We are in the Wait and See mode right now.
I have LOTS of questions for the doctors. They have one answer for me. And I don't like it.
Are the antibiotics working? We'll just have to wait and see...
Did the blood transfusions help? We'll just have to wait and see...
How long before she gets some strength back? We'll just have to wait and see...
Maybe you've figured out, but I am not much of a Wait and See person. My motto is more "Git-R-Done." But maybe not quite so redneck :)
The good news is that the blood transfusion did help somewhat with the White Blood Cell Count. It is now a whopping 2! Normal is above 4.8, so we have a ways to go. But while we weren't looking, the Platelets sunk to new lows. Down to 16. That's critically low as well. She received a platelet transfusion this evening.
Mom is also having some trouble (actually a lot of trouble) with her right hip. She fell against the coffee table last Saturday and bruised it. But the swelling, bruising and pain have been getting worse, so x-rays were ordered. Good news is that preliminary results do not indicate a break. However, that doesn't make the pain go away. She's getting kinda gimpy in addition to feeling crappy. Not the best combination.
Dad is staying with her tonight at the hospital. He found the stash of strawberry Blue Bell ice cream in the 6th floor kitchen, oh boy! Sometimes you just have to enjoy the little pleasures in life...
Praying that sleep brings restoring comfort to mom this night. And praying for wisdom for her doctors, as well as safety. If I hear we'll just have to wait and see one more time, mayhem may result...
Love you, Jane
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Life Can Turn on a Dime
One day you're up, the next you're flat on your back in a hospital bed...
Greetings from Denton Regional Hospital. Mom was admitted yesterday. It wasn't the turkey, I promise! The culprit this time appears to be a roaring case of pneumonia.
She started feeling a little under the weather Friday, and rapidly worsened through the weekend. Her blood work has tanked, and she's getting 2 units of blood as we speak, along with bags and bags of fluids, and 3 different antibiotics.
Her White Blood Cell count is being particularly obnoxious and has dropped below 1.0. That's very low, as in the "Red Flag, High Alert, put her in the Isolation Room" low. She basically has no fight left in her immune system. So no new "bugs" allowed while she's battling the pneumonia.
Please keep her and dad in your prayers. This has been a rough weekend, and from the looks of things, we are heading into a long week.
Will keep you updated as I can. We cherish your thoughts, your hugs and your prayers, Always,
Jane
Greetings from Denton Regional Hospital. Mom was admitted yesterday. It wasn't the turkey, I promise! The culprit this time appears to be a roaring case of pneumonia.
She started feeling a little under the weather Friday, and rapidly worsened through the weekend. Her blood work has tanked, and she's getting 2 units of blood as we speak, along with bags and bags of fluids, and 3 different antibiotics.
Her White Blood Cell count is being particularly obnoxious and has dropped below 1.0. That's very low, as in the "Red Flag, High Alert, put her in the Isolation Room" low. She basically has no fight left in her immune system. So no new "bugs" allowed while she's battling the pneumonia.
Please keep her and dad in your prayers. This has been a rough weekend, and from the looks of things, we are heading into a long week.
Will keep you updated as I can. We cherish your thoughts, your hugs and your prayers, Always,
Jane
Thursday, November 24, 2011
The Big Kid's Table
Happy Thanksgiving from our house to yours...
Today was a day for feasting and family. And football...
We enjoyed every minute, and with the weather cooperating so beautifully we couldn't have asked for a sweeter day. Here's the day in snapshots, smiles abounding...
Today was a day for feasting and family. And football...
We enjoyed every minute, and with the weather cooperating so beautifully we couldn't have asked for a sweeter day. Here's the day in snapshots, smiles abounding...
Cheers! Let the fun begin!
Turkey Carving Magic
Feasting for all!
From the Big Kid's Table
To the Little Kid's Table :-)
And after the feasting,
a Beautiful Afternoon Hike!
With some side-splitting,
goat-bustin thrown in for good measure!
And then while the guys (and mom) napped, the girls crafted.
Here we are with our 3-D crosses. Such fun!
A day full of love and laughter.
We're exhausted, stuffed and blissfully content...
Praying Blessings of Joy to Fall Upon you Softly this Day.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Good New/Bad News
Today has been a Good News/Bad News kind of day.
As a rule we're a pretty optimistic family. Doesn't take much for us to find a silver lining in any storm cloud. But sometimes life just takes the wind out of your sails, and you can't outrun the storm.
And today that storm dumped a boatload of rain on our barely afloat dinghy...
Mom's tumor marker took a huge leap up this week (we don't want it taking leaps, jumps or even little baby steps anywhere but down!). It's up to 509. And this while still on the chemo. We're not smiling.
Dr. Davis wasn't smiling either, BUT (here's the good news), he's not ready to throw in the towel yet. While the tumor marker jump is troubling, he reminded us that it is not a scientifically exact measuring stick. He wants to finish this round of chemo and then do a CT scan to get a more accurate pic of the situation before concluding (gulp) that the Gemzar has stopped working.
That leads me to the other bit of Good News. Mom's blood work was looking great this week (except for the rebellious tumor marker :-/), so the Gemzar was a go.
And one more little bit of Good News. The thrush is just about gone. Okay, that's a Big piece of Good News.
And here's the Best Good News - Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day!
There will be feasting and family, laughter and hugging. And feasting some more!
Despite this setback with the tumor marker, and the black cloud of worry that nags at us, we are unbelievably grateful for another day to be together.
May your day be filled with only the Best Good News, the love of family and friends, and hearts overflowing with gratitude for the miracle of Grace.
My Love, Jane
As a rule we're a pretty optimistic family. Doesn't take much for us to find a silver lining in any storm cloud. But sometimes life just takes the wind out of your sails, and you can't outrun the storm.
And today that storm dumped a boatload of rain on our barely afloat dinghy...
Mom's tumor marker took a huge leap up this week (we don't want it taking leaps, jumps or even little baby steps anywhere but down!). It's up to 509. And this while still on the chemo. We're not smiling.
Dr. Davis wasn't smiling either, BUT (here's the good news), he's not ready to throw in the towel yet. While the tumor marker jump is troubling, he reminded us that it is not a scientifically exact measuring stick. He wants to finish this round of chemo and then do a CT scan to get a more accurate pic of the situation before concluding (gulp) that the Gemzar has stopped working.
That leads me to the other bit of Good News. Mom's blood work was looking great this week (except for the rebellious tumor marker :-/), so the Gemzar was a go.
And one more little bit of Good News. The thrush is just about gone. Okay, that's a Big piece of Good News.
And here's the Best Good News - Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day!
There will be feasting and family, laughter and hugging. And feasting some more!
Despite this setback with the tumor marker, and the black cloud of worry that nags at us, we are unbelievably grateful for another day to be together.
May your day be filled with only the Best Good News, the love of family and friends, and hearts overflowing with gratitude for the miracle of Grace.
My Love, Jane
Monday, November 21, 2011
In honor of...
Last night I was humbled to attend the PurpleLight Vigil for Hope at the downtown Ft. Worth Water Gardens. Mom wasn't feeling well enough to go, but Leroy and I didn't want to miss it.
PurpleLight Vigils were held across the nation last night.
The event was sponsored by the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network as a way to bring the spotlight to bear on this relentless disease. The tribute to our loved ones was beyond touching, and I was honored to lift my purple light up high as we called mom's name out as a 1 year pancreatic cancer survivor.
Tears ran freely as so many of the families raised their light in memory of loved ones lost to this cancer. There were too many lost... Names were read and many of the families shared the length of their fight. Most battles were lost in months. Hearts and voices broke as the list of names became heroic men and women who left behind friends and family struggling to work through their grief. One grieving sister spoke of a brother she loved and lost just 5 short weeks after diagnosis. My mind couldn't grasp the brevity and the shock of loss. Even Leroy whispered in my ear, Did she say 5 weeks? Inconceivable, the brutality of this cancer.
But there was solidarity there, an understanding of the fight, a sympathy born of experience. We all knew. And in the midst of the sadness, a soft, lilting voice began to tell of her journey with pancreatic cancer. Her name was Dee and she smiled as she shared that she was a 16 year pancreatic cancer survivor.
Hope. Pure and Simple. Her story was Beautiful. A beacon of Light for those of us in the trenches. It may not be mom's story. Or yours. But as long as we breathe, there is Hope.
As we all raised our lights at the end of the ceremony, a single Bagpipe played it's sorrowful tune and the music mingled with the waterfall of tears as we grieved for what we've lost, and for what's ahead in mom's journey. But as the last note lingered, I looked around and saw people hugging, then smiling. Offering encouragement to one another. My heart lifted.
We are not alone in this journey. And neither are you.
PurpleLight Vigils were held across the nation last night.
The event was sponsored by the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network as a way to bring the spotlight to bear on this relentless disease. The tribute to our loved ones was beyond touching, and I was honored to lift my purple light up high as we called mom's name out as a 1 year pancreatic cancer survivor.
Tears ran freely as so many of the families raised their light in memory of loved ones lost to this cancer. There were too many lost... Names were read and many of the families shared the length of their fight. Most battles were lost in months. Hearts and voices broke as the list of names became heroic men and women who left behind friends and family struggling to work through their grief. One grieving sister spoke of a brother she loved and lost just 5 short weeks after diagnosis. My mind couldn't grasp the brevity and the shock of loss. Even Leroy whispered in my ear, Did she say 5 weeks? Inconceivable, the brutality of this cancer.
But there was solidarity there, an understanding of the fight, a sympathy born of experience. We all knew. And in the midst of the sadness, a soft, lilting voice began to tell of her journey with pancreatic cancer. Her name was Dee and she smiled as she shared that she was a 16 year pancreatic cancer survivor.
Hope. Pure and Simple. Her story was Beautiful. A beacon of Light for those of us in the trenches. It may not be mom's story. Or yours. But as long as we breathe, there is Hope.
As we all raised our lights at the end of the ceremony, a single Bagpipe played it's sorrowful tune and the music mingled with the waterfall of tears as we grieved for what we've lost, and for what's ahead in mom's journey. But as the last note lingered, I looked around and saw people hugging, then smiling. Offering encouragement to one another. My heart lifted.
We are not alone in this journey. And neither are you.
The PurpleLight Vigil held at the Ft. Worth Water Gardens
Our walk down to the Meditation Pool at the Gardens
Dee, speaking Hope to us, sharing her 16 year story of survival
Musicians, sharing their heart in song
Our local County Commissioner, sharing the story of his brother-in-law, a physician who lost his fight with pancreatic cancer several years ago
Purple lit up the night
Lights raised in honor of those we love
In honor of you, mom.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Christmas Tree Time
It's Christmas Tree Time! At least here at the Polly household...
Dean and Ryan stopped by on Friday to help Mom get a jump start on the festivities. They pulled all the decorations out of the attic
and got the tree up. Now mom can decorate it at her leisure.
Which is a good thing, because she's been laid low by another tiresome round of thrush. She's been feeling pretty "ishy" all week. Most likely from the thrush. We think it's gone down the back of her throat and is messing with her stomach, hence the nausea and yuckies.
The good news is that she was able to continue with her chemo this week and began another round of Gemzar on Thursday. Even feeling crummy from the thrush, her blood work was all close to normal and that deserves a thumbs up for sure. The doctors have put her back on Diflucan for 10 more days for the thrush. Hopefully this time she'll be able to beat it back for good.
In the meantime, the Christmas decorations can wait. After all, we still have Thanksgiving to enjoy! This Thursday, at the Schraceo farm, be here for Turkey and all the trimmings! Dinner served at noon straight up! Naps and football to follow...
Dean and Ryan stopped by on Friday to help Mom get a jump start on the festivities. They pulled all the decorations out of the attic
and got the tree up. Now mom can decorate it at her leisure.
Which is a good thing, because she's been laid low by another tiresome round of thrush. She's been feeling pretty "ishy" all week. Most likely from the thrush. We think it's gone down the back of her throat and is messing with her stomach, hence the nausea and yuckies.
The good news is that she was able to continue with her chemo this week and began another round of Gemzar on Thursday. Even feeling crummy from the thrush, her blood work was all close to normal and that deserves a thumbs up for sure. The doctors have put her back on Diflucan for 10 more days for the thrush. Hopefully this time she'll be able to beat it back for good.
In the meantime, the Christmas decorations can wait. After all, we still have Thanksgiving to enjoy! This Thursday, at the Schraceo farm, be here for Turkey and all the trimmings! Dinner served at noon straight up! Naps and football to follow...
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
1st Year Canciversary Celebration
Today is a day circled red on our calendar.
It is mom's 1st Year Canciversary. One year ago today, we received the devastating news that the biopsy on her pancreas was positive for cancer. Terminal cancer. The memory replays like a bad movie. The ferocious punch to the gut, the frozen numbness as we tried to process the doctor's words, and the hard sting of tears swallowed deep. It is not a day we ever want to celebrate.
But after much consideration, there is something else we do want to celebrate. And that would be the triumphs we have experienced during the past year, despite living with this unrelenting cancer diagnosis.
In his book, A General's Spiritual Journey, Lieutenant General Hal Moore shared this quote:
When you walk to the edge of all the light you have, and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen: There will be something solid for you to stand upon, or you will be taught how to fly.
I believe that sometime during this past year of testing and trial, mom has learned to fly. At times she has soared above the horrors, other times she has flown right through them. But each crisis was faced with a steadfast will to walk with grace and dignity. And plenty of humor.
Maybe we're all just a tad bit morbid, but we've learned to laugh at the most socially unacceptable moments. At funeral homes, and in the hospital. While mom was throwing up and when she was hallucinating from her first dose of marinol. Emily Post is probably rolling over in her grave at our lack of etiquette.
But really, mom started it all. One year ago, she made us laugh even while our hearts were breaking.
It's true.
After we got the news of the biopsy results, the nurses got her ready to check out of the hospital. We waited quietly, shell-shocked really, for the orderly to bring up the wheel chair to escort her out. When the young man arrived, he wheeled in one of those Big-Butt (pardon me), but really big (huge) wheelchairs for my 130lb mom. She obediently slide into the seat and tried to position her legs onto the leg rests. She looked like she was trying to ride an elephant. A snort escaped from her lips, which she tried to subdue, but then couldn't. She looked up at Dad, me and the orderly and said, "You think it's big enough?" We laughed, and the tension was broken. Mom was still there. Cancer or no cancer, she is still the same loveable, goofy, no-nonsense, laughter-loving person she always has been. And that began our journey. Of course, I think the orderly was traumatized for life, but no matter. You can't spend all the time crying...
So, today, in honor of this year, we Celebrated the Triumphs with a delicious bite of creme brulee,
and then an afternoon at the spa (we're hooked, what can I say?!)
But, the real celebration begins in two weeks. Mom, Dad, Leroy and I booked a Cruise to the Caribbean! How's that for spontaneous? We leave two weeks from tomorrow! Mom really knows how to celebrate!
We can't end this day without celebrating the faithfulness of each one of you. Your unwavering love in the face of these trials has carried us through the fire. You may have brought a meal, offered a shoulder to cry on, prayed unceasingly, listened with your heart, cleaned house, ran errands, sent cards, encouraged through a smile... you have all been the Hands and Feet of Faithfulness. And we know, without a doubt, that you have bridged the gap for us so many times when we were too weak, too numb, or too afraid to speak. You are our Blessing,
May God be Glorified through all the Triumphs of this past year. He sustains even when we don't understand.
And that's Grace Enough for Today, Love you all, Jane
It is mom's 1st Year Canciversary. One year ago today, we received the devastating news that the biopsy on her pancreas was positive for cancer. Terminal cancer. The memory replays like a bad movie. The ferocious punch to the gut, the frozen numbness as we tried to process the doctor's words, and the hard sting of tears swallowed deep. It is not a day we ever want to celebrate.
But after much consideration, there is something else we do want to celebrate. And that would be the triumphs we have experienced during the past year, despite living with this unrelenting cancer diagnosis.
In his book, A General's Spiritual Journey, Lieutenant General Hal Moore shared this quote:
When you walk to the edge of all the light you have, and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen: There will be something solid for you to stand upon, or you will be taught how to fly.
I believe that sometime during this past year of testing and trial, mom has learned to fly. At times she has soared above the horrors, other times she has flown right through them. But each crisis was faced with a steadfast will to walk with grace and dignity. And plenty of humor.
Maybe we're all just a tad bit morbid, but we've learned to laugh at the most socially unacceptable moments. At funeral homes, and in the hospital. While mom was throwing up and when she was hallucinating from her first dose of marinol. Emily Post is probably rolling over in her grave at our lack of etiquette.
But really, mom started it all. One year ago, she made us laugh even while our hearts were breaking.
It's true.
After we got the news of the biopsy results, the nurses got her ready to check out of the hospital. We waited quietly, shell-shocked really, for the orderly to bring up the wheel chair to escort her out. When the young man arrived, he wheeled in one of those Big-Butt (pardon me), but really big (huge) wheelchairs for my 130lb mom. She obediently slide into the seat and tried to position her legs onto the leg rests. She looked like she was trying to ride an elephant. A snort escaped from her lips, which she tried to subdue, but then couldn't. She looked up at Dad, me and the orderly and said, "You think it's big enough?" We laughed, and the tension was broken. Mom was still there. Cancer or no cancer, she is still the same loveable, goofy, no-nonsense, laughter-loving person she always has been. And that began our journey. Of course, I think the orderly was traumatized for life, but no matter. You can't spend all the time crying...
So, today, in honor of this year, we Celebrated the Triumphs with a delicious bite of creme brulee,
and then an afternoon at the spa (we're hooked, what can I say?!)
But, the real celebration begins in two weeks. Mom, Dad, Leroy and I booked a Cruise to the Caribbean! How's that for spontaneous? We leave two weeks from tomorrow! Mom really knows how to celebrate!
We can't end this day without celebrating the faithfulness of each one of you. Your unwavering love in the face of these trials has carried us through the fire. You may have brought a meal, offered a shoulder to cry on, prayed unceasingly, listened with your heart, cleaned house, ran errands, sent cards, encouraged through a smile... you have all been the Hands and Feet of Faithfulness. And we know, without a doubt, that you have bridged the gap for us so many times when we were too weak, too numb, or too afraid to speak. You are our Blessing,
May God be Glorified through all the Triumphs of this past year. He sustains even when we don't understand.
And that's Grace Enough for Today, Love you all, Jane
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