CharmingBitch

The One About My Dad.

Sorry my sugah butts I am not even going to try and explain this or make it make sense. Just gotta get this off my heart before it renders me without breath. Uuuuh-gain. Some more.

You know, it is one thing to lose a child. No matter when it happens, how it happens, if you orchestrate the last day by stopping treatment, there is never enough time to say everything you want, to spend the time you need and to kiss kiss kiss their little defenseless heads enough. There is no enough, there is no too much, there is no fulfillment, satiation is not possible.

My son, my Jackson, was taken from me literally within minutes of being born. I didn't get to hold him, I barely got to see him before he was whisked away. Then he was stolen, oh you're damn right, stolen from me and taken to an altogether different hospital while I was unable to move with him. Finally, I was able to go to him, then to another hospital. But still no touching, no holding, no loving. Just suits and tubes and wires and glass between us. I never got to hold him skin to skin until the last day. Oh my heart, just typing that sentence burns me, flames lick at my skin, my arms ache and my stomach burns. Oh my little man, my baby, I am so sorry. You needed love and touch and kindness all those days, not solitary confinement from the people who love you so, so much.

And that is the distinction. I could keep writing about my love, my baby but it's all summed up completely by just saying, it was never enough. It could never be enough. I hear him everyday, I talk to him everyday, I hear him cry in my dreams, he will always be here because it will never be enough, the bleeding ebbs but is never staunched.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

Things that need to stop right now, no seriously, I need this shit to quit like yesterday:

1. Cancer doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. I mean, yes, in some very limited circumstance pulling the cancer card is both needed and effective. Balling up inside yourself and deciding everyone else can cater to you or fuck off, no. Not how the big wide world works, champs. These are the things you learn when surrounded by people with The Cancer. Accept it and get on with getting on or lay down and die. Just don't get your stank vibes on me in the process.
2. So. My dad is buried in a National cemetery. Meaning, they have rules and standards and everything pretty much has to be the same. Not identical, no but the headstone size is limited as are the characters on said headstone or grave marker. Limited to 25 spaces we chose ''Beloved Husband Dad and Papa'' because, you see, logic would dictate that in order to be any of those things, he was first a son. Right? Right. Unless you are my dad's mom and feel the need to get butt-hurt because ''son'' wasn't specifically listed. Just a note: I DO NOT CARE ONE BIT ABOUT ANYONE'S BUTTHURTEDNESS REGARDING MY DAD'S OBIT, HEADSTONE, CASKET, SERVICES OR MANNER OF DEATH.
3. I have lost a son. Not a 62 year old son who had created his own life, career and family outside his family of origin. I lost an infant son and therefore I cannot compare the two situations in any real way except to say: Mourn him, grieve the loss and honor his memory and STOP SHITTING ON HIS FAMILY NOW THAT HE ISN'T HERE TO REFEREE THE BULLSHIT.
4. And another thing, I had never had chance to write an obituary for my dad before he actually, you know, died. I didn't look up etiquette books or skim current death notices to ''learn'' how to do it properly, apparently. I listed my mom, my sister and I, all the grandkids and then his mom, sisters, brothers and others. Fair enough, I thought. Noooooooooooooooooooo, his mom is AGAIN super extra butt-hurt that she, as his mother, wasn't listed first.
5. Wait a minute, you lost your oldest son, the cream of the crop, the absolute prize pig, pick of the litter (nah, I'm not biased, he honestly was the favorite kid, favorite son, favorite grandkid, favorite cousin, nephew, uncle, TRUE FACT) and you're upset about where you landed in HIS OBITUARY. Go fuck yourself. No, really. Twice on Sunday because I have no time for such foolishness.
6. Again, I have seriously and honestly tried to keep in mind that people mourn differently, people act out in ways not normal to their usual ways when faced with seemingly insurmountable grieving. I get that, I really do but no, this isn't acceptable to lash out about to me or anyone else, it really, really is not.
7. This same person, my dad's mom, believes I am a terrible, awful person for having custody of my sister's kids. Because my sister isn't cracked out of her mind and her husband isn't a substance abusing alcoholic. Nah, they just had a, ''little problem'' that I ''over-reacted'' to and convinced D to ''go along with'' for my own personal benefit.
8. I just, ....really? Re: #7. I cannot wrap my head around it. At all. And am so done defending myself and really, my sister's actions. Talk to her about it if you think I am so foul. Oooooooh, right. You can't. Because she is too busy out getting cracked to talk to you. Right. Right. I totally over-stepped.
9. Just as an aside, tied to nothing, Trader Joe's isn't some bougie, boutique high priced grocery store. Granted, I could never do all my shopping there but their prices, particularly on their store brand, are crazy reasonable. D spent $200 there one time when we first moved to Vancouver and I was shocked; I can drop $200 in a regular grocery easily and not blink, even when it was just D and I but to spend that much in TJ's you have to be determined like a mofo. Anyway, have seen too many references to it being on par with Whole Foods lately and I assure you I would never spend a single dollar in WF but I loved having TJ's as an option when we were in the NW and I have to wonder if the people making the comparison to WF have ever stepped foot in TJ's. Mmmm their frozen enchiladas still make my mouth water.
10. Look, I get the need for physical therapy given how long I have been in the hospital and how long I will likely remain but mother fuck me, physical therapy plus chemotherapy seems a bit, no a lot, cruel. I am exhausted every single day but I know just by virtue of the piss and vinegar I am now feeling full of that I am getting better but DAMN, a bitch needs a day off once in a while, you know? Am whining, I know but if I blame it on the cancer, all is forgiven, right (see #1, heh).

Thanks for listening you beautiful people. Off to more physical therapy. Gaaaaaaaah.

Things easier to write than to say

My husband:

1. Loves me and our children with his whole heart. Unconditionally.
2. Takes excellent care of himself in order to take excellent care of his family.
3. Is in awesome shape, meaning it is awesome to rub up on his shape.
4. He is a much better cook than me but only rarely reminds me of this fact.
5. When I had hair, D loved to brush it. Now without hair, he rubs my head with lotion.
6. He has never once complained about how hard my illness has been on him.
7. And lord, it has been hella hard on him. A sick wife and four kids is a big load to carry on a good day. These days it's really unfathomable.
8. When we had to make decisions about Jackson's care and eventually stopping treatment it was a heavy load but one we carried together. That man, alone, had to make almost split second decisions about my health without a team-mate minus a partner.
9. When I think about the responsibility I put on his shoulders I cringe for him. Not for me because I was in the best hands.
10. I could never find another man who would praise my ''leadership'' instead of calling me a sometimes strident, impossible to please harridan. Because sometimes, I am just that exactly. Silver lining, he seeks it, obviously.
11. The kids all and I do mean all prefer D over me. And as I know I am pretty dang good to them, that says a lot about him. He is a freaking fantastic father.
12. He treats our girls like precious jewels and showers them with affection.
13. He treats our boys like precious jewels and showers them with affection.
14. Although both of our girls are (not even kidding folks) beautiful to a ridiculous degree he praises their intelligence first, always. They both finished the year on honor roll.
15. When I was sobbing about my hot mess of a snatch, D just said it's okay, it will be fine. I didn't marry you for your hair, I didn't marry you for your pussy fancy place.
16. I stopped sobbing and started counting my blessings, literally.
17. He mourned my dad not just as a father in law but as a friend. Those two were tight and it is comforting to share my grief, as with Jackson, with someone who gets what a loss my dad was not just to his family but to everyone who knew him.
18. D has made certain that I and more importantly the kids know that if anything were to happen to me, now in the immediate future or ever, they will stay with him.
19. If you read number 18 and didn't at least tear up, read it again. That is a man right there, in every sense of the word.
20. I love love love you, D. But the dog stays, she's part of the package!

Things easier to write than to say

My wife:

1. Is a natural born leader. It's native to who she is and how she lives and SURVIVES.
2. She is a mother in her soul and it shows.
3. She is a shit talker but she is so gentle with our kids ad their hearts.
4. She is a shit talker but she is so gentle with my heart.
5. She is a shit talker but she is so gentle in spirit, honestly.
6. She always hugs helllo and kisses goodbye.
7. My dad loves the goodbye kisses. Took him by surprise at first.
8. Her dog is crazy. Crazy insane and untrainable and she loves her with her whole heart.
9. NO REALLY THAT DOG IS NUTS. I am an aniamal lover across the board and I cannot get on board with that damn idiot dog. CRAZY.
10. Maybe though that is why Shannon loves her so much. Who else would?
11. One of the worst argument we ever had was about using fabric softener on towels.
12. She is shockingly passionate about never doing that, ever.
13. It's funny now but at the time I thought she was going to have a stroke.
14. I love her passion, even when it's misguided and misdirected.
15. I love it the most when it's guided and directed to me.
16. Trite but true, she is the smartest person I know. And I know a few people.
17. The only advice her dad ever gave me was that Shannon has never done a damn thing she hasn't wanted to do. Truer words never spoken, DAMN.
18. The kids are lucky to have her but I am blessed to have her.
19. The kids aren't optional for her but I know that I am and that she chose me and chooses to stay reminds me that some of the best things in life aren't in our control.
20. I love you Shannon. I love you I love you I love you.

Cancer Confessions

Ok just to be clear, I am high as a kite right now on some glorious mixture of painkillers that I don't even question and just swallow down like a good little patient. Apologies in advance for tangents, nonsensical and otherwise.

Anyway. With all the news about famous cancer patients (ie Farrah, Patrick Swayze), the recurring non-truth I hear espoused is that getting diagnosed with cancer is a life changing event, like right in the moment that the C Word is applied to you and/or your person. And I am only one person and can only speak from my experience but that wasn't what happened to me or many of the people I have talked to in the same shoes.

Truthfully, I was more put out at the idea of the time and expense of cancer than I was aware of the potential for death. I know, I know. Cancer is something we're all supposed to fear but I think a combination of things, namely that I was told initally it was pre-cancerous growths at worst and therefore had moved beyond being afraid of the real deal and also that we had so much other going on at the time (deaths deaths deaths, moving cross country, picking up a fourth kid along the way) that I was just like, fuck me. Seriously? Cancer? I have no time for cancer. Fuck cancer in the eye, I will give it none of my valuable resources, so there, deadly tissue, put that in your pipe and smoke it, bitch.

Yeah, I know. But honestly, I had so much other going on, you know, ''valid'' concerns (ha) that I was just pissed. Like cancer was some additional chore on my already full To Do list and I would get to it, eventually, but I wasn't going to be happy about it and I was damn sure not rearranging my life around it.

In my defense, when I was told I had cancer, at the time of the original diagnoses, it was also presented to me as something of a cancer-lite. Stage one, a few rounds of chemo and you will be rearing to go again in no time. And I believed that shit, full stop.

Now here is where I recognize a tangent coming on and warn you in advance but rather than advising you to skip it, I plead with you to stay with me for a minute. There is almost no such thing as finding Ovarian cancer stage one; by the time  you're having symptoms, it's almost assured it's already progessed to Stage two. Now, yes, yes, there ARE some people ''lucky'' enough to catch things before they go wild in a regular once-a-year screening. Not often, but yes fortunately, it does happen on occasion.

In other news, my snatch is a hot mess.

You people have been so freaking awesome. Thank you so much for essentially babysitting D last week on Twitter. Man was freaking out, heh. Naw, I don't mean to make light of it or of him. I have no idea what I would have done in his position. So many decisions to make and not a lot of time to ponder, really.

That said, holy shit balls, my snatch is a hot mess. Now granted, I had a 10+ pound baby vaginally so I know from a hot mess below the border. Jackson tore me a new one, literally. The squeamish amongst us can avert their eyes now but I tore this way (indicating sideways) and that way (indicating up and down). Like a cross, you see. It was horrifying and for the love of (not)fuck(ing) it took a long time to heal correctly but it did eventually heal.

But I am all hooked up and wired up and catheterized up at the moment so I can't really ''see'' for myself and I cannot trust what I'm ''feeling'' down there because, hello, it took me two days to realize all the talk of heart surgery and a stint was actually about me (I thought the bandages on my chest were...decorative? I dunno.) so I very, very stupidly asked for a mirror and an assist from my trusty husband who initially said not no but HELL NO because, well, I don't really know the why other than he was hoping for a miraculous recovery before I could get a good look-see.

Oh my hell, let's just say I ''won'' that battle of wills and document this because I'm only saying it once but, MAN, was he right. Nobody needs to see that kind of horror without copious amounts of liquor and a cash incentive. See, they told me there may, MAY, be a need for a ''small incision'' but it was not likely as the equipment was made and the surgery was planned for needing only a small amount of um, space. LIIIIIIARS!!! Naw, really, I'm not mad at anybody, just stunned at the handiwork. Yes, yes indeed they needed to make a ''small incision''. Shit looks like a road map to Siberia, I am not even kidding. I have not a single clue how long my designer original vadge will take to heal or what the ultimate functionality of it will be but whatever, I am so happy the surgeries were successful.

My only real question was why they didn't do something about the hemmoroids while they were down there, you know? What? I PUSHED FOR HOURS TO FORCE A TEN POUND BABY OUT OF MY BODY. You bet YOUR ass there remains a hemi or nine in the rear compartment.

I'm sorry if this is reading a little jumbled. I really just wanted to tell you guys thanks again for being such great support to Deels and my family. Right now, things look good (my snatch excepted, ha) and the plan is about another month in the hospital, still more chemo (now that it may have a chance to actually work), radiation and a truck load of antibiotics. Amazingly my fever has held the last several days at right below 100 which is not much above where it averages normally. I can seriously, no seriously, count on both hands the number of days since I had Jackson that I haven't had a fever (for those playing along at home, that is over two and a half years). Yes, seriously.

So all things considered, I'm doing just fine and am unbelievably blessed. D's parents and my mom have been PRICELESS in this whole debacle and my kids, oh my stinking ass rotten tearing this hospital down one brick at a time kids, they have been awesome beyond what anyone should expect of babes of their ages. First thing Sue asked upon hearing the whole 17 pounds explanation was a wide eyed inquiry of, ''OH WOW! Can I see it??!!'' She's a mess but lordy majority do I love them all. And I love you all, too from the bottom of my shag nasty nethers to the tip of my artificially stinted open heart (hee), I love you guys. Thanks again, innernetz.

17 Pounds

So they say her surgery this morning was a success. 17 lbs of tumors and diseased tissue was removed from her. SEVENTEEN POUNDS. This is plus the more than 10 lbs removed the first time. My wife was carrying around almost 30 pounds of shit that was killing her, including scar tissue that was not letting all the meds work as they should.

SEVENTEEN POUNDS. She is in recovery now but I still haven't been able to see her, to touch her, to kiss her sweet fucking face. My christ I have missed my wife. She is my damn best friend, you know. The Drs are all high fiving each other and huggung me and the kids but I want to SEE HER. They are very impressed witht the results of this surgery and said going back in now was the right best thing to do which is good right because that's what we did already so no second guessing now.

People, seventeen pounds!! I don't know. Seeing it in a number like that, like the first ten pounds just makees it more real to me, what my wife was carrying around. The illness inside of her, refusing to get better. Almost 30 pounds altogether, does that even seem real or right? how did she make it this long?? How did she...?? How was she living? I mean fuck. THat is a lot of disease to carry around plus the weight of just living this life.

Shannon Aileen you better KNOW I lvoe you, girl. Am cryingmy face off right now and I don't know what else to do but spit it out here. The kids are thrilled,  my parents are bouncing off the walls but I am just stunned that you're here, waiting for us, waiting for me, we're waiting for you to wake up but you're here, oh Shannon, I love you baby. Please don't be mad when you wake up and see what I let them do to you, I had to do it and I thkn I did right. 17 says I did? I don't know whatever, be mad babygirl but just be here.

So there it is for nmow, 17 lbs and waiting in recovery. Should be up in one or two hours. Thanks you guys.

Surgery Part III

Well I said I would not give the ok for more surgery until Shannon was awake and aware of the choices/consequences but I think I have no other choice. They want to go in vaginally again and get what they couldn't get the first time b/cause there was just so much and they were worried about keeping her under for so long. Which turned out valid seeing as she had unexpected surgery later because of it. Waiting also means the vaginal incision made already will have time to ''heal'' and it will be worse and more likely to get infected if it's allowed to heal and then has to be re-opened. God this is surreal talking so much about my wife's vagina to the internet.

So the vent is still down to 10% but she is nowhere near being chohrent or un-sedated but I have to go with my gut. Surgery in the morning at 8am and hopefully it won't take more than 2-3 hours. More hopefully we are on the downward slide and this is close to being over for Shannon. This has been a very long week and it's the longest I have went w/out talking to Shannon since I met her years ago. Even it was 2 seconds to say I love you babe, we have talked every single day and I can't even tell you how much I miss her and not to mention how much I hope like shit I am making the right decision.

Will keep you guys posted, thanks again for the concern.

Update

Sorry for being so demanding on Twitter last night. Yesterday was a really bad day.

Shan had surgery that lasted hours longer than we expected and could not breathe on her own for hours in recovery. She had a second unplanned surgery to put a stint in her heart, the first surgery really did about kill her. But ut was considered a success because they were able to remover a lot of diseased tissue and tumors. Like POUNDS of the shit that was killing her. No comment to what I said when they said ''success'' when my wife wasn't waking up.

The whole reason they refused surgery for so long was because of the MRSA and they didn't want to risk incisions getting infected or having her ''open'' long enough to complete debulking surgery on her ovaries. They did the first procedure vaginally and promised her there would be no need for an incision or basicallly an episiotomy. They were wrong. So she will wake up having been split from asshole to appetite seriously and oh my god, I am glad won't have to be the one to answer for that shit. No kidding. But thank the Gods, the universe, the power of love that she will at least be here to be mad. I almost lost my wife. Christ.

She is still in the woods this morning but the vent is down to about 20% now. She is very sedated but may be taken off the vent today or tomorrow. She is also on mega antibiotics to prayerfully head off her being septic again, her white count is in the tens of thousands still ---with normal being about 10-12k--but really that is not that much out of the normal for Shan because of the MRSA. What a fucking day and night. What a fucking life.

I don't know if Shan has told you that we sometimes call her ''coach'' because when she gets sick of the noise or bickering or everyone talking at once she will say Guys. Guys. GUYS. And man, once she gets to that 3rd GUYS, it's over. She claps her hands clap clap clap and says Enough! Enough! Let's get it together, act like we know what we're doing! It drives the kids crazy because she says it so seriously but really she just wants to choke the chaos and get them refocused. The kids occupied themselves for a lot of yesterday by clapping and GUYing themselves into giggles. They love her so much. Almost as much as she loves them.

I will keep you guys posted and thank you for endulging me last night when I was in such a panic. I never want another night like that but thanks very much for being there for us.

I win Mother's Day Schmother's Day

from suzanne harry and james

l  to me

show details 11:14 AM (5 hours ago)

Reply

nannon  i love you so much because you are my best friend. happy mother's day

Mother's Day Schmother's Day

At the risk of stirring up rumors of love that dares not speak it's name, I must again pimp my girlfriend Maggie and her Mother's Day post. And you know, yeah. A lot of it comes from a place of ugliness and jealousy, how much that post speaks to me. Not because I care or am effected when people get irritated with their kids. My loss doesn't cancel the fact that your kids are assholes sometimes because lord knows mine are and anyone who has endured a phone conversation with me peppered with, ''STOP THAT!!'' ''KNOCK IT OFF'' ''TO YOUR ROOM - NOWWWWWWWW!!11!!'' will concur, there is most assuredly some jackassery going on up this piece at all times. And that's okay, you know? Doesn't mean I love them less or am somehow dishonoring Jackson by not being all, ''WOW! YAY KIDS!!'' 24/7 because that shit is in no way possible (to never want to skin them like chickens) and also, they have not a thing to do with Jackson. But it doesn't mean that I don't miss him like crazy every single day and in many ways, her post speaks volumes regarding his loss.

All that to say, Maggie's post resonates with me because yeah, I am over it, so, so tired of the revolt that includes being absolutely appalled at the very idea that women with children are perceived as being *gasp* mothers or parents. You reproduced, you adopted, you fostered, you woke up to the stork making a visit, your sister became an out of control crack fiend, however it happened, you are a parent and the offense at the very notion that someone should make note of that is exhausting. No, really. It is, ladies. No, no, stop. Listen. I get it, we are more than the sum of our reproductive prowess, got that, get it, check. I know that we are more than our children becoming potty training, more than their milestones being checked off early, more than all of that, I know it, I live it, I feel it.

However.

Well, hello there, good looking

Lordy majority do I ever hate being sick. More on that later but for now some trivia, minutia, caterwauling, expression of general discontent and my generally upbeat lovely disposition. Also, be warned, I am high as a motherfucking kite right now, so expect lots of rambling. Apologies (hahhaa NOT) in advance.

Point the first, my twitter name is @charmingdriver. I used to have the twitter widget up there in the corner but I gave that real estate to the much more important cause of Maggie's (we love Maggie, by the way, go tell her she's pretty) domestic violence blog. Not that I couldn't add the widget elsewhere but see, I am OCD to an almost unbelievable level about blog bling and trifiling mis-use of web space. I know. I know. First world problems, etc. But, end of the day, chaos and I don't get along and I like as ''clean a screen'' as possible. All that to say, yes, my twitter updates are protected because, I don't know if you've heard or not, but there are some mighty egregeous assholes on this here internet and I like to have at least a heads up about who is reading my drivel, you dig. And right, I know, my blog is public and I usually have less than no idea who is reading unless they choose to comment BUT I also have talked much shit on Twitter about things that never make it to the blog so, yeah. I want to know who is reading. So, please, follow me, let me know you're out there, but also, please don't get it twisted if I don't see or reply to the e-mail right the fuck away. The only people I have ever ''blocked'' is spammers. If I can't tell who it is right away, I will send a message just asking who you are, where do I know you from, that's it. That's all. No subterfuge or snubbing, I promise and I swear that is fact. If you're wondering why I'm rambling on so much about this, there was a comment on the previous post wherein someone went so far as to actually ''regret'' having wasted time worrying about me because they assumed I had somehow snubbed them on Twitter. Please. I am one of the MOST egregious assholes on the internet, if I am getting about snubbing you, there would be no doubt.

Hey

Sorry-for-the-jacked-format-I-am-without-the-auxiliary-keyboard-for-my-laptop-only-so-much-space-in-this-little-room-and-so-little-time-for-anything-remotely-fun.

Here-is-the-quick-and-dirty-I-am-sick-Much-sicker-than-we-even-thought-I-am-looking-at-another-month-in-the-hospital-at-a-minimum-My-mom-is-with-the-kids-And-D's-parents-are-still-here-or-on-the-coast-rather-helping-with-them-My-mom-is-coming-to-stay-with-me-this-weekend-for-about-a-week-D-had-to-get-back-to-work-because-DAMN-someone-has-to-work-right-But-it's-okay-as-long-as-I-know-the-kids-and-the-dog-are-being-taken-care-of-I-am-okay-but-again-DAMN-I-am-ready-to-be-well-or-close-to-it-again-Ladies-take-care-of-your-fancy-place-please--This-is-not-something-anyone-should-have-to-endure-much-less-die-because-of-neglect-of-girl-parts.

Thank-you-again-to-all-who-have-sent-cards-care-packages-and-encouragement-Thanks-too-to-the-kind-people-who-made-donations-for-Maddie-and-her-parents-in-Jackson's-name-Please,please-hold-the-parents-of-Maddie-and-little-Thalon-both-close-to-your-hearts-Cancer-is-quite-honestly-something-of-a-cakewalk-compared-to-losing-your-baby--Not-that-cancer-is-an-actual-cakewalk--But-I-would-choose-lifetime-chemo-AND-radiation-for-another-day-with-Jax-and-that-is-no-exaggeration--Their-twitter-names-are-@mamasphor @newbornidentity--(Maddie's-parents)--and- @gorillabuns--(Thalon's-mom)--Send-them-a-note-and-tell-them-you're-thinking-of-them--More-importantly--send-them-a-note--in-a-month-or-two-and-let-them-know-you-haven't-forgotten.

Anyway--more-meds-and-other-bullshit-calls-so-I-need-to-go--For-those-playing-along-at-home--I-am-now-getting-the-injections-chemo-AND-radition-I-should-be-able-to-survive-nuclear-attack-by-the-time-this-is-all-over.----Thanks-again-for-supporting-and-encouraging-my-family--It-means-the-world-and-I-will-never-be-able-to-say-enough-in-gratitude.

Update

I think we have a plan. Shan is going to Memphis tomorrow and I am going with her. My parents are taking the kids to the coast for a few weeks and the same friend who has been staying at our house with Sadie will keep staying there with her, thankfully. At least until Shan's mom gets here. There is a lot of shit we have to do with the girls for their school-work and don't think I don't wish Shannon could do all that mess because man, I do miss having her help. It's just so much to do and keep straight.

Don't worry care-package people! All of the groceries and snacks are going with the kids, not wasting a thing! No idea how much we appreciate everytrhing you guys have done, I am still amazed at the love .

For those who have suggested treatment center and consultants I think i need to be clear in what we have done. We spent a truck-load of money literally on copies of records, scans, exam notes and labs to get second third and fourth opinions and options. Mayo, Cancer Treatment Centers od America, MD Anderson, Hopkins, you name the place and we have a cancelled check for consultation fees, just to look at the records and here is thee thing we kept running into, MRSA + cancer is a bad combination. MRSA + cancer in three places ovaries, uterus and cervvix is a damn near unheard of combination. Honestly. Fact is cancer doctors don't like to deal with infectious disease, infectious disease doctors are leery of cancer patients. That has been our exprience, across the board. A very expensive disappointing experience.

We have been proactive or tried to be, at huge expense for little hlep or guidance or treatment that workds. Isotope shortages aren't a joke, I meant what I said before about it being a matter of her life and the shortages are real. Memphis will be the answer we hope, Shan cannot take being moved again very soon so this better be the solution or close to it. It's so hard to keep believing and trying when it feels like we'r just runninh into walls at every corner.

That's where it's at today, I will let you know how it goes tomorrow. Chin up, let's hope it does the trick.

Update

The quick and fast is that we got Shan in hospital #2 for the isotope therapy and they could not do it. So we moved her way norht to hospital #3 because they said they could. Do a quick google about the shortages in nuclear medicine and it is pretty self explanatory why they cant either. Now we have to get Shan moved to either Birmingham, Memphis or Houston. Just depends on who has the quickest access of what is needed. Never thought I would be saying nuclear shortages effect my wife's health. This is a hot mess, no joke. This is my wife's life we're talking about no shit.

We aare getting a plan together for the kids. I know its bragging to say it but Shan has the kids on a really excellent plan. Or schedule really. She is just banging at getting ducks in a row and mkaing shit happen.Here is the thing, she has them on point all the time. They just do the dang thing. She do good with them, they know what to do without her. They amaze me daily. They really do. So we're trying to get it together so someone is with Shan--her mom won't be here until the 15th--someone is with the kids and keeping them on their routine and finally someone to watch the dog too--though I think we have that at least covered. What I need is anothr Shannon to make it all work.

That is all for now. We should know by tomorrow where Shan will be going--my parents will probably go with her but I don't know yet for sure what is going to happen. I will keep you guys updated and thanks again for all the cards---they have done Shan a world of good.

THANK YOU, MS. BEV!!!!

HOLY SHIT! Or i should say HOLY GROCERIES! We brought Shan home for waht amounted to a few hours, it took longer to get her moved than we were told, and then got her transported to hospital #2. While we were gone a lady showed up wiht a box of groceries from our friend Woodstove or Beverly from Oregon.

Our friend Kel was here when the lady came and she could not believve somoene sent groceries from 3000 miles away. Spaghetti and sauce, potatoes**, juice**, grapes, soup, bacon and best (as far as the kids are concerened) pudding and pop-tarts, lol.

**funny aside, Sue drinks OJ, the boys apple juice and she sent both, BLESS HER because we were alomst out of both and forgot to stop at the store on the way home, breakfast saved**

**one of the things all the kids agree on more than soup is potatoes, Shan makes them about a hundred different ways (think the shrimp scene in Forrest Gump) so a bag of potatoes = manna from heaven to the kids. Simple but true.**

So Ms. Bev, thank you so much. That was so personal and so generous. Our family to you, we thank you, we love you and we're lucky to have you as a friend.

No real update on Shan. Her thumb is jacked, her fever is creeping back up to 102-103 but they hope to get it controlled over the weekend and go ahead with isotopes come Monday or Tuesday. She is in a good place, with better care we hope and when we left her tonight she was pretty relaxed and settling in. Time with the kids did her a lot of good, too. I will keep you posted as things progress but my goodness thanks too for all the great cards. They really made her day to read today and she has them with her in her room. You guys are great and I mean it.

Pissed

Not much to say today. Shannon's fever is still holding at 100-101. They gave her ativan last night after being told a lot of times that she reacts very badly for it. Ativan and demerol are both out of the question for her. She loses her damn mnd and I don't sat that to be funny.

She once threw an IV pole at her mom whiel screaming for her to 'get hte fuck out' of her hospital romm on demerol. Atican does the same thing only worse. Raging, cussing evil is all I can say. They gave it to her anyway when she was having trouble staying asleep last night and by 6am this morning they called. The hospital called wanting someone to come 'help calm her down'. They even sonded mad. Ha. Turns out she broke a bone in her thumb hitting her hand against a bed-rail.

SHE BROKE A BONE IN HER THUMB. I am so pissed it's unbelievable. She was green lit for the isotope therapy but the hospital for the procedure won't have a bed until Saturday. No choice but to leave her over-night again because discharge paperwork won't be done intil morning and without all the i's dotted and t's crossed the next hospital won't take her Saturday.

BROKEN!!! BONE!!! So Shan will be home tomorrow for a day then onto next hospital and hopefully better treatment and care. I am so pissed I can't even see straight. A broken fucking bone comepletely unavoidable is not what she needed.

Kids are great, paerents are great, keep on keeping on.

WE HAVE SOUP

Shan won this contest by Anne-Marie and today we got home from the hospital and found a GIANT box on the car-port. 48 cans of soup! FORTY EIGHT! Plus a lunch bag the girls are already ''scheduling'' days to use and four soup cupss with lids. Can you even believe it? My step-mom cried she was so toched. The girls eat a crazy amount of soup for school lunches so they felt included and cared for just by getting soup. Thank you so much Anne-Marie and thank you Campbells. Is soup something most people cry over? No but most people aren't living these circmstances and we are grateful for the caree and concern.

Update Again

My dad and step-mom are here and going a bang up job. My step-mom, her name is Daria by the way has these kids eating out the palm of her hand in one day. She braided the girls hair painted their fingernailss and helped the boys build a fort with sheets and pillows. She is great and just what the kids needed.

My dad is hleping in his own way. My dad is a very religious man and he spent the day at the hospital with Shannon in prayer. I don't think Shan has ever really understoof how much my dad cares for her She knows he likes her but he really loves that girl like a daugher. The nurses siad he held her hand and just prayed all day. He is a good guy doing the best he kowns how.

Shannon's fever is holding at 100. It is not progress really but its' not a set-back either so we're glad for that much. Nobody wants their spouse inthe hospital but getting the rest she has has taken ten years off her face. I can't get over the calm. If the hospital is waht it takes to make her heal and rest, so be it. They did let James, the little one, visit her for a few minutes today. My step-mom worked magic at the nuirses station to make it happen. Never seen a happier little boy in my life and Shan cried like she won the lottery.

Harry gave my step-mom a lesson about nick-names today that was funny. I never realized that Shan alomst never calls the kids by their names. Chrissie is Sugar or Shuge, Suzanne is Princess or Mighty Girl, Harry is Bear, Little Bear, Harry Bear, James is Little One, Little Man, Puddin even the dog is rarely Sadie she is Pretty Pretty Girl Girl, yes twice, Sadie Lady or ha That Idiot Dog. I agree with the last one lol. But Harry was tellng Daria all of these other names and made her repaet them the same way he is made to do in speech therapy. Say it like this ''pretty'' ''pretty'' ''girl'' ''girl''. It was really funny and made him feel important to school her about the way things are around here. He is one good kid.

My step-mom made dinner tonight and ti was great. She is a excellent cook and even made brownies for the kids. They loved that for sure. She even cooked for the dog. She made home-made dog food for Sadie! It was simple, some chicken and rice and broth with vegetables and Sadie at it up like a champ. Not that she was wasting away but she did need to eat. She will be even more spoiled by the time Shannon gets home lol.

Well thanks for listening and thanks so much for all the kind e-mails raching out to our family. The internet is just amazing to me. We had a really bad experience in the fall of last year with a 'friend'' from the internet and it was scary but to me our overall experience cannot be dampended by one psycho. You guys really are great and thank you aagiain for all the love given to Shan and the kids.

Update

Shannon is doing better. Her fever has stayed at 100 for two days. I don't know if she is feeling better because she is sleeping a lot but she looks good. Better color and she looks so rested and peaceful. It's drug induced calm but so much better than seeing the stress on her face that has been there for too long.

My dad and step-mom will get here today to help at the house and with the kids. I have tried to prepare them for the chaos but I think they will be fine. My dad has 13 kids and I think he can handle four. These four kids have really been on point with Shan being gone. They are champions. James is the youngest and because he is so young he hasn't been allowed to see Shannon and it has been realy rough for him but he's making it alright.

It is really crazy just to visit Shan. She is in what they call a negative pressure room in a protected ICU. When Jackson was sick we had to suit up like astronauts to visit him. It's not that bad to visit Shan but it's close. I know the reason for all the precautions but it makes it hard to take the kids to visit and they can't really stay for long. Tehy erally are holding up but they miss her a lot. So do I.

Many of you wonderful peopel have asked about sending Shan something at the hospital. Because of precautions taken with the kind of room she is in she can't have muchh from the outside like flowers but if you would like to send a crd to the house for when she gets home just e-mail me for the address. I know she would appreciate it. You guys really hae been so kind.

The pllan for now is to get her fever too keep going down and later this week Shan will be evaluated to see if she is a candidate for isotope therapy until she can resume regualr radiation. The chemo did not work, the radiaiton was too hard on her and isotope may be a good alternative and with her having the combination of ovarian, uterine and cervical cancers isotope therapy may be able to aggressively attack all three sources without putting Shannon down for the count in the process. It is all just so scary but now is not the time for fear I keep telling myselff.

I will keep you guys psoted and thank you again for all your concern. It means a lot to our famly. Cross your fingers the kids will be gentle with my dad and step-mom. Send nice thoughts to that dog Sadie too. She has barely ate since Shan left and there is nothing sadder than a depressed dog. Poor thing.

Hospital

Shan has been in the hospital since Fridayy. She is really sick. Her ovaries are infected and inflammed and her immunme system is shot. Radiation has also kicked her ass.

Things are bad but a nurse made an excellent point that it is amazing Shan has been sick this long wihtout being in the hospital. She also had not been taking her pain medication and I don't know how that is possible. She has taken bad-ass to a new and incredibly stupid level. No reason to hurt like that but that will change in the future.

We arwe getting the process started to have rspite care and home health when Shan comes home. After three days with the kids and just me I have no idea how she does this everyday alone but I have also been so proud of the kids. Shannon has lists (laminated even) all over the house for who does waht, when they do it, how to do it (of cours). Amazing family, amazing kids.

No wored yet on how long the hospital stay will last but I will update. Pray, meditate, send love and warm thoughts for our girl. We did not come this far to lose her now.

In other news, I am a giant whiny baby. Srsly.

First, my sincerest apologies for my earlier post. I won't delete it but yeah, I got my whine on pretty good and let the melodrama ramp up there for a hot minute.

Don't get me wrong, things suck right now. I hate being sick, I hate contemplating my death on a daily basis. And it's hard. I'm not trying to be all, ''Oh, don't mind me. Everything here is great. I am super woman! Nothing bothers me! Nothing to see here! Look away!'' and martyr myself. I just mean that yes, things are hard and times are tough blahblahblah but at the exact same time, we have so very, very much to be grateful for and happy about in this life.

Second Verse Same as the First

So remember when the little kids and I first set out to come back to Mississippi and Mike's grandmother died that same week? Then a week later Sherri's (Mike's wife) mom died? And then right after that Mike's mom died? Yeah. That was a great big ball of suck, wrapped up in about ten days. Then along came December and my dad joined the ranks of the recently departed. Which, by the way, still doesn't seem like it's real.

The grief in this house on our BEST days is palpable. The littles lost two grandfathers in a year. C lost two grandmothers in less than two weeks. And then had her world immediately turned inside out by moving away from everything she knew to live with us. Including her grandfather, Mike's dad, who was by far the best and most steady male influence in her young life.

And he died last night, Mike's dad died. Not wholly unexpected because frankly he and Mike's mom were married for well over 40 years and it's not uncommon for spouses, even those who are not ill (and Mike's dad was not) to pass within six months to a year of each other. We really thought it wouldn't be the case for Mike's dad but as with most things death adjacent, there are no guarantees.

Oh and the Other Kid

She forgot to mention that I'm her favorite.

The Kids? My Kids? Our Kids?

One of the things we have struggled with since getting custody of this gaggle of children (to recap, we have my sister's three kids (6, 5 and 3) and my niece from my first marriage (14) is how to refer to them when speaking to others, such as their schools, coaches and parents of their friends. It's hard sometimes to know what to say, meaning what to say that won't require too much of a follow up or explanation. Because frankly, yeah, it's a bit confusing but at the same time, a lot of what would explain why they live with us is not something I want the kids to have to navigate; it's hard enough to have parents that are addicts without facing additional judgment from peers or people who are peer adjacent.

Now for D, well. It's obvious these are not his kids. Two of my sister's kids (6 and 3) are poster children for the Aryan Nation, fairest skin, blondest hair, bluest eyes, much like their father.  Little Bear (5) looks much more like my sister, brown hair, dark eyes, olive skin. My niece (14) is just a gorgeous kid. Tall, long dark hair, green eyes. A stunner. But again, none of them would ever be mistaken as being multi-racial so when D is out and about with them or when we're out as a family, there is no mistaking him for their daddy. Which while providing an obvious 'answer' really only leads to more questions, particularly when they're out without me. It's apparently fine and well for a black man to take responsibility for and raise a bunch of white kids but not for him to show up in public with them without a white escort. Eyeroll. I know. But, you know, some people.

Unlocked

Sorry-bout-the-temporary-lockdown--Was-nothing-personal-Just-more-family-drama.

Also-my-effing-spacebar-is-borked--Have-lots-to-say-but-will-have-to-wait-until-keyboard-is-fixed.

End-result?--We-are-all-home--all-exhausted--and-all-hoping-2009-stops-being-such-an-asshole-pretty-gotdanged-soon.

PS--Thus-far-tests-indicate-the-chemo-is-not-working,dammit.

Traveling, Winter Storms & Worst Daughter EVER

Belive it or not, the worst daughter in the title refers not to my sister but to me. Me, who just came thisclose to telling my  grieving mother to SHUT UP when she started crying about how much she misses her husband, my dad. That's right. My reaction was to say SHUT UP because I am all cried out, for now at least, all done with hearing stories about my father and for the love of gravy, I cannot take another single word about how much anyone else, even my mom, misses him because fuck me running, I miss him, too.

But, like I said, I only came thisclose, I didn't let the words out, not verbally. Just here. In reality I just hugged her and nodded and listened. That is all she needed, a minute, a second of time to re-group. And really, that is all we ALL need at this point. This whole process feels like it's been on-going for months and it's really only been a little over a week. He still isn't buried though, thanks worst goddamn winter storm in Portland/Vancouver in oh, 40 motherfucking years. Timing, my dad had it. Heh.

Speaking of the storm of all storms, allow me to share with you the story of how we eventually arrived in the grand ole NorthWest. Original plan: Chemo on Monday, drive directly to Gulfport with all four kids in tow, leave car at Mike's (ex husband), fly from Gulfport to Atlanta where we would meet up with one of my aunt's to fly into Portland, all together. Yeah, riiiiiiiiiiight.

What actually occured: Chemo Monday, drove to Gulfport, left car at Mike's, went to the airport and found out our flight from Atlanta to Portland was cancelled due to the weather. Fuuuuuuuck. Soonest flight into Portland? Decemeber 27th. Into Seattle? Christmas Day. Oh fuck me gently with a chainsaw, are you KIDDING ME? So. Next ''best'' option is to re-book for the next day to fly from Gulfport to Atlanta then Atlanta to San Francisco and then RENT A CAR TO DRIVE THE REMAINING 600 MILES. Meaning, the FIVE of us needed to be at the airport in Gulfport at 5 in the morning on Tuesday. Hi, Mike? Can we have a sleep-over? Thanks! That's right - My ex-husband and his lovely wife took ALL of us in that night, bless their souls forever. Was chaotic but awesome, you know? Did I mention the chemo on Monday and the non-stop vomiting that lasted all damn night? Yeah. Great houseguest, that's me.

Oh, I know. Believe me, I KNOW. But, what other option did I have at that point? None. And we were just thankful there were enough seats for us on the San Fran flight that I didn't bitch. Much. My aunt was able to re-book on the flight after ours into San Fran (this was after she spent Monday flying from Birmingham to Memphis to Atlanta to discover the Portland flight was cancelled. Yeah. She was...displeased). Meaning I would have 3-4 hrs to kill in an airport with four kids until my aunt arrived and we could get on the road. I won't even bore you with the details of the flight to ATL (hell on earth in one solid hour) nor the flight to San Fran (there wasn't a soul on the flight that didn't want to eat our faces off by the time we landed). Both were horrid. The hours in the airport though, that was the real fun. Four sleep deprived, time zone confused kids plus an area with nothing but security = Oh dear god, please just arrest me so I can get a nap.

My aunt finally arrived and off we set to tackle the last 600 miles of this journey which began a scant EIGHTEEN HOURS earlier. We made it as far as Yreka CA (about 300 miles) before chains (that we had to buy and install) were required and oh, I don't even have words for what a thrill that was because the closest I can come sounds something like this: $%^&(*$&(*^*^%^%%$!!!@@#$%%@#@$@@@@@@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And remember kids, you can only drive about 35mph on chains. In the snow. And then came the rain. And sleet. And my suicidal ideations because: UGH!!!!

But we finally made it to Vancouver. At 4PM. On Wednesday. Total travel time: 35 hrs.

And given that most of my dad's family (and my sister and BIL) was already here, that is when the fun really began.

The Message

My dad is not one really to pick up the phone and just chat. Oddly, just before the Ankle Incident earlier this year, he called me that Friday night and we talked for about an hour and a half. Some of his meds had just been changed and he sounded really, really good and clear headed. Mom was staying at my sister's to keep her from wilding out while her (sister's) husband was in California burying his dad so I suppose Dad was just bored and wanted to shoot the shit.

We didn't talk about anything but we didn't talk about nothing, either. It was just a nice talk and I was so glad he was feeling better, in good spirits. I had the opportunity to see him that next day (Saturday) but I didn't and WHAMMO come Sunday, everything had changed. I was so, so glad if nothing else, I had that last conversation with him because for many long weeks, I thought that would be our last communication.

Well. At some point in the last week or two, my dad again picked up the phone and called me. He got voicemail and let me tell you, as unlikely as he is to call in the first place (but just to clarify, we would talk when Mom would call, it's just that from their end, she usually instigated the calls, not my dad) he is even less likely to leave a message. Anything more than, ''This is Dad, call me.'' was extraneous. To further the eventual point of this story, I never save messages. Well, every once in a while D will leave a cute one I may keep for awhile but overall, I am a listen and delete kind of girl.

But at some point in the last week or so my dad did call and he did leave a message. I heard it today and it took me by surprise. I had no idea it was there waiting and I have no memory of the call, the message or calling him back (though I'm sure I did).

It's Dad, baby. I was just calling to see how you was doing and to see if you got your medicine okay. Please call me back, I'm worried to death for you. I love you. Thank you.

Like, I said, I have no memory of the message but I am so, so glad I saved it, for whatever reason. I do recall one of the last conversations I had with him in which he said (it was during one of the very, very worst days I have had), ''I just wish I could take it away from you, take it on myself. I'm so sorry you're sick little girl, I would take it if it could, I swear.''

My dad loved me. I loved my dad. And nothing, no family drama, no bullshit can or will change that and I am therefore going to try MIGHTILY to leave the drama llamas out in the yard fighting over their own shame in not having appreciated him more when he was living and get on with the business of making this trip easier for the kids (this is the 2nd grandfather the littles have lost in a year) and helping my mom however she deems most helpful and most necessary.

Deep breath. Let me be the bigger person. Let me be the bigger person. Lather, rinse, repeat as needed. Exhale.

2008 is an Asshole, SRSLY - UPDATED

So when my dad was admitted Monday they saw a 'spot' on his lung that they assured my mom was related to the pneumonia and was absolutely not cancer, nope, sure is NOT, don't even think that, no way.

Except how it is cancer, Stage 4, aggressive and my dad will likely not regain consciousness and will be gone dead before Christmas.

You win 2008. YOU FUCKING WIN.

* Number of relatives told to go piss up a rope:                 4

* Number of times I have felt bad about that                    0

* Number of plane reservations made                               5

* Number of years this trip will take off my life                140

* Number of times I have decided none of this is real  4847595

And also, because I know you care, my dad WILL be buried with a 21 gun salute and full military pomp and circumstance. Which he deserves. Y'all know that man retired at just a shade past 40 as an EQMC (Master Chief which in civilian speak translates to BIG DEAL), right? Yeah. My dad is was the shit. Seriously. And you know what else? Living your life as an example of How A Man Handles His Business, makes it easier for your broken hearted daughter to write your eulogy. Remember that, yo.

Fuck, this cannot be real.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

So. My dad is in the hospital again. Like clockwork, every year between November and February my dad gets bronchitis. It is what it is and all you can do is deal with it except this time as he was leaving for an appointment with his Doctor Monday, he had what might call an unusual side effect of bronchitis. Namely, ending up with underwear full of blood. I know, right? I hate it when that happens.

Mom called the Doctor (and the Dr said, no more monkeys jumping on the bed, har har) who said, ''Lady. Srsly. Why are you calling me? Call 911, fool.'' And so she did. And so an ambulance came and again took him not the hospital 4 blocks from their house but the hospital 15 miles north. Which, granted, is a super nice and very new hospital. It's also the same hospital that shit on him in a major way when after 5 weeks of being in a versed coma behaved as if it was unspeakable to expect them to, you know, care for him as he was trying to regain consciousness.

ANYWAY. Will save my bitter about that bunch of bullshit for another day but my true concern is that Vancouver is having some super duper shitty weather right now, like ice and snow that my mom cannot and should not be driving in and now my dad is situated in a hospital that makes it far more likely that my mom will also end up a patient there as she tries to go see him daily now that he has inexplicable internal bleeding (hence the drawers full of blood), pnemonia and is on a vent.