An Update, and 365: Week 4

Gastrointestinal Stromal Tumor (GIST). 

That's what we call it. It's a very rare form of cancer, affecting only about 1% of cancer patients. We'll see an oncologist on Friday, and luckily for us we live in Utah. 

Utah has the Huntsman Cancer Institute -- one of the premier cancer research, and treatment facilities in the world. 

Honestly, now that it's out in the open, we both feel a weight has been lifted (one of them anway) -- at least we have a direction to move now. It seems to be a treatable disease, with surgery and medication -- we'll know more after Friday. But it seems to be unresponsive to Chemotherapy and radiation. My wife is not complaining about this part. 

We don't know what happens next, but we face forward, and we do whatever it takes to beat this uninvited monster. 

Now, to all of you: Thank you for everything. Your words, your prayers, and your thoughts have kept us going these last few days, and they will see us through the end of this. 

I can barely see the screen now. My eyes are blurry. Hope is very powerful. Love is very strong.

You have given us both, and there are no words to express my -- our -- gratitude.

My stupid eyes won't stop watering. 

365: Week 4

What a difference a day makes...

Day 22

January 22: An old friend. I am a big Star Wars fan -- at least of the original movies. They have always been a part of my life. And I was on the ground floor of the Star Wars Merchandise collecting phenomenon. I had ALL of the figures. And almost everyone of them suffered an ignominious fate at my hands (those hands were usually holding a golf club). But C3PO here is original. He was from the very first wave of Star Wars toys in 1977. I have no idea how I've managed to hold on to him so long. Probably because he gets lost for several years at a time. There's a very old Stormtrooper around here somewhere too...

Day 23

January 23: The day that changed my life. My wife went to the hospital for what we thougt was an ulcer, and instead, we were told "It looks like Lymphoma." That turned out to be not quite right. That night my wife stayed in the hospital, my kids were at my in-laws, and I headed home to the empty house, with the task of breaking the news to everyone. I felt dark all over, and almost stopped taking pictures right there. Instead, I took a shot of the blackest thing I could find -- the shirt I was wearing. 

Day 24

January 24: At the hospital. Sharon has always maintained that Matthew is her best snuggler. Both of them needed this.

Day 25

January 25: This was how I spent my weekend -- driving to and from Ogden Regional Medical Center. This was about as clear as it got -- in fact, Friday night, as I tried to see my wife, it was so foggy that I could not find the hospital -- and I know RIGHT where it is. I snapped this out the front window of the van. Whatever it takes to keep the streak going.

Day 26

January 26: A sight I rarely get to see. Emma has Kindergarten in the afternoon, so I don't very often get to take her to school. She won't let me walk her to the door. She's a big girl. So I stood out by the van and took pictures of her, with my zoom lens. I wonder if I made the ladies in the office nervous?

Day 27

January 27: White Salvation. We can breathe again. The only good thing about snow this time of year is that it clears out the smog and the inversion (Salt Lake had the worst air in the country all of last week -- what an honor!). That bright shiny thing that you can see through the tree is the sun. At least I think that's what they used to call it. It been so long...

Day 28

January 28: A diagnosis. And life goes on. Two weeks ago, I told you that Jordan, my oldest, had moved on in the Reflections contest at school, from the school level, to the district level. Tonight she moved on to the Regional competition. Have I mentioned how proud I am of her?

Drop by next week. It's got to be better than this one. 

Right?