tonight

I get to hug some of my babies, though the other one just cost me a mere $3,000 again at college - so I obviously love her as well.

On the phone this week I was told:

Mom, you have to come home because I have had two bloody noses and like five new screatches. I know what you are doing is important, but we really need you back here.

Mom, when I said he didn't feed us, I mean like, everyone was relaxed and no one asked for food, so he didn't cook.

And my favorite: Mom, I don't like the house without you, I just don't think this is going to work out for me with you gone.

So off I go in about two hours, back toward home. What will happen to my dad is still up in the air -as he meets with the oncologist again tomorrow afternoon.

Hang on to hope.

A Calling

Some people seem to be destined for greatness. They seem to be called to do great things - doors open for them and they zoom to positions of great influence. I was astounded when we toured the Mayo museum at the innumerable military awards that the Mayo brothers had accumulated, along with their father. The clinic started off in Dr Mayo's house, then moved to bigger and bigger buildings as the practice got larger. Did you know that they received the Nobel Prize for discovering the cortisone shots would help releive the inflammation of arthritis. I saw the display - and the Nobel Prize. Nothing short of awe inspiring.

Now Mayo Clinic is synonymous with innovation, and their motto: The patient's needs are first, is very evident in everything they do. I had always hoped that I would be able to do something great - I think everyone hopes that at one time or another. During our trip, I have realized that my life is more like the guy on the seashore throwing in starfish back in the ocean - there are hundreds in need, but I can at least make a difference to the one in front of me.

I always thought being a field nurse with the Navajo was my calling - it sounds romantic and exciting enough to read pretty well on a tomb stone, especially for a girl from suburban Indianapolis. My heart is most assuradly still there. Even in the Twin cities airport in a gift shop laden with all sorts of Native American jewelry, the stuff I kept picking up was Navajo. The flute of Carlos Nakai in the canyon playing in the gift shop carried me back to those trips we took to White House Ruins.

I still dream about the mountains and the creek in Lukachukai -and the memories of my family and my dear friends in that place are some of my best ones ever. But that is not where I'm planted now. I am in the suburbs ( except fo my little two acres of country at home). I teach diabetes education, and I am trying to learn even more so that I can be of more help to folks. My job, at least on the inpatient side, has morphed to include more and more consulting. When your job is to help, it sometimes feels like there are so many people in need, and so few hours n the day. Actually, it feels like that a lot. It makes me wonder if my dreams of going back out to Arizona will ever come true.

When I headed out for my big adventure, my dad told me to look for confirmation of my impulses and dreams from the Holy Spirit. Confirmation means that you have three coincidences, or three people bringing something up about your "issue" that would otherwise be unrelated. When I went to Arizona we had three things: My mom ran into a lady in Kokomo Indiana whose family was right outside the area I was looking for - there are about 10 Navajo in Indiana, and she managed to run into one of them; three weeks in a row the homily was about caring for the needy and God's need to send someone to them; and the third was the grandma I helped back to her house once I got there, who asked me if I was a nurse there: when I said no, she said I should be. Things just fell into place, and while I went to help, it was me who really recieved the help.

I don't know if the world will be a better place after I go, but I can't help thinking that I have to at least try to leave things better than I found them.

I can't get away with anything...still

Yesterday, we went to Harmony, Minnesota and spent the afternoon looking around in Amish country. When we got home, we were tired. Dad went up to read and Mom fell asleep in the room. I thought I'd be helpful, so I went to the kitchen and started to fix dinner. We had leftover rice and chicken, so I was converting that into a soup. Earlier I had suggested we stop of at the store so I could get a pot roast, but we had decided against it.

While I was shredding the chicken, a woman, who was cleaning out her stuff preparing to go home, started talking with me. I was telling her about the roast, and she said, here, take this one. She took it from the shelf of community foods. I was so excited and cooked it up with potatoes and carrots and a bit of onion. It was delicious.

Later that evening, we went back to the kitchen, for a late night snack. When I went into our section of the fridge to get cream for my coffee, there was a note : This shelf is not house food, it belongs to room 5.

I was horrified. The roast had come from the very shelf with the note. Yes, I accicentally stole a pot roast from a cancer patient.

I was just mortified. So first thing this morning, I headed off to Mega Mart to get a replacement. I was hoping to replace it before it became a big deal - or before my folks found out.

As I came in, my folks were just finishing breakfast. I thought I was home free, and I left the groceries in the van. Then my mom came around the corner, talking to her friend, who was saying that someone had taken the food from her. God love her, she wasn't worried about the food, but the note had been removed, and that worried her.

There was that moment, you know the one, where you know that all your efforts to NOT look like a complete idiot, were in vain. It was humbling to say the least. So I stepped up and explained what had happened. She assured me that she didn't care about getting the roast replaced, but I was thankful that when I actually had to admit my error, I had the replacement in the van. So all day long, my need to steal food has been the ongoing joke. Oddly enough, there was a robery at the WalMart I went to this morning - but that really wasn't me.

Yep, we went to see the goats

This computer is blocking teh spell checker - so sorry if I missed anything!
On Friday, we had the afternoon free - and since there was no football, we decided on a little road trip. We started south to Harmony, the home of the biggest Amish population in Minnesota. Now I was expecting Napanee, Indiana - tons of shops and restaurants and stuff. Instead, we were greeted by a sleepy little town, a few really packed gift shops and very friendly people. We started with lunch at a the diner, it was beyond good. For $5 I feasted on Walleye, real mashed potatoes with real brown gravy, breen beans, and cole slaw. It was more than I could finish. My poor parents were stuck hearing me rave about it for about an hour afterwards. We saw a couple of buggies, but otherwise, very little sign of the Amish we had expected to see.

When we had perused all the shops, including a great shop with Scandanavian stuff which was unfortunately out of my price range - we headed east to Austins Angoras. The shop is run by Ada and her husband Jim who raise about 200 Angora goats. She was happy for the company and told us about how she had created her own market by convincing the tours to stop at her place and increase her business. She is a character, but was happy to tell me all about how much easier the Angoras are to raise than Pygmies. Hope she's right because now I want one - or two.

She also had chischilly sheep ( Navajo Churros) which have four horns. When she lost one, though, she would save the pelt and have it available for sale as a rug. I remember several women who had pelt rugs out in Arizona, though, not me. The only weirdness was that she had her favorite buck stuffed, in a glass display case right there in the store. I just couldn't wrap my mind around stuffing your favorite animal, and yet, there he was as a constant reminder of a good memory. I bought some socks, and when they say that the wool keeps yoru feet cooler - they are right. I don't like socks, but I like these.

As the World Turns

I am way too old to stay up until midnight and try to catch a 6:30 am flight. By 5pm Minnesota time, I was ready to pass out - so I crashed back in the room.

Wal-Mart is the same everywhere - kind of like Catholic Mass - no matter where you go, you can find what you need. They didn't have the organic creamer - but everything else was right were it should be.

Mayo is amazing - not like it is a shock - but wow - it surpassed my expectations. They have movies on demand - and we were able to watch Walking Tall to pass the last couple hours of treatment effortlessly.

The transplant house is full of amazing stories - and I have learned so much from the people I have talked to already. As a side note, if you haven't filled out that donor blank on your license, take a minute and do so - there are so many people who pass away waiting for organ donation - and what the heck are you going to do with your liver after you're dead anyway? I signed mine - so did my daughter and my husband.

The oncologist has changed the game plan two more times since Sunday. When my folks got in this morning, there was yet another change in the chemo schedule. They are treating it very aggressively with Rituxin to decrease the size of the tumors. Originally, they were going to be done over the weekend, now it looks like they may be here for a couple more weeks receiving this chemo regimine.

Dad had kidney stents replaced - and he is a braver person than I am - they didn't go in though the belly - or the back - they used the plumbing.

Yep - ouch is the appropriate reaction.

We have two days without procedures scheduled, so I am hoping to do a bit of sightseeing before I go home on Monday.

I looked at Native American jewelry in the Minneapolis airport - and could I have been drawn to the cool Lakota stuff - or the Ojibway - nope, strictly Navajo girl here. Every piece I asked about was Navajo. I'll ponder that more deeply later.

For now, I want to say thanks again for all your prayers, and I am lurking even if I dont comment these days. Somedays I just want to make the rounds and see how everyone else is doing - so if I haven't commented, please don't think it is because I haven't dropped by.

Okay, okay, It IS Mayo Clinic, and I should have expected more

Friday night, my mom calls me. I am still a bit off because of the not so great news from Thursday -hearing that the cancer is not curable since he did not respond to the RICE chemo was pretty devastating. They are still at Mayo clinic and the doctor called them Friday to arrange another chemo regimen. This is a surprise because the last conversation was that they would be headed home - and starting chemo there. Now, they are staying through the week to have kidney surgery ( okay, that sounds like they are both like " hey sign me up! Kidney surgery! What a blast!")

After the surgery to replace the kidney stents, Dad will start Rituxin again - along with some steroids to help shrink the tumors and prep him for even more chemo once they head home. The doctor didn't want to give up- so he is trying something outside of the normal treatment.

So.... Instead of going up next week, I am headed up to Mayo tomorrow. I cooked like a madwoman yesterday - chicken with wild rice, Beef vegetable soup, pot roast, enchiladas, and I will finish up some chili this afternoon- so that the boys won't have to worry about dinner.

I am leaving three boys in my house for a week.

Just let that soak in for a minute.

Yep - that right there is a leap of faith!

You know this is the way it goes for me - Justin gets work at the temp agency - has work every day this week - and this is the week I will be gone.

Did you notice I changed my little icon to a tornado? That is the way things feel - and I thank God over and over that I am not a person who is neat and tidy and needs routine - cause that just ain't happening these days.

The Neverending story

This is a picture of my folks taken last month at a garden in Indiana. I liked it so much that I stole the image from their Care Pages. My Grandpa Loner used to wear a hat like the one my dad has on. I have my grandpa's hat in my bedroom where I can see it each day - and it is funny to see my dad with the same hat.

It is late, and I am sleepy, but wanted to share a bit about the latest news. The oncologist at May has regained my trust because even though they couldn't do the transplant, they didn't just send him home, they came up with alternatives. That impressed me. More than I can say. On Monday, dad is having surgery to replace his kidney stents. Then Tuesday, he will have Rituxan, a chemo he has had successfully in the past to help shrink the tumors that are putting pressure on his kidneys. I am going to try to move my ticket so that I can be up there this week with them instead of next week. We'll see how it works out. My husband assures me that he is exceptional at changing tickets!

Thank you so much for the outpouring of support and prayers. I should feel devastated, and yet, there is mostly peace - and concern for my folks, who also seem to be at peace. That sensation only comes through prayer - so thank you for holding us up during a time that it is hard to stand alone.

Get up, dust yourself off, start over

Yesterday was not a great day -and while the initial shock of the news from Mayo, was overwhelming, I had time to be quiet and think last night. The truth is, we all have to go - as do all those people we love.

I worked in a little ER for a couple of years. I loved the work, though my boss was Satan in heels. I had the priveledge of holding people's hands , way more than once, as they drew their last breath. For most of them, there was a moment of absolute clarity, then a peaceful sigh as their last breath left the chest. There is an energy, as well. Theoretically, energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed in form. I have always thought that energy release was the soul, headed to wherever that particular soul was headed to. It always seemed that in that final moment, there was proof that people were "headed" somewhere - the smile, the peace that came over them - you just don't get a look like that when you are headed into eternal darkness.

What came to me last night was the difference in the families. Sometimes, there were accidents - and the families never got to say good bye, the person didn't get to finish up whatever he or she would have wanted to finish up - things were just left hanging. The families had this sense of devastation and chaos, and there were questions left unanswered. Then there were folks who had been sick, especially those with cancer and heart ailments. They had an idea of how much time was left, and though death was not always painless, there was a certain peace in knowing they had done what they could in finishing things. There families were ready - well, as ready as you can be - and they were sad, but also at peace, knowing it was the person's time to go.

Mom and I debated this last weekend. I always thought my preference would be like hers, a stroke - nice and quick and tidy. But my opinion has shifted. I think having time to finish things might be better. While I am not thrilled about the prospect of losing either of my folks, I know it happens. And there is a blessing in having time together to say things that need to be said, and to make sure that things will be taken care of after they are gone. Funny, my folks have always been big on not doing things "half-assed" so to speak - meaning completing the work you are doing. In classic fashion, my dad is doing exactly that - finishing up before he goes. I wouldn't expect anything less.

There is a line from Stay, one of Josh's favorite movies, "There's too much Beauty to Quit". So this morning, I brushed myself off and started again - because quitting isn't in our vocabulary.

Buying Time

What the hell is that supposed to mean. I just got word from my folks that the bone marrow transplant is no longer going to happen - that the tumors are growing too fast, and are now too big for a transplant - so they are headed back home. They are going to try yet another chemo - Fludaribine - which hurts the bone marrow - and will eliminate the possibility of cure - or transplant - for good. They are just buying time, the doc said.

And what I want to know is how much that time costs, because I'll be happy to pitch in on the purchase price.