Return of the Jayne

The guilt over my three week blog hiatus has built up, and I have returned! The main reason for the extended writing break is that my condition has been so stable, there's not much to report on the cancer front. I'm still feeling much better than when I was on chemo, with just a little less energy than a completely healthy person. Although I'm off chemotherapy, my mind still feels somewhat trapped in that fog of "chemo brain." I've been doing my usual painting of sugar bowls, jewelry boxes, and other tiny treasures, but it takes me much longer to come up with creative designs to cover my canvas when artistic inspiration used to come naturally to me. But these minor setbacks have done little to interfere with my quality of life.

In fact, I'm really enjoying a slower pace of life these days. Considering that I may have little time left on earth has caused me to stop and smell the roses instead of trying to pack in sensational experiences. When my sister Jeannie learned she had terminal esophageal cancer, one of her first comments was, "I'm letting the dog in the house." Her lovable collie had spent its days frolicking the farm grounds, but was always stopped short at the front door to the house to keep his mud-soaked coat from dirtying her beautiful new home. A pristine domicile suddenly couldn't compare with snuggling with her furry buddy on the couch.

I've finally gotten around to cleaning out my disastrous craft closet. (My family often replaces the word craft with another cra- word when referring to my cluttered area of knicknacks, paintbrushes, glue guns and the like.) And instead of just cleaning house, reminiscing over the forgotten inventory of the closet has become my main focus. Old family pictures, gifts from my sisters, and old projects I had made for my children when they were young were hidden in the mess. This major cleaning project has actually been a great blessing to me in the deluge of memories brought with it. It was also a blessing for the other ladies in my weekly art class since I brought in enough gently used art supplies for their taking to make it like Christmas in August!

My hair is still steadily returning in a particularly unusual pattern. I look like I'm donning a yamaka at all times. Dark grey hair is filling in the crown of my scalp, which gradually fades to white in all directions. So since my head hair isn't exactly growing in as illustriously as I had hoped, I'm more excited about the eye-framing lashes that are returning. Mascara isn't a total waste on me anymore!

There has been big anticipation in our household the past few months over the new SuperTarget which was opening on the corner of our neighborhood. The big day arrived at the end of July, and I think Annabelle may have been the most excited of any of us to get to the grand opening. As soon as she saw the legion of over-stuffed toy aisles, she was scheming of a money making plan to increase her piggy bank funds, and the lemonade stand sale was set for Sunday. In the 95 degree heat, we were fortunate to be set up under a sprawling tree which provided shade as we refreshed passing-by customers. In just one hour, Annabelle's dimples and pigtails earned her over $50! We are thinking of renting her cuteness out to friends in monetary need for a very reasonable fee. Profits aside, it was a beautiful day to spend outside sharing homemade lemonade and smiles with friends and strangers alike.

And now for the biggest news! (Drumroll please) After multiple applications, a peer review, and meeting rigorous criteria, my son Steve has been accepted for training for the position of Chief Petty Officer in the United States Navy. We are overjoyed and immeasurably proud of him! This is one of the highest rankings an enlisted member of the Navy can achieve. It is a recognition of his consistently commendable service over the past seventeen years and a great military honor. We are certainly not surprised that he was chosen - I've always known Steve is the best of the best - but we are thrilled to see God reward his exemplary character with this prestigious promotion. To add to Steve and Dawn's blessings, they were also able to sell their house in Virginia this week as they have been restationed in Great Lakes, Illinois. Dawn, Emma, and their dog Barley will be returning to South Florida for an extended stay after Steve heads out to sea at the end of the month until their move to Illinois around Christmas time. I'm looking forward to spoiling Emma rotten!

That's the bulk of the news around here. I'll continue to ask for your prayers, and thank you for your steadfastness in support. You continue to amaze me!

Makeover Madness

With summer in full swing, I am feeling back to my normal self. Everyone asks how I'm feeling, and now about a month after my last chemo, I am glad to say I'm doing great! I have to monitor my energy a bit, but I have the feeling again that I would never know I had cancer if I hadn't seen the test results at my oncologist's office.

I don't know how we've lived in this beautiful south Florida community for almost ten years without joining the pool, but my kids finally bothered me enough to make us members. Now many of my days are spent by the pool watching Annabelle alternate between practicing her backstroke and freestyle, and pretending to be Ariel the mermaid. It didn't take long for my grandchildren to become indignant that Gram was observing from the shade of an oversized umbrella, so I bought my first swimsuit in fifteen years so I can join in on the splashing wars.

The new suit was just a small article in the wardrobe overhaul Mackenzie and I implemented soon after my energy was restored. We overtook Talbots and a few of my other favorite stores to buy some stylish clothes for my new post-steroids body. I've mentioned before that in order to inhibit the mal-effects of cancer treatment drugs, patients are administered steroids in combination with chemotherapy. It caused the shape of my body to change quickly, so I've spent the past few months in sweatsuits and pajamas. But now that I feel so much better, I don't want to dress like a sick person anymore. "What Not to Wear" is one of the staple shows Mackenzie and I like to watch on our stay-in days. Much like the pattern of the show, we got rid of the articles in my closet that hadn't left their hangers in years, and started from scratch. I looked fabulous at lunch today with my dear friend Patsy! And I'm excited to wear my new outfits any chance I get, so if you feel inclined to invited me out for a meal too, I promise not to disappoint!

I've been looking forward to the chic new ringlets that I knew were going to start growing in anytime now...Well, I've got some fuzz, but it sure isn't any stylish hairdo. Right now the top of my scalp feels a lot like a baby chick. It's fluffy and light, but steadily getting thicker.

Apparently, Bob was ready for a new look too. His Lincoln is on its last legs, so in true retirement age man form, he bought himself a flashy sports car. Bob and I drove up to Orlando this weekend to pick up his new convertible Mustang GT. We had a great time cruising around with the top down, and his work friends have been anxious to see the new hot rod Bob's been bragging about, but it looks like they're going to have to keep waiting. Since we got back to Fort Lauderdale, it's been raining on and off, and Bob won't chance taking his new baby out with the possibility of a thunderstorm. It looks fantastic sitting in our driveway though!

So medically speaking, there's not much to report. I have a routine appointment with Dr. Segota next week, but I'm doing wonderfully and enjoying this time of feeling healthy.

Good News!

Well, Emma et al. have returned to Virginia, leaving our home eerily noiseless. Emma's Fourth of July birthday party went off without a hitch, and I think her favorite present may have been the tissue paper filler from the gift bags. She, Annabelle, and Addison loved throwing the weightless papers in the air and dancing as they floated to the ground around them. Shannon's girls still come over everyday asking where Emma and her parents are. They miss their playmate.

Friday's celebration was made all the more enjoyable after the weights were lifted from my shoulders at Thursday's oncology appointment. Dr. Segota said my lung tumor has shrunk about 2mm, and the cancer in the rest of my body looks stable - meaning it has not changed in size. The fact that the cancer has gotten slightly smaller is remarkable considering 50% of people in my situation are dead six months after diagnosis. Here I am seven months from diagnosis and my condition has improved! We asked Dr. Segota what she thought about the amount of time I have left, and she said she is confident I will live at least a year beyond my diagnosis. She added that whether that means little more than a year or two and a half years, only God knows. How true. Still, I am happy to tell you that all of your prayers and support have helped me to fare far better than most people with stage 4 lung cancer. Praise God!

I will undergo the usual tests again in 2-3 months to see if the cancer has progressed, and then in 3 month intervals until a change is noted. Whenever that happens, we will delve into the possible treatment choices. I would be tested to see if I qualify for a promising clinical study, and if that is not for me, there are multiple chemo options on the horizon. We will cross that bridge when we get there, but for now I am delighted with the good news!

Dr. Segota said I can expect to see much of my energy return and the other chemo side-effects wear off within a few weeks. As I've mentioned before, I will continue Zometa and Avastin, but the effects of these drugs are far less severe. I'm most eager to see my hair grow back. After chemo, the re-grown hair often looks different than it did prior to treatment. I remember my sister Jeannie's hair came back in tight little ringlets that framed her face beautifully. Right now I've got some peach fuzz that appears to be (gasp!) white. My scalp has been tingling, similar to the sensation I had just before my hair started coming out, so I think it's a sign the fuzz may be filling in soon.

We took a mere 357 pictures during Steve, Dawn, and Emma's visit, so I have to share some with you!

Breaking News and More!

It's a big week at our house, and I have somehow stumbled into a rare period of quiet in the home, so I'll use it as long as it lasts to catch everyone up on all the latest news. Steve, Dawn, and Emma are back in town, and it is incredible the amount of noise three little cousins can make. I finished the matching dresses I've been making for Annabelle, Addison, and Emma to wear at Emma's bug-themed birthday party this weekend, so the girls have been tearing around the house in them in 10 minute installments. We try not to keep the dresses on them long enough to get dirty before the day of the party, but they need some time to admire themselves in the mirror each day. They look like three little butterfly princesses in them.

Last Monday I underwent all the tests again to make sure I can go off chemo. I spent the full day being poked and prodded with IVs, shots, a bone scan, and a CTscan. On Thursday morning, I have an appointment with Dr. Segota where we will hear the results of these tests. Hopefully, the conclusion will be that the chemo has slowed my cancer growth enough that I can have an indefinite break from these harsh treatment cycles. I would appreciate your continued prayers on my behalf for these results.

I'm also seeking God for wisdom about a sensitive issue for me. It has been a little over 6 months since my diagnosis, where I was told I would probably live shortly over a year. I'm wondering if I should ask Dr. Segota for another projection at our upcoming appointment. I know it is just an educated guess, but Shannon has given us some exciting news that makes me curious about the time I have left. She and John are expecting another baby! We are thrilled to welcome this gift into our family, and you all know how crazy I am about grandchildren! I want to know if I can count on holding, smelling, and kissing this new blessing, or if I should prepare to possibly depart before I can say hello. I'm sure it wouldn't make any major difference in my behavior, but I'm just curious to know. And then if God grants me more time than Dr. Segota's prognosis, it'll be a blessed bonus. On the other hand, I may not ask her at all. Of course there are many stories of cancer patients who have outlived their mortal prognosis by years. This is because God had already chosen the very hour they would die, regardless of what their doctors estimated. Psalm 139:16 says, "All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be." No terminal diagnosis can change what God has already decreed, but I think a medical estimate of my time left will help my family continue to prepare for my departure. In fact, as I'm writing my thoughts, I think I've decided I'd like to know. I will likely ask Dr. Segota for an updated projection at my appointment, and if I do, I will tell you her response.

Continuing the news from earlier, and I'm sure Shannon will protest this request, but I would love for all of you to send in suggestions for the next "A"-name to add to the series in her family. We don't know the sex of the baby, so we are open to all submissions!

Here are some pictures of my kids with their kids at the zoo and water park adventures this week:

Because He lives

"Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
Because He lives, all fear is gone;
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!"
~William J. Gaither

This was the chorus Mackenzie sang Sunday evening in church that gave me great comfort and reminded me of the movie Bob and I finally watched last week, "The Bucket List." It was an overall good movie, but there was a particular scene that has occupied my thoughts because of the marginal significance it was given in the film. The characters played by Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson are flying over the Arctic and as they take in the magnificent view, the two terminally ill men begin to talk about the future. Freeman's character says he is not afraid because he has faith. He doesn't go into detail about his faith, but Nicholson's character responds that he is proudly faithless. He says this life is all there is, and after you die it's the end of the story. The wheels on the bus keep going round and round - someone is born, someone dies, and there is no great meaning behind any of it. His companion asks, "What if your wrong?" And Nicholson's character replies with his sly grin, "Well then I win!" And the men turn back to the window view.

The movie goes on, but I was stuck at that exchange. This faithless character thought by ignoring the possibility of a God, he could ultimately win. How is that conceivable? I believe with all my heart, mind, and soul that the one true God sent His son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross to pay the deserved penalty for my sin and the sin of countless others, so that whoever believes in Him can be forgiven and spend eternity in heaven with Him. I don't see how there could be any other way to live without fear in the assurance that you will reach heaven. If the way to get to heaven is by living a good life and doing good to others, how do you ever know you've done enough? Can you ever feel secure that you've reached that unknown standard of some kind of good to bad ratio where your benevolent deeds outweigh your selfish ones, or must you constantly live facing the risk that you just might not be good enough? Does each blemished action detract from your worthiness of heaven? Just what is the measure of goodness to qualify a person for heaven? In Matthew 5:48, the Bible states the standard, "Be ye perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Alright, I think most people would agree with me that this is impossible. I know for a fact that I, for one, am far from perfect. I think this is where many people, like Jack Nicholson's character who just wanted to pack as much fun as possible into life, jump ship religiously. Religion requires far too much of us and takes the fun out of life. I would argue that these people are missing a major component of Christianity, but without that element, I can see how they would get turned off. I can see how it may be more appealing for them to believe there is no God and no ultimate accountability. Now there is no need to worry about perfection, but instead they are free to live for their own happiness. But what about people who take this idea to the extreme? If there is no God, then every person can define right and wrong for himself. The Manhattan pastor Tim Keller poses this question to people who claim this conviction, "Is there anyone in the world right now doing things you believe they should stop doing no matter what they personally believe about the correctness of their behavior?" The answer is invariably, "Yes." The fact that we desire justice according to some moral code that is not defined by us, but must be answered to regardless of personal beliefs is one of many strong indications that at heart we are all created to know there is an accountability and a power beyond ourselves. There is a multitude of clues like these that, when examined, suggest that we know there is a God, and we know actions will be judged.

Now if we acknowledge that there is a just God, and we know that His standard for us is perfection, yet we are imperfect, how is all of this reconciled? Of course, in Christianity, we call these imperfections sin. Romans 3:23 begins this way, "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," and since we know God is just, this sin must be punished. Romans 6:23 says, "For the wages of sin is death." Because of our failure to meet God's standard of perfection, we all deserve to die an eternal death. We deserve to never be joined with our Creator in heaven, but to live forever apart from Him. However, the same Bible that tells us of these severe consequences, also tells us in 1 John 4:8 that, "God is love." These two great attributes of God - His perfect justice and His love - converge in the solution provided for us through His only son Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, who was fully man and God, lived an entirely sinless life, but died in our place to pay the terrible price for our sin. Isaiah 53:6 explains it this way, "We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." Jesus was a blameless man who was tortured and died for the sins of the world, but unlike other men, Jesus was also God and able to overcome this death by coming back to life. His physical resurrection is a foreshadowing of the resurrection God offers to everyone who trusts in Christ's sacrifice for their salvation. In Christ, we have no reason to fear death because it is not the end of our story; it is a beginning to our eternity in heaven. Earlier, I quoted a portion of Romans 3:23. The continuation of the passage is this, "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented Him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in His blood." How beautiful that we have a Lord and Savior who not only offers us an eternal place with Him in heaven despite our unworthiness, but He does so by suffering on our behalf, so that anytime we face anguish, we know we can turn to a God who understands our pain in an entirely literal and courage-inspiring way. This has been especially comforting to me as I face cancer with a God who has been through physical pain and death.

All we have to do is acknowledge that we are sinners and believe that Jesus interceded on our behalves so that we can enter heaven. It is truly that easy. But if we choose to ignore God and just hope for the best when we die, Jack Nicholson's character was heart-breakingly mistaken. We do not win. We lose. We lose in the the most monumental and final way possible. And yet it is so easy to win eternal life through a relationship with God. This is the way that we can live without fear of the future and experience the fullness of joy God has intended for us. John 10:10 says, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." I pray that none of you will put off thinking about these things until it is too late. I pray that you will recognize your own innate perception of justice and love, which we all experience because we are made in the image of our just and loving Creator. I pray that you will believe in the saving sacrifice of Jesus Christ. I pray that you will win.

"And life is worth the living,
Just because He lives!"

A sister is a forever friend.

The comments and cards are pouring in again and I'm so thankful! I especially love hearing from those of you who were very dear companions in my past with whom I have sadly lost touch. Getting reacquainted with old friends is one of those especially heartwarming experiences in life. I don't think it is a coincidence that the resurgence of encouragement from you and a remarkable boost in my energy came at roughly the same time, which was just before my sister Jody's visit from Kentucky.

With our father, mother, and sister all passing recently from cancer, Jody took an astounding 17 trips to Wisconsin and Florida last year to be with her family, which should give you an idea of the kind of dependable and caring sister she is. By now she's made more support visits than she could count on her fingers and toes and still never seems to be suffering from jet lag! Her high energy has gotten me out to lunch, to the mall, and cruising along the beach - all out of my pajamas I should add! Jody said my family and I have got to be sick of the same few pairs of pajamas I spend most days in now, so she's taking mine back to Kentucky and buying me a fresh set! We have shared all the laughter and tears you would expect between two sisters separated by distance, and I'll be sad to see her go. One of the funniest parts for me was watching Bob, Erin, and Mackenzie join Jody for her 3-mile walking exercise video. I sat back and chuckled as I watched the crew do kickbacks, knee highs, and grapevines across my living room while the girls harped on Bob for hanging in the back so he could cheat. Bob was sweating and smiling as he sat down to enjoy a chocolate cookie after exercising.

I've been thinking lately about an apprehension I felt when I first learned of my diagnosis, and which I know some of my friends who have been through cancer grappled with. When I knew I would lose my hair, I wondered how people would receive me. I thought they would stare and make me uncomfortable. But every time I stepped out of my house, I was surprised to find I didn't receive a second look from anyone! It seems cancer has in some way touched the lives of most people in our time, so a woman with no hair is hardly shocking anymore. Instead of feeling self-conscious about my new look, I felt completely accepted. There's no reason for the effects of our treatment to cause us to hide away, because cancer has become a worldwide issue that people are aware of and empathetic toward.

In fact, I found I was the only one giving myself a second look - every time I passed a mirror. Who is that old woman?! All the reader's in my generation will understand what I'm talking about. I think I know the radiant beauty I'm going to see, but when I step in front of the glass I see someone's grandmother! But the grandmother is starting to become more familiar to me, and now I usually don't need a second look. I don't know if this growing recognition of my mirror image is a good thing or a bad thing, but I thought it was a fascinating process, so I've included it for your reading intrigue.

I was able to rejoin my friends at art class last week where I talked with some of them about their own experiences with cancer. I lamented my growing fatigue to them, and they said, "If your treatment is making you feel this way, just think of what it's doing to the cancer in your body." I like that outlook. My cancer should be pooped-out by now! And they assured me that as I stop the chemo, my energy will be fully restored.

So with future restored energy in mind, Bob and I are making plans for after Steve and his family's visit next week, starting with the boat day we've pencilled in with friends on Bob's birthday!

Daydreams of a New World

I had to add a couple more pictures of Annabelle's fashionable clothing made by Gram, and then one of lunch with the ladies in my blonde bombshell wig to celebrate Erin's last day of school since she teaches 5th grade.

I can't tell you how much I've appreciated the outpouring of love I've received since my last post! It couldn't have come at a better time either because this has certainly been the toughest phase of my cancer yet. But now, as I'm enjoying a banana split in place of dinner, (trust me, it doesn't happen often) I'm feeling better and can catch you up. I don't know if it is the wear and tear of multiple chemo treatments on my body, or just the cancer itself, but my observable health has worsened over the past weeks. After a couple episodes of physical illness spread out over a few days, I spent a full 24 hours Sunday through Monday evening vomiting at least once an hour. I had trouble even keeping down sips of liquid, so we called Dr. Segota's nurse who suggested I come in Tuesday morning for IV fluids. I'm taking all the anti-nausea medications they have to give, so unfortunately there isn't much they can do to stop this symptom. But I was glad we made the appointment for IV replenishments Tuesday morning because I woke up so weak I thought I might pass out walking from the house to the car. Mackenzie held my hand for support as we got to the hospital and we spent the day in infusion with the familiar nurses and volunteers who are always personable and gentle in their duties.

Thankfully the vomiting stopped and the intravenous fluids perked me back up, but my energy has remained lower than usual. Little tasks like wiping a spot from the floor can leave me winded. Each time I lay down to catch my breath, it is a blessing to open a card or read blog comments from loved ones rooting for me. I hope you all know how much your care rallies me.

Of course when you hear you've got terminal cancer, you start to spend a little more time thinking about what lies ahead after life. I've been daydreaming of what's in store for me. Bob and I have been looking up what the Bible has to say about heaven...and it's not much, which made perfect sense when I gave it some thought. I've often compared human comprehension of heaven to a baby's understanding of the world while he's still in his mother's womb. If you tried to explain to that baby fetus that it would have to eat and breathe to stay alive when all he's known is the nourishment of an umbilical cord, or tell him gravity would hold him to hard surfaces when he's been floating in amniotic fluids, or describe to him any multitude of the visions and sensations he would experience in a new world in an instant, it would be unfathomable to him. However, the moment he's born, the baby adapts perfectly the the experience he could have never imagined. Although he could not have anticipated what awaited him outside of his mother's body, he was made for this world and has been equipped with all he needs to thrive in it. That's the best way I can understand heaven. When all we know is this mortal world, how much could we understand of an eternal world completely beyond and apart from its realm? Even though I know next to nothing about heaven, I trust God that it is there and I have been perfectly created to live an unending life there.

I know and am thankful that many of you are praying for my healing, and of course I would cherish more years with my family and loved ones if God chooses to give them to me. But at the same time, I don't have the desperation to live that it seems many people expect me to have. My life has not been a fairytale, but I also have no regrets as I think back on my years. I have taken advantage of every stage of life, so like I've said before, I have no bucket list or unfulfilled dreams. It helps me to be at peace with either living or dying. Truthfully, if I do enter heaven soon, I am incredibly thankful for the way God is allowing me to finish my time on earth. We have had family members die in car crashes and other tragic accidents, and I think those are the hardest deaths to deal with. There is no closure. No preparation. No goodbyes. God has given my family the great blessing of time. And as a mother, I am grateful that I can be here to help my children prepare to live without me. I know now is the time to teach Mackenzie all the traditional family recipes. Now is the time for Steve and Dawn to have Emma's birthday party in Florida instead of Virginia so I can be a part of it. It is the time for Erin to get more than an earful of my financial advice, and the time for Shannon and her kids to stop by almost every day. This is really a precious time for us. My mom and dad used to come stay with my family about 6 months out of the year, and even though that was a lot of time to spend with them, I would cry every time they packed the car to drive back to Wisconsin. I didn't want them to leave, but I knew they had to go home. And I was comforted to know that soon enough we would be taking our summer trip to Wisconsin and we would be reunited again. That's how I see the time I have with my family now. My visit on earth may be coming to a close, and it makes Bob and my kids and me cry to think of saying goodbye, but we know that eventually I need to go home. And they will all come stay with me soon.

Is anybody out there?

I had another round of chemo on Tuesday, so now I'm smack dab in the middle of the difficult days following treatment. I spent all of yesterday in bed with what I would describe as a "skullache." It's different from a headache because I actually feel the pain in my bones. My eyes were also sensitive to light, so I tried to sleep as much as possible in my dark room to pass the time. My teeth were hurting again this time around, so I filled up on applesauce, bananas, and the like. I have been fortunate this far to have experienced only one instance of the vomiting that you often hear comes with chemo, but it came back last night and then woke me up this morning. A red bucket is my best friend today.

I am also a little lonely because my daughter Shannon has a cold, so she and her baby girls won't be able to come over for a while since I'm supposed to avoid sick people. Most of the day it is just Mackenzie and me in the house, and we enjoy each other's company, but we've both heard all of each other's stories at least a hundred times! I need fresh ears to appreciate my riveting tales!

All that being said, I miss you! Where have you all gone? When I started this blog, my reasons were many. One of them was a hope that others who experience unexpected suffering could feel encouragement reading along and knowing they were not alone. Another reason was so that I would not feel alone either! I have been blessed by your comments on this blog, cards in the mail, phone calls, and emails - probably to the point where I've taken them for granted. I want you to know how much those small acts serve to lift my spirits and rejuvenate me. The seventeenth-century English writer Joseph Addison is often remembered by this quote, "Friendship improves happiness, and abates misery, by doubling our joys, and dividing our grief." You have all done this for me, and especially on these days when I'm feeling a little down in the dumps, I pray that you will continue to do so.

I can't wait to hear from you!

An end in sight!

We had another oncology appointment with Dr. Segota last Wednesday where we discussed my chemotherapy treatment. She said studies of patients in my position show that they live longest and most comfortably when they receive a limited number of chemo treatments rather than continuing them indefinitely. This is because eventually the detrimental effects on the body outweigh the positive. Medically speaking, curing my cancer is not a possibility, so Dr. Segota wants to stick with the plan that shows the best quality and length of remaining life for patients with stage 4 lung cancer. So after two more cycles, we will stop the chemo, and I will continue to receive Avastin and Zometa, which are drugs that have already been a part of my treatment which inhibit the development of nourishing blood vessels for the tumors and prevent complications from the cancer in my bones, respectively. After my last chemo treatment, which will be June 17, I will undergo tests to gage the current status of my cancer, and these tests will be repeated every three months. If there is unexpected tumor growth, or I show poor symptoms, we would consider repeating chemo. I immediately felt relieved and encouraged to hear there was an end in sight to these chemo cycles. I can't imagine how people deal with the ups and downs of this treatment for years. I have been getting chemo every three weeks, so I've become used to this schedule where I feel awful for the week after treatment and then alright for two, but I am eagerly looking forward to the time when my health will feel more stable.

Discussing finishing my chemo cycles and the limits of medicine again reminded me of God's sovereignty in my life. He is in control of this entire situation, and it may very well be that I do not have much longer to live. I still believe that if God chooses to heal me, He could defy all medical odds and do it, but if He doesn't, I am happy to rest in His plan for me. Taking me home to be with Him in heaven is not exactly a consolation prize to healing me here on earth! It is the ultimate joy, so I have a great peace and in fact a yearning to experience it at the time God has planned for me. Knowing that my cancer is this severe has encouraged me to live more fully in the time I have left on earth, so in that way it has been a great blessing for me. I take little for granted and am thrilled by all the inspiring and even the more mundane aspects of daily living. I feel fortunate that God has given me this time to gain some perspective and live in a more fulfilling way.

The Biltmore Mansion was as impressive as I expected, and we had beautiful weather all weekend. We got to tour the home, vineyard, and gardens. Bob and I found everyone who worked at the Biltmore to be personable and well-spoken and were impressed by their dedication and pride in their jobs. One of my favorite parts was striking up a conversation with a gardner who had worked on the estate for nine years and whose father had held the same job before him for his entire life. He had fascinating stories to share about George Vanderbilt, who had built the mansion, and his family and servants who had lived there with him. I was amazed at how progressive and cutting edge the bachelor Vanderbilt had been when he built this dream home. The entire place was constructed out of concrete instead of the usual wood to prevent fires, but there was also an intricate fire alarm system installed throughout the estate. It was also the first residence in the US to run on electricity and have home telephones. He not only created a home noteworthy for its size, but also for its top of the line and advanced design. As I mentioned last week, Bob had reserved a wheelchair for me so I wouldn't exhaust myself with the tours. We discovered that crowded, unfamiliar tourist attractions are probably not the best places to get accustomed to pushing a wheelchair. We were knocking people over left and right, and while my legs never got tired, I ended up with some souvenir neck pain from Bob's daredevil navigating.

Annabelle and Addison have been able to have some extra sleepovers at Gram's the past few days, and they keep us laughing. The other day Annabelle was curious about all my new hats since I've lost my hair and asked, "Gram, why do you wear those hats all the time? Is it so birds don't poop on your head?" She had no clue why I cracked up, so I explained to her that I hadn't thought of that specific benefit to headwear. She gets to sleep with Gram and Bob when she stays over, and she has taken to wearing a nightcap too to be more like Gram. She is completely adorable.

Memorial Day having just passed, I have to tell you all how proud I am of my son Steve who enlisted in the Navy seventeen years ago. I am so thankful for the selfless service of Steve and the many other military men and women who have taken up this sacrificial profession both now and in past generations.

Weary Bones

I have been feeling the cumulative energy loss from repeated chemotherapy over the past week, and a few days ago I was also feeling pain, which I hadn't experienced in a while. We called Dr. Segota's nurse, and we decided it was time to up my pain medication which solved that problem. It is two weeks after my latest treatment, and the major side effects have worn off except for the tiredness. We had "Fake Mother's Day" on Sunday because most of the family was out of town on real Mother's Day (if you started reading around Christmastime, you'll realize my family has a thing for fake holidays), and I woke up so tired I spent much of the day on the couch while we enjoyed family time. It took a lot out of me just to speak above a whisper. Everyday is not that severe, but I am feeling more overall fatigue.

Bob and I have planned a trip to North Carolina this weekend to see the Biltmore Mansion, which is something I've always wanted to do. I am excited for the vacation, but we've decided it's the last major out-of-towner we'll be planning for a while since my fatigue has increased. Bob has reserved a wheelchair for our tour so I can sit most of the day and relish any special treatment that comes my way because of it!

My sisters and I are trying to finish up the loose ends of settling my parents' estate, which is necessary, but difficult. I still miss them everyday, and sometimes I can feel an actual pain in my chest because of how hard this is on my heart. I have been reminded, though, that I pass on a great deal of my parents' legacy to my kids and grandkids all the time without even realizing it. Yesterday Annabelle wore one of her new Grandma-made outfits to school and when everyone complimented its adorable design, she responded like a well-trained parrot, "Thank you, my grandmother made it." It was a page right out of my own childhood as I remembered my mother drilling that phrase into me, "Thank you, my mother made it."

I've included a picture of Annabelle playing with her Doodle Bug in the outfit so you'll understand why it is so important that I receive credit for the style!