Road Gators and Redbox Hogs

Once you've lived in Florida for awhile, you begin to realize that gators are everywhere, especially when you're in a hurry. The worst part is they just have no consideration. It's been like that since the years when hunting them was illegal.

I think it went to their heads.

You have to stop and wait for them to cross the road. They take all the best parking places. And they never can make up their mind at the Redbox.

Bill and Carole (as we'll call them), our visitors from Missouri, had been to Gatorland and knew the reptiles weren't stacked up like that in the wild but wondered just how hard it would be to see them where they really lived.

So Laura, being a middle school science teacher and priding herself on being able to show people the real Florida, assured them we would see the American Alligator in its natural habitat. She said things things like, "My favorite spot," and, "The Old Grouchy One living in that bar ditch..." (At least I'm pretty sure she was talking about a gator.)

Off we went, to Merritt Island National Wildlife refuge, due east of Titusville and adjacent to the Kennedy Space Center. There in the refuge, there's a wildlife loop - a raised pathway through a lot of water, scrubby little bushes, palmettoes and short trees.

As we quietly crept along, tires crunching on the gravel, we all spoke in hushed tones to avoid spooking wildlife. I scanned the ditches amid the water grasses from my window, and pointed out the pathways and holes left by the gators as they sullenly wove through the vegitation from place to place.

Today they were just doing a good job of staying out of sight.

I thought about our visitors and how glad I was to see them. They had been dealing with the tragic loss of their 21 year-old son some months ago.

Now I have limited experience with grief, but after my parents died within a few months of each other more than a decade ago, my brother and sisters and I learned to deal with it in our own unique ways.

My heart ached deeply for Bill and Carole, though I knew I couldn't begin to understand what they are going through.

I treasure our own sons through our worries about their challenges - large and small. Each has chosen a lifestyle with more than the average amount of risk. Two have been deployed to Afghanistan, one twice, while two are correctional officers in a medium/high security state facility in Oklahoma.

We are proud of each of them, and not a day goes by that we don't pray for them.

I hope we never have to hear the news that came that day months ago to our friends.

I finally spotted a small gator's head protruding from the water about 50 yards out. He was probably a five footer, judging by the distance between eyes and nostrils.

In the late afternoon stillness, we embraced the quiet moment with our friends and left yesterday and tomorrow to their own devices.

Sandwich Shops and I-4

From my adirondack on the porch this Friday evening, I look back on the week.

The impossible occurred yesterday. Laura's blood counts supported the decision for her last "significant" chemo treatment.

I watch an eagle pair circling lazily over the power lines and feel tensions melt. While we were fully prepared to be turned away from treatment Thursday based on low blood counts, we got the thumbs up.

Unbelievable.

Closing my eyes, I roll back the clock to yesterday. The chemo suite is quiet at lunchtime as patients, with blankets and fuzzy caps heaped on, doze, read, tap on laptops or squint at cellphones. It's an elongated dogleg of a room with recliners along the wall, alternating with less elaborate chairs for spouses or friends, all facing the nurse's station on the other side.

Between working on my laptop and watching the IV drip, I contemplate what it all means.

We haven't dared think about an end to this madness. The chemo treatments seemed to stretch out in front of us in an unbroken line, always with another waiting to be done. And in the wake of each, days of recovery.

Now suddenly the end is in sight. We started with early detection and surgical intervention. Our chemo treatment regimen has been stressful, but always with the knowledge that our goal of eradication was attainable -- even probable.

Yet a few hours to our west, my cousin Joe continues his fight against pancreatic cancer with courageous resolve despite unfavorable odds. With family surrounding and supporting him and his wife, their struggle is daily, and we carefully follow their poignant blog posts.

And a few blocks away on I-4, it's all about gabbing on cellphones and driving fast. Really fast.

I decide it's time to take a short walk down the hall to the cafe.

As quiet music plays from overhead speakers, my new friend Chad fixes yet another lunch for me. I utter a silent prayer and believe I feel for a brief moment the embrace of angels' wings.

This is the last of infusions causing the now familiar side effects. We'll continue to come back for Herceptin, but this one is very specific and doesn't attack all dividing cells indiscriminately.

Laura's recovery from the chemo will begin almost immediately. Her hair will start growing again, and her strength and stamina will return.

What have we learned? No one can be sure they won't face this scourge. We know we can't be sure we won't face it again.

Pray with us that the breakthroughs will come. That the research will finally uncover the secrets that have evaded us for so many painful years. Join us in raising awareness, and praying for those who continue to fight!

Of Toxic Cocktails and Weary Joy

In the waiting room, we sat together and I thought about how nice it was to enjoy a quiet moment after a short week that had been anything but.

I scanned the configuration of chairs and the occupants who sat in them. On the flat screen mounted high in the corner, the newscaster earnestly addressed us as if we needed to hear what she said.

"Maybe we'll get lucky today."

Laura gave me the wry smile that left no doubt about the irony of her statement. If her platelet count was high enough, she would sit quietly for the next several hours while skilled professionals cheerfully dripped poison into her veins.

At least we'd be making progress again. Back on some semblance of a schedule.

This would be the next to last chemo treatment, at least of those with pernicious side effects. Thereafter, infusions would continue for the rest of the year, but shorter, with more specific cancer-targeting drugs.

We were lucky.

That was Thursday. And the side effects are now back. Sitting on the couch and watching old movies between naps is the routine again for the coming days.

Still, we are fortunate, and know it. Close friends and relatives struggle with Pancreatic cancer, joblessness, and depression.

Between prayers for these, we celebrate life's victories. Andrew has a wonderful new wife, Saundra (and we have a wonderful new daughter-in-law). William is pursuing his dream with advanced training in the Army while Elyse supports him from home. Lucas enjoys his career as a correctional officer. Simon is in classes at Oklahoma State. Our niece has been accepted at the University of North Florida and will soon be pursuing her dream there.

Lord grant us the courage to face our adversities and the wisdom to enjoy our blessings!

Christmas Music and Radioactive Xenon Gas

We had a fine scare when Laura reported light-headedness at school.

It was the week after chemo. She got through the day alright, but got home and described symptoms that were more than a little scary. It sounded like her blood oxygen levels weren't what they should be. At rest she was fine, but with any exertion, she was winded and felt faint.

Laura called the doctor's office.

In the car on the way to the hospital for a workup, I thought about the possibility that the chemo was wreaking havoc on her red cells. Would she need a transfusion? What kind of diagnostics would they need to run? Would she need to be admitted?

The diagnosis would require ruling out a blood clot in her lung. I did my best not to panic as we walked the hospital corridors to go from test to test, but took comfort in the fact that we were, in fact, walking. If they thought it was truly dire, I knew they wouldn't let us walk the halls.

A blood workup eliminated cellular imbalances and we headed to radiology for imaging. Two tests were on the agenda there. The first was a contrast imaging X-ray with an IV dye, and the second involved inhaling radioactive xenon gas.

After spending the major part of our day for the tests, the word was that there was no indication of a blod clot and we could go home. Relieved and worn out, we made our way to the car.

Our oncologist obviously felt we'd eliminated the major threats through the diagnostics, but it left me scratching my head as to why Laura had experienced the symptoms. Between us, we decided there was a very real possibility that her weight loss because of the chemo had resulted in low blood pressure as she continued to take the same dosage of BP medicine. In fact, the pressure they read when drawing blood was indeed somewhat low, and that seemed the most likely explanation.

Just a little more excitement to add to the saga.

With that behind us, Thursday's chemo treatment was uneventful, as was yesterday's visit for Neulasta treatment.

Next challenge: weathering the side effects of chemo for the next few days.

Our Friend Becomes A Daughter

Where would we be without turkey and dressing?

As we chatted around the Thanksgiving table, I reflected on the blessings of family. Having one of my sisters, Beth, and her children as well as Andrew and his friend Saundra filled our dining room with wonderful heartwarming cheer.

Saundra had been Andy's friend since high school, and a decade later having her at the table was completely natural. I wouldn't know until they had traveled to Ft. Campbell together how significant her presence was.

It was a bewildered call from our second son, also stationed at Ft. Campbell in the same battalion, that tipped us off.

"Do you guys have any special plans for this weekend?"

"No Will, I think we'll be hanging around the house. Why?"

"Andy's platoon leader asked me if I knew he was getting married Friday. I though maybe you guys might be headed this way."

"Ummm ... ?"

Well, it turned out that after several conversations we were able to convince Andy and Saundra to wait awhile. Until the following Monday, anyway.

And so it is that now as we prepare for Christmas in Florida, we also celebrate Saundra, our wonderful new daughter-in-law!

A Hide-a-Port, a Thief, and a Son Comes Home

It didn't seem like Thursday when we dismounted at 1:15 am, at least not that I noticed.

I was very thankful at that moment for our friend Dakota's offer to keep Laura company for her chemo treatment later that day. Of course I had no intention of missing it altogether, but being able to sleep in a bit seemed like a good plan.

The chemo, as before, was uneventful except for the nurse being unable to access Laura's subcutaneous port -- they had to set up an IV instead.

When I brought in the Arby's, Dakota and Laura's conversation about wigs turned to curiosity about the Oklahoma trip. I was happy to oblige as we ate.

The treatment was right on track and it seemed downright pleasant. The effects of chemo had taken a little more than a day to manifest before, and Dakota is a delight, so I left them to their girl talk and went to the cafeteria with my laptop to begin catching up on my inbox at work.

The day passed rapidly after that; I popped in for few visits to assure there were no changes, and before we knew it we were packing up and heading out. It's good to feel that those who are providing the services are not only competent but pleasant and helpful.

As the days following the treatment progressed, my fears of worsening effects meant that I was prepared to step up our game. From the beginning, I've been worried about a commonly repeated caution: that as the chemo course continues, the duration and severity of effects would increase. Thankfully, this round seemed a little easier, if anything. I know a part of it was the fact that it was all new and unknown the first time, but the typical side effects we all know about didn't seem any worse, either.

Unfortunately, Laura picked up a bit of a cold, so having to deal with a nagging cough has meant some lost sleep and a bit of weariness. Although she was planning to work on Friday, it was clear Thursday night it wasn't going to happen.

This was unfortunate, because it seemed it was going to be a nice, easy day. Laura was going to ride on a charter bus of kids to St. Augustine, take some leisurely strolls, and ride home. No lecturing, not much walking.

As it turned out, we were glad she didn't go, because the teachers who did go had to deal with a student who stole. Not exactly a low stress day for those involved.

Now we look forward to treatment three the day before Thanksgiving.

Based on the first two treatments, Thanksgiving should be fine, with Andrew home from Ft. Campbell to help provide some cooking assistance. We'll sit on Laura, if we have to, to have her conserve her energy, and Andy and I will get our celebratory meal ready around noon rather than in the afternoon, when we classically have had it. It won't involve stuffing a turkey or stressful complexities if we can help it.

We've been counting blessings approaching Thanksgiving -- that we found the cancer early, that we have such overwhelming support from family, church, and friends, and that the treatment regimen has been as well tolerated as it has.

Add to that my daily prayers of thanks for Laura, who has been riding this whole thing out like the champ she is. It is truly marvelous to see God working through her!

I'd also urge everyone this Thanksgiving to remember those who have given so much for our freedoms!

Hogs and A Mustang

Not an average vacation.

For one thing, I usually spend my time off with Laura, so hitting the road with a cement truck driver in the passenger seat was a bit different. We were in the cab of a sixteen foot rental truck with car trailer behind.

Put this together with the fact I was leaving Laura at home after her initial chemo treatment, and I think a bit of explanation is in order.

Okay, let's start with the truck and trailer. We had been talking about getting their things to Luke and Simon in Oklahoma this fall. Because of the circumstances of their moves to Oklahoma, they didn't have a chance take their stuff with them. The plan this year was that Simon would load up a truck and he and Laura would drive out when he left after his summer vacation.

Then came Laura's positive mammogram.

Simon was due back for classes, so he flew back, and together with our friends, we began to deal with ... well, you know the rest of that story.

So that was the truck.

As for the trailer, it was just after I had rented the truck that our son William won the bidding for a '66 Mustang on Ebay. The car was in Chiefland (west of Gainesville), and his plan was to have it shipped to him in Clarksville, Tennessee at no small expense. -- You see where this is going.

Which brings us to leaving Laura after her first chemo. This isn't as bad as it might seem. We knew from talking to people who had experience with the treatment that the first week after chemo was rough, but that by the time the next treatment rolled around, she could expect to feel like her old self again.

So we made plans for me to get the trip done in that final week before her next treatment, which pretty much brings us up to date.

Oh, except for the cement truck driver in the passenger seat. My cousin's husband. He volunteered to go with me as a riding partner, partly because the return trip once we dropped the truck off was via motorcycle. We just loaded our bikes right into the truck along with the stuff going to Oklahoma. When we got the truck unloaded out there, we rolled them out and hopped on for the ride back.

Almost 1400 miles back, in two and a half days. And for you riders out there, you know the routine on long rides. You ride about a hundred miles, then you just have to climb off and walk around for circulation.

They were long but satisfying days.

Laura's next chemo was the same day we arrived back home, and our 1:15 am arrival didn't interfere much.

So, our Oklahoma boys got their stuff, one of our Ft. Campbell boys got his Mustang, and I got a great break from work and a cross-country ride with my new best friend as the leaves were changing.

Next time: Chemo round two.