The (wine) glass is always half full

 

It’s all in the way we look at things….

It is true, we all have a choice.

Optimism or pessimism?

Is the glass half full or is it half empty?

Today, I am trying to SO damn hard to be an optimist.

Last night, I felt like a crumpled mess of disappointment and negativity and a total pessimist.

Deflated.
Angry
‘F’ this’
Sad

MRI day has always been such a tough day- this one was exceptionally hard.

We needed a win.

But instead what we got was more of the same.

Life is like that, you don’t always get what you want and it always comes down to you to decide how it’s going to be.

(Life all over the map lesson)
Your own perspective is always your own reality.

The MRI results show no change from Oct 26.

Sigh 😔

On hand this is great news, right?
Stable-
Status quo-
Not worse-

But on the another it is….well….just shitty.
Not better
No improvement
Questionable response
A whole bunch of signal enhanced abnormalities still lighting up the scan.

But the scan is only a picture.

We also have to take into consideration how the patient is doing.

Logan had a full neurological exam done yesterday.

It’s been about 6 weeks since we’ve last seen her oncologist.

The result- also a question mark?

Some things have deteriorated.

She has less reflexes in her feet and ankles. She has tremors in her hands and there has been a decline in her dexterity and fine motor skills. She gasps more frequently for air, her voice is softer and she has less movement in her tongue.
She is also having a bit of trouble with bladder sensation.

So that all sucks.

Top those symptoms off with a scan that doesn’t look any better, a kid that is tired all the time, who is still not eating and drinking enough to sustain herself, and it’s easy to spiral into a really dark place and think only the worst.

We were told this chemo was our best chance of shrinkage and improvement.

We were told we’d hope to see some of these improvements in about 3 months time.

We have clung on to those words for dear life.
Yesterday, we felt desperate for good news and today, here we are.

No further ahead, no further behind. Stagnant is starting to feel very stifling.

We want better than this.

We NEED better because we don’t have a tickle trunk full of possibility and cutting edge treatment just waiting to be tried.

The truth is we don’t have many cards left to play.

No more radiation, a huge question mark around surgery (last resort, huge risks and possibly no better results) and not many other chemo options- maybe none better than this. Yes, we’ve tried naturopathic treatments (and are using a few now). We’ve had healers here, done reiki, made her eat dried roots, and handfuls of supplements. Shes taken classes on mindfulness and visualization and we’ve thrown caution to the wind and lived in the moment. We’ve given back, raised shit loads of money for research and tried our best to do everything right.

So, yes, damn it- we want more

But that is not how this works.

There is no tally sheet because of what you’ve done right. Cancer doesn’t work that way and it is hard to accept having things out of your control.

 
It is hard when you don’t get the great, promising news you long for. It is hard not having a miracle to share (yet).

BUT

This is where we are at.

So, in the spirit of never giving up and being optimistic and drinking from a (wine) glass that is always more than half full (#truth) 😉🍷

It’s not all bad either

Maybe, this is just what progress looks like for us right now.

A pause.

In tumour growth
In time
A pause to strengthen, to heal, to accept and to just be- in these moments, together.

All good thing come to those who wait….

Isn’t that how the saying goes?

The scan is not worse- so maybe chemo has stopped the growth. Maybe it will just take some more time for it to regress. Maybe that will happen as Logan gets stronger. Maybe this chemo will take longer because it is not such a shock to Loggie’s system.
(God only knows her counts have been better than expected.)

Maybe things will only get better from here?

Yes, we could give up.

Switch to another chemotherapy or try a different regimen but we’ve decided not to, just yet.

Our oncologist is remaining hopeful about this one so that means we are too.

We are focusing on baby steps.

There have been some small improvements.

Her blood pressure isn’t terrible all the time and she seems to be responding to the BP medication better.
Her swallowing has improved.
She’s walking more on her own without the wheelchair and her nutrition is better. She has finally started to eat a bit by mouth (2 days ago she ate enough not to use the tube).

And so it has been decided to hold steady.

To be patient and to trudge forward and carry on with this chemotherapy, for the time being.

The plan is to see her oncologist more often for neurological assessments. Likely, every couple weeks.

If things get worse, we will adjust some of the doses of her chemo to see if any of her deterioration could be side effects from treatment. If that doesn’t work, then we will stop this treatment and come up with a plan B.

The current goal- 2 more cycles of this chemo and then another MRI in April to reassess.

The current hope- we are making the right decision.

She’s had 4 doses of round 3 chemo since last night. She has 13 more to go over the weekend.

Let’s pray….

Third time’s a charm ❤️❤️

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Do your best (even if it sucks)

It was bound to happen….

The crash.

I could feel it coming on, festering just below the surface.

Anxiety is like that.

Choking.
Smothering.
Pressing.

You swallow it down, trying to avoid it. Thinking if you treat it like a spoiled child and  don’t give it any attention sooner or later it will stop being so disruptive, right?

Then, one day you find yourself in your therapists office unexpectedly gasping for air.

Puking.
Bawling.
Collapsing.
Shaking.

Crumpled up on her sofa, uncontrollable.

Where did this come from?

You try to make sense of what is really happening…
Is this what the result of denial feels like?

I thought Mexico might help stop the meltdown from coming. I felt emotional and shaky for weeks…

Maybe, I was just over tired and needed some sunshine. Maybe all I needed was to get away, run away from reality and have a change of scenery and a few margaritas?

No matter how bad things are, they are always better in Mexico….right? (Yes they are 😉☀️)

 

But the thing is, Mexico is only temporary.
Mexico isn’t reality, and coming home after escaping reality for a few days has made the return to the norm exceptionally tough.

It is MRI week, so that doesn’t help.

Ugh.

The first MRI since Logan’s relapse and I’ve got scanxiety like I’ve never had it before. It feels like EVERYTHING, her whole life and our whole world is riding on the pictures we are about to see.

Is the chemo helping? Will we have to change course? Is there a back up plan?
Will there be an improvement?

I don’t know-

And thinking about it all, trying not to get too far ahead, and keep my emotions in check, is so incredibly fucking hard.

I want to scream. I want to beg, I want to run yet I feel paralyzed inside- out of control, yet motionless and helpless.

It is out of my hands and it will be what it will be. I know in theory I have to accept what ‘is’ but inside I am fighting it- all of it.

This can’t be the truth…Our life?  It’s not possible…I hate this.
I want us to have freedom from cancer but I’m scared to ask for freedom incase what we get is not the freedom I long for.

I don’t know what to wish for.

What to ask for?

How to be ok?
Pictures don’t do justice for how Log is really doing each day.

She looks amazing in photos and has this incredible ability to light up the camera but a picture is just a moment in time.

There have been improvements, I think?

I seem to ask everyone what they think too.
The answer is always iffy. Maybe in some ways she is better? But maybe just doesn’t seem good enough…

Overall, I know.

She is just so tired-

All the time.

95% of all her nutrition and fluids are still going through the tube- she’s still not eating or drinking anywhere near enough to sustain herself and when we check her blood pressure because she’s complaining of symptoms, the numbers we see are terrifying.

There are times when I hear her gasp for air or I see her shaky little hand having difficulty opening something, or she’s off balance, or slurs her words and I feel sheer terror because I know some of her symptoms are indeed worse.

I feel the panic- the restlessness- my mouth feels dry, my heart skips a beat. I am jittery and I can feel it creeping in to me.

The fear.

I try my best to pull myself together and avoid the complete spiral off the deep end.
Thank god I still have the strength to control that.

I clean.
I organize
And I try to keep busy, making plans, making food, making a mess so I can clean it up.
Moving, for me is imperative.

When I stop there is only time for thinking….

and thinking is just too hard.
I tell myself-

“Don’t go there.
The chemo is working.
What you are seeing is inflammation from the destruction of tumour. The symptoms would be the same….
Don’t go there, Jenny….
It’s too scary….

You can’t afford to fall apart.
Stay strong for Brody, Jared, Logan. Think positive.

Do your best (even if it sucks)
DON’T fall apart. DON’T cry. DON’T start worrying, panicking or letting the bad thoughts in.
They are only thoughts. Not facts.
Wait for the facts.
Make a solid plan-
Keep moving”

And so it goes.

Then, there is the flood of guilt. Such a useless emotion- but it’s also always lurking, right behind the fear, in front of the sadness.

“I wish I was more grateful for the time Logan was stable. Why didn’t I let it all be good enough? Why did I have to feel so angry for the challenges Logan faced over the past few years when I could have just accepted things for what they were?”

The tears flow

“I wish I would have enjoyed those stable years more.
Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard. Been so strict- or tried so hard to think that her life could be normal?
I promise if we get another chance I will do better….”

**** And just like that I am forced to pause from writing because Loggie starts puking 😩and I’m pulled back into the moment****

I guess it is a message from the universe-jolting me back.

I get it.

“Stay present, Jenny.
Rub Loggie’s back.
Check the tube.
Call the hospital.
Arrange her meds for the day (add extra anti-nausea)
Get Logan’s pre chemo blood work done.
Check her blood pressure
Do a bolus
Throw in a load of laundry,
Vacuum upstairs
Change the sheets.
Check the order of feed bags that arrived
Clean last nights feed bag
Call special authority about meds not covered. WTF?
Get the wheelchair receipt
Contact benefits
Make sure chemo is ready for pick up.
Eat.
Shave your legs
Breathe.
Breathe deeper.
Keep moving.
Do tangible things.
Stay strong.
Think of something fun to do today.
Don’t fall apart, Jenny-
Under no circumstances can you fall apart.
Keep your shit together.
Find a new tenant for our rental property??(SHIT not this now😩)
Smile.
Remember, people are rooting for your family
They think you got this–believe them damnit!
One more deep breath….”

And so it goes–

Up and down like a yoyo it is a rollercoaster ride.
The reality that every single person/family who lives with cancer knows- every day is different and life, emotion, and your own bloody sanity can truly be all over the map.
MRI and round 3 of chemo starts tomorrow.

2017  is only 17 days in and it already feels like it has been a long year.

Can we go back to Mexico now  🇲🇽 🌴☀️🍹?

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Adios 2016

As 2016 comes to a close, I am lost in thought.

What began as a year with so much excitement and promise slowly morphed into a total shit show and as the final days wrap up I am deep in reflection of what it all means.

January 1, 2016 I was in Bali.

It was a last minute decision to fly to Indonesia but I felt deeply connected to the universe and all the infinite possibilities of where life was guiding me and going to Bali felt like the right thing to do.

I did yoga, I rode bikes through the rice fields, I met Michael Franti, I sang at the top of my lungs and cried from the depth of my soul.
I wrote my resolutions and explored some pretty deep thoughts. “What would life look like if I decided to focus on how I wanted to feel instead of what I wanted to have/achieve?” God only knows I needed to let go of ‘the picture’ I’d painted for a life that could never be.

I did all of this while staring out at the vastness of the ocean and rice fields, a million miles away from my own reality.

I felt nothing but possibility.

I had ventured outside of my comfort zone by traveling alone and I felt pretty strong and confident doing so. I was sure that 2016 was going to bring forth a big shift for my family and for myself.

It was time.

Time to leave cancer behind and move forward. It felt good and it was the first time since 2005 I felt this way.

We were approaching 11 years since diagnosis (11 is our number 😉).

Logan’s tumour had been stable for 5 years and things just seemed to FINALLY be going well.

We went to the Ellen show and committed to living our life in the front row.

The message was clear. It was time for the next step.

Logan completed her first year of college and got a job working in a daycare. A huge milestone!

Brody got an acting gig and did his first commercial, he excelled in school and as soon as he turned 12, he went from being a young boy to a young man.

The JayRod negotiated a new job while never losing focus on the tasks he had in front of him and I went to India (totally outside of my comfort zone) to volunteer and give back with a group of cancer survivors. My fresh chapter  had begun.

It had been a long time since I felt sure about anything but I felt pretty sure about 2016.

I was turning 40 and even though my life had been somewhat of a cluster fuck for the past 10 years I could feel a burning desire to get back into the world.

Change was coming. It was on the horizon and I could almost taste it.

I say almost because we all know what happened next.

The cluster fuck continued, cancer resurfaced and all that I had learned, or thought I had learned, was once again put to the test.

Only this time the prognosis for our sweet Loggie was worse. (I hate how cancer works.)

Hope felt less prominent and the challenge in front of us felt greater than any other to date.

So how does one find the strength to go on?

I am asked this question all the time.

The answer is simple…you don’t.

Find it that is.

The strength is already there. It is just a place you haven’t tapped into yet because you haven’t ever needed it.

I think sometimes we don’t know our own strength because we don’t have to.

People always say “I don’t think I could deal with what you do”

I always reply, “Yes, you could.”

You always find a way to get through what is front you, unfortunately, you don’t always find a way to get over it.

So, now it’s on to 2017 and as I sit here typing this blog my heart is full.

I am in Sayulita Mexico (which seems impossible- or maybe I need to change that to I’m-possible?)


with my three favorite people and a really incredible family we met a few years ago while traveling (another added bonus of seeing the world)


We were invited to stay in a house that I have always wanted to stay in (I actually followed the blog the family wrote while building this home) and I am ready (so fucking ready) to let go of 2016.

Although I should note it wasn’t all bad.

I learned.

I learned, that life might not always easy but it’s up to you to make it worth it.

I learned, that struggle is universal and to be open to possibility.

I learned to live a life in ‘search of’ instead of ‘according to’.

I learned, it actually is a small world and we are all connected.

I learned I have friends all over this small world who love me and are endlessly rooting for my family.

I learned to let go and not react. Truth is different for each of us. I learned to face my own.

I learned the difference between empathy and compassion.

I learned how to be part of a tribe. (Apparently I am the grandma 😉)

I relearned and refreshed my momcologist skills and I learned how to move the goal post and raise the bar.

And most of all I learned…

Life can still be amazing and beautiful and full of potential even if it is a total cluster fuck.

And as it ends and I say good riddance to another year.

I thank you 2016 for every single lesson-now get the fuck outta here!

Much ❤️
J

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