Ah, ah, ah, ah, Stayin’ Alive

I am dying.

Let’s just sit on that statement for a bit, shall we?

It’s much easier to type than say out loud, I’ll give you that.

We all are, right?  It’s just a wee bit more obvious for some.  There is an aggressive cancer that is threatening my life, and if gone unstopped, will continue to do so.  That sounds severe - I'm not near my death bed.   We are still praying for that miracle through the intercession of Father Antonio Margil, but because we never know our future or when God plans to call us home, we plan for both a miracle and my death.   We are thankful to have the expert doctor in the field, and a wonderful team of doctors at MD Anderson who are helping us not just with chemo, but nutrition, massage, pain management, and other things. 

We will go through a few rounds of chemo and then have a scan.  We need your prayers for the efficacy of the chemo now, so the scan will show improvement, and, if so, they will continue with this method.  The next chemo is scheduled for February 6, and will continue every other Monday.

A month ago we knew my health was bad, and are thankful we received the care we needed.  My recovery has been slow, but we are reaching a point where it’s easier to hope for a pretty good quality of life.  The first round of chemo started off with me pretty anxious.  That day, it ended with me grateful and excited.  As much as I hate the drugs, they weren’t as bad as I thought they were going to be.  I read the sheet with all the possible side effects and couldn’t help but be concerned.

As I received the 5-FU, the 46 hour drug, I spent a lot of time sleeping (still recovering from surgery as well, plus the pain medicine still had drowsiness as a side effect).  I also was reminded of a side effect that is easily forgotten.  Chemo haze, fog, cloud, you name it.  It’s a world where everything makes sense to you, of course. It is not until you come out of it, you realize that it’s different from normal, but it felt completely so at the time.  It’s hard to explain.  It’s the best to "walk out of it" - like a walking outside today.  It is a gorgeous day in Houston.

I’ve had some pretty bad days since then - partly due to figuring out what foods I can eat through trial and error.  Wrong food = 24 hours of regretting it.  For the vast majority of the time, however, I have been on the up-and-up.  Walking around the house a little better, not always relying on the walker for short trips to the kitchen, and I was able to make it to Mass this Sunday!  It’s been so great to feel better, eat better, move better.  I am thankful.

I want to go back to this death thing for a quick minute, ok?  When you are in my state, you have to start having some of the hard conversations with your spouse, you fear the worst, you hope for the best, and everything in between.  You start to hope for eternal life, and you recognize the amazing gifts on this earth surrounding you.  You have an opportunity to plan some details, talk to other friends who have lost their spouses. I will add that one of my very specific prayer requests is to be protected from unnecessary anxiety and fear, and I have been.  That being said, emotions are naturally all over the place.  You hug your kids a little closer, smell their hair, recognize their gifts, and still yell at the oldest for making obnoxious sounds and the third child for messing with his little brother.  You make plans for the future, but still wonder what the future means.

I love and remember what life was like before, but obviously can’t go back to that, and I’m still far from death.  It’s it’s own little world.  I call it the space between (Everyone in my generation start singing a song just now?).  

As I write this, there’s a young lady who is in hospice preparing for her death.  Come to find out that around the time I was typing this, she passed (please pray for the repose of her soul).  She was 21 years old, had an atypical acute brain aneurysm, and collapsed. She had a critical surgery, and things looked optimistic.  She was communicating yes and no with her fingers, she could have breathed on her own at that point, but they kept her intubated for other reasons.  Things went down hill after that, up hill again, and up and down a few more times.  Right before things turned for the worse, doctors were optimistic and were even going to remove her ventilator.  What a roller coaster of emotions for her family.  After talking with the doctors, learning everything they needed to know, and to others who had undergone a similar experience of loss, her parents made the heartbreaking decision to remove her from life support.  She was under hospice care for two days before she passed.  A close friend of hers shared with me that her immediate family sat around her yesterday.  Her two sisters sang “Lord I need You” to her, and when she opened her eyes, her Mother would whisper sweet words of encouragement telling her to go and be with Jesus.  As they were praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, she passed.  

How do we prepare for death?  This dear young woman had less time than me, but more than plenty.  Her family said they experienced small miracles with every good turn that she took.  I hope it helped them prepare for it and give them all closure.  We all know death can come suddenly, or achingly slow, but, as it turns out, we can’t avoid it.  I can’t offer advice, but some things come to mind.  Any Catholic will tell you the best way to attain a life of holiness is to frequent the Sacraments when you can.  

The other two things are:

1. Love well and,

2. Trust in the Mercy of God

It is so simple, my friends.  Why do we complicate things?  Also, I love that Catholics have a patron saint for everything, even a happy death.  It’s St. Joseph and there is a Novena available to him for such a prayer request.

I will end with these two thoughts.  We will have either an unexpected or anticipated death.  God knows which and that’s enough.  What matters is not hoping for a time to prepare for death, though it does have its perks, what matters is how we live now, today.  Love well, my friends.

Lily and I have been passing her prayer bear back and forth as we pray for each other.  

Sometimes she let's me have it at night.  Here's her sweet bear and Father Antionio's relic.  

Finalamente, some of you have asked about the kids what they know.  They do not know everything (in what world is that a good idea?).  They know just enough to know that Mommy is sick and we need to pray for her recovery.  We have a dear friend who is a child-life specialist who is walking with us on this journey.  I am so grateful that in your prayers for me, you also remember our children.

Quick Update and Mawwiage

Quick status report, then Katie wrote the rest.  Kate was discharged from the hospital on Wednesday Jan 4 and is resting at home.  I mentioned in an earlier post that the surgery on Dec 30 made her able to eat and process food again.  More specifically, they gave her an ileostomy.  Basically, she has a large tumor that’s obstructing her small intestines near where they meet her colon / large intestines.  Removing the tumor isn’t an option, so they essentially butterfly her small intestines open and pull them through a hole they cut in her right abdomen.  Food goes through her stomach, is digested through about 160 cm of small intestines, then exits out of her right abdomen into a removable plastic pouch.  As you may imagine, we’re still working through finding food that is both appetizing and will work with her new plumbing.  It’s a process, but she seems to be progressing as well as the doctors would like.  The ileostomy is completely reversible if the tumors shrink to the point that they’re not threatening to create new obstructions, but the truth is that we’re a long way from that.  It’s going to be a long road back to health, and chemo will likely make it even more difficult, but it’s our best shot at shrinking the tumors.  

Thank you all so much for your support - financial, prayers, Masses said, offers of relics, and more.  We are so so grateful.  God bless you.

Ok, here’s Kate:

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  I forget that some of my blog readers are not connected to me on Facebook.  Sorry, we’re not more diligent on updates on here.

On Wednesday, they let me out.  I knew home would be better, but I had no idea how much better.  In the hospital, I had zero appetite, but slept pretty good, and had some really great nurses.  Home, such sweet relief.  I’ve been eating better day by day.  I mosey around the house with a walker, have a special chair in the den with a tray next to it, and go from chair to bed, to bathroom, etc.  The children have been great!  We told them all about mommy’s new scar and attachments (nephrostomy, osmtomy).  And they got used to them really quickly.  I love how they come up with new questions every day.  I love seeing their little brains process. They each have special jobs that they take pretty seriously.  It’s endearing.  

I have a few more days of rest before we start chemo.  I see the surgeon and the oncologist on Thursday and we’ll set a start date, which at the moment, this Thursday.  They took a biopsy during the last surgery (it was growing on my belly button, which I no longer have), and are testing it for biomarkers to make sure we have the best plan of action set forth.  It will likely be chemo with a couple of other drugs.

Chemo fills me with anxiety.  I need your prayers in that regard.  Pray for a special protection from God.

Update on what we’ve learned about the cancer.  1 We know it’s rare.  2 We know that the tumors it produces are poorly defined, meaning that surgical removal is virtually impossible, and 3. We know it’s quickly growing.

When we had the scan in September, there was a very small tumor that they missed.  I’m not a radiologist, so I don’t know how they read the scans.  Today I have multiple tumors in my abdomen.  There’s one fairly large that I’ve named Medusa.  Medusa has caused me nerve damage along my abdomen and down my right leg.  It has also taken lots of intestines and brought it to itself.  It’s a beast and I hate it.  When they were in my abdomen during surgery, they said the good news is all of the tumors that can and will threaten my surviving bowel are all pea sized or smaller, so if chemo works, that will be a really good step.

_________________________

Now onto a reflection of mine:

Marriage.  When you are married, you can and will never stop evaluating your marriage. It’s constantly evolving and changing.  David and I are pretty good about being on top of what our goals are, and if we are meeting them.  We would get together in January and instead of resolutions, we would look at our marriage, the kids, the house, our finances, etc.  We would make reasonable goals and then plan how to meet them.  

As good as this is, it still doesn’t take us deep enough in our marriage.  To do that, we go back to our vows.  The Catholic Church in her wisdom doesn’t let you write your own vows.  There is no: I promise to never sleep until the argument is resolved (thank God, because if I’m tired, there’s no hope).  Or, I will always love you enough to get your flowers and KitKats.  The Church gives you a simple set of words that cover everything.  

When David and I were at our rehearsal, our beloved priest, Fr. Michael (it was his first wedding, we were all excited) did two things: he encouraged us to memorize the vows, and he had us say them to each other the night of the rehearsal.  David went first: I, David, take you Katherine, as my wife.  I promise to be true to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health.  I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.  Flawless performance.  Then it was my turn.  I, Katherine, take you, David, as my husband…tear….I promise to be….tear…etc.  

I thank the wisdom of Fr. Michael to have us do that the night before.  On the day of our wedding we were able to tell each other clearly what we were intending.

Of course we didn’t know what we were getting into.  Nobody does, that’s why there’s grace and the Sacraments.  

As time has gone by and we’ve continued to develop our marriage and help it grow in a healthy and holy way, we’ve reflected on various aspects of what is involved in a marriage.  As I went through my first bout with cancer, it occurred to me that I had made a false assumption about our vows.  I assumed that the good times were only associated with the healthy times.  It never occurred to me that the good times and the sick times could work together simultaneously.  

Now as I begin my second journey, this is proven to me once again.  Certainly we are stressed as anyone would be in a situation like this.  And our parents and all of you who have helped with everything help reduce that stress significantly (I’ll never stop being filled with gratitude for all you have done).  As David has been at my bedside, He has taken care of me and nursed me, changed my bandages, prayed with and for me, I encounter the good.  I wish I could put it clearly into words.  We cry (oh, Lord we cry), we laugh, we look at stupid facebook memes, we pray desperately, and we pray with calm hearts trusting in God.  Of course, we argue still.  But, thankfully, we take each day and see the good in all of this, and in each other.  

As it turns out marriage is hard, but the sacrifice is worth it every day.  As I look into the eyes of my beloved I see his love reaching out to me, I see him giving me strength, providing me with hope, and holding me closely.  I see the good in this time of sickness.

My prayer is for all of you in marriages, that you can find the good in everything, because it’s there.