March 10

Dear Family and Friends,

I know I don’t usually give the updates myself, but this week I was reminded at my treatment again what a difficult thing cancer (or any life threatening disease) can be. For those of you who haven’t been in the typical chemo room at a cancer center, they usually consist of six to as many as thirty big recliners each equipped with a blanket (chemo often makes you cold – being overly thin just accentuates the shivers), a pillow, and the ever present infusion pole with multiple towers. My family has referred to these as ‘Fred’ since my surgery in 2002. I honestly can’t remember why now. So if you are having treatment and you need to use the ladies’ room, Fred has to go, too. I can drive quite well now, maneuvering around all the other people and their poles.

The Rocky Mountain Cancer Centers have several locations around the Denver area. I have elected to go to the one that is the smallest. The doctors’ suite is in a medical building attached to a hospital. However, there are only six big chairs, so it is a less depressing atmosphere to me than the others which look like chemo factories. This past Thursday, there was just one other woman and me. She had the completely bald head that says her hair fell out, rather than just got thin, so she shaved it. Her husband was with her, but could have been taken for her son. That is one of the byproducts I have observed in myself and in others. Disease ages you in a way you cannot imagine. When you lose a lot of weight, your teeth even crowd each other, so that with the skin changes of different chemicals, and the hair changes, you often wonder, “Who IS that woman staring back at me? I didn’t expect to see anyone like her for at least 30 years!”

Speaking of thin, or rather SKINNY, there are two types of people who are unnaturally thin – overpaid models (and the young girls trying to be like them) and the chronically ill. For all of you who bewail those 10-15 extra pounds, just think, “Curvy is cool!” Anyway, there becomes an instant bond in chemo centers. (Similar, but not fun and exciting, like women at a birthing class) So this woman’s husband is describing how she lost 27 pounds in eleven days, etc. when a husband, wife, and their daughter came in. I knew as soon as they came in that the woman was getting ready to join ‘our club.’ She had that overwhelmed look on her face. Actually, they all did. This was a lovely African-American woman, who looked to be in her 40’s. This ‘club’ is one that you do not elect to join, but are rather forced to join.. No welcoming handshake, but a reaching out to squeeze their hands – to somehow communicate that we hurt with her.

The nurse began giving her the prep talk for chemo. One of the most common confusions is that all the people in a treatment area have the same cancer and the same drugs. Usually a newcomer wants to know first off, “How sick do you get?” It takes some time to keep gently saying that everyone is different – everyone gets different drugs in varying doses. The next question (And I have observed men ask this as much as women), “Will I lose my hair?” Sure enough, she was very anxious about this. (She has beautiful, perfectly groomed hair). Yes, says the nurse, you will lose it all by the second treatment. She looked at the other patient and I – we were not reassuring in appearance. The other lady clearly bald under her cute hat, and me whose hair looks like a grandpa who is trying to keep what little hair he has. Then the questions began in earnest.

Newcomer: I want a wig and I want it as soon as possible. (So conversation ensues to give her the best resources for a soft, reasonably priced wig. Cancer patients can get really good prices. My sweet mother has wanted me to get a wig from the beginning of all of this. I can’t go there. I couldn’t tell you why.)

Nurse: (Laughing) Oh, you won’t care about your hair before long. (This is a great nurse who gives us great care, plus stand-up comedy she should be paid for, but here she is wrong. No matter how sick you get, you still care. A woman does that. When we come in stooped over and looking like a train wreck, it isn‘t because we suddenly no longer care. It is because we don’t have the strength to do anything about it. There is an important difference.)

Newcomer: How sick do you get? How long does it last? (We answer)

Then we all converse about the difference between PIC lines (which I have) and PORTS (which the other lady had). Mine require daily flushing; PORTS usually do not. If you watched Meredith draw the saline solution from a small bottle with an ultra thin needle and “burp” it, then add Hepron, you would think she was a nurse of longstanding Then we get into harder questions.

Newcomer: Do you cry, I mean do you cry a lot. (Yes, we both cry – sometimes a lot) I cry all the time. (Looking at her hurting husband and daughter, you know they all do or want to.) Are you scared? I mean really scared? (Yes, we both are scared – sometimes really scared) Can I talk to other cancer patients like this? (Yes, most are more than happy to share help of any kind with another)

If you read the literature on cancer, there is a lot there that is encouraging. Lance Armstrong’s Foundation has some excellent resources. It is interesting to me as a Christian how much of the secular input is how the medical profession encourages patients to become ‘spiritually connected”. They aren’t quite sure how or where for you to do this, but doing it gives you a definite edge, so say the statistics. That, and forgiveness are the hot topics. No real surprise here for those who take Scripture seriously. But back to my sweet newcomer. She is not ready for the strong medicine yet. Will she get to the place where she puts all of her energy into the fight? Probably. But before she can get there, she must have hands to hold, and she must let the tears come, and she must admit her fears before she can fight those as well. And she will learn that for every PETscan or MRI or even bloodwork, she will face questions all over again. This isn’t a fight that you complete one day, never to waiver again. It is like climbing one of the beautiful ‘Fourteener’ mountains that grace Colorado. One tackles the climb bit by bit. The people that I hurt most for in these battles are those who have no family or no friends, and even worse, no comfort in God. I have been blessed with family and friends who have reached out to me in amazing ways – ways that bring me to my knees. And I would say that before all of this, if you asked me about God, I could have told you many, many things. And if you asked me now I would say, “God is good and God is real.”

As many of you know, I just celebrated by 56^th birthday. I am grateful that I am alive to do that. Without the help of my ‘Dream Team’ (here and other places), I would never have made it to this birthday. My oncologist called my Hospice doctor recently and said, “Hey, guess who is still alive?” They both tell me that they can’t believe I am still here. On many days, neither can I. Thank you all for the cards, emails, and prayers that mean more than I can say. Meredith planned a surprise party for some of my gal friends here. It was a special day. The Barnes family engineers a very labor intensive juicing/food program that surely is helping me. We are attempting for me to gain weight – always a challenge when food choices are limited.

Oh, and just so I clarify, besides the bittersweet scenarios that take place around cancer, there are some times that are incredibly funny – you can’t get that many people with ‘chemo’ brain together and not have some humorous moments. Anyway, sorry for this longwinded epistle. Blessings to you and your families. And, hey Adam, I love you. Thanks for our long, and sometimes hilarious, talks. You are a champ!

Love, Judi

• the Oregon TeenPact class was a week blessed by and saturated with God. He truly reached down and enclosed that week within His hand. He granted us favor in the sight of men. what students... what memories... what a God!
• the Pacific is very cold.
• cell phones don't do the ocean well.... at all.
• clam chowder is not disgusting. in fact, clam fritters, fried oysters, and shrimp ain't that bad after all.... in spite of hating them with a passion for years on end. oysters are kind-of squishy, though.
• research papers due the day after you get home are best completed before a TeenPact class.
  
• staff girls are some of the best support ever. especially when one's cows need saving or one loses the game or when one needs to giggle for long periods of time. additionally, staff girls can make curling one's hair in rags a hilarious experiment as well as chinese fire drills and double-buckling in car seats.
• emergencies don't wait for people to get home from trips.
• mothers are the best medicine in the world.
• mothers are also the best support team in the world.
• hospital cafeteria lattes are miserable.
• snow comes in April in Colorado. as does tornadoes. and beautiful flowers. and sideways rain. and amazing sunsets over the Rockies.
  
• everybody and their mother are going to National Convention.... and somebody that i've been wanting to go... can finally go!!! yay for Lydia!! i know it will be amazing... have fun everybody!!
  
• i need sleep.
• running at night is better than running in the morning.
  
• "the illusionist" is a creepy movie but exceptional and then it turns out super in the end.
• angel food cake is really, really, really dry if eaten without whipped cream.
• my God is real.