Update 2 years later...

It's been a long time since I have written on this blog.  Life got so complex that I mostly relied on CaringBridge for updates to our cancer journey.  Things have changed so much.  The short story is that Michael ran out of time in his fight against cancer.  He passed away December 10, 2013.  The last few months were mostly awful for him and for us.  I'm sure some day I will blog more details about that, but for now we are looking forward.  Our new life as a family of 5 is pretty fast paced.  Being the only parent of four daughters is challenging, but still wonderful.  Grieving, helping the kids grieve, working full time, making all the decisions of the household, fixing things, making sure everyone gets up each morning, making sure everyone gets where she is supposed to go, etc.  It's a lot to take on.  Now we are coming up on all of the anniversaries of all the very difficult times that we had last year.  Sometimes I feel like I just want to curl up in a ball until time passes and it's over.  I know that is not an option so I keep moving forward.  I enjoy the good times and try to take deep breaths during the hard times.  We will make it.  We will be okay.

Updates and thoughts

Michael is in the middle of his 15th chemo treatment.  I cannot believe all we have put his body through as we fight this disease.  It's amazing to me that he has kept going.  I will never complain about being exhausted again!  We are starting to see what could be our first bit of positive results from all of this.  His CEA numbers are finally going down.  They spiked up to 8.5 a few weeks ago and now they are down to 3.7!!!  We leave on July 5th for our next trip to MD Anderson in Houston to take a look at what is going on in his liver.  With the CEA numbers going in the right direction, we are cautiously optimistic.  My hope is that we will see a dramatic reduction in tumor size that will allow for a surgery soon to get them all the way out.  We will know Friday if we are there yet.

The kids seem to be used to our "new normal" of life with cancer.  They could not have done this without the help of friends, family, church, and Wonders and Worries.  We are hoping that after this is behind us (will it ever really be?) they feel like there is nothing in life that they can't handle.  Their childhood is certainly different than our plan for them.  It's a reminder that you don't have as much control over life as you think.  You can only really control your reaction to the cards you are dealt.  What a lesson.

I have a true sense of inner peace about it all right now.  I feel that it will all turn out okay.  This doesn't mean I am immune to bouts of crying or hand wringing anxiety, but I am overall at peace.  I feel stronger than ever when I lean on my faith and I'm reminded of His gifts when I feel the love gathered around me during this time.

Overall life is really so good.

The benefit this weekend was insanely, incredibly amazing. We were both moved to tears at different times. Our kids talked of how much love they felt from so many people. Daphnie summed it up by saying, "Mom, I don't really understand why, but there are a lot of people who love us." Indeed. We have never experienced anything quite so overwhelmingly wonderful in our lives. The effort put into the event, the incredible donations for the auction, the music, the food, the fact that so many people came.... The list goes on and on. Where do we start with giving thanks? How do we even say thank you? How do you show the proper amount of appreciation for this outpouring of love? These are questions I can't answer. I start to think about it and I'm brought to tears -- tears of gratitude. Know that every single person who was there (in person or in spirit) has changed our lives for the better. We are the lucky ones, we are blessed, we are lifted up and it is because of the love that all of you have shown us.

Amazing grace. We are humbled, we are thankful, we are loved and we thank you for that.

xoxo,
Felicia and Michael

As we wrap up the holiday season for 2011, I sit reflecting on it all. First thoughts are that life is so strange right now. There is all this "normal" floating around in a sea of crazy ocean. It's like there are two different lives going on in parallel. This regular life where we are on break from school and having christmas with the family - cooking, cleaning, laughing, playing. Then there is also this epic battle for life happening inside my husband while we just hang out together. So strange. If I get to thinking too much about it, I can get pretty stressed. So I clean, I organize, I stay busy. It's the quiet moments that are the hardest (luckily these types of moments are not too common in our house). People think I'm strong, that I have it all together. I can assure you that I am not, that there are many times I lose it, that I cave to feeling sorry for myself, that I lose faith briefly, that i feel defeated.  These aren't my proudest moments, but they exist. Somehow, through Grace, I am scooped back up and propped upright again, stronger. Sometimes it's my kids, sometimes it's friends, sometimes it's family, sometimes it's Michael who bring me this gift of strength.  All I know is each time I fall, I am lifted back up.  With each lift, I am reminded that I will never be left alone in grief.  Somehow I am given the strength to handle challenges that come my way. I have so much happiness in my life right now. The key to recognizing this most days is to stay in the present, don't fret about what the future holds, hold my faith high, keep friends and family close. Great life lessons for sure. What a gift.

Livestrong

Well, today is what I like to call Chapter 3: The Chemo Fight. In case you are keeping track... Chapter 1: The Diagnosis, Chapter 2: The Surgery.

Here we sit with the chemical cocktail coursing into Michael and letting his body know we aren't going to take this lying down. It's strange, really. We are in this big room with about 32 treatment chairs, about 1/4 of them full (so, how many chairs have people in them, how many are empty? Sorry, it's the math teacher in me) and we are all counting on this liquid drip stuff to save us/our loved ones. Weird. As I look around the room, I see that cancer really doesn't have a "type". It really does affect everyone. Young, old, all ethnicities -- we are all included in this club. As I type, the chairs start to fill. Each person carrying their own hope, grief, sadness, strength, faith. We are all together yet fighting our own battles. What a community we are.

livestrong indeed.

I met Michael when I was 21, still in college. We met on jan 6(1993) and I would have married him the night we met. Instead, we moved in together 2 months later.  He is my soul mate, my best friend and i knew it the moment we first met.  Yes, we are THAT kind of couple.  We are supposed to be that couple who dies very old, in our sleep, holding hands. That is the only way I choose to see it. It is the way it will be. This will be "that year Michael beat cancer".  They have either made an error on the severity or there is a better treatment out there. Something. I will not give up. I cannot. Our girls are depending on us.