Taking a Piece of You With Me

"We shall not cease from exploration

and the end of all our exploring

will be to arrive where we started

and know the place for the first time."

---T.S. Eliot

The new year looms. Do we say goodbye or hello? Are we departing or arriving?

Both. All.

Goodbye to what's become familiar. Hello to the new familiar

The comings and goings that define our life, ourselves. We were here a year ago on this day. Now we've returned to this point again, different and yet the same. Changed forever in many ways. Always familiar in others.

When Kevin used to leave for a work trip, he would look back repeatedly as he drove away from the house or walked away in the airport. I asked him once, "Why?" "To take a piece of you with me," was his reply.

We talked to Hannah and Andrea after Mass this week. We talked about saying goodbye when we left their house after taking over their Christmas gifts.

Hannah asked, "I saw you turn around and watch us when Daddy Kevin drove away. Why did you watch us?" "To take a piece of you with me," I said. She hugged me. I guess I got the answer right.

So today I am looking back to take a piece of this place, this time, these memories with me.

Hello and Goodbye

So we're winding down 2007--The Year of Great Change In Our Lives--and moving into 2008.

We moved much of our household to Ohio.

Having filled our apartment with boxes, there is still enough stuff here in the house to live comfortably when we're in Lafayette. The garage and outside stuff are untouched and the attic is pretty full still. There are entire rooms of furniture still intact here in the Lafayette house.

Kevin's been asked to stay over here in Indiana for a few days and visit a vendor in Noblesville. So we'll be here a little longer than we had planned. I guess it's a good thing. I don't know anymore though. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself next week while he goes to work. Practice not going to work, I guess.

We are looking forward to the extra chances to celebrate Mass at St. Tom's and a little more time with friends and family. All of that will be impossible to replace.

Stories, Books and Life--December 2007

December 2007--The bookcases from our room have been moved to fill in empty spaces in other rooms as we have slowly begun the rearrangement/relocation of our belongings. The kids Christmas books fill 3 shelves in Josh's bedroom. Auntie Claus is a favorite--we read it a couple of times a week. The Bear Who Slept Through Christmas and the pop-up Night Before Christmas are huge favorites too. Our other books are packed into boxes labeled with "Indiana," "Ohio" or the new owners name scrawled across top and sides. We'll be downsizing our book stash. Kevin's bedside table has a James Herriot Christmas story and his iTouch resting on it. My favorite Christmas read, The Autobiography of Santa Claus, is on my side of the bed. I like to read it one chapter a night beginning December 1st. There are no cancer research papers and no cancer related books to be seen. Cancer is not invited to our celebration of Christmas.

Home (I think) Again

Back home again in Indiana (that's catchy, no wonder someone wrote a song about it)

We met with Dr. Skinner in Ohio before heading home today.

Home in Indiana. That's going to take some adjusting; where is "home"?

Anyway, Dr. Skinner is in favor of Kevin using Xeloda instead of 5-FU and the infusion pump. If our insurance will approve it. Apparently it's outrageously expensive.

We'll know if a few days how much the insurance will cover, if any. Kevin and I had a little chat about how much it's worth out of pocket to us. He threw out one number, I raised the ante, we settled on something else.

I figure it's worth two or three times that much for his comfort and emotional well being. Forty-six hours at a time with the infusion pump had him climbing the walls. 24/7 for weeks and weeks isn't going to do him well.

Some things are about a lot more than money. This is one. Timing sucks since I am officially unemployed now but we'll find a way.

We met Patrick, Joanie, Zelda, Johanna and Charlotte for a goodbye dinner tonight. Our usual Saturday night after Mass group. It may be a while before we get to do this again. They had a gift for us. A beautiful prayer which they all signed and Patrick matted and framed.

It's so hard to leave.

Xs and Os, Hugs, Kisses and X Marks the Spot

We were at the cancer center twice today. Once in the morning to meet with Dr. Ling and a second time in the afternoon for the simulation for Kev's radiation treatments.

This involved Kevin having multiple CT/simulation scans to determine and mark precisely where the radiation will be directed. Many places use small permanent tattooing to mark the spots. Here they use a water resistant marker (essentially a Sharpie) and covered the Xs and Os with clear tape. He is to be careful about bathing so as not to rinse them off before radiation begins. The technician will remark him as needed during treatment.

The intersecting lines, circles and Xs drawn across his abdomen and hips will take some getting used to for me. Just a vivid reminder of what may still lurk within.

I hate cancer.

Somehow I need to replace the image of more cancer squatting , uninvited inside him, with a more positive image. Maybe the Xs and Os can be hugs and kisses making him well?

Nah. (shudder) Doesn't work for me. Too fluffy creepy.

I'll have to think longer about this.

Anyway, we like Dr. Ling and, while Kevin was in for his CT scans, I got a line on the possibility of him using a pill form of 5-FU instead of a continuous pump. I'm going to research it a little and definitely bring it up with Dr. Skinner when we meet tomorrow.

Kev's going to want to go with the pill if it's remotely possible. Any baggage it carries will weigh less to him than the pump. Especially 24/7 worth of pump for 5 to 8 weeks.

Daily radiation treatments begin on Monday, January 7th. The new 'normal,' huh?

Gotta work on adapting to a flexible definition of 'normal.' And those crappy Xs, Os, lines and squiggles.

Did I mention how much I hate cancer?

Moving Day

We--and an entire truck full of boxes-- rolled into town this evening. The plan was to unload the truck tomorrow between appointments at the cancer center.

So much for plans. Kevin began unloading soon after we got here. I tried to wait him out by not helping--hoped he would give in and let it go until help arrives tomorrow. No such luck though. Eventually I caved and we emptied the truck.

There's a path through the apartment. And a vague plan about what is where.

Paige, Josh, Gina and Travis helped us pack up in Indiana this morning. They were a real blessing and we're so appreciative for their help. Josh really through his little almost 6 year old heart into the effort. Kevin didn't have to carry anything although it bothered him to be in the role of observer. Kate, with her customary impeccable timing, arrived just as we finished loading and were ready to go to lunch.

I am going to head for bed now. It was a long day and we have appointments scheduled tomorrow with Kevin's doctors.

Merry Christmas Morning

Merry Christmas!

Our home is quiet after the bustle of getting home from Midnight Mass. Everyone else is asleep and I am savoring the last night of the anticipatory silence that comes before Christmas morning breaks with a flurry.

We spent the afternoon and evening at the farm. It was so nice to be there with all of our girls, their boyfriends and my sister and brother-in-law. Kevin napped off and on through the day; he wanted to be certain to have the energy to go to Midnight Mass tonight.

Even with the sadness of goodbyes after Mass, it was wonderful to be at St. Tom's tonight.

And all three girls, as well as the boyfriends, went with us. We filled an entire pew. We were quite a crew; our mix of cradle Catholic, convert Catholics, non-practicing Catholics, a fledgling Buddhist, a Hindi and an Undecided. We were normal.

The last 5 months have left me with a wonderful appreciation of normal.

Stories, Books and Life--December 2007

December 2007--The bookcases from our room have been moved to fill in empty spaces in other rooms as we have slowly begun the rearrangement/relocation of our belongings. The kids Christmas books fill 3 shelves in Josh's bedroom. Auntie Claus is a favorite--we read it a couple of times a week. The Bear Who Slept Through Christmas and the pop-up Night Before Christmas are huge favorites too. Our other books are packed into boxes labeled with "Indiana," "Ohio" or the new owners name scrawled across top and sides. We'll be downsizing our book stash. Kevin's bedside table has a James Herriot Christmas story and his iTouch resting on it. My favorite Christmas read, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, is on my side of the bed. I like to read it one chapter a night beginning December 1st. There are no cancer research papers and no cancer related books to be seen. Cancer is not invited to our celebration of Christmas.

We Changed The World

The daycare is closed.

A lot of the "stuff" of it is gone. Some sold, some given away, some used up in careless abandon knowing we wouldn't "need" it for another activity next year.

There were some tears, but it wasn't as bad as it might have been. The kids and parents have had time to adjust to the idea if not the reality. The excitement of Christmas and family gatherings has their attention.

The kids and I finished the cakes begun yesterday for the holiday meal at St. Anne's. I'll miss our annual Thanksgiving pie baking and Christmas cake making for the soup kitchen. The kids so embraced the idea of preparing food for families who might otherwise have no celebration. Watching them mix and bake and clean up with such dedication fed my soul as surely as the cakes fed families.

We had a party and gift exchange. The kids all brought gifts for one another and had great fun in giving to their friends. The parents gave me generous and heartfelt gifts.

All the families worked together on a quilt with pictures and funny references to our time together. Haylee's mom organized the effort behind the gift. It is incredible. I know I will look at it for years to come and know joy.

I want to be replaceable. I want them to all be with providers who love them and enjoy them as much as we do. Providers who care about who they are now and who they will become.

I don't want to be replaced. I want to stay in their hearts, their memories as surely as they will stay in mine. I want them to remember these years, these moments, and know we changed the world together for a short time.

The Gift of Knowing

I received an incredible gift in the mail.

Shannon, our online friend who is a prison chaplain and all around extraordinary woman, crocheted and gave me a beautiful prayer shawl.

I was speechless--a rarity--when I opened it.

The shawl--the touchable, tangible part of the gift is beautiful all by itself.

The intangible part--the making, the giving, the knowing--is what stole my words.

Shannon knew that I needed something for me. Something quiet and private. Something which makes a place that will be familiar in a changing life, comforting, mine where I can take my thoughts, worries, resentments, celebrations and thanks.

The gift is that she knew and she did something with that knowing.

Popcorn Tears

Hannah and Andi folded and stamped the remaining Christmas cards tonight. It's one of those annual things they love doing.

I love to watch them. A few years ago when this began, it was a very hands on event for me. Trying to stay one step a head of eager little hands. Gradually they've taken over this part of the task entirely. My job is to provide popcorn, drinks and a Christmas movie for our after-cards celebration.

I have gotten six more of these evenings than I expected when Kevin began to work in Ohio. That's a good number; we've made some serious memories they can take into their grown up years.

The years with the littles, especially these two beautiful girls, have been a blessing.

I am thankful.

I am also sad and I lie to the girls about getting popcorn salt in my eyes as I wipe away tears.

Merry Christmas, Cancer

The quest for normal continues.

I have our Christmas cards designed and I'm working on the printing. Kevin urged me to give up the task of doing our cards this year.

It became a quest for me though. If I bought the cards then it was another thing cancer won. Which means another thing I lost.

I'm freaking tired of losing to cancer.

Tonight I mailed the daycare card. The parents look forward to these each year. The kids look forward to posing for the pictures and seeing themselves transformed into a card. This is the last one for....well, maybe forever.

I'm pleased. Merry Freakin' Christmas, Cancer. I win.

Christmas on Campus

We met some of the daycare families at Purdue's Student Union for the campus Christmas party.

Breakfast with Santa, crafts, lots of photo moments. I came home with a full memory card in my camera.

We couldn't eat with the kids--still have to avoid the public aspect of buffet style serving--but that worked out well. We were able to corral some of the craziness so the parents could get a bite or two of their own breakfast.

It was a joyful time full of laughter and silly moments with the kids. Kevin misses seeing them daily now that he's back to a regular Ohio based work week and he was glad of the opportunity to spend some time together.

Haylee wore a dress I made her. "Miss Lorri, do you see I am bee-U-Tee-Ful," in her indoor voice--which is only slightly less below her big outdoor voice.

EVERYONE in the Union knew Haylee was bee-U-tee-ful!

She was. And so was the morning.

Happy Advent, Anniversary

Today is one of those golden days.

Kevin is feeling well. Feeling relieved to be through this portion of his treatment. The next phase is far enough away that we haven't mustered up the anxiety which I know will come later.

Today is the beginning of Advent. The beginning of the new church year.
Today is the anniversary of our marriage.
Today is the anniversary of my First Communion and the anniversary of Kevin's return to The Table after a 10 year absence.

I love it when anniversaries fall on the same day of the week as the original.

Six years ago this evening the Advent candle was lit before Mass. I made my Profession of Faith and received Communion for the first time. Our ten year old, been around the block a few times, civil marriage was convalidated in the Catholic Church and Kevin received Communion after a ten year absence.

St. Tom's is special during winter evenings. The shadows are deep around the edges, it's mysterious without being dark or frightening. Magical. Holy.

It's a good place for new beginnings.