Introducing Shithead

It's pronounced SHI-THEED. Get your mind out of the gutter. We name everything in this house. Queen Bees. Vehicles. Everything. Even tumors. 

So Shithead has given birth to 41 BBBs. (Bastard Brain Babies), Four LLLs (Lily Liver Lesions) and....I don't know how many bone spots (name suggestions?).

The amazing news is that I was approved for FREE targeted meds from the drug company. I was approved almost immediately and they are shipping the meds as we speak. I'm assured my EGFR on area 19 (I love saying that) will respond very quickly, including all of its named and unnamed entities.

So here are some things I've learned....

*Having cancer makes you feel entitled. Want a whole package of organic blueberries for a snack? Go for it. Want an entire pint of plant based, sugar-free ice cream? Eat the whole thing. That one is not, however, free of consequences.

*Cancer is a fulltime job...as my friend Karen said.

* You will have more conversations with strange men about what kind of bra you have than you ever thought possible. (For the diagnostic machines.)

*You should probably NOT tell the guy at ATT your latest life story. Somewhere there's a poor phone sales rep looking for a good counselor.

*Get you some people like mine. I have the BEST people. They are knocking the support crew thing right out of the park (a post all of its own).

*Sometimes people are weird. 

*People handle grief very differently. Some weep openly with you. Some won't contact you until they can do it with a stiff upper lip. Some sit with you. Some go into a flurry of activity.  I need them all. BE YOU.

Pretty sure this list is going to grow.

                                                                                -Nanette

 Short Update

This will be a short update. I feel like I seared everyone with the post about my initial diagnosis. I have one more bummer to share and then I promise the next will be more fun. 

The brain MRI I had to "rule out" brain mets actually showed that I have many spots on both sides of my brain. That was a bad morning - especially because I made the mistake of checking my patient portal at 4 in the morning and discovered the news. Not much sleep was had after that. The oncology center, however, fast tracked me through more diagnostics and outfitted me with a CT mask and I start radiation this week.

I also have very, very good news. My primary cancer testing came back from Mayo clinic and shows the genetic mutation EGFR on area 19. This means it is a specific cancer mutation that is responding very well to the newish targeted therapy drugs. It is giving people YEARS of quality life and there are new generations about to come out of testing. My doctor was thrilled, so of course, that gives me so much hope. Apparently, this particular drug also crosses the blood/brain barrier better than some, so the brain will be hit from two angles.

Some specific prayers:

* Financial grants through the drug company will clear quickly so I can start the targeted therapy soon.

* Praise that I don't have to have full-brain radiation and that the targeted radiation will be thorough with minimal side effects.

* Thanksgiving that Friday's terrible, horrible, no-good day in ER appears to have been the result of a stomach bug and NOT the cancer.

* Prayers that my breathing will be easier with a meds change until the therapy starts.

                                                                                - Nanette

                                                              Utter Shock

 My head is fuzzy. Her voice sounds so far away, this lovely young doctor. My eyes wander to the blood drying on the hospital sheet.  It’s just a spatter from the IV, but I focus on it.  It seems the only tangible thing I can see.  Somehow I sense the gentle pressure of my friend’s hand on mine and I wonder if I’m squeezing hers too hard. My eyes can’t focus for the spots all  around them.  I try to see my husband, frozen in shock, unable to rise from his chair.

“I’m afraid I have bad news.” Bad? I’d cancelled my last two students because I was coughing and wheezing and wanted to go to urgent care. But now I’m in ER. Five minutes ago, I’d thought it was all just an overreaction and I was laughing and talking with the nurses. “You have a mass in your lung…metastasis…spots…liver….bones…cancer.”

“But I’ve never smoked.” Oh, God! Liver? Bones? Doesn’t that mean death? I hear myself say, "Well, I’m mean. I’m not afraid to die, but… but…I want to be around for grandbabies." What about my calling to help children read?  I was just starting to roll on a big, big expansion for children. My master’s program. I was going to write. Travel. Static closes in and expands out and then in again. Funny how fast your brain processes...and how slow.

I tell the doctor I’m trying to focus on what she is saying, but I can’t. Can she please write it down? David and I have so many dreams. We’d just said to each other - wasn’t it just last week - that we would have to die on the same day because we couldn’t face a life without the other. The memory mocks.

I hear a soft voice. Far away.  Is it mine? I’m acknowledging the doctor, but what am I saying? I think I’m saying, “Oh.”

I finally hear my beloved, “Are you sure? Couldn’t it be something else? What causes lung cancer in people  who don’t smoke?” 

“Bad luck.”

It all blurs. He is standing by me now. I think I’m looking at him. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says. No. We are not okay.

I’m so cold. I hear my friend (wildly, the hospital chaplain on duty- another story for another time) say, “She is in shock. Can we get her a warm blanket?” The nurse is so sweet and I feel bad that I can’t acknowledge her. I focus on the blood again.  It’s concrete.  I’m waiting for the wake-up  part of this nightmare.  It will be such a relief.

David helps me to the bathroom and I think I’m swaying.  I cling to his neck.  “You didn’t sign up for this.” We’ve worked so hard and now I’m going to die before we can enjoy it all…what exactly?

Somehow we walk out. I take in the breathtaking beauty of the May evening, the Montana mountains lighting up in the sunset. We cling to each other. 

We zoom with the kids. I try my best to smile and assure them I’ll fight like hell.  But how do you fight death, exactly? They sob and I feel horrible. They are both finishing up heavy assignments at school two states away. I can’t hug them. Jalen vomits and I can’t hold him. I’m utterly  powerless. 

The night is filled with sobs. First one, then the other. Rotating. Promises in the night. I'll never remarry.” 

“Please don’t say that!”

“Oh, God! My family!”

 A New Twist

To state the obvious, I've been silent on this blog for a long time. Life has been full and rich and I've been otherwise occupied.  Laughing Water and Mr. Blueberry Eyes are all grown up. The Wood Artist and I have been full-tilt career. There will be more time to fill you in later, but the point is that  I'm back blogging, old fashioned as that may seem.

Life tilted and whirled and went into retrograde motion 7 weeks ago.. I stayed quiet on social media for a month  and then decided to talk. I have metastatic lung cancer. Apparently, the cancer knows I love to travel because it flew to my lung lymph nodes, liver, c-spine, hip, and brain, energetic little fellow that he is. He decided to stay incognito until he could declare that he was stage four. Tadaa!

My village wants to keep informed and I don't really want to bleed all over Facebook, so I've decided to keep you all updated on this blog. I'll post the links to Facebook when I do so you know there is something new. Or you can subscribe here. 

I'll tell you how its going - the good, the bad, the funny. I don 't promise to not have a potty mouth. I've already learned  that stage four cancer changes things. But I will also hold true to who I am. Open. Honest. Asking. Full of faith. Peaceful. It will be raw. I will bleed emotion. I will make you laugh. I have no interest in being fake and I have every intention being real. If you can handle that, I really want you on my journey.

- Nanette

Great is Your Faithfulness

I guess seasons of life are a given....I'm sitting in a coffee shop looking at the splash of gold and red outside the window.

I screamed out the door this Sunday morning earlier than I felt was my constitutional right (you know...the pursuit of happiness...) Mr. Blueberry Eyes was joining his scout club for a bike-a-thon and it fell to me to deliver him to a location about 45 minutes from my house. I dropped him off and headed to a City Brew to work on my teacher plans while I wait. I was grumpy. I stumbled (with my heavy work bag) to the counter, hair slightly tousled, not rocking the no-make-up look and the gal behind the counter practically exploded joy all over me. Loud. Effusive. Praising every choice I made. Now, there is something you should know about me. I'm not a morning person. I'm not grumpy in the morning...just DON'T be loud. Don't ask me a million questions.  (My dad always said that I don't wake up.  I come to. Truth bomb.) But this girl. Seriously. She is Tigger. It was so bad (good) that I Could. Not. Stay. Grumpy. She was a complete crack-up. She had me grinning before I left the till area. As I sat down, it occurred to me that I hadn't had devotions - a staple in my morning routine. That realization and her out-of-control joy prompted me to change the course of my morning. I'm going to take stock of my recent past. My blessings. My stresses. The direction of my days.

So....back to seasons. I used to sing, until I lost my song. I used to journal and blog, until I lost my words. Grief and stress overwhelmed me and I saw myself  standing on the edge of an ocean. I was waist/chest deep in the water and all I could do was brace for the next wave of chaos, grief, and disappointment, hoping that that wave would not be the one to knock me over and permanently take my air. There was nothing left for song or words. Just hang on. Plant those feet. Try to breathe.

In the course of a few years, we had to close our business in the economic downturn of the 2010. The Wood Artist had to work away from home for 4 years. During that time:

*  Our son was diagnosed with severe learning disabilities. I started to navigate the world of language-based differences, dyslexia, dysgraphia, sensory processing, and anxiety disorder. I plunged head-long into therapies as only a mother can.
*  Our daughter entered her teen years, complete with driver's ed., first love, and heartbreak. She developed food allergies that made me completely rethink and retrain our diet.
* A loved one descended into extreme mental illness, rendering her completely and entirely unsafe to be with. I discovered that our daughter was in extreme danger because of this loved one's choices and had to take steps to protect her.
* Another loved one descended into the dark tunnel of addiction and resulting incarceration. I was holding down the fort, mostly alone, navigating the justice system,  taking the witness stand twice (once with laryngitis so bad the judge took pity and had the baliff bring me water while I rasped into the mic, staring down the lawyers in a corrupt system. I dove head-first into custody issues at a time when child services in our town was so corrupt and inept they repeatedly made it into the papers. Relentlessly, I fought through jail visitation, being treated like I was the criminal.

Old friends would often gush, "Do you still sing?!" I would look at them with panic in my heart. No. I. Don't. Did I ever sing? When was that? Why did I sing? I can't even journal my own thoughts. Why would I sing? But I couldn't say that. It was a season. Cold. Harsh. Dark.

On the very day The Wood Artist was driving home from the oil fields for the last time, my father  was fighting for his life with bleeding ulcers (the effect of which he is still suffering). In cardiac distress, He was life-flighted to another city, a hemoglobin of 5. So, on a day I was supposed to be planning a welcome home celebration, I was actually scrambling for a plane ticket, hoping against hope I could make it in time. (I did. And he pulled through.)

The next few years were a struggle to readjust. When The Wood Artist left, we had children. When he came home, we had teenagers. I was so worried about finding our groove again, but honestly, it went very well. People would tease us that we couldn't count those four years of marriage since we hadn't lived together. I would say, "Honey! We get to count two for every one of those years!"

Still, the early spring can be barren, dirty, and unpleasant. We both went through mind-bending, head-shaking stress at our jobs. It was weird that we both had to deal with situations that left us completely unsure of the skills we had spent our lives honing. I decided to quit teaching. He wanted desperately out of work he is fabulously skilled at. We were broken and dizzy from the whiplash of it all. We leaned on each other hard. We prayed until we couldn't pray anymore. I begged for rest and relief.

It was during this time that I came to a few realizations:
    * I am not fairy princess.  I wasn't meant to be. I am a warrior princess. I have arrows in my quiver and I have a real cause to fight for. I live in a broken world and there is an enemy to fight. Bravely.
    * There are people to love. No matter how sucky my day is, it is my job to look for someone to bless.
     *The people you expect to be there during tough times are sometimes completely cold and silent, even cruel. Forgive them. They have their own struggles. Then there are others who you totally didn't expect. They come alongside. They quietly lean in and insert themselves into your life and say, "I'm here. I love you." Keep them and give thanks
     * There are still thousands of gifts. Every. Single. Day. It is my job to notice and give thanks.
     * I can choose what thoughts get to camp out in my head. Yes, really. If it isn't helpful, give it the boot.
   
Then God asked me to work with kids again.  Now, I hate the whole "God told me this or that" thing. I've seen it so freaking abused. But there was no doubt. He wanted me to hang my shingle and bless learning-different children again. I BEGGED and PLEADED for a different assignment. I cried for months and stomped my feet. There was no relenting. I knew what I had to do. Feeling completely broken and inadequate, I surrendered. I started my defunct business again. And you know.....after surrendering to obedience, my heart followed.  I love it in a way I didn't think I could. Yes, I'm still tired.  Yes, I still grieve the things I've had to give up, but I genuinely love ministering to my crazy-amazing, students who look at the world backwards and upside-down.  They pretty much rock.

The Wood Artist is a wood artist again and work is pouring in on him. His confidence is building back and he smiles more than I've seen in a while.

Laughing Water is at university now. She loves it and jumped into classes and jobs that make me wonder where she came from. She has learned that she loves being a social media ambassador, and totally loves the t.v. production room.  Who knew? She studied in England this summer on a brief study tour with some favorite professors and is looking into two programs overseas - one for missions and one for studying at Oxford. We frequently remind each other that we are warrioresses. She is mini-me in so many ways.

Mr. Blueberry Eyes works harder at his studies than any kid I've ever seen.  He is almost independent now and I'm reminded that miracles do happen.  He is literally in an honors writing class. "Severe, language-based disability" be hanged. His precious heart cheers me every day and his talents and physical strength blow me away.

My brother, Laughter, now lives with us and we are experiencing an incredible healing balm. The week he came I started to sing.  Just a little. I didn't even think about it.  It just slipped out.

It is fall and the colors are breathtaking. Seasons. Winter will come again. But so will spring and summer and fall. I am a warrioress.  God walks with me. He strengthens my hand to the bow and steadies my arrow.

Tigger is still behind the coffee counter chirping and laughing with customers. Where does she get her energy? Honestly! She has no idea she helped me find my words again.  Weird.  I must have been ready. - Nanette

Christmas 2017

Happy Christmas to all of our family and friends! Once again I didn't get cards sent this year, but that doesn't mean we didn't think of each of you. We pray you are healthy, happy, and full of hope. Last night we attended a Christmas service that spoke of the unspeakably wonderful gift of our Savior - the good news of GREAT JOY. Our prayer is that this hope and great joy warms each of your hearts.

So much has happened in our family in the last few years that if may be difficult to capture it in a short post, but I will try.

David has been home for over two years since working in the Bakken oilfields of North Dakota. It is so good to have him home and we shake our heads wondering how we managed for those years. This fall he started his own subcontracting company and keeps very busy building and remodeling houses. He is starting to pass on his woodworking expertise to Jalen and it is great fun to watch them create together.

This summer I restarted my reading therapy studio and in September I opened a second office in Kalispell.  I had taken a break from it to focus on family needs and decided it was time to get back in the saddle. It was sad to say goodbye to my humanities classes at the hybrid school that I taught at for the last two years and I continuously toy with ideas of how to blend my reading therapy with history, literature, and writing classes.  I'm excited about the future of The Reading Cottage. 

The last year has been a whirl of excitement for Brooke.  She graduated from high school in May, worked at a local coffee shop/restaurant and headed for Walla Walla University in September.  She is majoring in public relations and minoring in theology and the history of the Christian church.  She is thoroughly enjoying it so far.

Jalen is a freshman in high school and does a combination of home school and hybrid school.  He is making the transitional class work very well, but lives to spend time with his downhill skis and his horse. He just went on a 10 day trip to California with friends. He enjoyed seeing the sights, but couldn't wait to get back to his snow.

So that is our life in a nutshell....Merry Christmas to all! - Nanette

Season's Beginnings II

 One of the most exciting things happening in the garden this spring is the plethora of blossoms on some of my fruit trees.  I'm so excited to see what kind of a harvest we will have.  This is a pear tree.

 Those beehives in the background may be part of the success this year.

 A promising bud on an apple tree.

 I decided to try for myself the newly popular honeyberry. I purchased three bushes. There are two things that make this seem like a good idea.  Honeyberries are extremely cold hardy, reaching into zone 2. Also, unlike blueberries, they don't require a highly acidic soil. We have alkaline soil and, despite my efforts to change the pH of my soil, my blueberries haven't thrived. I'm looking forward to seeing if this berry will be a good fit for us.

 More Apple blossoms coming on.

 The elderberry bush is thriving!

 This old girl is quite the trooper. Puffle is five years old (as are my five other hens) and still looks lovely. She lays eggs and tenderly tends them. I'm still trying to figure out how to put the young pullets in with the older hens.  I have a few more weeks to figure it out.

 This is the first year that our plum tree is going crazy with blossoms. Its hard not to get excited!

 A shot of the other plum varieties grafted onto the same stock.

One of the currant bushes....

There is so much happening, I know there will be many more photo opportunities soon. - Nanette