Growing Old Together

We were listening to this song when Megan asked, "Do you think Dad ever misses us?". She brought me out of my thoughts where the lyrics talk about growing old together. Finding out you have cancer at age forty is not growing old together. Layne dying two days after his forty fourth birthday...that's not growing old together. By that point, he was hoping to 'be done' before his birthday. I remember he waited for me to come home the afternoon he passed away. He was so ready to be done...but, not without saying good-bye and telling me he loved me one last time...a testament of his commitment and grit all at the same time. Whenever my mind wanders to what the future might have been...it feels a bit unfair. Life is different knowing you'll be growing old all on your own. I am aware that others have done it...and it will continue to be done...it's just not what the plan was supposed to be. There's just remembering when...

Choices

When Layne and I first found out about his cancer we realized we had a choice to make.
I'm realizing that I have a choice to make now as well.
Choosing to move forward with faith.

The Fault In Our Stars

I started reading 'The Fault in our Stars' by John Green today. I may or may not have cried a little before I turned the first page. I think the phrase, "...a side effect of dying" got to me somehow. It's used more than once on the first page. I moved past it. I just had other things I cried about after that. There were also times I chuckled a bit. And still other times I just went with the story. I'm about 100 pages in and will keep going.
It's interesting to read something that reminds me of the struggles of cancer and its treatment. It reminds me of working with and watching a loved one going through the gamut experiences and emotions that come with cancer. It also reminds me of the relationship itself. There are things that can be discussed and laughed about with each other that just don't reach what others understand. I'll be done because I might start missing Layne too much if I keep writing about the way cancer can tear apart and build up a relationship all at the same time.

Bring Him Home

This song. I have been thinking about this one lately. There are several reasons. I was reminded this past week about the great experience I had to see this performed live. Anything from Les Mis also reminds me of the opportunities I had to see my sister perform (Eponine) when she traveled with the show. Of course - there's also the question - who doesn't love Les Mis and this song?
One of the biggest reasons I was bawling while listening to this song earlier today was because of an experience I had this past summer while we were in Nauvoo, IL. We were there for a family reunion and some of us had gone to a show that included this song. The show was about families and how things continue on through time. As you can imagine...I was already feeling tender about the whole thing. Then it happened. The performer on the stage was singing this song as he always had and I heard the words, "You need to let him go.". I immediately grabbed one of the two tissues that was already useless by this time. Right then I knew there would be no miraculous healing. Layne would be leaving us and it was going to happen seemingly sooner rather than later. That might have been enough for the waterworks - but, then I started to wonder if there were things I was doing or saying that made it so my husband felt like he couldn't give in to the cancer and be done. Was I holding him back? Everyone knows he's a fighter. But, did I have anything to do with his need to stay even longer? So many questions. I didn't want to be the one causing more pain than he was already experiencing. I had to just give in and let go - completely. I had to be okay with it. I had to do more than just say, "If you're going to take him - it'll be alright.". I was required to give him up - to put him on the alter so to speak. It was a real test.

Today's Math

Our nine year old just asked me how old she was she we found out her Dad had cancer. I told her it was three years ago and said that she could probably figure it out from there. Six was the answer that surfaced. She then asked about how much of her life that was...a half? We did some things with fractions and came up with one-third. She has known about his illness and lived with a Dad that has had cancer for 1/3 of her life. One-Third of a lifetime. That seems like a big deal.  

Always A Runner

Layne got out of bed earlier than I did today. It reminded me of days gone past. He used to be consistent about getting up early enough to exercise before heading over to work (and before that campus). I got used to a guy who considered himself a runner. It was just part of who he used to be. He still has the spirit of a runner in the marathon of life he's engaged in right now. But, the early morning exercise sessions are no more. There are no more plans for the next event. A 5K used to be for the day's workout and a t-shirt. There were also other events that were a bigger deal. He ran the Salt Lake marathon the year before he found out about his cancer. He was scheduled (but never made it) to participate in a Ragnar the day after he was scheduled for his surgery to remove the cancer and part of his colon. He enjoyed some races that were 'triathlons' (in quotes because of the shorter distances - he likes to bike, but never was a fan of figuring out how to breathe while swimming). Since he's been diagnosed, he's been involved in a 5K and a bike race - both done through Huntsman to raise funds for research to fight cancer. He's also been a great help to our boys in encouraging them with their exercising/fitness. He's into making sure the girls are active as well. But, the current scenario is that the boys are working on their personal fitness for scouts. Thus, the reason he is helping with a specific goal of theirs at the moment. He used to exercise with them - modifying what he used to do. He doesn't even do that anymore. These days it's an accomplishment to actually go over to the Rec. Center with them. There are times I've taken them instead and they do the workout on their own. I will always be grateful I had a chance to see Layne in action...to see the fighter cross the finish line.

Beginning With A Text

The past few days have been full...full of information, full of doing, full of thoughts, full of emotions, full of conversations.

I don't have to time write all of it right now.

Maybe I'll start with being on an airplane and getting close to putting my phone on airplane mode. I think I was responding to a text - someone asking about results that I did know yet. I noticed a text from Layne..."are you there?". He must have sent it while I was boarding. By the time I had finished my other text there was another text from Layne. It said "call me". Given the circumstances, that wasn't usual for him. I was about to text him and let him know that I was on the plane and not able to talk - I was going to suggest that I call him when I landed. Before I was able to finish my text there was another, "call me". At that point I decided I'd better find out what was going on. Something didn't seem right. I called - the connection was terrible. I had no idea if he could actually hear me, but I told him that I was going to hang up and try calling again. I hung up and noticed a "try again" message. He was obviously anxious about getting a hold of me. I continued with what I was doing and made the call. The connection was much clearer. He asked about where I was and told me that he wasn't getting chemo and I needed to figure out what I wanted to do (regarding when to travel back home). I was sitting by a window seat and turned around to face it. I used a quiet voice to ask if that meant the tumors had gotten bigger. He told me that he was done with the trial and that he would tell me about it when I got there. My eyes suddenly felt wetter than usual and I put some effort into staying in control. We then quickly decided what was going to happen when I got into Houston. He was going to pick me up and we'd head back to the Franklin's home and figure things out from there. We said good-bye and I called the shuttle company...twice...technical issues...again...to cancel my reservation. I was flustered and a bit panicked by then. The calls were taking longer than I thought I had. By the time I had finished we were taxying down the runway. I was glad I didn't need to talk with anyone. The guy next to me seemed nice and like he would be up for a conversation when he sat down. But, he kind of let me have some space once he overheard something about tumors getting bigger. It's a fact...the word cancer can be a conversation stopper.

Future Plans

We dropped the boys off tonight for an event at the library. The girls had come with us because Layne was at a meeting. When we started back home, one of the girls mentioned that she missed the boys already. We started talking about spending time with family...and, the fact that all of them will eventually move out when they are adults. They weren't sure about the idea. I told them that their Dad and I would miss them when they were gone. I was reminded that by that time Layne will be gone and it would just be me that missed having the kids around that I get to spend time with each day. It sounded a bit lonely. I didn't mention anything to them about it. They might have asked why Dad would be gone and I'd have to explain about cancer and dying again. Instead, the conversation was turned to the future and the dreams they have for it. It'll be interesting to see what they choose.

Past Post

I just found this draft...originally written 5/27/12

To Be or Not To Be

This seems to be our phrase these days. It's been a challenge to not know if a loved one has cancer or not. We were told weeks ago that Layne has colon cancer and that he needed to have a procedure as soon as possible. That has since been corrected. 'They' don't know if he has cancer or not. There is a mass that has pre-cancer cells, but there's not enough evidence either way to know if there are cells that have developed to the cancer stage. We won't know until his surgery at the end of this week. We have gone for weeks now...thinking he has cancer and then not knowing if he does or not. The not knowing is hard. And yet, knowing doesn't seem like such a wonderful option either, unless we know it is not cancer.

The hard part about not knowing is not being sure of what to think or how to plan. For the most part, I try not to think about it; to keep busy with other things. Although, I haven't found a way to move quickly past the 'what if' thoughts that pop into my head occasionally. A couple of my first thoughts were about how I would miss him and how would I support our family and raise 4 kids by myself. I have also had times when I have noticed and appreciated the little things about Layne and having a companion that I love.

Layne is more anxious than usual. It's hard for him to not know and especially to deal with the unknown of how it will be to have part of him taken out and how his body will heal and function once that happens. He is one to worry. So, it's been a bit rough. He has done his best to joke about things occasionally.

Tick Tock

February 16, 2013

Cancer seems to take so long to figure out. There are times I think Layne is a human science experiment. I'm sure that if we did a survey, most cancer patients would feel that way. It would be great if there were a set of treatments that worked for everyone, you did them and you were done. I'm sure if we could figure that out - we'd save lives, improve the quality of life for many and even make a few bucks in the process. But alas, it doesn't work that way.
One of the things that continues to amaze me is the time it takes for each step along the way. For example, when Layne first had a colonoscopy to attempt an assessment of what was going on, the cancer was found. I don't think surgery happened for another month. (I'll have to check the calendar, but I really think it took about that long.)
The reality is that as we're trying to figure out what's going on - time keeps moving forward. Time is not something that's on the side of the cancer patient. There are other things we'd love to be doing with our time together besides chemo treatments. There are other things we'd love to spend our money on.
When we first learned that Layne would be taking some time away from work, we thought we could travel a little bit (not very far or very often) with our family. It doesn't really work that way. The schedule has to work around chemo and the finances have to work around treatments, prescriptions, and travel for more surgery/treatments.
It might sound like a complaint, but it's really not. It's just the way it is. I'm glad we do get to have chances to get out and do a couple of things. We'll have the opportunity to go to Hawaii, get the kids to Disneyland (we think), head to Seattle, and maybe even head to Southern Utah in order to see the sights (and family). (We haven't done much planning on the last one or another trip to CA to see Layne's folks.)
Amidst all the rambling, I think the point is that as we're busy living our lives in a way that we hope will help Layne be around a little longer - we're also aware of the fact that it all takes time. And, that is something I wish we had more of to work with right now.

Morning Thoughts

I cried in the shower this morning. I randomly remembered a free concert we went to this summer. (I'll have to share the name of the group as soon as I can think of it...three men that have been performing together for decades. I'd love to give them proper credit.) They sing a song called, "I'll build you a rainbow". Anyone that has heard it, knows that it came out years ago. It's about the relationship a boy has with his mom that has a terminal illness. She takes the opportunity to spend meaningful time with him. It's about the possibility of family relationships being forever, the bond that a mother can have with her child and about remembering those who have passed away. Layne mocked me for being a little teary eyed at the time. I had to explain that there's just something about a mother and her kids...not to mention the new slant on the song when you know there's a strong possibility your spouse is going to die because he has a terminal illness. There's also just something about children growing up without one of their parents around because of death.
So, that's the random background. I had the memory of hearing that song and then had a few thoughts come to mind. The timing is such that it's possible Layne will be around (in two years) to baptize Rachel. It's against the odds that he'll be around (6 and 7 years from now) to see the boys go on their missions. And, the odds of seeing any of the kids get married or hold a grandchild...well...it would be a true miracle. It's hard to think about and I'm doing my best to have a positive attitude about our lives with cancer, but I think it would be unhealthy to just ignore the reality of it all. I don't want to live in denial. I don't think it would be good for anyone. So, sometimes I just let myself be sad about it.

Life as Usual

Life is a little different at our house lately. Our husband/father has been diagnosed with Stage IV Colon Cancer. This blog is about that...and, the fact that we still have plenty of life as usual moments.
'No Kung Fu in the kitchen, please.' is a direct quote from me when one of our daughters came in doing 'kung fu' (Kung Fu Panda style) when asked to come and help prepare lunch. My husband laughed and said it would be a great name for a blog...in hopes that I would change the name of our family blog I started years ago (and haven't updated for years either). I was already thinking to start this blog, so...there you have it.
I'm hoping to use this blog to keep family and friends updated on the cancer scenario. We had so many of the same questions asked of us at the beginning, that I decided it would be great to have everyone on the same page. I'm also hoping to give a glimpse into what we are thinking and feeling about it...not just when the next appointment is scheduled.