Saturday, July 26, 2008

Leslie defeated cancer this evening at 9:15 CDT. She is now finally Home, having completed her "journey". There is no more suffering. No more gasping for air. No more fear. No more heartache. She is certainly worshiping before the Throne, catching up with some old friends and family that have gone before her, and certainly some new friends and family, tilting her head back with her eyes closed and laughing with that contagious laugh—the one her failing lungs have been preventing her from laughing over the past few months. I am so grateful that she is no longer suffering, but am thankful for the past several days and hours, when she continued to fight (she's a warrior!), which allowed for a prolonged time in which her family and I were able to say our proper farewells. (Mostly "I-love-you's", "thank-you's", and "see-you-soon's".) We passed along the farewells you all have sent along, and Leslie certainly knows she is loved. She breathed her last breath knowing it, and she knows it even more fully now.She was very aware that her time had come, in the days leading up to today. This week was a seamless transition from "fighting for her life", to "fear in knowing her body could not beat it this time", to "intense sorrow that these conversations would be her last", and finally, to "the perfect balance of 'will' and 'peace' we've all been praying for over the past 10 months". She dwelt in that place (praise Jesus!) of both fighting and drifting peacefully away for dozens of hours, basically unconscious through that time. The nurses just kept saying "she's SO BRAVE!", as she continued to "outlast" all of their/ our expectations. "She's a warrior," I'd say back.Today, her battle is over. And I know she is still with us in some real supernatural sense, pulling for us, fighting our portion of the war with us even now.And her story—her legacy, her LIFE—is just now beginning. It will continue to be lived in the lives of myself, our son, her family and friends, and you—our prayer warriors and partners on this journey—for generations to come. Until the war is won and we are all together to celebrate the victory before our King.I have decided, with the blessings of her family, to forgo a "traditional" funeral and burial. A "viewing", eulogy, internment, a room full of tears and flowers—these are all things that just couldn't do my Leslie justice. Be assured that there will be specific opportunities to celebrate and remember her life—"memorial celebrations" in multiple Midwestern locations—in the weeks or perhaps months to come. There IS a specific plan—something beautiful that God has laid on my heart—and logistical details will be posted on this site when they become final. But, I want TJ and me, and her family, to be able to participate and celebrate in those moments with you all—and it's just going to take a few days for us to settle into the next part of our journey, before we are physically able to do so. I do apologize to those who might feel more comfortable with a more traditional process, but please be assured, the memorial service(s) will allow for the opportunity to celebrate, grieve, reflect, and worship, just as a more traditional service would.I don't know if this is the "end" of this blog… And if it is, I don't know how to give it the proper "closure". This whole thing started back in October of 2007 as a "news center" of sorts for close friends and family who cared enough to keep themselves updated with the details of Leslie's battle, and the life we were living in its midst. As word began to spread, we noticed more hits and growing interest/ intrigue—which then seemed kind of weird to us, to be honest. "But hey," we said, "if someone's loving and interested enough in this to take the time to read, I guess there's nothing we're typing that we wouldn't want them to know or share in with us." Then… Ginny's mirror site on blogspot.com… Then various church prayer chains… And of course, the proverbial "grape-vine" via old school and church networks… And a very popular "Pray for Leslie" yard sign campaign in NE Indiana… Next thing you know, we were being lifted up in prayer by literally TENS OF THOUSANDS of people whom we had never even MET before. The miracle is that people were actually encouraged by her story… and then coming full-circle, WE were coming to these sites several times a day to glean some encouragement from the responses. Know that we have felt more loved, more supported, and more strengthened by God at the behest of your prayers and love than we could ever have imagined possible. Just last week, Leslie and I were talking about the "blog phenomenon", and I was basically asking if she was cool with "continuing", as the outcome was becoming more and more "intense", shall we say. Those that know her understand that she is actually a rather "private" person-- better in small intimate settings. For the most part, a woman of few, albeit well-thought-out, words. (We balanced each other well, that way.) But her response was this: "Maybe I should worry about how many people know so much about me and this journey. But people have been encouraged. Lives have been changed. God has been glorified. This is the purpose and life that God has set before me. I'm going to keep living it until I'm at the finish line." In fact, each of you, every time you have clicked on this blog to read-- to share in this journey... you have culminated the "ministry" that God had given Leslie over the past 10 months. Thank you all, for making it easier for her to see God working in/through this. Thank you.Thank you, close friends and family, for your physical support—a child-care fund for TJ, gift-cards for gas and groceries, hundreds of meals over the past 10 months, hugs, tears, physical presence and support around the house… I can't give you proper thanks here. For that matter, I'm not able to give you the proper thanks even through the course of the rest of my life. Just know I'm going to die trying. And finally, thank you, Father, for the precious gift of Leslie. Thank you for healing her—for the peace and joy she is now experiencing—as You have promised through history through Your Holy Spirit, for which You provided through the blood of Jesus. Thank you for the 32 years You gave us to enjoy being with Leslie. Take joy in her now. Wrap your arms around her. And as if Your love isn't enough… if she cares enough to take the time to let You… please touch her now, with "holy kisses", which can remind her from time to time of the persistent love that fills the hearts of those she left behind—these friends who have shared in her journey; her family; her precious little boy; and her husband. She taught us to love. She taught us to live. We are forever thankful for Your gift of life… and for the gift of Leslie.Amen.-Tyson

In the Arms of God

After a hard battle with cancer Leslie Jo (Bucher) Aschliman went home to be with Jesus.
She was a wife, mother, daughter, sister, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, aunt, cousin, grandchild, and friend. She will be greatly missed.

beating cancer....

Last week, when I was having a better day, my pastor/friend Ronn sent me a wonderful essay written by the late Whitehouse Press Secretary and cable news commentator, Tony Snow, which was originally published in Christianity Today. (Fellow-non-conservatives in the crowd, just hang with me here.) This is totally worth the 10-minute read. Mr. Snow wrote this masterpiece on cancer, suffering, life, faith, and dying when he was deep in the midst of "The Valley of the Shadow of Death" in his journey and battle with cancer-- a battle Tony eventually won, but perhaps not in the manner for which most of his loved ones were hoping or praying. This morning, I'm finding encouragement in this article, which resonates more precisely and completely with Leslie's and my experience than just about anything else I've read. He finds words that I've been digging for, explaining the anxiety, the periodic sudden rushes of clarity/wisdom and strength, the blessing of "prayer warriors", and the meaning and goodness of life, as one can only experience when walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
Here is a link to that article, which Mr. Snow wrote a few months before he finally beat cancer. (Tony "went Home" a couple of weeks ago.)

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2007/july/25.30.html
(you might have to copy and paste)

No real update, medically. She had one bad "attack" again late last night, in which I had to convince the doctor and nurses (again, new to her case), that all she needed was 1mg of morphine, her dose of Ativan, and a little time. They were trying to convince me that intubation was the way to go. Finally, a senior resident popped in, heard what I was saying, and basically coerced the nurse into giving Leslie the shots. 10 minutes later, her heartbeat was steady, her O2 saturation was back to normal... I TOLD YOU SO!!! (sorry, had to get that out... didn't allow myself to say that to the nurse and doc). Anyway, she got through it and rested for the remainder of the evening rather soundly.
Her breathing is more strained than ever, over all, and now they're concerned about some kidney-related tests they've run, which they're looking into today. Her heart rate is holding steady at about 20 bpm higher than when she was admitted. I'm just rubbing her back, holding her hand, and being a whispering cheerleader in her ear now-and-then. She mostly communicates by nodding or shaking her head to yes-no questions. Every once in a while she strings together a few words, but it takes so much effort. Please pray for her comfort and peace.

Tyson

Sweet Home Loyola

Leslie had sufficiently stabilized by this afternoon, so they transported her to Loyola, where she can be among her docs and the staff that is familiar with her case. It's a different ICU, this time, so none of the nurses know us, which is a bit disappointing. It takes a while for a new staff to a) understand I'm not full of crap or being ridiculous when I make unusual requests and advocate on her behalf, and b) really get to know her, medically.
It has been a very emotional and difficult couple of days. The next couple will be as well, as we "wait and see" how her body reacts to the antibiotics, in the hopes that these severe difficulties breathing are merely a result of complications brought on by pneumonia, and not the dreaded advancement of her cancer. Crazy, but there's just no way to tell, other than how she feels in the coming days.
Needing prayers for peace, comfort, and wisdom to fall on us in abundance from the Almighty, more than anything else these next days. Thank you all. Your prayers are felt. Your love is reciprocated. Your support is gladly accepted.
-Tyson

New ICU

Leslie is in the ICU at Bolingbrook/ Adventist Hospital, locally. They took her there via ambulance around midnight local time. I'm back at home now, (was on a work trip from Sunday night, planned through this evening), and her Mom and I are tag-teaming between TJ @ home and Leslie @ the hospital. Leslie needs your prayers. They currently are giving her as much oxygen through her face mask as they possibly can. The next step would be a ventilator. This terrifies me, of course. For the most part, Leslie rests now. She has had 3 "attacks" today, where she wakes up and is unable to breathe. It was in the middle of one of these last night about 2:30am that a doctor called me and basically asked if they had permission to put her on a ventilator. Leslie and I have not ever talked about this, and I'm kicking myself wondering how this as slipped my mind until now. (Call it avoidance, perhaps.) Fortunately, it was not necessary, as she soon "stabilized", shortly thereafter. The facilities are much more comfortable and quiet at Bolingbrook than at Loyola's ICU's, but we are eager to hear from the doctors here that she has stabilized enough to get her on a transport to Loyola, where the doctors and nurses know her case, and where we know the doctors and nurses. (The doctor here says it won't be until tomorrow at the earliest.) Anytime you introduce a new network of health professionals into a case with Leslie's kind of track record, there is much confusion, chaos, and frustration. Everybody here so far has been fine, kind, professional, etc... but we just want to get her on that transport to Loyola.I'm basically in shock here... We had a very nice Sunday before I left town. When I left, she was seeming so strong-- tired from a 3-hour trip wheeling around the mall and having lunch (THANK YOU GOD!)-- but strong and joyful. Now this... ...Needing prayers more than ever. (Haven't I said that several times already in the past???) Tyson

Calling All Prayer Warriors...

Asking for you to lift Leslie up in prayer. She was transported to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning.
Tyson is in route from being away on business. Pray for safety as he travels. Pray for TJ and their families.
Pray without ceasing

ginny

Lower Plateau

My day was pretty eventful-- even rather enjoyable, I feel guilty to admit-- taking care of Leslie, entertaining and directing TJ, playing house-keeper, etc... I'm pooped. (Do people say that anymore? We need to bring it back, I think...) But I was feeling pretty good about my efforts. TJ had a better day. (With all the action lately, his routine and general attitude and emotional fortitude basically went into the tank, but we've made some steps toward "recovery" this weekend.) Leslie got a lot more rest today, and even ate a bit. The house is in better shape than when I started this morning...But after I got TJ to bed (too late) tonight, the emotional flood-gates were opened. Leslie, now fully "awake" from her 2-week slumber, is really struggling with the spiritual/emotional side of this fight. Physically, there hasn't really been any improvement since we got her home. So weak. So tired. She's not any WORSE, really... just about good enough to keep her out of the hospital. It just seems like forever since she's felt anything resembling "normal". And it just gets her thinking, (to steal a movie quote from Jack Nicholson)... "What if this is as good as it gets?"She found herself listening to TJ and me interact downstairs today (she never made it out of the bedroom, again today), just missing us. We're still HERE, and she knows that... but she can't help but feel she's not "here" with us-- not able to do the mommy things she so longs to do. It's just too easy to find herself asking, "what if I never _______". So many blanks to fill in...So we had a "good cry" tonight, mixed in with prayers for healing, for peace, for comfort. We actually woke up TJ. Poor guy. He asked why mommy was "trying" (as verbal as the little guy is, he still has trouble with certain consonants) :). I tried to explain the best I could. "She was just really hoping she'd be able to go to Lifetime and Panera with us today... and it's been so long she's taken you to the zoo. It makes her sad that she doesn't feel well enough to do those things." He seemed to get that... still he asked, "But why is she trying?" (He's deep in the heart of the WHY stage these days.) (So is his daddy.) "She is crying because she is sad," I answered. "BUT... do you know what makes her HAPPY?" He seemed to be rather interested to hear my thoughts, behind his tired eyes and his paci, as we rocked. "YOU make her happy! Every time you're in her room, and give her kisses, and read books with her. And every time she hears you playing downstairs, it makes her happy." He shot me a very proud-- and tired-- grin, and went back to sleep.Tonight, our prayers are more along the lines of "How long, O Lord?" and "Take this cup". Oh, and God... protect and strengthen our little boy's heart. Let him be filled with Your love and Your strength, even now, as we've seen You do previously, throughout this journey along this road You've laid before us. Tyson

She'sBack HOME!!!!

Joy comes easily today! We got home from the hospital JUST in time for lunch... and were welcomed by a surprised and very EXCITED almost-3-year-old. Mommy gets to rock and read to him before his nap, momentarily, and all is well with the universe, once again.So yeah... After several days of very little to no progress, she turned the proverbial corner pretty quickly and suddenly yesterday and last night, and she was feeling pretty "normal" this morning (whatever normal is, these days). Yesterday her appetite returned, and her body is apparently digesting what she's taking in pretty well. Her strength seems to have come back rather suddenly... She weighed in at 100lbs this morning-- first 3-digit day in several weeks-- which means that she gained almost 10 pounds since they admitted her late last week. She asked if her shorts made her look fat. (Just kidding!) And she's re-hydrated (probably the greatest source of the weight gain)... electrolytes looking good, and maintaining. So yeah... That sucked. But really, she just needed a little bit of a "re-charge".Funny story (kind of funny... or scary, maybe)-- The plan was to discharge her this morning just in time to get her to the Cancer Center for her "Week 3" infusion. I asked the on-service oncologist no fewer than 3 times... "Are you SURE? We don't get a week off or something???" But, Leslie would pipe in, "I've felt worse before than I do now, going into these-- might as well keep on schedule-- keep this thing going." (Again, visits 2 and 3 of each cycle have been pretty "easy", as far as the chemo infusions go. She hardly even feels them anymore.) So, we sat there, waiting in the Clinic lobby (as usual) to get her hooked up to her poison machine... when Dr. Clark walked by. He looked at us with a rather puzzled smile, excused himself from his party, and came over and pulled up a chair."What are you DOING here?" he asked."It's Thursday. Urbitux today..." Leslie answered."Well yeah, but... You just spent the last 5 days in the hospital. I'm not sure how I feel about this..."I piped in at this point, "That's what --I-- thought! But she's a warrior, and who am I to argue with her?"Dr. Clark laughed. "Let's just get you home and take a week to get some strength back. I'll talk to them and have them cancel you for today."We were both kind of relieved, I think, to hear him say it. The scary thing is, nobody even asked Dr. Clark HIS thoughts on getting her into her chemo infusion today-- they just "assumed"... He had no idea about the decision until he happened to notice us there waiting in the outpatient clinic. In FACT, he was just on his way over to the inpatient oncology unit (where Leslie had been) to pay her a quick visit. Yikes. Reminds me why I ask two or three times about EVERY little detail-- a personality quirk of mine that drives my wife NUTS, by the way. I guess in this case I should have asked the fourth time.Anyway, we'll meet again with Dr. Clark next week to determine where we "pick back up" with the treatment plan. For sure, she'll resume next Thursday, but we just don't know yet whether we'll stick with the calendar-- which would have her start back with the brutal "Week 1" treatments next week-- or if rather we'll just recommence where we left off, with the "Week 3" Urbitux infusion (thus, basically making this a "4-week" cycle, currently, with this being a "week off" of sorts). Dr. Clark will make his recommendation when we see him on Wednesday.In the meantime... **DEEP BREATH** **exhhhhhhhhale** Back to livin'! Just in time for a nice sunny (forecast) weekend! See some of you at church on Sunday!Thanks for praying us through this week! And... might I just say...HALLELUJAH!!!!! Tyson

Still Inpatient...Growing impatient...

Leslie's doing better. She's sleeping a ton. Her potassium and magnesium (blood electrolytes) are still tanking, and they keep "recharging" her. Her breathing is getting a little better since she's been here. Her digestive problems, which were the key concern and reason they admitted her on Saturday, seem to be subsiding a bit. The doctors all believe this was just "a bad cycle". It happens sometimes, apparently. The body just doesn't recover as well or as quickly from the initial shock of the chemo drugs doing what they do those first few days. The side-effects just don't subside. They have reassured us that this doesn't "mean" anything-- there is no rhyme or reason, in her study's case, as to why some cycles are better than others. There is no trend they can put their finger on or map out or predict. Some cycles are just worse than others, and it has nothing to do with the cancer "fighting back", diminishing returns of the chemotherapy, or even anything "positive" (chemo finally working more, or whatever) for that matter, either.
The good news is that her chest X-ray from Sunday shows improvement from the one she had last month. Further affirmation that "this is working". They will most likely put her treatments "on hold" until she can get back on her feet. Barring some near-miraculous turnaround in the next 2 days, Thursday's treatment will probably be pushed back or cancelled altogether, and she'll proceed with the plan again next week. In a way, this is kind of nice news, because this means that we might get our "lost" week back-- maybe still able to get two good weeks in before they start the next cycle.
So... she's here until tomorrow, at least, they've just informed us. It's hard not to grow restless, impatient, etc... (We're trying to make the most of it-- had a little hospital room "date night" last night and watched a movie.) They just want to make sure she can eat and breathe and digest food properly before they send her back. We're going to try to take a couple of short walks today. Pulmonology just stopped by to do an O2 saturation check (she's still on the oxygen hose just about constantly), which includes a short walk. She's so weak she feels she might stumble with every step she takes. Again... we're just trying to get her a little stronger so she can go home and build some good "momentum" going into the next cycle. Thanks for your prayers and encouragement. We hope our next post is from home!
-Tyson

Saturday 10:00 p.m.

So maybe I jinxed things, mentioning I was waiting for something eventful to report... Shortly after I posted the "Bittersweet" entry, the homecare nurse came over for Leslie's IV fluids. Karen (the nurse) didn't like what she saw or heard, and called Dr. Clark, who basically convinced us to bring her to the hospital this evening. He admitted her, and she is now asleep in her bed on the Oncology Inpatient Unit.
The concern is that she just is too dehydrated, under-nourished (she hasn't been able to eat much, and what she does either goes right through her or comes back up), and her breathing is getting more difficult. Karen believes she's hearing more obstruction in the area where Leslie's biggest tumor is located. Not sure what to make of this... They're going to run some more tests, which we probably won't get word back on until Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, they're just getting her some IV fluids and oxygen (which she was on at home), and will soon administer some IV nourishment that they couldn't do via Homecare. And keeping a watchful eye on her.
This was quite a blow, emotionally-- we were so hoping and planning for a good family weekend together. We were initially feeling kind of "ripped-off" this evening. "We did our 'hard time'... Now give us our 2 weeks!" We were praying for peace-- whether to admit her or give it a go at home for a couple more days. Prayer answered. It's obvious to us now that this is the right thing. We're hopeful-- after conversations with Karen the Homecare nurse whom we love and trust, and Dr. Clark-- that this will be a short stay, and will be the best way to get her on her feet to the point where she can enjoy a few more days before hitting the next cycle with as much strength as possible.
So for tonight, I'm staying with her for another hour or so, until I'm confident she'll be settled down and comfortable-- able to rest peacefully for the night. My mom and dad came from Ohio on short notice. TJ was pretty pumped up to know that Mimi and Papa would be there when he woke up in the morning. He loves suprises. Again... we've got so much to learn from that little guy...
-Tyson

Bittersweet.....

And I'm thinking...
Love...
It's bittersweet.
More sweet than bitter.
Bitter, then sweet.
It's a bittersweet surrender.

Those are the lyrics to a chorus of a Big Head Todd song I fell in love with in college. I think I just liked the melody and syncopated rhythmic guitar part. There was a certain passion and even an anguish in the singer's voice. Funny how songs that I used to enjoy and sing thoughtlessly along with take on a whole new meaning these days.(For those of you who are MySpace users, you can hear the song on my main Profile page-- just click on my name above the picture of Leslie and me in the upper left.)It's been bittersweet. I guess that's the report. I realize it's been over a week since my last update. I've been kind of waiting for something encouraging to happen-- some sort of event I can report-- so I could come at you with a "gee, that sucked, but things are looking up." And all I can really say, when it comes to Leslie's health, is "gee, this sucks..." And that's all. And it's an understatement of a lifetime. I can't even begin to recount all the "action" around here over the past week-plus. Summarized: Leslie was caught in a "Twilight Zone" of sorts, until about Wednesday of this week. She was (even in her own present recollection of the week) unable to differentiate between what was really going on and what was happening in her dreams/ delirium. The good news-- she was so out of it, she doesn't really remember much at all. But, it was rough, whether she realizes it or not now. She was so weak, it was all she could do was roll off of bed and onto the bed-side commode, and back into bed. Reach for the puke bucket, alert me (via TJ's baby monitor now in her room) that there was some "tending" to do-- usually just by groaning my name-- and then roll back over and plunge back into the sleep-coma. Maybe she'd manage a phrase or two of conversation while she was "awake"... but 90% of it was disoriented... she was basically working me into her dreams. And I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had no idea what she was talking about. It was just the dehydration (even though the nurse comes daily-- sometimes 2x/day to administer fluids), low potassium, poor nourishment, and the chemo-narcotic cocktail raging through her body... all working together to put on quite the show in her mind for the 5-day stint. Tuesday things were calming down a little, and Wednesday I was back to work. She called me that morning at the office, and I could tell by her voice-- even as weak and raspy as it was-- that she was "back"."Good MORNING, Baby!" I laughed."How long have I been sleeping?" She asked weakly."About 5 days," I said. "What do you remember?""I don't know... Commercials and parts of movies I know I didn't see... and bits and pieces of conversations I'm not sure we really had... What day is it?"Her mind is back with us, now. But her body is still so weak. She's still unable to get out of bed and to the bathroom by herself. She's trying to eat-- but her digestive track is still not cooperating. The nurse is coming by in a little bit to get her some more fluids. Our goal today is to get her downstairs and in the Lay-Z-Boy for the day, so she can participate-- or at least be a spectator in-- the normal Saturday action... Wiggles, baseball games (on TV and in the living room), books, pretend cooking, real cooking, etc... The objective is just allowing some of her strength to come back. Her weight is now down almost 40 lbs (and those of you who know her know that she didn't even have 5 to give, originally) since "the beginning". Her lungs and muscles and bones just need the stimulation.We had an emotional but wonderful conversation last night. We just had a lot of catching up to do. Her eyes are now alert and strong again. We're just trying to get her body to catch up a little. We're not sure why this "Week One" was so violently difficult... The doctor's don't even know what to expect, one cycle to the next. We can hope that it's because the chemo drugs are starting to make big progress against the tumors and cancer in her blood, and it's just wearing her out. But we just don't know. Meanwhile, I'm just happy she doesn't remember much of it.TJ has been so amazing through the course of this. He got to spend last weekend at his cousins' house in Wheaton-- a time full of fireworks, parades, and all kinds of fun and games... and family. He had so much fun, but was very excited to be home. He's kind of "adjusting" to Mommy being "sick". He's very "gentle" when he goes in to see her-- knocking on her door and quietly calling out, "can we come in Mommy?" before entering. He seems joyful, secure, loving, and very aware of everything... like he always is. Praise God for this. He is good and full of grace. He's protected Leslie's heart over the past week. Even her mind. And He's given me TJ-- my own little Ativan pill-- keeping me "calm and happy" when I otherwise should be struggling for my breath and sanity. So... I guess... it's like I said at first... Every day... Every breath of every minute... It's bittersweet. Tyson

Cycle 3

Leslie is sleeping. I'm pretty encouraged. We did the "Day 1" chemo infusions in record time. She did the ride home pretty well, really. Went right to bed when we arrived home at around 7pm. At 8 she had a "typical" heaving spell, but (in a pleasant turn of events, contrasted to "last time"), it subsided after about 10 minutes, and now she's back asleep again. I've been encouraged by how (relatively) smoothly today has gone-- we've sensed peace and your prayers tonight, so thank you! My prayer tonight is that she can rest easily for the evening... and the next 4 days, for that matter. TJ is with Leslie's family, who all came to her sister's house in nearby Wheaton for the 4th... Good for him, and good (and quiet) for Leslie. All in all, the "best of the worst" as far as "Day 1" is concerned. Quietly praising God tonight-- not too loud, though. I don't want to wake her. -Tyson

p.s. Dr. Clark is relatively encouraged by scans, blood work, etc... The antibiotics seem to be doing what they should be doing to the pneumonia, and Leslie was pretty strong all the way through Day 21 this time... Like I said. I'm encouraged tonight. *Inhale* ... ... *Exhale* Good night.

Up and back down...

They call them "cycles" for a reason, I guess... Breathing is getting more difficult again, and nausea/ vomitting is returning. I'm just trying to encourage her (without frustrating/ annoying her-- a tough task sometimes), by just reminding her that a) this is STILL better than Day 19 last cycle, and b) Days 15-18 were SO MUCH better than last cycle-- signs that we're moving in the right direction. She is encouraged by these reminders... but it doesn' treally make the suffering much easier.
We did have a good weekend-- made it to the reunion in Indiana. SUCH AN ENCOURAGEMENT to see all the family-- so many of whom have been such great prayer warriors and supporters. And we made it to Church on Sunday, too! So over all, it was a super weekend. Just last night she was starting to head back "down-hill". As hard as it is for her to struggle through the agony of the moment, we have been expecting this... that by Thursday this week she'll be feeling like she's got tumors in her chest again. And then, a week of misery. Followed by a couple weeks of feeling better again... and so-on.
We are encouraged, though, because we're figuring out (trial and error) how to make the first 5 days as easy on her as possible-- lots of iv fluids... and drugs. And also, the "good part" of the cycle seems to be getting longer. We're praying the momentum continues... and that these next 7-10 days fly by.

Tyson

Good News--10.15pm Friday

Well, it's official. Leslie's treatment plan is working-- the "medical", "physical", "will", and "peace" are all coming together, little by little. The greatest piece of evidence we could have received to that fact came today in the form of a phone call from Dr. Clark. Leslie's CT scan shows definite shrinking of the key tumor areas in her lungs and lymph nodes. PRAISE GOD! She IS definitely feeling better, now that we're into the third and final week of this cycle, in comparison to last cycle. Still no walks around the block, but we're happy to have the conversations, even laughs. She doesn't need anyone's help to shower or do other bathroom-related things. :) She's bored of lying in bed-- which is a tribute to the clarity of her mind, now that she has been able to come off some of the "as needed" medications. Over-all, we're starting to see the "improved quality of life" the doctors were shooting for... and we have renewed hope that God just may so choose to not stop there...Tomorrow, we're going to try traveling-- an hour-plus drive into NW Indiana for a one-day (partial-day for us) reunion with the Bucher family. It will be so good for her to look up and see the sky through the sunroof and see the miles pass by. (I only hope it doesn't trigger her car-sickness nerve again...) And of course, just to be with her extended family will be such a blessing.Yesterday, Leslie's sister took her to her chemo (it was an "easier" week) and CT scan appointment at the hospital, which freed TJ and me up for a special treat-- We took the train to his first ever Cubs' Game! The Cubs looked terrible (reminding us that they ARE, after all, still the Cubs)... But TJ did great-- made it through all 9 innings, nailed every word to "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", and ate his body weight in peanuts and hot dogs. THAT'S MY BOY! His eyes were like softballs-- taking in everything. The skyscrapers down-town. The Metra and EL. He giggled with glee at his first glimpse of the grass, dirt, and bright white lines on the infield. He even thought the Taxi ride between stations was fun, looking up to me, grinning as he held on to his seat with both hands, as if to say, "I have ARRIVED!! I AM a big boy!" (It just dawned on me he's never been in a car without his car seat.)Praise God for a good couple of weeks, and for the realistic hope of more to come! We are truly cherishing every "good" day. And every not-so-good-day does have a way of passing by, leaving us with the hope that tomorrow just may be better. We were just talking tonight about how our definition of a "good day" has changed so much-- a "good day" today might just as well have been the worst day of our lives a year ago. Feeling well is a relative concept. (Which reminds me-- the CT scan also picked up some early signs of pneumonia in her lungs, so add another antibiotic to her list of prescriptions and prayer to the list of needs for the next 2 weeks...) But still-- right now, I just want to stay in this place forever... tasting the sweetness of these "normal" little conversations... seeing my wife and my boy love on each other... enjoying her friendship and her clear mind... Speaking of which-- time for me to go back upstairs. Just finished putting away groceries and she's still up. Maybe she's up for a game of Rummy...Good night. And a round of Hallelujahs on me.--Tyson

Big Day...

It's been a pretty good week. Leslie was able to be off the oxygen tank for extended periods of time. Able to get up and down the stairs about once or twice a day. Able to sit up and eat dinner with us. Able to cuddle with TJ and read books and what-not. And able to have good conversation with us (her mom, sister, and me). Not nearly as much coughing or throwing up. Like I said, a good week.Today, she's going in for a land mark CT scan of sorts. The 2nd cycle is nearly over, and the treatment plan almost 1/3 complete. "If" this is working, the doctors should be able to see it in this CT scan. Our start-of-new-cycle appointment with Dr. Clark isn't for another week, but they typically like to have these things several days in advance of such appointments. We pray for our anxiety to be curbed, and our emotions not to wreak havoc on us, whether the feedback from the scans be good OR bad. We'll let you all know what the update is, when there is one to give.On a bright note, by this time "last cycle", Leslie's breathing was starting to get a lot worse, and her energy was starting to wane-- and today, she's feeling pretty well. Week One was absolutely HORRIBLE (not that any of us need to be reminded of that fact), but Week Two was pretty good (although maybe not quite as strong as last cycle-- needing the O2, no walks around the block, etc...). And now, Week 3 is off to a better start than last cycle. Now, we've been constantly comparing the days, the cycles, etc... to try to establish some sort of conclusion as to how this treatment plan is working... but we know 2 cycles are not enough of a "data pool" from which we can start to draw conclusions, point to trends, etc... All the more reason why we both look forward to and dread this CT scan today. As always, we appreciate your prayers.-Tyson

Minute by minute

I know it's been forever since I have written. Honestly I just don't know what to say. My feelings physically/emotionally change so often that by the time I make it downstairs my thoughts have shifted and I get distracted by something else. I am thanking God this week for increased health and strength and MUCH needed time with my family.After a wonderful last 2 days with Tyson and TJ, I find myself sad tonight. My body is just not allowing me to do all I want so badly to do. I can sit and watch a 2 hour movie forgetting that I am even sick until the second I stand when I immediately start gasping for breath! I can have the greatest night of sleep, sit up in the morning feeling just fine and then again, be out of breath before I make it to the bathroom. I see a dirty house that I want to clean, but can't. (No, this is not a request for house cleaners! I have those, but I WANT TO DO IT!) But most of all I see a delightful 2 year old boy who giggles with glee when he can go on an outing with his mommy AND daddy, even if he has to sit on my lap in my wheelchair (thanks, Matt). I want more of these outings. I want more dates with my husband. I have never appreciated them so much in my life, and I WANT MORE!!!! There just isn't enough time in the day to spend with them. I'm tired of laying around because my body isn't as well as my mind. Last week I thought I might die because I felt so sick. This week I just want to LIVE!Are you confused yet?! I am. I've never been so thankful, full of love, full of sorrow, confused, angry, sentimental, hopeful, and so unsure about my future all at the same time. No wonder I am tired.I need to say some huge thank you's this week that are way over due. Thank you, Liz for holding us together during the week! You take such good care of us, and I couldn't be resting if I didn't believe that you truly love my little boy and he loves you! Thank you, Tyson for being the glue that keeps this house from falling apart!!! Forgive me for not always appreciating "your ways of doing things". We wouldn't be able to function if you weren't doing all that you are doing. I love you more than ever. Leslie

Pray for all the "Mike's & Tyson's" out there

The post you are about to read is from Jessie Rosebrook. Leslie and Jessie have not had a chance to physically meet but have become very close through their battles with cancer. Jessie is married to Mike and they also have a little boy, Luke. Her blog address (http://www.forjessie.blogspot.com/) has been posted on this site for some time now. Jessie just finished round 9 of chemo and wrote this in her blog after the treatment...

"Last but surely not Least, a tribute to all the "Mike's" out there. Cancer surely is miserable for the one with the diagnosis but it's miserable for those who are there with you. Those of us with cancer get the sympathy and the prayers but sometimes forgotten is the one who is holding our hand the whole way! Mike is the one who carries all the weight on his shoulders. Holding up his job, a side job, a rowdy little boy, a sick wife, a home, and trying to be the strong one all the time. His burdens are not the same but just as big. I'm also blessed with a mom who would give me a new brain if she could and a family that would do anything to "fix" this. I also have found that I have great friends. I read once in some cancer book that your friendships will change throughout this and it was right. Some friendships have faded and others have been made so strong. Each and every person who stands by someone who is fighting cancer is truly fighting cancer too. So THANK YOU to ALL of you!!"

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Please keep the "Mike's" and "Tyson's" in your prayers as they battle cancer alongside their wives.

-ginny

Made it through...

So we made it through. I'm going on about 3 hours of sleep, (and most of that on the bathroom floor with TJ), depending on how you compile the minutes. TJ threw up probably about 8-10 times from 9 until about 4 this morning (and 2-3 more times during the day yesterday). Seems to be doing better now-- had some toast and Gatorade for breakfast. He hasn't "pukeded" yet. Leslie also seems to be doing okay. She had another bad coughing spell about an hour ago, but didn't throw up. It was just time for cough syrup, I think. She's not up for eating (again/ still‚), but sleeping pretty well, when she's not coughing.Praises to the Father this morning for "getting us through" that night. And for the new (and beautiful) morning. Tyson

Tuesday Night Prayer

God, I'm having a hard time understanding You tonight. How is it, that in the MIDDLE of a bed-time prayer with Leslie, during which I pray (again) for peace and rest which leads to renewed strength in the morning, that she begins coughing violently, then sits up, and proceeds to puke what little nourishment her emaciated body has been able to take in tonight. In the MIDDLE of our prayer for just the opposite...?!You KNOW we believe You are God, You are here, and You are good... ALL the time... All we're asking is that You show it a little bit... You don't need to prove Yourself. You have nothing to prove that's not already written on the hearts of every man, and throughout all of Creation. Yet still You HAVE done just that-- proven Yourself time and again through the ages... through the cross... in our very lives. We're just asking to SEE it... first hand... just a little glimpse... tonight. Are You testing us? Trying our faith? You KNOW we're not going anywhere. You know our faith is steadfast. We have Job, Habakkuk, David, Peter, Paul, and so many others who have gone before us. (Not to mention our dear brothers and sisters who have also tasted this kind of suffering, first-hand, and turned gratitude and praise back to You in the midst of it.) We know that in life there is suffering, and even in suffering, You are there. We have learned of new dimensions and depths of Your goodness in the midst of this nightmare, and have claimed it. But... in the MIDDLE of our prayer tonight...?Yes, we fail to understand. But we don't fail to trust. We don't fail to love You... to call out to You. It's just Your method that leaves us wondering. Seriously... is THIS what it takes for us to bring You the glory You desire from us? Yes, we wonder tonight at that. At that, and at the fact that we're just not quite sure whether Leslie's vomiting is from the chemo... or from the FREAKING VIRUS that has had TJ puking his little guts out all day and night as well. ARE YOU SERIOUS?? Now we're begging for mercy on our 2-year-old as well??! I'd flippantly challenge You to just hit me with it while You're at it and just make it a "full house"... but truly, I'm fearful You'd do just that... for some unexplicable (albeit Godly) purpose. So, I find myself begging for mercy, to not be stricken with whatever it is TJ has... and either has or hasn't already been passed to Leslie. I guess I'll take the opportunity to thank You for making TJ such a wonderful little kid-- a "warrior" like his mommy-- getting up from his make-shift, toilet-side bed all by himself, while I was tending to Mommy, to direct his vomit into its proper place... He was so proud of himself, and made sure I took a good look before I flushed it. He's been such an angel this evening, and yes, I thank You for that... because I'm not sure how else we would've got through the night. (But then again, we're not through the night yet. Please God... get us through the night... with some peace and rest.)Father, I'm finding myself even scared to type these words... fearful of how You'll answer in all Your infinite wisdom... mysterious as You have proven Yourself to be. I'm scared to ask for bread, lest You give me a stone... Yet You have PROMISED in the Gospels that You wouldn't do that...???... I guess... tonight I just pray... claiming again that promise... Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our trespasses... our feeble minds... Our lack of understanding. Our self-pity. Our arrogance that may suggest that we somehow know better than You... Bind temptation and all kinds of evil from us. Deliver us, tonight, oh Lord. For this is YOUR kingdom. We are witnesses to YOUR power. Forever.Amen. ..................Tyson

Misery Loves Compazine

So, today wasn't the peaceful day of rest and recovery we were hoping for or expecting. From bed-time last night until sometime this afternoon, Leslie only slept for an hour at most at a time, waking up for violent spells of dry heaving, coughing, and gasping for breath. Not sure if it was the fact that she got a "full dose" of the Oxaliplatin this time, or what... but it was pretty bad. "Doesn't God HEAR me?" Leslie whimpered to me, as I rubbed her back, trying to comfort her, in the midst of one of these "spells" at one point this morning. The routine was that we'd sleep for about 45 minutes, wake up and wrestle and pray through the next 20 minutes, "clean up", and then try to sleep for the next 45 again... and so-on.What do you say to that? I mean-- certainly he feels her pain. Hears our prayers. Indeed, hears the prayers of THOUSANDS of brothers and sisters across the world, literally... and still, He seems to sit by and allow her to suffer. "He hears you, Baby. He's right here. He hates to see you going through this.""But He could STOP it, if He wanted to... He could make it better..." Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she panted, now... the words barely a whisper. Panic in her eyes.Eventually (seemingly hours later-- more like 10-15 in reality), the attack subsided, and she was resting again.Anyway... after I made several phone calls to various parties within the Loyola network, Karen the home-care nurse stopped by around 1pm today, with orders from Dr. Clark, to give Leslie 2 liters of IV fluids (she was so dehydrated) and 2-3 different anti-nausea meds. That eventually settled her down. As a result, she's been sleeping pretty soundly since about 3 or 4 this afternoon. Before leaving, Karen said-- "This will NOT be like this, honey. We're going to up your med's and up the fluids. We'll get you through this.""See, Babe? God heard your cries," I tiptoed in and whispered in her ear, giving her a kiss on her feverish cheek a few hours later. "Thank you, Father." She nodded in agreement, giving silent thanks, not able to open her eyes, and then drifted back to sleep.Phew. That was a rough one. It's so wonderful to see her sleeping so deeply now-- rosy cheeks, breathing slowly and steadily. I'll probably sleep in the basement. She's sprawled all across the bed, and I don't have the heart to wake her. She's got TJ's baby monitor in her room, and one of the receivers is in the basement, so I'll here her if she wakes...Tomorrow we try the day on our own. I'm praying she sleeps... oh, about 20 hours or so out of the next 24. TJ and I have big plans. Breakfast and then a baseball game in the back yard. (He's been a little angel again, over the past few days. The one thing that brought me actual joy today. What a blessing!)Anyway... each day is an adventure. This one has a happy ending. Good night. We're resting easily in the shelter of Almighty arms tonight. Thanks for your prayers today.--Tyson