February, 27, 2009
I think I will take the weekend off from desk work (other than end-of-month bill paying, which, I suppose, I can't avoid), so I thought I should post an entry before I logged off. Erin has definitely made positive progress after three radiation session. Her breathing and coughing have improved, and we are easing back on the pain meds to see if she has also gotten better on that front as well. Less pain medication will translate into greater lucidity, which will improve her outlook immensely. She will have five more sessions next week, then we will re-evaluate and see what happens next.
We spent part of the afternoon sorting out lanyards and how to proceed (Our stock is up to a couple of dozen so we ought to be able to fill most standing orders soon). We have some made for folks who had particular parameters (colors, length, etc.). I will contact you directly, in person, by phone, or by e-mail, and let you know how we will handle the delivery. For those of you who didn't express particular preferences, we have taken photos with batches of lanyards. I will send the photos to you by e-mail (or if you have facebook, they are on my site, and I will friend you if you need me to). I am doing this sequentially in the order the lanyard requests came in, so different people don't claim the same on-spec lanyard. Once you have adopted a particular one, we'll make a plan for delivery.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Exactly What President Obama Needs
February 26, 2009
This morning I realized the "Gold" no longer worked for Willie. Not even two months into our experiment, Willie has spurned roasted turkey cubes in favor of a good, long explore under the abandoned trailer down the road. I tried to lure him out by feeding Teddy hers and exclaiming what a good dog she was. I even gave out the gold to Willlie's weimaraner friend, Jade, who actually can't perform any gold-deserving tricks, just to get Willie's attention. Nope. Nothing doing. I may have started the morning walk with a lot on my mind (how do you decide how much narcotics to give your 11 year old so she can breathe during radiation without taking the edge off her Wii skills for the rest of the day), but Willie re-focused me on the important details: how could I outsmart a dog who wouldn't take the bait? Would I ever make it back home to my first cup of coffee? Why did I leave the security of my kitchen without my coffee in the first place?
I finally had to give up the pretense that Willie would ever come out from under the trailer on his own accord--just because he wanted to please me, just because he heard my melodious voice singing out "Willie come," just because I had morsels of delight waiting in my pocket to reward his obedience. I groped up under the trailer, dragged him out, and clamped the leashed on his collar. The look in his eyes said, "I love you," but also "Officer, what seems to be the problem?" He pranced home on the end of the leash, clearly not missing any chopped and smoked poultry pieces that may have been his right in other circumstances.
I settled in at the table to glance through the paper and enjoy my coffee while Willie went off to lie by the sliding glass door to monitor squirrel troop movements. I read that Barack and Michelle Obama had their eyes set on a rescued Portugese water dog to fulfill their promise to Sasha and Malia for a new pet in the White House. I laughed out loud. Actually I chortled. My first thought was, I'm glad they didn't select a Rhodesian ridgeback as their dog of choice. Then I remembered Scupper. Some of you who read this page might remember Spencer Dolling's Portugese water dog, Scupper (some of the best Scupper stories are on the back pages of Spencer's caringbridge site. Try searching for "Scupper" in that link to find stories of purloined fresh salmon, stinky smells, and mayhem) . Scupper may be the only dog in North America (he's Canadian) who made bigger messes and caused more problems than Willie. I swear both these dogs make Marley look like the model pet.
Soon, like me, President Obama will have something to take his mind off those petty concerns like failing banks, a stagnating economy, and an expensive and unpopular war. He will have a Portugese water dog.
Erin had her simulation and first radiation session yesterday, and we've already made it home from this morning's session. I can tell already that her breathing has improved and her cough has stabilized. By tomorrow, I hope her back pain will start resolving and that she will regain some energy. The steroid she is taking to reduce swelling in the area has ramped up her appetite, so I need to go and make some chili mac for the starving child.
This morning I realized the "Gold" no longer worked for Willie. Not even two months into our experiment, Willie has spurned roasted turkey cubes in favor of a good, long explore under the abandoned trailer down the road. I tried to lure him out by feeding Teddy hers and exclaiming what a good dog she was. I even gave out the gold to Willlie's weimaraner friend, Jade, who actually can't perform any gold-deserving tricks, just to get Willie's attention. Nope. Nothing doing. I may have started the morning walk with a lot on my mind (how do you decide how much narcotics to give your 11 year old so she can breathe during radiation without taking the edge off her Wii skills for the rest of the day), but Willie re-focused me on the important details: how could I outsmart a dog who wouldn't take the bait? Would I ever make it back home to my first cup of coffee? Why did I leave the security of my kitchen without my coffee in the first place?
I finally had to give up the pretense that Willie would ever come out from under the trailer on his own accord--just because he wanted to please me, just because he heard my melodious voice singing out "Willie come," just because I had morsels of delight waiting in my pocket to reward his obedience. I groped up under the trailer, dragged him out, and clamped the leashed on his collar. The look in his eyes said, "I love you," but also "Officer, what seems to be the problem?" He pranced home on the end of the leash, clearly not missing any chopped and smoked poultry pieces that may have been his right in other circumstances.
I settled in at the table to glance through the paper and enjoy my coffee while Willie went off to lie by the sliding glass door to monitor squirrel troop movements. I read that Barack and Michelle Obama had their eyes set on a rescued Portugese water dog to fulfill their promise to Sasha and Malia for a new pet in the White House. I laughed out loud. Actually I chortled. My first thought was, I'm glad they didn't select a Rhodesian ridgeback as their dog of choice. Then I remembered Scupper. Some of you who read this page might remember Spencer Dolling's Portugese water dog, Scupper (some of the best Scupper stories are on the back pages of Spencer's caringbridge site. Try searching for "Scupper" in that link to find stories of purloined fresh salmon, stinky smells, and mayhem) . Scupper may be the only dog in North America (he's Canadian) who made bigger messes and caused more problems than Willie. I swear both these dogs make Marley look like the model pet.
Soon, like me, President Obama will have something to take his mind off those petty concerns like failing banks, a stagnating economy, and an expensive and unpopular war. He will have a Portugese water dog.
Erin had her simulation and first radiation session yesterday, and we've already made it home from this morning's session. I can tell already that her breathing has improved and her cough has stabilized. By tomorrow, I hope her back pain will start resolving and that she will regain some energy. The steroid she is taking to reduce swelling in the area has ramped up her appetite, so I need to go and make some chili mac for the starving child.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Relief on the Way
February 24, 2008
Luckily, everyone got on the same page about Erin's breathing/coughing problem. . .maybe because it became so acute so fast. She has not been able to lie on either her back or her front for the past two nights (this makes falling asleep a challenge even for the most intrepid sleeper) and did not even think she could walk from one end of Jane Long to the other (we had secretly been hatching plans for Erin to be pushed from class to class on a rolling teacher's chair by one of her friends so she could make it to school). Erin's Houston docs got with the Bryan radiation oncologist, who got us in for a consult and some measurements this afternoon. It did take about three hours and some heavy medication to get Erin comfortable enough to lie back under the machine so they could do their job. Tomorrow's simulation will be another challenge, but after that the sessions ought to get easier each day as the radiation does its job. We also drew the bonus of a twelve minute drive to the appointment each day, rather than a 2.5 hour drive each way.
All I can say (in true Mardi Gras spirit) is Laissez le bon ton roulez.
Luckily, everyone got on the same page about Erin's breathing/coughing problem. . .maybe because it became so acute so fast. She has not been able to lie on either her back or her front for the past two nights (this makes falling asleep a challenge even for the most intrepid sleeper) and did not even think she could walk from one end of Jane Long to the other (we had secretly been hatching plans for Erin to be pushed from class to class on a rolling teacher's chair by one of her friends so she could make it to school). Erin's Houston docs got with the Bryan radiation oncologist, who got us in for a consult and some measurements this afternoon. It did take about three hours and some heavy medication to get Erin comfortable enough to lie back under the machine so they could do their job. Tomorrow's simulation will be another challenge, but after that the sessions ought to get easier each day as the radiation does its job. We also drew the bonus of a twelve minute drive to the appointment each day, rather than a 2.5 hour drive each way.
All I can say (in true Mardi Gras spirit) is Laissez le bon ton roulez.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Up and Down with Erin Buenger
February 22, 2009
Despite advice to the contrary, Erin chose the bus ride to Houston over the personal day on Friday. She thought it was great to go to Houston and not have to go to clinic or the hospital. The 8th graders went to the Body Worlds exhibit. She, Sandy Schwalen, and I had seen that show in December. Really weird! The 6th graders looked at the other exhibits at the Natural Science Museum (most of which Erin has viewed numerous times. She saw one new one called the "Wonders of the World," which was a photography show.
Luckily, I made the decision to follow the bus down to Houston (just in case). This gave me the chance to have lunch with Davis in a non-hospital setting. By 2:00, Erin had burned her wick down pretty far and opted to ride home with me in her usual, luxury-appointed captain's chair with City of Ember audio book playing in the van rather than seated on a vinyl bench seat of a district bus with "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" as the audio accompaniment on the ride home. Beyond the obvious reasons this was a good call, her bus didn't leave for home until the exact high tide of Houston traffic (a student on the trip had to make a trip to the ER for a very minor injury, but most of you reading realize that "minor" in the ER often translates into a long stay because more "major" traumas get pushed ahead of you). We got home in time to walk the dogs, have some dinner, and get on with the evening. Everyone else on her bus arrived home two and a half hours later (at around 7:00).
Erin had little steam left most of the day on Saturday. She did manage to make it to Barnes & Noble to spend some gift cards, so she wouldn't have to be totally bored as she lay about the house. This is likely to become a more common occurrence. Erin's lung is doing her no favors. The pleural effusion on the bottom right side has persisted. It hasn't spread too much, but it has developed some crackles (at night, when everything has gone quiet, it's like sleeping with someone holding a bowl of Rice Crispies). She has also developed some pressure higher up on the same side, most likely from tumor progression. This is new and is causing her some labored breathing and coughs.
With forced rest much of the day, Erin had enough steam to host a Wii party for Jackson, Aaron, and Jesse and their folks. The kids Wii Played, Wii Sported, and Wii Fit for about five hours, while the adults ate, chatted, ate some more, drank, and beaded lanyards. Don't despair if you have heard nothing from me about your lanyard order. We are picking up steam, it's just that Erin can't work marathon sessions, so we have to pace ourselves.
Folks, we have hit a rough patch again, as evidenced by the number of times per day we have to visit The Erin Project for affirmations. If you meant to join the project, but thought too much time has past, please consider this your personal invitation.
Despite advice to the contrary, Erin chose the bus ride to Houston over the personal day on Friday. She thought it was great to go to Houston and not have to go to clinic or the hospital. The 8th graders went to the Body Worlds exhibit. She, Sandy Schwalen, and I had seen that show in December. Really weird! The 6th graders looked at the other exhibits at the Natural Science Museum (most of which Erin has viewed numerous times. She saw one new one called the "Wonders of the World," which was a photography show.
Luckily, I made the decision to follow the bus down to Houston (just in case). This gave me the chance to have lunch with Davis in a non-hospital setting. By 2:00, Erin had burned her wick down pretty far and opted to ride home with me in her usual, luxury-appointed captain's chair with City of Ember audio book playing in the van rather than seated on a vinyl bench seat of a district bus with "100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" as the audio accompaniment on the ride home. Beyond the obvious reasons this was a good call, her bus didn't leave for home until the exact high tide of Houston traffic (a student on the trip had to make a trip to the ER for a very minor injury, but most of you reading realize that "minor" in the ER often translates into a long stay because more "major" traumas get pushed ahead of you). We got home in time to walk the dogs, have some dinner, and get on with the evening. Everyone else on her bus arrived home two and a half hours later (at around 7:00).Erin had little steam left most of the day on Saturday. She did manage to make it to Barnes & Noble to spend some gift cards, so she wouldn't have to be totally bored as she lay about the house. This is likely to become a more common occurrence. Erin's lung is doing her no favors. The pleural effusion on the bottom right side has persisted. It hasn't spread too much, but it has developed some crackles (at night, when everything has gone quiet, it's like sleeping with someone holding a bowl of Rice Crispies). She has also developed some pressure higher up on the same side, most likely from tumor progression. This is new and is causing her some labored breathing and coughs.
With forced rest much of the day, Erin had enough steam to host a Wii party for Jackson, Aaron, and Jesse and their folks. The kids Wii Played, Wii Sported, and Wii Fit for about five hours, while the adults ate, chatted, ate some more, drank, and beaded lanyards. Don't despair if you have heard nothing from me about your lanyard order. We are picking up steam, it's just that Erin can't work marathon sessions, so we have to pace ourselves.
Folks, we have hit a rough patch again, as evidenced by the number of times per day we have to visit The Erin Project for affirmations. If you meant to join the project, but thought too much time has past, please consider this your personal invitation.Thursday, February 19, 2009
ERIN COOKS
February 19, 2009
A necessarily short post this evening. I meant a longer one with photos and wit, but somewhere around the tenth hour of my day trip to Houston, I decided all you were going to get was a mini-entry.
Erin had a clinic appointment in Houston this morning, and we scheduled it early, so she could spend the rest of the morning and into the afternoon doing a photo shoot in the Ronald McDonald Room at the hospital. This was the first session to provide the artwork for a new cookbook that Erin is writing. It will have recipes that kids can cook even if they are stuck in the hospital (no stove or oven). Some of the recipes are fairly simple and a pre-schooler with some assistance could have a go at making and eating them. Others have, let's say, more complexity. The proceeds from the sales will go to support more research for pediatric cancer. That's her plan, and I'm sticking with it.
Anyway, Erin made frozen fruit salad cups, key lime pie, and guacamole for the camera today, and ran out of time to make twice-baked potato cuties. Kim Christensen did the photography, and I will be excited to see how they look. She did a fantastic job under primitive and interrupted circumstances.
Erin had looked forward to the day for a while, because, well doing a photo shoot sound exciting and possibly even glamorous. I think she imagined it more like sports photography, where she would be in the kitchen doing her thing, and the photographer would walk around trying to catch the right shot. Instead, it was more like "let's pretend to cook" so the photographer can get the angle and light right. Both my kids are all about expectations and things going according to (their) plan. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly what she expected. When she had to cut things short (not getting to the potato dish she had planned) because she had been recalled to the clinic for a hemoglobin transfusion, I knew better than to try and jolly her up. At that point it was merely a matter of surviving the day. This does not even count that the transfusion pushed our departure back so that she missed fencing (the first night with real foils).
She's asleep now. Tomorrow will be a better day. I think she plans on boarding the bus at school and driving back to Houston (within three blocks of Texas Children's, actually), to go on a field trip to the Natural Science Museum. Since we were just there in December, I might try to talk her into taking a personal day tomorrow, to get over her twelve-hour extravaganza today.
A necessarily short post this evening. I meant a longer one with photos and wit, but somewhere around the tenth hour of my day trip to Houston, I decided all you were going to get was a mini-entry.
Erin had a clinic appointment in Houston this morning, and we scheduled it early, so she could spend the rest of the morning and into the afternoon doing a photo shoot in the Ronald McDonald Room at the hospital. This was the first session to provide the artwork for a new cookbook that Erin is writing. It will have recipes that kids can cook even if they are stuck in the hospital (no stove or oven). Some of the recipes are fairly simple and a pre-schooler with some assistance could have a go at making and eating them. Others have, let's say, more complexity. The proceeds from the sales will go to support more research for pediatric cancer. That's her plan, and I'm sticking with it.
Anyway, Erin made frozen fruit salad cups, key lime pie, and guacamole for the camera today, and ran out of time to make twice-baked potato cuties. Kim Christensen did the photography, and I will be excited to see how they look. She did a fantastic job under primitive and interrupted circumstances.
Erin had looked forward to the day for a while, because, well doing a photo shoot sound exciting and possibly even glamorous. I think she imagined it more like sports photography, where she would be in the kitchen doing her thing, and the photographer would walk around trying to catch the right shot. Instead, it was more like "let's pretend to cook" so the photographer can get the angle and light right. Both my kids are all about expectations and things going according to (their) plan. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly what she expected. When she had to cut things short (not getting to the potato dish she had planned) because she had been recalled to the clinic for a hemoglobin transfusion, I knew better than to try and jolly her up. At that point it was merely a matter of surviving the day. This does not even count that the transfusion pushed our departure back so that she missed fencing (the first night with real foils).
She's asleep now. Tomorrow will be a better day. I think she plans on boarding the bus at school and driving back to Houston (within three blocks of Texas Children's, actually), to go on a field trip to the Natural Science Museum. Since we were just there in December, I might try to talk her into taking a personal day tomorrow, to get over her twelve-hour extravaganza today.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Once Upon A Time
February 16, 2009
Leicester, England
Rubber Plantations
London Model
The Who Drummer, Keith Moon
Skin Care and Facials
Ian McLagan
Red Hat Ladies of Austin
Jane Long Middle School
Wii Fit
Erin Buenger
Now what if I asked you to write a coherent story that connected the items in this list? It starts, "Once upon a time. . ." Can you finish it?
Here, let me help:
If you know the online game, Funny Farm, these places, people, things, and concepts would form a network of connections around the central key word, Kim Kerrigan (if you don't know Funny Farm, I promise you are really missing out on fun and distraction, and you should stop right now and give it a try.).
Did you Google Kim Kerrigan? If you did, you probably went to a Wikipedia article about her. That would help you write part of the story (up through "Skin Care and Facials"). Let me help you with the rest. Kim Kerrigan McLagan lived a full and vital life. A little over two years ago she died suddenly in an auto crash. Her impact on people was profound and long-lasting. A group of people who knew her (but did not always know each other) formed a group to keep her spirit alive. That group, The Red Hat Ladies of Austin, heard about Erin through a connection they had with a teacher at Jane Long (Erin's school). They decided that to help Erin with her goal of getting back into shape, so that she might return to competitive soccer someday, they would present her with a Wii, Wii Fit, and a full range of accessories so that her friends could support her in her goal AND have fun with her. They want her to continue to conquer the world with her smile and wit, much as their dear friend Kim did.
These wonderful folks, whom we have never met and who we may never meet, arranged the surprise for last Friday afternoon, shortly before the school dance. Erin is not speechless very often. Friday at 5:35 she was. As she pulled the paper back on the first box, her stunned look and flushed cheeks said it all. Eventually, she stammered, "Mom. . .mom. . do you know what this is?"
Here's how it went, step by step (I recommend clicking on each shot to zoom in and see the facial details):
All I could say then and all I can say now is "Wow!"
Why did I wait until now to post this entry? Well, Erin did have the Valentine's Dance about to start. Then, we had to run up to Dallas (only two hundred miles) on Saturday morning for cousin Emma's Pump It Up four-year-old birthday party.
No, it wasn't as calm and private as these two shots imply:
As one thing leads to another, being within an hour and a half of Clayton Sue's house, we felt moved to drop in on the Benson's in Fort Worth on Saturday evening.
Katherine (my sister) and Emma (the newly anointed four-year-old) returned with us to Bryan on Sunday, just in time to have Erin's buddy, Jackson, come over and help her set up the new Wii. They managed create their Mii's and bowl a line before we rushed off to meet another group of angels.
Some fine folks at St. Francis Episcopal Church heard about Erin's lanyards and asked us to come an teach a workshop, so they could make lanyards and raise money for pediatric cancer research, too. Boy, they did beautiful work, and while we shared the work, we shared some fine fellowship. At one point, I was explaining to the group how to know that you could stop adding beads and go to the finishing process. I wrapped a partially beaded wire across the back of my neck, so that the front two ends hung in front, and said, "most people would like their lanyards to come down about even with their bosom."
From across the room, I heard, "twenty or fifty?"
I, thinking 20 inches would be too short and 50 inches way too long, looked confused and said, "I beg your pardon."
The woman said, "Should it hit the bosom of a twenty year old or a fifty year old?"
Rim shot.
Anyway, we returned to regular programming this morning, with Erin not looking or feeling real great when it was time to get up for the start of a new school week. I hope it was just van lag (or whatever you would call it when you get hauled up and down the road all weekend). I think I may drop by for blood counts after school, since I have had a difficult time distinguishing Erin's lips from the rest of her pale face for a couple of days.
I always get in trouble when I start mentioning the kindnesses that people do for us, because we are touched by so many friends. Aaron and Jesse gave Erin carnations at school on Friday because they are great buddies. When she got home Friday evening (she ate so much and danced so hard that she accidentally threw up at the dance and got sent home early), a candy and flower arrangement from her retired historian friend, Jim Smallwood was waiting for her, just in case she needed to replace the calories lost from dancing and vomiting. The inestimable Bate family, who gifts Erin on so many special holidays, had another lovely box of surprises waiting for her when we got back from Dallas. There is absolutely nothing I can say to express how loved these action make us feel, so I will just say thank you.
Leicester, England
Rubber Plantations
London Model
The Who Drummer, Keith Moon
Skin Care and Facials
Ian McLagan
Red Hat Ladies of Austin
Jane Long Middle School
Wii Fit
Erin Buenger
Now what if I asked you to write a coherent story that connected the items in this list? It starts, "Once upon a time. . ." Can you finish it?
Here, let me help:
If you know the online game, Funny Farm, these places, people, things, and concepts would form a network of connections around the central key word, Kim Kerrigan (if you don't know Funny Farm, I promise you are really missing out on fun and distraction, and you should stop right now and give it a try.).
Did you Google Kim Kerrigan? If you did, you probably went to a Wikipedia article about her. That would help you write part of the story (up through "Skin Care and Facials"). Let me help you with the rest. Kim Kerrigan McLagan lived a full and vital life. A little over two years ago she died suddenly in an auto crash. Her impact on people was profound and long-lasting. A group of people who knew her (but did not always know each other) formed a group to keep her spirit alive. That group, The Red Hat Ladies of Austin, heard about Erin through a connection they had with a teacher at Jane Long (Erin's school). They decided that to help Erin with her goal of getting back into shape, so that she might return to competitive soccer someday, they would present her with a Wii, Wii Fit, and a full range of accessories so that her friends could support her in her goal AND have fun with her. They want her to continue to conquer the world with her smile and wit, much as their dear friend Kim did.These wonderful folks, whom we have never met and who we may never meet, arranged the surprise for last Friday afternoon, shortly before the school dance. Erin is not speechless very often. Friday at 5:35 she was. As she pulled the paper back on the first box, her stunned look and flushed cheeks said it all. Eventually, she stammered, "Mom. . .mom. . do you know what this is?"
Here's how it went, step by step (I recommend clicking on each shot to zoom in and see the facial details):
All I could say then and all I can say now is "Wow!"Why did I wait until now to post this entry? Well, Erin did have the Valentine's Dance about to start. Then, we had to run up to Dallas (only two hundred miles) on Saturday morning for cousin Emma's Pump It Up four-year-old birthday party.
No, it wasn't as calm and private as these two shots imply:
As one thing leads to another, being within an hour and a half of Clayton Sue's house, we felt moved to drop in on the Benson's in Fort Worth on Saturday evening.
Katherine (my sister) and Emma (the newly anointed four-year-old) returned with us to Bryan on Sunday, just in time to have Erin's buddy, Jackson, come over and help her set up the new Wii. They managed create their Mii's and bowl a line before we rushed off to meet another group of angels.Some fine folks at St. Francis Episcopal Church heard about Erin's lanyards and asked us to come an teach a workshop, so they could make lanyards and raise money for pediatric cancer research, too. Boy, they did beautiful work, and while we shared the work, we shared some fine fellowship. At one point, I was explaining to the group how to know that you could stop adding beads and go to the finishing process. I wrapped a partially beaded wire across the back of my neck, so that the front two ends hung in front, and said, "most people would like their lanyards to come down about even with their bosom."
From across the room, I heard, "twenty or fifty?"
I, thinking 20 inches would be too short and 50 inches way too long, looked confused and said, "I beg your pardon."
The woman said, "Should it hit the bosom of a twenty year old or a fifty year old?"
Rim shot.
Anyway, we returned to regular programming this morning, with Erin not looking or feeling real great when it was time to get up for the start of a new school week. I hope it was just van lag (or whatever you would call it when you get hauled up and down the road all weekend). I think I may drop by for blood counts after school, since I have had a difficult time distinguishing Erin's lips from the rest of her pale face for a couple of days.I always get in trouble when I start mentioning the kindnesses that people do for us, because we are touched by so many friends. Aaron and Jesse gave Erin carnations at school on Friday because they are great buddies. When she got home Friday evening (she ate so much and danced so hard that she accidentally threw up at the dance and got sent home early), a candy and flower arrangement from her retired historian friend, Jim Smallwood was waiting for her, just in case she needed to replace the calories lost from dancing and vomiting. The inestimable Bate family, who gifts Erin on so many special holidays, had another lovely box of surprises waiting for her when we got back from Dallas. There is absolutely nothing I can say to express how loved these action make us feel, so I will just say thank you.
Friday, February 13, 2009
"Worst Day of My Life"
February, 13, 2009
Erin came home with a cloud over her head after school yesterday and pronounced that "Today has been the worst day of my life." She proceeded with a litany of complaints:
"Someone stole both sets of my gym clothes;"
"We had to write an essay in math class. . .imagine writing in math class. . .you're supposed to do math in math class;"
"I had a Spanish test that I completely forgot about;"
"It was hot in social studies, and Mrs. Williams made us keep the door closed so the 8th graders wouldn't make faces at us when they walk by to the cafeteria;" and
"I got ten points off on my art test because she said I didn't write half a page on my essay."
I could bare keep from laughing in her face. For a girl whose life over the past six and a half years has been a parade of chemo, radiation, surgery, et cetera, et cetera (as the King of Siam said), this day of stolen gym clothes and other junior high foibles is the worst day of her life? Any middle school teachers out there? Doesn't this sound more like "typical" than "worst?"
Interestingly, she got over it and went to fencing. Then, afterwards, when I was carting her and Jackson to the ice cream parlor for a post-en garde treat, she wound up her angst yet again, and did a encore recital of the "Worst Day in My Life" for Jackson's benefit.
After we dropped him off, she said, "I always love to complain to Jackson. He always agrees with me."
Funny thing is, while yesterday may have registered as a completely bad day by Erin's standards, today is likely to rank really high on the other end of the spectrum. Some ladies have a surprise planned for her after school that ought to jerk her quickly back in the other direction.
Erin came home with a cloud over her head after school yesterday and pronounced that "Today has been the worst day of my life." She proceeded with a litany of complaints:
"Someone stole both sets of my gym clothes;"
"We had to write an essay in math class. . .imagine writing in math class. . .you're supposed to do math in math class;"
"I had a Spanish test that I completely forgot about;"
"It was hot in social studies, and Mrs. Williams made us keep the door closed so the 8th graders wouldn't make faces at us when they walk by to the cafeteria;" and
"I got ten points off on my art test because she said I didn't write half a page on my essay."
I could bare keep from laughing in her face. For a girl whose life over the past six and a half years has been a parade of chemo, radiation, surgery, et cetera, et cetera (as the King of Siam said), this day of stolen gym clothes and other junior high foibles is the worst day of her life? Any middle school teachers out there? Doesn't this sound more like "typical" than "worst?"
Interestingly, she got over it and went to fencing. Then, afterwards, when I was carting her and Jackson to the ice cream parlor for a post-en garde treat, she wound up her angst yet again, and did a encore recital of the "Worst Day in My Life" for Jackson's benefit.
After we dropped him off, she said, "I always love to complain to Jackson. He always agrees with me."
Funny thing is, while yesterday may have registered as a completely bad day by Erin's standards, today is likely to rank really high on the other end of the spectrum. Some ladies have a surprise planned for her after school that ought to jerk her quickly back in the other direction.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Back to School
February 10, 2009
I saw the stat counter climbing, so I knew a few of you wondered what became of Erin. Since she didn't run a fever and since she insisted on returning to school this morning, I let her go. . .even though I thought she looked like grits that had sat out on the table too long. My spies reported that she started off pretty slowly but perked up as the day went on. I even heard she was laughing with her usual lunch crowd in the cafeteria (this is good on two counts: eating, of which there hasn't been a lot in the past couple of days, and laughing, which truly is the best medicine).
We had planned on getting a CBC after school here in town, but the technician who usually does it was out, and the nurse thought we might want to avoid the accumulation of sick folks at the clinic. We agreed and took a pass until tomorrow.
Erin came home and ate second lunch or first supper, worked on her animation project for tech aps, and sat on the porch a while reading. Now she has cozied up with Teddy to keep her out of the kitchen.
I must be going for housekeeper of the year: the 5:00 whistle blew, and I am still scrubbing away on the kitchen and dining room floors on my hands and knees. Well, I took a break to post this entry, but I have just one section left. I am considering duct taping the dogs to the wall to keep them from walking on my floor, so that it might stay clean for a few hours.
I saw the stat counter climbing, so I knew a few of you wondered what became of Erin. Since she didn't run a fever and since she insisted on returning to school this morning, I let her go. . .even though I thought she looked like grits that had sat out on the table too long. My spies reported that she started off pretty slowly but perked up as the day went on. I even heard she was laughing with her usual lunch crowd in the cafeteria (this is good on two counts: eating, of which there hasn't been a lot in the past couple of days, and laughing, which truly is the best medicine).
We had planned on getting a CBC after school here in town, but the technician who usually does it was out, and the nurse thought we might want to avoid the accumulation of sick folks at the clinic. We agreed and took a pass until tomorrow.
Erin came home and ate second lunch or first supper, worked on her animation project for tech aps, and sat on the porch a while reading. Now she has cozied up with Teddy to keep her out of the kitchen.
I must be going for housekeeper of the year: the 5:00 whistle blew, and I am still scrubbing away on the kitchen and dining room floors on my hands and knees. Well, I took a break to post this entry, but I have just one section left. I am considering duct taping the dogs to the wall to keep them from walking on my floor, so that it might stay clean for a few hours.
Monday, February 9, 2009
And Slowing It Back Down
February 9, 2009
Alternative Title: I'm Skipping Sunday From Now On
Despite the upbeat, pump-it-up, keep-the-party-going post I wrote yesterday (scroll down if you missed it), things did not unfold on the same trajectory. Yesterday was the fourth Sunday in a row that Erin has felt punk. The first (back on January 18) she had the early effects of the pleural effusion. Then came two back-to-back Sundays with (what did the Victorians euphemistically call it?) dyspepsia. Yesterday, Erin looked like warmed over gravy as she stood singing the anthem in church, then she spent most of the afternoon on the sofa with a book. An 8:00 bedtime told me I couldn't just blame my imagination or the fact that she insists on burning the candle at both ends. This morning she woke with body and joint aches and a headache. I sent her back to bed.
She has rallied some, enough to eat a bit, knock off some homework, and of course, play some computers games. I also snapped a couple of photos to show you her new look. Her eye exam last Monday revealed that she is the smallest bit farsighted. Seems the extra screen time that a personal Macbook engenders was enough to strain her eyes and give her headaches. Thus, the $8 reading glasses from Walgreens (just for close work):
Oh yeah, and that is a trace of hair you see.
Alternative Title: I'm Skipping Sunday From Now On
Despite the upbeat, pump-it-up, keep-the-party-going post I wrote yesterday (scroll down if you missed it), things did not unfold on the same trajectory. Yesterday was the fourth Sunday in a row that Erin has felt punk. The first (back on January 18) she had the early effects of the pleural effusion. Then came two back-to-back Sundays with (what did the Victorians euphemistically call it?) dyspepsia. Yesterday, Erin looked like warmed over gravy as she stood singing the anthem in church, then she spent most of the afternoon on the sofa with a book. An 8:00 bedtime told me I couldn't just blame my imagination or the fact that she insists on burning the candle at both ends. This morning she woke with body and joint aches and a headache. I sent her back to bed.
She has rallied some, enough to eat a bit, knock off some homework, and of course, play some computers games. I also snapped a couple of photos to show you her new look. Her eye exam last Monday revealed that she is the smallest bit farsighted. Seems the extra screen time that a personal Macbook engenders was enough to strain her eyes and give her headaches. Thus, the $8 reading glasses from Walgreens (just for close work):
Oh yeah, and that is a trace of hair you see.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Picking Up the Pace
February 8, 2009
Before Christmas, when Erin started feeling better and again in early January, when we had decent scan results, Erin expressed the desire to get more active. Wish granted.
It felt like old times this week:
Wednesday: school, student council, fused glass workshop, homework
Thursday: school, UIL practice, fencing, homework
Friday: invitation to Jackson's house, Bryan High production of "Little Shop of Horrors"
Saturday: UIL meet (five events, two ribbons), Toni and Sandy over for lanyard making and play
Sunday: sang the anthem in a quartet at church, rest (finally)
This week we get another wish granted: no trip to Houston this week, just a CBC drawn locally!
As for the lanyards, I have built a spreadsheet of orders, and we are working through it. For those of you who live out of town, I will take a break from my duties as Erin's social secretary and chauffeur at some point this week and email you more information and instructions. What we really need is just a skosh of patience. We will honor every single request and would love to have even more requests. Just remember that each lanyard is personally and uniquely designed and takes more than a minute to make.
Before Christmas, when Erin started feeling better and again in early January, when we had decent scan results, Erin expressed the desire to get more active. Wish granted.
It felt like old times this week:
Wednesday: school, student council, fused glass workshop, homework
Thursday: school, UIL practice, fencing, homework
Friday: invitation to Jackson's house, Bryan High production of "Little Shop of Horrors"
Saturday: UIL meet (five events, two ribbons), Toni and Sandy over for lanyard making and play
Sunday: sang the anthem in a quartet at church, rest (finally)
This week we get another wish granted: no trip to Houston this week, just a CBC drawn locally!
As for the lanyards, I have built a spreadsheet of orders, and we are working through it. For those of you who live out of town, I will take a break from my duties as Erin's social secretary and chauffeur at some point this week and email you more information and instructions. What we really need is just a skosh of patience. We will honor every single request and would love to have even more requests. Just remember that each lanyard is personally and uniquely designed and takes more than a minute to make.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Clinic Was A-Okay
February 4, 2009
Not much to complain about clinic yesterday. Erin had decent labs:
HGB 9.4 (dropping, but okay)
WBC 5200 (normal)
ANC 4600 (normal)
PLT 157,000 (barely normal)
Overall, not bad for two weeks deep into chemo. Erin's calcium stayed up, thanks to her cooperation on the nightly supplements (and thank goodness we can stop them!). The best news was that apparently, Erin's liver wasn't feeling as prickly and insulted this week as last week. Her liver panel does still indicate some inflammation, but both her GGT and her ALT headed down, for which I was relieved. Erin's lung has not miraculously drained itself, but Dr. Russell thought it was about the same as last week (not worse being better than worse).
Because her liver numbers had not skyrocketed, Dr. Russell felt comfortable adding another drug with ant-tumor potential to the mix. Erin will start Valproate this evening and over the next few weeks increase the dose so that we might see a therapeutic effect. For those of you keeping score, our made-up cocktail is etoposide, celebrex, zometa, and valproate (all oral, except the one fifteen-minute/month zometa drip). This combination guarantees that I will never know what side effects go with what drugs.
We also got to see Davis for a brief ten minutes. He came over to clinic to pick up his new phone. I didn't remember he had a 3:00 class, so once again it was a kiss and a hug, a quick exchange of instructions, and then goodbye.
For Erin, the day ran smoothly, thanks to many of you. You may not know it, but Mark Dungan tracks every $5 donation you make to Lunch for Life. In addition to hanging an ornament on Erin's virtual Giving Tree, he issues gift cards to Toy R Us every time you fill up her tree. Erin got her gift card recently and put it with the one from the previous year (and a little cash out of her stash), and bought herself a Nintendo DS. This was an unheard of extravagance at our house, and it really made the time pass quickly.
Erin had a big day today, with an INQUIRE Academy field trip to the Presidential library to see the space exhibit and the special show about Buffalo Soliders (so called because of their strength and courage), as well as student council, homework, and her fused-glass jewelry workshop. How she keeps it all going is beyond me. I think fatigue is a side effect on everything she takes, except her multivitamin.
Not much to complain about clinic yesterday. Erin had decent labs:
HGB 9.4 (dropping, but okay)
WBC 5200 (normal)
ANC 4600 (normal)
PLT 157,000 (barely normal)
Overall, not bad for two weeks deep into chemo. Erin's calcium stayed up, thanks to her cooperation on the nightly supplements (and thank goodness we can stop them!). The best news was that apparently, Erin's liver wasn't feeling as prickly and insulted this week as last week. Her liver panel does still indicate some inflammation, but both her GGT and her ALT headed down, for which I was relieved. Erin's lung has not miraculously drained itself, but Dr. Russell thought it was about the same as last week (not worse being better than worse).
Because her liver numbers had not skyrocketed, Dr. Russell felt comfortable adding another drug with ant-tumor potential to the mix. Erin will start Valproate this evening and over the next few weeks increase the dose so that we might see a therapeutic effect. For those of you keeping score, our made-up cocktail is etoposide, celebrex, zometa, and valproate (all oral, except the one fifteen-minute/month zometa drip). This combination guarantees that I will never know what side effects go with what drugs.
We also got to see Davis for a brief ten minutes. He came over to clinic to pick up his new phone. I didn't remember he had a 3:00 class, so once again it was a kiss and a hug, a quick exchange of instructions, and then goodbye.
For Erin, the day ran smoothly, thanks to many of you. You may not know it, but Mark Dungan tracks every $5 donation you make to Lunch for Life. In addition to hanging an ornament on Erin's virtual Giving Tree, he issues gift cards to Toy R Us every time you fill up her tree. Erin got her gift card recently and put it with the one from the previous year (and a little cash out of her stash), and bought herself a Nintendo DS. This was an unheard of extravagance at our house, and it really made the time pass quickly.
Erin had a big day today, with an INQUIRE Academy field trip to the Presidential library to see the space exhibit and the special show about Buffalo Soliders (so called because of their strength and courage), as well as student council, homework, and her fused-glass jewelry workshop. How she keeps it all going is beyond me. I think fatigue is a side effect on everything she takes, except her multivitamin.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Lanyard Blitz
February 2, 2009
I actually don't get Groundhog Day, probably because I live in Texas and cannot fathom six more weeks of winter. . .but Punxsutawney (punx-suh-TAW'-nee) Phil is a cute enough fellow. People in snowy climates seem to depend on him, so who am I to comment one way or another?
I have a confession. I walked next door to check on my mom about an hour ago. She had missed lunch at Gina's yesterday, suffering from the full effect of the blooming cedars (some people around here call these evergreens junipers, but those who do are probably still relying on Punxsutawney Phil's prediction of six more weeks of winter) on her delicate sinuses. This is an annual event, and it also makes her feel miserable. I went over to offer her some sympathy and ended up making her feel worse. You see, she said she was also suffering from some other non-allergy/non-sinus-y symptoms, and I practically fell out of my chair cheering and saying things like "that's great!" and "wonderful news." Why? Erin had the same things going on last night and this morning, and without confirmation that she might have picked up something contagious, I was really having a hard time dismissing the idea that the symptoms were somehow related to disease progression, pleural effusion, and/or an insulted liver. I was so happy, I dialed Walter on the cell and interrupted his lunch with a colleague to share my "good news." I think my mom was looking for less celebration and more commiseration. I felt a twinge of guilt for that, and a bit more of a twinge for sending Erin on to school after her eye doctor appointment this morning.
Okay, so no good mother awards today. I sent Erin to class with some unidentified contagious disease AND wearing sunglasses and unable to read small print because her eyes were still dilated from her eye exam. I did stop at Walgreen's and buy her some real sunglasses so she didn't have to wear those doctor-issued curly ones that don't stay on--even if you like the fashion statement and want to wear them.
As I was looking through the last few weeks of entries, I noticed that except for the school pic I posted on Friday, I have really slacked off posting photos of Erin (over three weeks). So here are some bonus shots. The first two are the quiche Erin made for Walter's birthday.
The second two are of the work party on Friday night when Erin and Leslie Borski got after the glass bead lanyard project.
We stopped by Mary Branch Elementary (Erin's old school) after the eye doctor appointment to deliver a special order lanyard to Mrs. Pope, and because Erin happened to have some lanyards made on spec handy, she caused a little lanyard sales blitz and quickly sold out. We still owe quite a few special-order lanyards to our friends (Laura K., Michelle B., Diane N., Josh D., Bev D., Nick B., plus four others for Leslie B. Also, an eyeglasses chain for Joanie F.). If you have requested one and you don't see your name in parentheses, could you drop me a note and remind me what you want? Erin has raised over $300 for the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation selling lanyards in the last three weeks. Thank you for supporting her efforts!
And if you don't yet have your own custom-designed and built, handy and attractive badge lanyard, place your order by comment below, facebook, email, phone, or in person. Saturday we re-supplied ourselves for the next lanyard-making push. Does anyone want to have a beading party this weekend?
Erin has student council after school today and Wednesday (with much to do before the Valentine's Dance), clinic in Houston tomorrow afternoon, and UIL and her first fencing lesson on Thursday. Thanks for stopping by and for all the affirming comments and support Erin fans so generously give.
I actually don't get Groundhog Day, probably because I live in Texas and cannot fathom six more weeks of winter. . .but Punxsutawney (punx-suh-TAW'-nee) Phil is a cute enough fellow. People in snowy climates seem to depend on him, so who am I to comment one way or another?
I have a confession. I walked next door to check on my mom about an hour ago. She had missed lunch at Gina's yesterday, suffering from the full effect of the blooming cedars (some people around here call these evergreens junipers, but those who do are probably still relying on Punxsutawney Phil's prediction of six more weeks of winter) on her delicate sinuses. This is an annual event, and it also makes her feel miserable. I went over to offer her some sympathy and ended up making her feel worse. You see, she said she was also suffering from some other non-allergy/non-sinus-y symptoms, and I practically fell out of my chair cheering and saying things like "that's great!" and "wonderful news." Why? Erin had the same things going on last night and this morning, and without confirmation that she might have picked up something contagious, I was really having a hard time dismissing the idea that the symptoms were somehow related to disease progression, pleural effusion, and/or an insulted liver. I was so happy, I dialed Walter on the cell and interrupted his lunch with a colleague to share my "good news." I think my mom was looking for less celebration and more commiseration. I felt a twinge of guilt for that, and a bit more of a twinge for sending Erin on to school after her eye doctor appointment this morning.
Okay, so no good mother awards today. I sent Erin to class with some unidentified contagious disease AND wearing sunglasses and unable to read small print because her eyes were still dilated from her eye exam. I did stop at Walgreen's and buy her some real sunglasses so she didn't have to wear those doctor-issued curly ones that don't stay on--even if you like the fashion statement and want to wear them.
As I was looking through the last few weeks of entries, I noticed that except for the school pic I posted on Friday, I have really slacked off posting photos of Erin (over three weeks). So here are some bonus shots. The first two are the quiche Erin made for Walter's birthday.
The second two are of the work party on Friday night when Erin and Leslie Borski got after the glass bead lanyard project.
We stopped by Mary Branch Elementary (Erin's old school) after the eye doctor appointment to deliver a special order lanyard to Mrs. Pope, and because Erin happened to have some lanyards made on spec handy, she caused a little lanyard sales blitz and quickly sold out. We still owe quite a few special-order lanyards to our friends (Laura K., Michelle B., Diane N., Josh D., Bev D., Nick B., plus four others for Leslie B. Also, an eyeglasses chain for Joanie F.). If you have requested one and you don't see your name in parentheses, could you drop me a note and remind me what you want? Erin has raised over $300 for the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation selling lanyards in the last three weeks. Thank you for supporting her efforts!
And if you don't yet have your own custom-designed and built, handy and attractive badge lanyard, place your order by comment below, facebook, email, phone, or in person. Saturday we re-supplied ourselves for the next lanyard-making push. Does anyone want to have a beading party this weekend?
Erin has student council after school today and Wednesday (with much to do before the Valentine's Dance), clinic in Houston tomorrow afternoon, and UIL and her first fencing lesson on Thursday. Thanks for stopping by and for all the affirming comments and support Erin fans so generously give.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Not Cool, Stupid, and R_______
January 30, 2009
Out of respect to Bethany's point-of-view (in comments), I have edited this post to remove a word that some found offensive in the context that I used it.
Middle schoolers have more words to describe things they don't like than the Eskimo-Aleut language has for snow. I have had a hard time catching on to this. At first, I just noticed the invoking of the invective "stupid" a lot more than I ever did when Erin went to elementary school. My addled brain heard "stupid" from the back seat or at the dinner table so often, I made a mental note to find a time to encourage her to expand her vocabulary.
(ASIDE: This tactic and a bar of ivory worked wonders with the primo when he started experimenting with cursing. The soap was the stick and the promise of teaching him much more creative and interesting ways to insult people and express himself was the carrot.)
Another tack I took was using "stupid" myself so she could see what it sounded like. For instance, if I pulled up to the curb to let Erin out for school when I intended to park so I could go in and take care of some business, I would say "That was stupid." The look in Erin's eyes that I'd catch in the rearview mirror told me loud and clear, I didn't "get it."
Obviously, I missed the boat completely on "stupid." As I paid attention, I noticed that "not cool" came up as often as "stupid," with an occasional "r_______" stuck in for variety. I finally got Erin to explain it to me, WITH EXAMPLES.
Clearly, a lot of negative things happen on a day-in, day-out basis to people, and it requires a rich and varied language to describe what's happening so that everyone can understand your level of misery.
If someone (usually a friend) takes your pencil without asking for it, and you notice, you say, "not cool." I think this applies to a lot of situations that your friends do things that you wouldn't tolerate from acquaintances or random classmates. Since they are your friends and you want them to know you didn't like or appreciate what they did, you use the relatively benign phrase "not cool."
"Stupid" also covers a multitude of situations, but all of them are "more" bad than things that are "not cool." Having homework in more than three classes in one night is "stupid." Leaving your mandatory ID lanyard in the car in the morning is "stupid," but not as "stupid" as getting caught in the hall without it. Your friends can do "stupid" things (but not usually to you), like the kid who video taped himself (AT SCHOOL, WITH HIS SCHOOL-ISSUED LAPTOP) lighting the aerosol from a deoderant can on fire BEHIND a teacher's back, THEN UPLOADED IT TO YOUTUBE (don't go searching for this. . .it's already come and gone). This is the first example Erin gave me that I actually agreed that "stupid" was the appropriate descriptive word, and thought perhaps it bordered on the next level up.
"R_______" is for things that go beyond the pale. For example, it is "r_______" when you get the same lecture eight periods in a row about remembering the rules for the appropriate use of school-issued laptops.
I happen to think that cancer is not cool, stupid, and r_______, all at the same time. I'm sure I will add some other descriptors soon. After I master the first level and can use these words correctly, I'll get to move on to more specialized words with more subtle nuances.
Erin has had a mostly good week, with some complaints of tiredness, some off and on stomach issues, variable use of tylenol, and an increasing number of meds to keep track of (the main side effect for zometa is a couple of days of flu-like symptoms). I wish she felt better, but I'm glad she doesn't feel worse. She has plans to make lanyards and watch movies with Leslie Borski after school today and see Hello Dolly tomorrow night with her friend Toni. Next week looks busy already, and we haven't even gotten there. She has an eye doctor appointment on Monday and clinic in Houston on Tuesday afternoon. More importantly she has student council after school on Monday and Wednesday (much to do before the Valentine's Dance) and UIL on Tuesday and Thursday. And of course, the highlight of the week, fencing starts next Thursday.
I bought a new scanner yesterday. What do you think?
Out of respect to Bethany's point-of-view (in comments), I have edited this post to remove a word that some found offensive in the context that I used it.
Middle schoolers have more words to describe things they don't like than the Eskimo-Aleut language has for snow. I have had a hard time catching on to this. At first, I just noticed the invoking of the invective "stupid" a lot more than I ever did when Erin went to elementary school. My addled brain heard "stupid" from the back seat or at the dinner table so often, I made a mental note to find a time to encourage her to expand her vocabulary.
(ASIDE: This tactic and a bar of ivory worked wonders with the primo when he started experimenting with cursing. The soap was the stick and the promise of teaching him much more creative and interesting ways to insult people and express himself was the carrot.)
Another tack I took was using "stupid" myself so she could see what it sounded like. For instance, if I pulled up to the curb to let Erin out for school when I intended to park so I could go in and take care of some business, I would say "That was stupid." The look in Erin's eyes that I'd catch in the rearview mirror told me loud and clear, I didn't "get it."
Obviously, I missed the boat completely on "stupid." As I paid attention, I noticed that "not cool" came up as often as "stupid," with an occasional "r_______" stuck in for variety. I finally got Erin to explain it to me, WITH EXAMPLES.
Clearly, a lot of negative things happen on a day-in, day-out basis to people, and it requires a rich and varied language to describe what's happening so that everyone can understand your level of misery.
If someone (usually a friend) takes your pencil without asking for it, and you notice, you say, "not cool." I think this applies to a lot of situations that your friends do things that you wouldn't tolerate from acquaintances or random classmates. Since they are your friends and you want them to know you didn't like or appreciate what they did, you use the relatively benign phrase "not cool."
"Stupid" also covers a multitude of situations, but all of them are "more" bad than things that are "not cool." Having homework in more than three classes in one night is "stupid." Leaving your mandatory ID lanyard in the car in the morning is "stupid," but not as "stupid" as getting caught in the hall without it. Your friends can do "stupid" things (but not usually to you), like the kid who video taped himself (AT SCHOOL, WITH HIS SCHOOL-ISSUED LAPTOP) lighting the aerosol from a deoderant can on fire BEHIND a teacher's back, THEN UPLOADED IT TO YOUTUBE (don't go searching for this. . .it's already come and gone). This is the first example Erin gave me that I actually agreed that "stupid" was the appropriate descriptive word, and thought perhaps it bordered on the next level up.
"R_______" is for things that go beyond the pale. For example, it is "r_______" when you get the same lecture eight periods in a row about remembering the rules for the appropriate use of school-issued laptops.
I happen to think that cancer is not cool, stupid, and r_______, all at the same time. I'm sure I will add some other descriptors soon. After I master the first level and can use these words correctly, I'll get to move on to more specialized words with more subtle nuances.
Erin has had a mostly good week, with some complaints of tiredness, some off and on stomach issues, variable use of tylenol, and an increasing number of meds to keep track of (the main side effect for zometa is a couple of days of flu-like symptoms). I wish she felt better, but I'm glad she doesn't feel worse. She has plans to make lanyards and watch movies with Leslie Borski after school today and see Hello Dolly tomorrow night with her friend Toni. Next week looks busy already, and we haven't even gotten there. She has an eye doctor appointment on Monday and clinic in Houston on Tuesday afternoon. More importantly she has student council after school on Monday and Wednesday (much to do before the Valentine's Dance) and UIL on Tuesday and Thursday. And of course, the highlight of the week, fencing starts next Thursday.
I bought a new scanner yesterday. What do you think?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Zometa Done
January 28, 2009
Yesterday went fine logistically. My mom traveled with us so we could use the HOV lane, but having an extra person in the car does nothing to ease the delays caused by road construction and the resulting traffic congestion on the major streets right by the medical center. Davis popped over for a minute (literally), and we saw some of our friends (Mayada/Michael and Athena/Alex. . .did I miss out on an alliterative opportunity when I failed to name my children with something starting with "V," Violet, Vincent, Vera Cruz?) in the waiting area, so the wait time passed fairly quickly. And of course, Erin had her Macbook. She has recently discovered the fun you can have with YouTube and searches like "Funny Cats" or "Crazy Dogs."
On the whole, we didn't have any major hang ups at clinic. Dr. Russell thought Erin looked pretty good, and all her counts were lovely except for the GGT (one measure of liver function).
HGB 10.4 ( a bit low, but fine for Erin)
WBC 8600 (smack dab in the middle of normal)
ANC 7500 (on the high end of normal)
PLT 289,000 (normal)
Last week Erin had elevated AST, ALT and GGT (all part of the liver panel). This week AST had returned to normal, ALT had dropped by half (though still outside high normal), but GGT had continued to climb. When I googled elevated GGT, I discovered that higher numbers imply (unspecified) insult to the liver. I hope that tylenol and stomach upset rather than neuroblastoma has been insulting her liver this week.
The rest of our TCH morning wobbled along. It took a while to find a waitress to take our zometa order, but once served, Erin downed the IV in about twenty minutes (including flush). We made it back to Bryan for the last three periods of the school day. Our heroic effort to return in time for UIL practice was for naught, as cold weather cancelled most afterschool acivities, including UIL. It really was just as well, since by late afternoon the expected side effects from the zometa infusion, plus the early morning dash to Houston, had left Erin feeling exhausted and achy.
That's it for now. I need to run out and find Viactiv chews for Erin to eat for the next week to supplement the calcium that zometa will leach from her. I wanted to scan Erin's school pic, which turned out really well, but I keep getting a message that I can't scan until I unlock my scanner. As if I am so cruel as to keep my scanner jailed.
Yesterday went fine logistically. My mom traveled with us so we could use the HOV lane, but having an extra person in the car does nothing to ease the delays caused by road construction and the resulting traffic congestion on the major streets right by the medical center. Davis popped over for a minute (literally), and we saw some of our friends (Mayada/Michael and Athena/Alex. . .did I miss out on an alliterative opportunity when I failed to name my children with something starting with "V," Violet, Vincent, Vera Cruz?) in the waiting area, so the wait time passed fairly quickly. And of course, Erin had her Macbook. She has recently discovered the fun you can have with YouTube and searches like "Funny Cats" or "Crazy Dogs."
On the whole, we didn't have any major hang ups at clinic. Dr. Russell thought Erin looked pretty good, and all her counts were lovely except for the GGT (one measure of liver function).
HGB 10.4 ( a bit low, but fine for Erin)
WBC 8600 (smack dab in the middle of normal)
ANC 7500 (on the high end of normal)
PLT 289,000 (normal)
Last week Erin had elevated AST, ALT and GGT (all part of the liver panel). This week AST had returned to normal, ALT had dropped by half (though still outside high normal), but GGT had continued to climb. When I googled elevated GGT, I discovered that higher numbers imply (unspecified) insult to the liver. I hope that tylenol and stomach upset rather than neuroblastoma has been insulting her liver this week.
The rest of our TCH morning wobbled along. It took a while to find a waitress to take our zometa order, but once served, Erin downed the IV in about twenty minutes (including flush). We made it back to Bryan for the last three periods of the school day. Our heroic effort to return in time for UIL practice was for naught, as cold weather cancelled most afterschool acivities, including UIL. It really was just as well, since by late afternoon the expected side effects from the zometa infusion, plus the early morning dash to Houston, had left Erin feeling exhausted and achy.
That's it for now. I need to run out and find Viactiv chews for Erin to eat for the next week to supplement the calcium that zometa will leach from her. I wanted to scan Erin's school pic, which turned out really well, but I keep getting a message that I can't scan until I unlock my scanner. As if I am so cruel as to keep my scanner jailed.
Monday, January 26, 2009
UIL Competition Help
January 26, 2009
I received the following e-mail in regard to Erin's UIL competition preparation:
For once I have something concrete to offer, since I was in number sense for three years in high school. To multiply by 16 2/3, divide by 6 and add two zeroes. There were many other such tricks, but it has been almost fifty years and my head hurts even thinking about math. Never mind. Davis will be more help.
If the UIL contest you cannot recall involves firing artillery, I can probably remember enough of my army training as a forward observer to be of some help (although be warned that my National Guard unit once destroyed part of a state park in Louisiana during summer camp training at Fort Polk).
This brought to mind the many talents and experiences Erin fans may have up their sleeves. So, if you have an offer of help, say for a UIL competition involving rabid skunks or perhaps finding your way home on a dark moonless night when you accidentally left your shoes in someone's yard when you were wrapping their house with toilet paper, please volunteer by leaving your qualifications in a comment below.
Erin has recovered her appetite and thrown off the stomach bug. She, my mom, and I are going to Houston tomorrow morning (pulling out at 5:30) for what we hope will be a routine and relatively quick office visit and zometa infusion. I look forward to hear what you are qualified to volunteer with in Erin's UIL career when I return. Pat, I have read your spotted work history (scroll down) and can certify you in a large number of instructional roles: including envelop stuffing and illegal i.d. user.
I received the following e-mail in regard to Erin's UIL competition preparation:
For once I have something concrete to offer, since I was in number sense for three years in high school. To multiply by 16 2/3, divide by 6 and add two zeroes. There were many other such tricks, but it has been almost fifty years and my head hurts even thinking about math. Never mind. Davis will be more help.
If the UIL contest you cannot recall involves firing artillery, I can probably remember enough of my army training as a forward observer to be of some help (although be warned that my National Guard unit once destroyed part of a state park in Louisiana during summer camp training at Fort Polk).
This brought to mind the many talents and experiences Erin fans may have up their sleeves. So, if you have an offer of help, say for a UIL competition involving rabid skunks or perhaps finding your way home on a dark moonless night when you accidentally left your shoes in someone's yard when you were wrapping their house with toilet paper, please volunteer by leaving your qualifications in a comment below.
Erin has recovered her appetite and thrown off the stomach bug. She, my mom, and I are going to Houston tomorrow morning (pulling out at 5:30) for what we hope will be a routine and relatively quick office visit and zometa infusion. I look forward to hear what you are qualified to volunteer with in Erin's UIL career when I return. Pat, I have read your spotted work history (scroll down) and can certify you in a large number of instructional roles: including envelop stuffing and illegal i.d. user.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Football and Stomach Junk
January 25, 2009
Erin finished out the week strong. The Life Skills class at her school honored her by making a substantial donation to the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation from their Christmas craft sales. This is such a two-way blessing. The students in Life Skills have disabilities (sometimes severe), and their classes help them learn how to become independent young adults. They make a variety of crafts that they sell to fund school activities. By contributing part of their earnings to the CNCF, they demonstrate to us all that everyone can help someone else. Thanks to all those student and their teachers for putting their money where it will do real good in the world.
After school on Friday, we packed up a van full of middle schoolers and took them over to the Ross's house to help Jackson celebrate his 12th birthday. Erin and the gang played football for almost two hours before coming in for cake and ice cream (who can believe it was 80+ degrees on Friday, when it never got about 47 yesterday?). Erin even caught a pass from Jackson for a touchdown! Luckily Colton brought his little brother Weston, so that she had size and weight parity with at least one other player on the field. Otherwise, it sort of looked like Teddy playing football with a team of Willies.
Saturday turned out a little less fun and upbeat. Erin had a slow start to the day and later in the afternoon I discovered why. I thought she had just overdone it on Friday or that her lung was flaring up. It turned out that the Jane Long stomach virus eventually caught up with her (sorry D'Anna, had I known, I would never have had Noah over to share the germs all day), but not before we spread her cheer around pretty effectively. Earlier in the day we went out to support Jackson's basketball team and then went to lunch with his fan club. Noah came back to the house for legos and to keep Erin company. We even contemplated a movie. She never ran a fever, so that was good, but she didn't feel all that well most of the day. I think she seems better today. Anyway, I owe all of our friends a preemptive apology for exposing their kids to the urps and whatever your euphemism is for the other stomach virus outlet.
For those of you following the treatment side of this story. Erin successfully started oral etoposide on Thursday and we added a daily therapeutic dose of celebrex on Friday. Next Tuesday we'll zip in to Houston for an IV dose of zometa to protect her bones and make them less hospitable to tumor that might try to move into the bones. We took the early appointment so we could make it back for afternoon classes and after school UIL practice (Erin has signed up for seven events: general math, number sense, calculator, oral reading, dictionary skills, maps, charts, and graphs, and something else that I can't remember. I don't know if she will qualify in all of them, but she wanted to try.).
Erin finished out the week strong. The Life Skills class at her school honored her by making a substantial donation to the Children's Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation from their Christmas craft sales. This is such a two-way blessing. The students in Life Skills have disabilities (sometimes severe), and their classes help them learn how to become independent young adults. They make a variety of crafts that they sell to fund school activities. By contributing part of their earnings to the CNCF, they demonstrate to us all that everyone can help someone else. Thanks to all those student and their teachers for putting their money where it will do real good in the world.
After school on Friday, we packed up a van full of middle schoolers and took them over to the Ross's house to help Jackson celebrate his 12th birthday. Erin and the gang played football for almost two hours before coming in for cake and ice cream (who can believe it was 80+ degrees on Friday, when it never got about 47 yesterday?). Erin even caught a pass from Jackson for a touchdown! Luckily Colton brought his little brother Weston, so that she had size and weight parity with at least one other player on the field. Otherwise, it sort of looked like Teddy playing football with a team of Willies.
Saturday turned out a little less fun and upbeat. Erin had a slow start to the day and later in the afternoon I discovered why. I thought she had just overdone it on Friday or that her lung was flaring up. It turned out that the Jane Long stomach virus eventually caught up with her (sorry D'Anna, had I known, I would never have had Noah over to share the germs all day), but not before we spread her cheer around pretty effectively. Earlier in the day we went out to support Jackson's basketball team and then went to lunch with his fan club. Noah came back to the house for legos and to keep Erin company. We even contemplated a movie. She never ran a fever, so that was good, but she didn't feel all that well most of the day. I think she seems better today. Anyway, I owe all of our friends a preemptive apology for exposing their kids to the urps and whatever your euphemism is for the other stomach virus outlet.
For those of you following the treatment side of this story. Erin successfully started oral etoposide on Thursday and we added a daily therapeutic dose of celebrex on Friday. Next Tuesday we'll zip in to Houston for an IV dose of zometa to protect her bones and make them less hospitable to tumor that might try to move into the bones. We took the early appointment so we could make it back for afternoon classes and after school UIL practice (Erin has signed up for seven events: general math, number sense, calculator, oral reading, dictionary skills, maps, charts, and graphs, and something else that I can't remember. I don't know if she will qualify in all of them, but she wanted to try.).
Thursday, January 22, 2009
En Garde
January 22, 2009
I feel like Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, has trained his gaze on the Buengers. While enjoying the break from treatment and waiting to meet eligibility standards for a new clinical trial, Erin has felt well and enjoyed all of her various activities. Unfortunately, she developed a little fluid on her lung over the weekend. For those of you who googled or goodsearched pleural effusion after reading Tuesday's entry, don't panic. Erin does not have pneumonia. She does have some pain and is taking Tylenol more often than an eleven-year old should. Her breath is a little more shallow on the right side, but the amount of accumulated fluid is quite small. We did not have to stay in Houston overnight. She returned to school Wednesday morning (a tad late, since I let her sleep in after our thirteen hour jaunt to Houston and back). She made piano lessons after school and her fused-glass jewelry workshop last night.
Where does that trickster Loki come in? The CT scan showed tumor growth (I'm surprise at how much, but not that she had progression, which I consider pretty much a no-brainer, in the absence of treatment). In fact, tumor activity probably caused the fluid to back up into the lower lobe of her lung. We needed evidence of tumor growth to qualify for a trial. . .HOWEVER. . .having a pleural effusion really limits what drugs you can give. It keeps her from qualifying for any of the trials we were waiting for. It also eliminates a lot of the drugs we can do off-study, because of the danger of administering the required extra fluids. We are starting oral etoposide (which is a once-a-day, at-home gelcap) today.
What did the Buengers do in the face of this cruel joke? Enrolled Erin in six sessions of Fencing for Kids, starting week after next! Just a warning to the beast neuroblastoma, Erin will soon be armed and dangerous.
Erin has agitated us about taking fencing for a number of months. It's part of her personal plan: get a little more active, a little stronger, a little more endurance. That, she hopes, will pave the way to getting back to more athletic pursuits.
I feel like Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, has trained his gaze on the Buengers. While enjoying the break from treatment and waiting to meet eligibility standards for a new clinical trial, Erin has felt well and enjoyed all of her various activities. Unfortunately, she developed a little fluid on her lung over the weekend. For those of you who googled or goodsearched pleural effusion after reading Tuesday's entry, don't panic. Erin does not have pneumonia. She does have some pain and is taking Tylenol more often than an eleven-year old should. Her breath is a little more shallow on the right side, but the amount of accumulated fluid is quite small. We did not have to stay in Houston overnight. She returned to school Wednesday morning (a tad late, since I let her sleep in after our thirteen hour jaunt to Houston and back). She made piano lessons after school and her fused-glass jewelry workshop last night.
Where does that trickster Loki come in? The CT scan showed tumor growth (I'm surprise at how much, but not that she had progression, which I consider pretty much a no-brainer, in the absence of treatment). In fact, tumor activity probably caused the fluid to back up into the lower lobe of her lung. We needed evidence of tumor growth to qualify for a trial. . .HOWEVER. . .having a pleural effusion really limits what drugs you can give. It keeps her from qualifying for any of the trials we were waiting for. It also eliminates a lot of the drugs we can do off-study, because of the danger of administering the required extra fluids. We are starting oral etoposide (which is a once-a-day, at-home gelcap) today.
What did the Buengers do in the face of this cruel joke? Enrolled Erin in six sessions of Fencing for Kids, starting week after next! Just a warning to the beast neuroblastoma, Erin will soon be armed and dangerous.
Erin has agitated us about taking fencing for a number of months. It's part of her personal plan: get a little more active, a little stronger, a little more endurance. That, she hopes, will pave the way to getting back to more athletic pursuits.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Can You Spell Pleural Effusion?
January 20, 2009
Dr. Parr didn't hear too much of interest when he listened to Erin's chest yesterday (not to imply that Erin has an uninteresting chest or anything), but precautionarily ordered a chest x-ray. We had that done, slick as a whistle, and made it home to fix Walter's birthday dinner. Erin made salmon quiche, with from-scratch pastry, and went on to bed around 9:00. At 9:45 we got a call from Dr. Parr, reporting fluid on Erin's right lower lung.
The good news, according to Dr. Parr, was that we didn't have to drive down to Houston right that minute. The other side of the coin was that we needed to be at Texas Children's by 9:00 a.m. today, so that Dr. Russell could give Erin a listen and try to get her in for a CT scan so we could see what was happening in three dimensions.
That's where we are.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Still Waiting
January 19, 2009
Our local newspaper has fallen on harder times. Some people complained so loudly when the publisher recently ditched the daily television program guide as a cost savings measure that he reversed the decision a few days later. Whew! We can still plan what we want to see on tv, but the articles have shrunk to nothing--either canned from the wire service or like Cliff notes of real happenings. The actual dimensions of the paper have shrunk, too, and there is a lot more white space (this happens as a natural consequence when you write down fewer words). All these changes made me sad. I like to read my local morning paper when I drink my coffee. These days, I have finished the whole paper before my coffee cools enough for the first sip.
Sad, but not enough to send me on a tear. That happened this morning. Years ago, I developed a newspaper-dependent, MLK-Day habit. For as long as I can remember, our local paper has printed the full-text of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speach, on the editorial page on MLK Day. And for equally long, I have insisted on reading it, in its entirety, outloud to Walter, Davis, and Erin over breakfast. I always cry towards the end, but keep on reading, even if I have to pause a bit to let my throat unconstrict and help my voice from cracking too much. It wasn't there today, and I have been grumpy about it ever since.
I didn't want to leave the breakfast table, fire up the computer, and find it on the internet. I wanted Erin to know that the ideas and ideals in the speech were important enough to appear in the local paper. . .important enough for her to remember them, yet again. So I will have to do it myself. . .
Our local newspaper has fallen on harder times. Some people complained so loudly when the publisher recently ditched the daily television program guide as a cost savings measure that he reversed the decision a few days later. Whew! We can still plan what we want to see on tv, but the articles have shrunk to nothing--either canned from the wire service or like Cliff notes of real happenings. The actual dimensions of the paper have shrunk, too, and there is a lot more white space (this happens as a natural consequence when you write down fewer words). All these changes made me sad. I like to read my local morning paper when I drink my coffee. These days, I have finished the whole paper before my coffee cools enough for the first sip.
Sad, but not enough to send me on a tear. That happened this morning. Years ago, I developed a newspaper-dependent, MLK-Day habit. For as long as I can remember, our local paper has printed the full-text of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speach, on the editorial page on MLK Day. And for equally long, I have insisted on reading it, in its entirety, outloud to Walter, Davis, and Erin over breakfast. I always cry towards the end, but keep on reading, even if I have to pause a bit to let my throat unconstrict and help my voice from cracking too much. It wasn't there today, and I have been grumpy about it ever since.
I didn't want to leave the breakfast table, fire up the computer, and find it on the internet. I wanted Erin to know that the ideas and ideals in the speech were important enough to appear in the local paper. . .important enough for her to remember them, yet again. So I will have to do it myself. . .
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."2
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!3
Sorry to take you down that rant path. . .Back to regular programming.
Erin is still waiting on a treatment plan. I was A-Okay with this until she woke up Saturday morning with some aches and pains. Maybe normal for a middle schooler. Maybe not.
I guess there comes a time on every vacation, when you start getting tired of the scenery and start thinking about getting on home. I think that's where we are now. I have emailed Dr. Russell. I feel strongly that we will have Erin back on treatment by the end of the week.
Today is Walter's birthday. Erin made him a stress stone in the fused-glass workshop last Wednesday. She told him to carry it to work in his pocket and rub it when he felt stressed out, since "you know, dad, how many things at work cause stress."
She has also worked diligently on another project. Lara and Elle Weberling (on Han's team) started making beaded lanyards that hold IDs (like nurses and teachers have to wear) several months ago to raise money for Lunch for Life and the CNCF. Erin got in the act and started making them and selling them at her school. The teachers at Jane Long have been extremely supportive (so much so, that Erin couldn't keep up with orders). Yesterday she enlisted her friends in the Older Elementary Fellowship at church to pitch in, and they spent three hours designing and building lanyards.
They are so colorful and whimsical, who could resist?
I have another Willie story, "Willie Meets the Deputy Sheriff," that will have to wait for another day (the newspaper may have cut back on word count, but I certainly haven't). Instead, I will leave you with a photo of Teddy that Erin took, entitled, "Nothing Cuter Than Me."
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