Pix from Costa Rica

John and Chris have photos here (facebook).


Nicolle has a few up on her blog.

Busy Day with Daddy

Rob was here again today, and took the kids shopping, to BYU to the Bean Museum, and swimming at the Veterans Memorial Pool, so I got a little psych work done. Then we decided to have sparklers (above--with very serious children), and a fire for smores.




I think we're all tired out. Tomorrow (hopefully, since the flights are standby), we'll see Nicolle, John, and Chris again. Actually, Chris' flight is not standby, so we'll go to SLC to pick him up in the mid-afternoon. They will have exciting stories to tell, and I hope John took a lot of pictures.

Grandpa's 78th

Rob, Colette, and Johnathan went with me to The Farm for Grandpa E's birthday party. The kids liked playing outside on Aunt Tena's airplane (above) and indoors with the Wii. They also liked the trampoline, the forest, the gardens, the lane, the bull, the haystack, etc.
Grandma E's new bridge over the stream:
Johnathan goes fishing:
Happy birthday Grandpa!
Grandma E:
Rob and Johnathan at the pond:
Looking for fish:
Colette holds the rainbow:

Grandpa E and Jody:
Tena, Teane, and Johnathan:
Cindy and Grandma E:
We decided to go fireless, even though it was cool after the sun went down.
Rob and Colette:
It rained just enough to cool things off and give us the lovely rainbow.

Chances

Here's a quote on survival from the NIH.

"The survival statistics presented here are based on relative survivalX Close
A measure of net survival that is calculated by comparing observed (overall) survival with expected survival from a comparable set of people that do not have cancer to measure the excess mortality that is associated with a cancer diagnosis., which measures the survival of the cancer patients in comparison to the general population to estimate the effect of cancer. The overall 5-year relative survival for 1999-2006 from 17 SEER geographic areas was 82.7%.

Stage Distribution and 5-year Relative Survival by Stage at Diagnosis for
1999-2006, All Races, Females

Stage at Diagnosis	Stage Distribution (%)	5-year Relative Survival (%)
Localized (confined to primary site)	69	95.5
Regional (spread to regional lymphnodes)	19	67.5
Distant (cancer has metastasized)	8	17.1
Unknown (unstaged)	4	55.5"

So my chances actually look pretty good.

Thoughts on Cancer

My chances of survival are exactly the same as everyone else's--that is, 0%. I'm always struck by how we know this fact but are able to simply not believe it. The only other time death has been a big deal to me was after Lucy died, and I remember then realizing that my attraction to death was the result of severe psychological injury, and that to some degree I could measure my recovery by how quickly and completely I regained my irrational denial of my own death.

My chances of dying sooner rather than later have gone up. I will have a better notion after the surgery. Will it be 30 more years, a more or less normal lifespan and what I would expect if cancer were not involved? Will it be six months, three years, ten years, dealing with cancer and its horrendous treatment throughout whatever time is left?

I remember some years ago thinking about some of the more degrading and painful deaths possible, and idly considering methods of suicide if I found myself on the road to such a death. "I'd have to do it while I still had enough autonomy to manage it," "it would have to be an 'accident' and undiscoverable," "it would have to be quick," etc. I have discovered that I am not up to suicide. I don't really want to "fight" cancer (as in "after a long and courageous battle with cancer, _______ passed with her family beside her"), but I also don't want to hurry it up. I'll go out like a passive resister being arrested by the authorities while practicing civil disobedience--no flailing or yelling or violence, but no helping it along either. I'll be a dead weight (ha!) I'm interested in observing the process--witnessing it.

Amy caught me reading the obituaries. "Why are you doing that?" she said suspiciously, as if an interest in death made it more likely. Before, I morbidly read the obituaries looking for evidence of young suicides, particularly gay suicides. Now I look for "lingering illness," "courageous fight," etc. To add to this morbidity, nearly everyone I tell (not many yet--the opportunity doesn't come up in casual conversation, oddly enough) relates their personal cancer stories back to me. "My sister had cancer..." "When my mother-in-law died of cancer..." and so forth. Usually they stop just after giving the gruesome details, with a somewhat sheepish look. It is similar to the time after Lucy died, in which I found myself comforting and reassuring all my loving acquaintances as they didn't know what to say and said it. It was exhausting then. I'm not to that point yet, but I am a little more panicky than after Lucy's death, simply because by the time I realized her death it was already over, while mine is in the future--uncertain, but on the horizon.

People also don't know what do say or how to deal with it, and I feel a tiny bit avoided. That's OK too. In some ways my analogy to the passive resister is inaccurate. I have an obligation to be here for the people I love for as long as I can, and to help them deal with my death as well as they are able.

Despite my habitual stance of proactive pessimism, the diagnosis was a surprise to me. (That was a surprise to me too). But I found that I could finish my patient appointments of the day, tell my family calmly, and proceed with my life. It feels like denial, but it's more just practicality. I remember when Dave was burned, how grateful I was to all the medical personnel (at least after we got him to the burn unit) for their cheerful, practical, matter-of-fact competence. I'm sort of treating myself that way.

I'm sure I'll have hysterics at some point--in fact I had an argument with my Cylon gynecologist about stopping the aspirin two weeks before the operation. "If I have a ministroke before August 9th, I'll let you know!" I said. "All right!" she said. "You're not going to have a stroke. But take your aspirin if it will make you feel better. Just let me know ahead of time." So I recognize this as a function of anxiety--I have cancer, I'm facing major surgery, I've never had a blood clot, but I pick this issue to obsess about rather than any other? (And I still think they--the medical community--have no clue what anticardiolipin antibodies mean or how they originate--but the aspirin anxiety is probably irrational).

Another issue--perhaps not so irrational--I've had the same symptoms for at least the last two visits to the gynecologist's office. Last time I even had an "inconclusive" biopsy and ultrasound, but no one suggested further exploration or treatment. Certainly no one mentioned cancer. I'm sure I misheard or misunderstood, but my take-home message from the last two visits was "lose weight, and then we'll talk." What was the difference this time? I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that I never saw the same practitioner twice--Cylon gynecologist, then physician's assistant, then nurse practitioner, then another nurse practitioner. My Cylon gynecologist can't even remember that I saw her first.

On the other hand, I really can't afford to consider "what ifs." After Lucy died, it was no use thinking, "if only I went to the doctor 24 hours earlier." No one has total control over all the chances of life, and pining over or being angry over lost possibilities would cost me too much.

Days of 47

I drove with Johnathan and Colette to SLC last night so that we could go to the parade this morning (Rob switched his shift to p.m.). We were right at the very start, at South Temple and State, sitting in the street directly beneath the Eagle Gate. Rob lent me the hat and sunscreen. I've never been to the Days of 47 Parade before.

The kids only got tired of it during the last five minutes or so. The lady next to me said, "I've never seen little kids behave so well at a parade."


Then we walked over to Temple Square, splashing in every fountain on the way. Here Colette points to where she's planning to walk:

Above, Johnathan worries and calls her back. She's OK, Johnathan!

Well, maybe.

Rob and Johnathan at the reflecting pool.

We saw the new fountain across the street south of Temple Square, and then walked a circuitous path via the pioneer log cabin by the Family History Center to the Trax station by Abravanel Hall.

We rode Trax to the Gallivan Center and had lunch under the big arbor/fountain to the west of the stage. I think I got the wettest.

Adults and kids still had energy and time, so we went to the zoo. First stop, the train. Two train rides in one day--Johnathan was in heaven.



We visited the elephants,


rhinos, crocodiles, tigers, snakes, birds, etc.


Then it was time for Rob to go to work and the kids immediately went to sleep in the car on the way back. A great day!

The kids were very glad to see their dad. Johnathan wouldn't hold my hand or sit on my lap--it had to be Rob. He cried when we parted at the zoo, but seemed OK when I said Rob would be down to go to church with us tomorrow.

Chris and Niels Photo Shoot

The photographer for Rebecca's wedding did a quickie shoot of Chris and Niels which is kind of fun. Here's the link to the facebook album.

Costa Rica

John, Nicolle, and Chris are headed off to Costa Rica. I decided to stay back with the babes and let John and Nicolle explore for a possible study abroad thing there. We bought Chris's ticket of course, but John and Nicolle used flight benefits from Rob's job at Delta, and are flying free on standby. Because Nicolle had such a hard time getting back from Ft. Worth, we were worried they might not be able to get on their flights to Atlanta and then to CR. They allowed a whole day to get there before Chris if they missed a flight or two and had to go later. But both John and Nicolle got on both legs of the trip on their first try.

It's harrowing for a worry-wart like me. Now I don't have to worry. Or I guess I will worry about Chris making his transfer by himself tomorrow in Denver. But that's less worrisome than thinking about Chris arriving in San Jose, Costa Rica, and nobody there to meet him.

Rob called from the airport this morning and said he and the babes are going to Orange County and then to the beach today. We'll see them tonight.

Colette's Third 5th Birthday Party

Nicolle and the babes came back from Ft. Worth, after a huge amount of trouble trying to get on standby. But we were glad! We drove up with the bunk beds to trade for the queen-size for A&J, and had a PARTY (Colette's 3rd birthday party of the year, according to Nicolle). That's just the way we do it.

And here's Colette singing a song (to a music video on Nicolle's iPod--I'm not exactly sure what song it is).



By the way, both Chris' and Brett's CD's are now in the mastering phase. I will put up any links as soon as I get them. Chris played us an acoustic song from his CD that he feels like is finished, and it's beautiful.

A Medical Aside

I went to the hematologist at UVRMC on Monday, and he said he doesn't think I have an anticardiolipin antibody problem (although I do have the antibodies and test "moderately positive") because I have no evidence or history of a clotting problem. He said he would send an email to the blood guru in SLC to ask about precautions with surgery or cancer treatment. He was the one who called him the "blood guru," which is kind of reassuring, actually.

I have another appointment with my Cylon gynecologist on this coming Monday to talk more in depth about diagnosis and treatment options.

I keep thinking all this stuff about blood and illness and cutting and femaleness and so forth is very linked to the whole vampire/werewolf world.

Shakespeare in Cedar City

We took a little one-night/two-day trip to Cedar City and saw Much Ado About Nothing, Macbeth, and Pride and Prejudice. Janet was the one who arranged it, leaving John P in Moab and driving over with her giant placid dogs, Lily and Sheba. We stayed in the usual Quality Inn. "Quality!" said Grandma Gene. "They advertised and told us it was one king and two queens!" but it was one queen and two regular sized beds. We (including Grandma Gene) went swimming twice. We saw plays in all three theaters. Our favorite was Macbeth in the Adams Theater, very spooky, bloody, and dramatic. And short. And what woman couldn't appreciate Lady Macbeth and the Weird Sisters as expressions of her own darker side. And the perils of counting on prophecies to plan one's life. I had forgotten (or I was struck again anyway) by the prophecies borrowed by Tolkien for LOTR--the moving trees and "shall not be harmed by man of woman born."

It was great to see Janet. We promised to come visit them in Vermont in October.
We're planning to make our short trip to Costa Rica next week. I haven't had time to think about it, but John and Nicolle are going to talk about and work on the possibility of another wilderness writing Study Abroad program there. That would be fun!

Life Is A Mortal Condition. There Will Be No Survivors.

Just diagnosed with endometrial cancer. There was not a tumor two years ago when I had an ultrasound--now there is, like a peanut-sized fetus in my womb. I have surgery August 9th to see the extent of it and take out my well-worn reproductive system.

Very steadying to the mind, but it does interfere with my early morning sleep. (I should go to bed sooner--that might help).

Happy Independence Day

We had a fun holiday over the three day weekend. John, Rob, and Chris decided to hike Timp Monday morning, but were turned back by the glacier (because Chris had slip-on canvas shoes--although I remember the girls climbing mountains in flip-flops). John said, upon his return, "I am officially old," and slept for a long time.

B&B came down from Salt Lake for a BBQ, which we ate indoors because it was hot outside. But afterward it was nice to sit on the lawn in the shade.

Ethan does not hold still long enough to take his picture:


Amy on the bridge in her garden:

Rob picks raspberries:

Chris in his 19th Century look:

Chris and Amy watch Ethan, always the main source of entertainment:

Getting ready for fireworks:



Jamison was here for part of the time, but is good at avoiding photos. We missed Nicolle and the babies, who are still in Ft. Worth with the Ashtons. Colette's 5th birthday is coming up, and we're planning a party!