It's True What They Say

It has been said that dog is man's best friend. Truer words have never been spoken. On Tuesday, Richard and I discovered that Gus, my old english sheepdog, had a terrible infection and had to be put down. I was completely blindsided and unprepared to lose him so soon. It is strange that whenever personal tragedy strikes the world seems to start spinning faster and faster; while I remain stuck in a horrible moment. When I realized that he was going to die my world stopped. I forgot to breathe, and I couldn't think about what to do next. All around me however, everyone else kept on going. No one stopped to notice what was happening. Only my sweet husband felt the shift as my private world was forever changed. To some, he was only a dog. To me, he had been a true and loving companion. Gus and I had been together for about seven years. I rescued him from a shelter in Utah while I was attending the BYU. I was living in student housing at the time, and had no where to take him that night. He ended up living in my brother's garage in Draper for a few months until I could find an apartment in Provo that would let me keep a dog. 4 cities, 5 apartments, 3 houses, 6 boyfriends, one husband, two kids and another puppy later and we had shared a lifetime together. Gus had been abused before I got him. His back legs were both broken and he was completely covered in sores. It didn't take much love from me for him to become completely attached and truly loyal. He was very protective and wouldn't let any guys near me. Richard and I used to have to lock him out of the house whenever he came over. We could always hear him growling behind the door during our make out sessions. In the end, the love shared between them was as strong as the relationship between Gus and I. It is funny how one's heart can stretch and grow to make room to love someone new. When I became pregnant with Olive, I wondered how I could possibly love this next baby as much as the first. Yet, when she came, without any effort there was plenty of room in my heart to love her as much as the first. However, with the loss of someone who has carved out a special place in your heart, nothing can every fill the void. Hearts can't recoil like a rubber band. Once they are stretched they stay that way. Heartache is a true condition. My heart actually hurts. I miss Gus very much. Just like no one could ever fill the void of the loss of any of my loved ones, there will always be a corner of my heart just for Gus. I count all those who knew this lovely dog very lucky. I consider myself the luckiest. He was one of God's gifts to me in the form of a shaggy old sheep dog. He was exactly the dog I wanted, exactly when I needed him. He has shared the lowest points of my life and been with me through the greatest moments I have ever known. He was always happy to see me, and never held a grudge when I forgot to take him for a walk or made him sleep outside. True friends like that are hard to find. To some he may just be a dog, but to me, I feel a very profound loss. It is true what the say....Gus has been one of my very best friends.

Coming Home

We brought Olive home one year ago today. A year I am glad to have behind me. We were at the hospital a lot longer than we ever anticipated. You always hear about complications, but before all of this I had no idea what that meant. Well, Olive had complications. Her tumor is located near the part of her brain that controls her breathing. Fearing that the tumor or surgery might paralyze Olive's lungs, she was placed on ventilators after each surgery until she could prove that she could breathe on her own. Following her first surgery, she was in the ICU for several days using a ventilator. While on a ventilator, no air moved past her vocal cords. Therefore, she could make no noise. For days, I watched my baby silently cry as she recovered from her painful surgery. It was heartbreaking to be unable to pick her up and comfort her as we watched her cry without a sound.

The hospital staff discovered she could breath by what would be a very lucky accident. One afternoon several days after surgery, the doctors wanted a scan of her brain to measure the size of the remaining tumor. As they were turning around a corner with Olive's hospital bed, her breathing tube caught on the door jamb. Without realizing what had occurred the tube was ripped from Olive's throat. From down the hall, I could hear my baby scream. I knew her cry in an instant. It was the first time I had heard it in days. The nurses were panicking as the realized what had just occurred. As I ran around the corner they were crowded over her bed. Miraculously, Olive had the strength to breathe on her own.

After that episode Olive failed her swallow study. This meant she could not safely eat without danger of aspirating. She had to be fed with a feeding tube placed down her throat through her nose. She also contracted a sickness commonly known as C-Diff. C-Diff is explosive, dehydrating, cramping diarrhea. she was than isolated to a room all her own. For several days Olive and I sat confined to a room on the third floor. Finally in the early afternoon of October 20, Olive passed her swallow study. I successfully fed her the first bottle. The next day, we were discharged and could finally take our baby home. Taking Olive home. Something so simple weeks before was now the biggest blessing I had ever been given.

These pictures show Olive in the last photo she had taken before losing her vertebrate. She is being held by her Grandpa Harold. The other picture shows her wearing her neck brace and hooked to her feeding tubes shortly after her first surgery.

Earrings, Necklaces and Bracelets Oh My!

I would like to think that I am a genuinely kind and thoughtful person. However, every once in a while you meet someone who is so naturally kind, it is astounding and very humbling. I have had the privilege of being the recipient of some of those types of people's generosity. Two of these amazing people live in Colorado Springs, one of them I don't even know in person. The first, my cousin Niki, the second, her dear friend Stephanie. Stephanie is a Lia Sophia dealer. Lia Sophia, is a beautiful line of jewelry sold out of people's homes. It is incredible stuff. Upon hearing of our plight, Stephanie informed Niki that she wanted to hold a benefit sale on our behalf. Acting as hostess, Niki held the party at her house. These two women then donated their earnings to me. I received nearly five hundred dollars worth of jewelry, and even more than that in cash. I am still breathless at receiving such a gift. The kindness of complete strangers. Olive's sickness has been horrible, yet such an amazing experience at the same time. The people who have come into our lives that we would have never known otherwise, have made this battle so much easier. In a world that lately seems very corrupt, ugly and selfish, I am blessed to constantly be surrounded by love and kindness. I have reconnected with old friends, made fantastic new ones, and strengthened the bonds with those people who have been constant in my life. I thank God everyday for all of you. It is your faith and support that gives me the courage to keep hoping when I often feel I can not. It is all of you who give me joy, strength and continually make me laugh. From the bottom of my heart, Thank You.

P.S. When you see me notice my beautiful bracelets. That dang Lia Sophia knows what she is doing.

All Dressed Up

If you were to ask me if I was superstitious, I would probably say no. However, over the course of the past year, I have thrown away at least a dozen or more shirts. It started the day Olive was diagnosed. I was wearing a cute, new shirt I had just purchased the day before at Old Navy. Then we received the news. That night I threw the now ugly shirt in the trash. How could I ever wear that cursed shirt again? I had no idea that subconsciously I had started a my own superstitious tradition. Every subsequent scan, surgery or appointment that Olive had, would result in a discarded outfit. It didn't take long before I started running out of clothes that I was willing to throw away. The clothing shortage was not only a problem for me, but one for Richard as well. I couldn't allow him to wear any shirt that would remind me of bad news. So, he was often required to throw his out as well. Nine or ten months down the road, as we began to run out of clothes, we could often be found wearing really old, and most often skin tight (due to the marriage weight we've gained) shirts to every doctor appointment.

Well, one year later, as we returned to SLC for the scan that would determine if Olive's chemotherapy was working, I turned over a new leaf. More appropriately, I wore a new outfit. The old habit of throwing the bad shirts away was costing us a fortune, and didn't seem to have any real benefit. For this appointment, I got up early to ensure that I looked good for our day at the hospital. I left for the scan looking "fine". Not just any old "fine" but first date kinda "fine". I was lipsticked, hair-sprayed and made-up. I had on my good jeans, a cute top and some jewelery. I pulled out all the stops. The end results, and this is the very important part, Olive's scan came back showing she had no new tumor growth since July. The chemotherapy is working. After just three rounds of carboplatin, the tumor has not gotten any bigger. This is the longest Olive will have ever gone in her whole life without surgery. This is the first time we have every been allowed to take her home immediately following a scan. All the doctors agree that she should continue with her scheduled chemotherapy, and she is not required to return to SLC until February. This is great news!! If I was superstitious, I would probably feel obligated to wear this lucky outfit each time we go. Since I am not, maybe all I need is a new outift every time. Next time we go, I want to hear that the tumor is shrinking. Hell, for news that good I should probably buy some new shoes too.

Moving Mountains

The clock says 3:22. I have been watching the minutes tick by since 1:17. I feel very sorry for people who suffer from insomnia. Not being able to sleep is so frustrating. I know the cause of my sleeplessness. Olive, is sleeping like a baby,
(which I guess she is). Ignorance is bliss. For her tomorrow is just another day. For me, it is another huge day in the cancer battle. These scans always change everything, and I am never quite prepared for the news they bring. I have the worst case of heartburn, and my mind won't stop racing. Richard, Olive and I are bedded down at the Ronald McDonald House here in SLC. It is where we stay every time we come to Primary Children's. My mind is constantly saying a prayer. I can't stop. It's the only control I have over the situation. It is the only power I wield, as if subconsciously I hope and believe that God will change everything. I have been taught that with enough faith, God can move mountains... I don't need a mountain moved, I need something much smaller, but in ways so much bigger. I need a astrocytoma spinal cord tumor to start shrinking.

Thursday Morning

Thursday morning is our big day. Olive is scheduled for her routine MRI, but they are never routine. This will be her first scan since she started chemotherapy. The hope is that the drugs are keeping the growth in check.

A bad situation is that the tumor has gotten larger and she will have to undergo a de-bulking surgery, or increase her chemo drugs. Worst case scenario, the tumor has grown up into her brain stem. If that is the case, brain radiation that will severely affect her intellect will be necessary. To learn that the tumor is shrinking would be a miracle. Like always, we are praying for a miracle. We check into Primary Children's Hospital Thursday morning at 8:00 am. She will then be sedated and undergo her scan which will last about an hour. After she awakens, we will met with her doctor to review the results. We have never had a clean scan. However, there is always a first time. Last October when Olive was first diagnosed she began a regular, routine scan every three months. In January, she formed hydrocephalus, water on the brain, and had a permanent shunt placed in the brain ventricles to relieve the pressure from fluid build-up. In May, the scan showed her tumor had returned, and was removed for a third time. Finally, in July, when the tumor had regrown yet again, she started chemotherapy. Easy to see why I get so anxious when we have to go in for a simple scan. Like always, Richard is very optimistic. Thank heavens. Personally, I try to go numb until we get the news, otherwise, I get to worked up. Please keep Olive in your prayers over the next few days. Keep us all there. It is amazing the strength you feel when you know others are praying for you. We will let you know. The pictures show Olive's neck after her last surgery, and with Dr. Douglas Brockmeyer, her neurosurgeon. I am secretly kinda in love with him. I think it is because he is good looking, and has saved my daughter's life numerous times. Don't tell Richard.

Worth Its Weight in Gold

There is just no way around it, chemotherapy makes you sick. Olive has been throwing up a lot since her last treatment. Fortunately, the anti-nausea medicines available work wonders, and are super fast acting. A refill of her Zofran prescription is just a little less than one thousand dollars. This morning, as Olive was throwing up all over aunt Amy, I would have paid any price for it. So literally, these days, one pill is pretty much worth its weight it gold.