here who is closely associated with the medical center so that she may open up a can of whoopass on the appropriate hospital administrators. He wasn’t so inclined to do that immediately (as he was busy trying to save my mom’s life), but today when she called to check in he did mention a few details of their difficult experiences. Thirty minutes later they had two administrators in mom’s room apologizing and addressing the issues. Damn straight. And we ain’t done yet, bitches.

Again, I know I can’t do much, but I know where to find the big sticks to swing in a hospital. And I brought my bat with me this time. I’ll relay some of the stories later after everyone is past this.

Dad’s at the hospital again for the night – he hasn’t slept in 40 hours. Because of the horrible nursing experience – and one horrible night where he thought he’d lost her – he won’t leave her alone until she’s really well. It’s a sad state of affairs, but he has had to play doctor more than once on this journey because the care is more than a little disconnected, to say the least.

I, for the first time in 10 weeks, will get to sleep all night…allegedly. I doubt I will, though. And then tomorrow I’ll go sit with mom while dad comes back to the FabuPad to work a little, shower and sleep.

That’s about all I can do. But at least it’s something.

I haven’t written about my mom’s battle with myeloma in awhile because, well, there hasn’t been much to write about. She was recovering from her first stem cell transplant for the better part of a month and half and then was dealing okay with the remnant effects of that.

Mom and Dad had to return to Little Rock the first of September to do the second stem cell transplant. This was the subject of MANY discussions within our family for a variety of reasons…timing, need, recovery issues, dangers… they were all still there.

You see, in this battle, the weapons are as deadly as the enemy. And there are reasons NOT to use them.

But, right now, she is disease free. And that’s a hard argument to negate. The treatment regimen is working. Perfectly. But the treatment effects totally suck.

And that brings me to where we are right now.

From the massive chemo before this current stem cell transplant mom is now neutropenic, or has roughly 2 white cells in her body, which is where she is supposed to be right now. The problem is that she has contracted a dangerous bacteria in and around her colon that is causing major problems and now she is in jeopardy from the very treatment that is supposed to be extending her life.

It’s amazing where science has brought us, isn’t it?

The next four or five days are important ones. I can’t say it any differently or any plainer. And I’m off to Little Rock once I get things in order here.

Happy New Year to those who are celebrating it – and happy Friday to those who need it.

You know the phrase. Everything looks good. In theory. On paper.

On paper, my mom is in complete remission. Her white cell count has rebounded. Her blood work is perfect. She’s a textbook example of someone recovering from a stem cell transplant and round of high dose chemotherapy. Congratulations! You guys can leave Little Rock for a couple of months and go home!

On paper.

In reality, my mom is in the hospital for the first time since she’s been there, with fluid on her lung, 10 pounds of extra fluid in her body, concern about her heart, a fever, an infection no one could really locate (because her immune system is so screwed up), and ground shaking nausea and other biological function issues.

Luckily, all these overwhelming issues that have broken my parents down the past 10 days are starting to let up – and hopefully they’ll be able to really come home next weekend. But, Jesus, how do you get such disparity between On Paper and In Reality?

That’s the next discussion to be had with the Doctor. Because, seriously? Never again.

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

In a completely unrelated note, I got a speeding ticket today. For doing 40 in a 35.

Let me repeat. 40 in a 35.

Assholes. I understand it must be “Quota Day” for you Minions of Justice and Defense, but? Fuck off. You pulled me over 3 blocks from where drug deals go down regularly. Where packs of kids wander aimlessly on the street. Where you have a storefront police station set up because you know just how bad the neighborhood is that I was driving through.

Go clean that up. Leave my 5 MPH the hell alone. And you can BET I’m gonna spend the 2 hours to go down to court. ‘Cause I know you’re not gonna show up. And I’m gonna walk. And you? Will have wasted my time and made no impact.

Pfft.

Well, this weekend brought a wonderful visit from BestFriendWendy and her family all the way from Chicago. There was sharing and no sharing, laughing and no laughing, crying and no crying, Strawberry Shortcake, arts & crafts, and many, many Princess stories.

While the kiddos navigated through diplomatic and developmental minefields, we grown ups enjoyed massive amounts of food and drink, oh, and conversation. Here’s list of things that were consumed this weekend:

Asian-glazed, grilled salmon

Caesar salad (made the most rockin’ tofu based dressing I never thought I’d ever eat let alone make)

Asian-marinated, grilled portabella mushrooms

Drunken shrimp (Grilled. Think margarita and you’ll get the idea.)

Feta, tomato, green onion and cucumber orzo salad

Tons of ice cream. Tons.

Garlic dip

Hummus

Salsa fresca

Cheese. Jesus, the cheese.

The freshest strawberries and blueberries G-d ever made

Chocolate chip cookies

…And anything the kids didn’t finish

It was awesome. Just like the company.

This morning brought a carpool ride to the airport with the first stop being the Swimmy’s first day of camp. Oy.

She was very excited to start camp. Much like her Mommy and Daddy, her favorite part of the morning was deciding what in the world to pack for lunch today!

Because she is now in camp with some of the older kids, she gets to swim twice a day: instructional and just for fun. The parents’ manual said we should send two bathing suits and two towels for this. And a change of clothes. Perhaps two. Uh, do you have any idea how big a bag she’d have to take to accommodate all this shit? Right. Here are two bathing suits and one towel. Deal with it. I’ll be ecstatic if they both come home.

And she ran right in, which is so awesome. But, I keep thinking, “I hope she’s made a little friend. I hope her counselors don’t suck. I hope she actually SWIMS today.” And? I kinda miss her (eventhough she’s never home during the day because of school) – and wish I could go over to her camp and just peek around a corner to see what she’s doing.

I think I’ll go find those chocolate chip cookies.

And finally, news from Little Rock. After a horrible stretch up there, it appears the sun is beginning to shine and my folks may actually get to come home shortly. Dad is hoping they’ll get sprung by Saturday. This time the treatment was an awful stretch. The kind of awful where you don’t think you could possibly do that again (which she is supposed to do). But, The Battle continues.

Luckily, once they’re released, they get to come home for two whole months. An eternity! And this stretch of home includes meeting their newest grandchild next month (holy shit). Not a bad “reward”. And the Swimmy is ready to see them again as well. Hell we all are.

Well, how’s that for four days? Sorry for the break in posting – more to come later today!

Hope your weekend was fantastic.

Tomorrow is a wedding shower for OldestDaughter. It’s the typical, very nice occasion full of ladies dressed swell, presents wrapped in pretty papers and lots of well-wishing and advice giving over a yummy lunch. (Add in two very cute flower girls and you’ve got tomorrow at 11:30.)

It’s being hosted by Husband’s most awesome aunt, and her daughters-in-law as well as my mom, although she can’t attend. You see, Mom and Dad are back in Little Rock for the halfway point – the first stem-cell transplant following high dose chemotherapy.

Which is nothing like a wedding shower.

Although she’s been declared in full-remission and the treatments are working, Mom is pretty sick right now from the chemo and, on top of that, fighting a staph infection (which, apparently, is not uncommon). This is unlike her previous rounds which were not wonderful, but bearable and I think the heaviness of illness is weighing on them both — and we here at home are somewhat helpless.

And so tomorrow I will put on a smile and greet friends and family with warmth and graciousness in the hopes of giving OldestDaughter a nice memory, but really my heart and prayers will be in Little Rock – hoping to give back some strength and courage to two people who gave the same to me.

There’s a lot of “bittersweet” that shows up in Judaism – on purpose. We are taught to remember the hardships and the struggle which keep the good times in perspective. We keep the painful very close to the surface so that the sweet is appreciated even more.

I’ve written before that I hope OldestDaughter and TheBoy have some perspective on the difference between a wedding and a marriage. That they clearly understand the vows they will take, the sacrifices they will make and the covenant they will become a part of.

Forty-plus years ago, my folks had a wedding shower full of pretty ribbons and lovely ladies. I bet they never thought Little Rock would be a part of their marriage. I see the covenant of their life and marriage very clearly – and the perspective it shines on tomorrow’s festivities.

I pray these two soon-to-be newlyweds see past the flatware, the mix-master, the menus and dresses. Past the band, the invitations, the flowers and photographers. I pray they see the minefields. The struggles. The sacrifices.

But most of all, I pray that Little Rock is not just a lesson in life for many around me. I pray that it is the gateway for my folks to have even more memories in the years to come.

Even if they are bittersweet.

Mom and Dad left for Little Rock on Tuesday to begin Round Two of the treatment regimen. The upside on this one is that they only have to be there for about two weeks and then get to come home for about a month.

The downside is, well, it’s damn hard to go back enthusiastically. The first time, all the anxiety was wrapped up in the unknown. What is the treatment? What are the side effects? Am I going to feel really sick? How does hair loss happen? Can I be the supportive partner?

This time, because the treatment regimen is essentially the same thing, just on a compressed timeline, they know what’s going to happen. And, while it isn’t horrific (relatively speaking), they know enough to know it still sucks. There are still schedules that will get screwed up, medications that mess your personality up, chemotherapy that screws with your body and basic sense of tastes.

Hard to get fired up for that, huh?

But, I hope they can gather some strength and motivation from the shorter timeline and promise of a longer “break” at the end. And I hope they can gather strength from each other. I’m sure being on a path like this is a tremendous strain on any relationship. I have to wonder what impact this kind of experience has on a marriage. Kinda like everything else in life, I guess you have two choices: better or worse. (Wonder if that’s why those are in the secular wedding vows?)

The Swimmy is missing my folks a little more this time. She, too, knows more this time. Talking on the computer isn’t as novel and isn’t as great a substitute, so we’re trying to get more creative with how we communicate “virtually”. But, nothing substitutes for an actual hug. To her credit, she is understanding and knows that they are in Little Rock to talk to doctors who will help “everyone feel better.”

You got that right. Go Razorbacks.

UPDATED TO ADD: Mom went to the doc today for an evaluation before she starts her treatment this time. Result? MYELOMA-FREE, BITCHES! Woo!

Here’s some advice for you: If you are in the middle of nesting urge surge, DO NOT go into a Pottery Barn Kids. Bad things will happen. Or, at least cute things, but things will happen. And these things? Are not free. But sometimes they are on sale, so that’s better.

In other news…

Mom is done with Phase I of her treatment. All the drugs have been taken, the chemo has been handled, the stem cells have been harvested, and they get to get the hell out of Dodge (heretofore known as Little Rock) for two whole weeks. Huzzah! They will drive home tomorrow and I know they are — THIS READY —- to be home.

The past couple of weeks have been especially hard on Mom while she was away. We’ve had a couple of deaths in the family and she feels badly she wasn’t there to support the family. Combine that with a heaping dose of homesickness with a side of pharmaceutical fatigue and, well, you get the picture. This break couldn’t come at a better time.

You can hear the weariness in Mom and Dad’s voices these days, so I hope this trip home will be just what they need to recharge for Phase II of The Battle. I know The Swimmy is looking forward to seeing them. She is starting to have some “behavioral issues” which I believe are directly related to all this. Even though we “talk” to my folks almost everyday or night via videoconference, it’s not the same as getting a hug, and it’s starting to wear on her a bit. Today, for the first time, she verbalized that she missed them. So I was glad to be able to tell her they were on their way home.

And that? Is what’s up today. What’s new in YOUR world?

Hi. Blog much? Well, based on the (lack of ) frequency of my entries lately… NO. Sorry. What with the exploding tushies and sore backs and, uh, life getting in the way.. Gah.

Mom and Dad have been in Little Rock now for, well, I don’t even know. Two weeks, maybe? It’s weird. Time is moving at a very unnatural pace. We get to talk with them at least twice a day using MSN Messenger’s video capabilities, which is nice. It really helps The Swimmy to be able to see and talk with them – although she’s been asking when we get to go to Little Rock to visit. Which? Breaks my heart a little. I tell her soon – it’s up to the doctors and she tries to understand. So for now – it’s the computer.

They go to the clinic twice a day, every day. Up until yesterday, it was pretty easy. Mom finished her round of chemo and other assorted pharmaceutical cocktails and is now only left with some injections that help the bones. Now the awful effects start to kick in like nausea, bone pain, weakness, etc.

She’s trying to be strong through all this and not take a ton of medications, but it’s not the time to be a martyr. I learned a LONG time ago that when you have a serious illness or injury NEVER get behind the pain curve. You can’t catch up and the medicine will not be as effective. Don’t chase pain.

On top of all of that, parts of the treatment bring out the worst in your personality or change it all together. This makes it hard on my dad because how is he supposed to sit there and watch her hurt or be sick when she needn’t be?

I tried to figure out why someone would refuse or delay medications when they were readily available, and all I can come up with is it’s the last form of control you have.

You have a disease that’s already threatened your life, made you uproot and separate you from your family and head down a long road of difficult treatments. These are things that have been put upon you – you didn’t choose them. Perhaps choosing the timing of your medications is the last thing on this road you have a choice about. Pretty shitty, huh?

I think I’ll remind her of something I knew being pregnant the first time. There were all these women talking about how awful a c-section would be. They wouldn’t feel like a “real mother” if they hadn’t gone through the gauntlet of “natural” childbirth. WTF?

Oh, please. It didn’t matter how you got the baby, just that the baby showed up and was healthy. Same thing. It doesn’t make you any more a hero or survivor by jacking with the meds. All that matters is that you get through it as easily as you can and come out the other side with time.

My folks are amazing people individually. But together they are extraordinary. They have been together since they were set up on a blind date at the age of 15 at a youth group bowling event. (How 50s, right?)

45 years.

I just hope they can remember in the middle of all this that while there may be stretches of days that are more awful than they could have ever imagined at 15, at the end of this path is 15 more years.

Or more.

So, Mom, take the medicine. And, Dad, take a breath. And soon? I-45 will take you home.

I talked with my dad this morning. It appears Little Rock, Arkansas is not such a bad place and mom and dad are very impressed with the Center there. There is every support system you could possibly need to get you through being treated for myeloma. (I even read on the website that they will send people to your hotel room to do blood work so you don’t have to come down to the hospital. Now THAT’s service.) And everyone is really, really nice. G-d bless the South.

I know they’re wrestling with some very big decisions. If they decide to get mom treated there, it looks like they’ll have to move there for six months. They both cry at the thought of being away from their kids and grandkids for that long (and the ones still to arrive). And I know it would be hard for us and especially The Swimmy, but Jesus, if six months can buy you 10 years – GO!

Mom’s oncologist here is the best in the city. Hands-down. But she told them with her treatment they were looking at five years. So, that’s not really acceptable when with other treatments they may double that life expectancy.

Now they have to talk about “at what risk”. There are exciting (yet aggressive) treatments in Arkansas that are getting good results, but we haven’t heard the “risk” side of the equation yet. For instance, you can do treatment X, but there is a 6% chance of death. Well, that’s too big a risk that may take 10 years down to only 6 mos. Again, not acceptable.

I know my dad wants to do what is best for my mom. We all do. And if moving to Arkansas is what needs to be done, then they need to do it. We’ll get dad a laptop and a web cam and buy a cam for ourselves. Planes still fly to Arkansas last time I checked. We’ll come visit. We will cheer for the Razorbacks. And eat lots of barbeque and chicken.

After a long day of testing, they’ll get to rest this afternoon. Tomorrow they’ll meet with the doctor for two and a half hours to talk about his views on her disease, her options, and his recommendations. And, of course, the risks around those treatment options. Then they’ll get on a plane and come home. To a million Swimmy kisses.

There’s no better greeting than that.

I’ve written this post in my head about 30 times before summoning the courage to actually write it. And each time it had a different emotion behind it, or 50 all at once. But, I finally figured out how it should be written. And I’m going to do my best to make this match the thought in my head.

My mom was diagnosed two weeks ago with myeloma. It’s amazing what one new vocabulary word will do to your life. Myeloma is cancer of the plasma cells. Plasma cells are antibody-producing cells in bone marrow. Myeloma cells are cancerous plasma cells. As these cells multiply in the bone marrow, they cause problems in bones and require treatment. It is rare and scary and it is now a part of all our lives.

Unfortunately, this is not my mom’s first run-in with cancer. It’s merely her latest. 11 years ago, she was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. A lumpectomy and some radiation she was done. 2 ½ years ago, a mis-read pathology report led us to believe she may have clear cell carcinoma in her uterus, prompting a full hysterectomy and many, many tears.

The pathologist was wrong. She was fine. Another crisis averted.

A few weeks ago, she complained of rib pain. It finally hurt long enough that it was worth getting some x-rays done. The ribs were fine, but something else just didn’t seem “right”. A PET scan, 900 phone calls and more tests later, we discovered something really wasn’t right. But we still didn’t know what.

The oncologist was narrowing it down to two things: a recurrence of breast cancer that metastasized to bone, or, myeloma.

It’s an amazing day when you’re praying for breast cancer, isn’t it?

For 11 years, my mom has lived life knowing, somewhere in the back of her mind, that the other shoe may drop one day. And right about now, it feels like that shoe was a boot that has kicked us all squarely in the ass.

And I hate it. For her, and most especially for The Swimmy.

But, we are lucky we found this, even if it was by accident. I’m learning about this disease little by little (because it’s all my head and heart can take right now), but logic tells me that early is always better than NOT early. Time brings options. And in this case, options bring time. And time – can bring treatments, therapies and “cures”.

We don’t know what the path looks like going forward right now. There are opinions to get and decisions to be made. Until then, days get spent going through the motions and doing what needs to be done. Waiting for a plan, waiting for an answer, waiting for a call for help just to feel useful. It’s a helluva way to pass the time. But, for now, that’s what it is.

But with each step, arming and preparing for battle – and all that brings.

And to this piece of shit disease, I’d like to say you can just fuck straight off. You have no idea who you’re dealing with here. You may have shocked us for awhile, and done a pretty good job at it, but just wait until you see how WE roll, you cocksucker. You wait until my mom sticks a pointy-toed, high-heeled boot in YOUR ass.

And I’m gonna buy ‘em.