Mark and Gwen

For as long as we can remember, we've known Mark and Gwen. They "copied" us when we were little, and got two beagles like ours also named Maggie and Mollie. They've been at Christmas parties and family game nights. They even traveled all the way to Miami for Hallie's wedding last year.

It was Mark who helped move Grandma Omy when she needed extra care before she passed away. And it was Gwen who helped us figure out where she should go. The park by our house dons a small stone dedicated to our grandma, thanks to Mark's work on the park board.

So it should be no surprise that it's Mark and Gwen again who show up in moments of need, to translate doctor-talk, bring food, re-gravel the driveway, and move dad's 37 years worth of "work" from his studio. 

We don't know what we'd do without Mark and Gwen. For these quiet, steady angels, we are grateful.

Bald and beautiful

Yep, that's Keenan, Hannah's boyfriend, with no hair. So many of us feel like we just want to do something to show mom we love her, and stand with her in this fight. So the Keen machine did it, and shaved those ginger locks. 

Bald is beautiful, Keenan! 

So. Much. Joy!

Surprise! All Tammi's favorite little ones visit at once! There are few things that could make her feel better than this.  

Andrea's kids have been missing Tammi at work at the YMCA, because she colors with them after school (we repeat, she loves this job!). They've been wondering where Tammi is, so they came to find her!  

We are grateful for moms who take time out of their crazy schedules to make Tammi's day, and for little ones who don't know and don't care about cancer, who just want to color and laugh and see Tammi.  

Messy hair, no hair, don't care.

Tia has been a love of Tammi's since Hallie was in high school. Imagine her joy when she learned there would be more Tia's...little Kenna, and then little Sawyer!

Truth be told, Kenna is probably the reason Tammi goes to church every Sunday. 

Tammi hasn't been able to go to worship recently because she's been too sick. So imagine her happiness when God's presence plopped right in her lap today. Here's Kenna and Tia enjoying their "messy hair, no hair, don't care" visit.

We are grateful for little ones who have contagious joy.  

Mumble

Tammi's number one cancer fighting companion is actually none of us. Nope. Sorry human friends, the real companion here is Mumble, her pup.  

Mumble knows something isn't quite right, and insists on being on Tammi's lap nonstop. We call this Puppy Therapy, and know it's the most effective kind. 

For the mercy of pets, we give thanks.  

Mike

We like Mike.

When we first went to St. Francis for Tammi's "port" to be put in, Mike was the nurse that called us back to Interventional Radiology. (A "port" is a device that's put in just under a chemo patient's skin, that connects to her major vein. It gives nurses/doctor's access to mom's veins without having to poke her every time. It's kind of weird, and amazing.)

Mike took us back, and we were notably a little antsy. (See previous post "Abort the Port".) He spoke quickly, which was refreshing after sitting and waiting for so long. He told us that the kind of port mom had before was crap, and there was a new thing now, and they were going to put it in without even putting her to sleep. It all sounded good to us.

As he got her into a pre-op bed and took her information, he slipped in some commentary of his own.

"It says here you drink a 6 pack and smoke weed every day. Is that right?"

It was just the breath of levity we needed. Mike later wheeled us down the hallway for mom's brain MRI, skipping and pushing her quickly down the hills. He informed us he was training for a full ironman this fall, so pushing patients around was help for his training. He helped us to laugh, as we prepared mom for a scan of her brain (...this alone should award him some kind of gold star). 

We liked Mike this first visit, and then we got to see him again the next week when we returned for mom's paracentesis (to drain the fluid off her abdomen). 

Again, Mike came out to greet us. This time he asked if mom had had her first chemo treatment. We said yes, and he asked her what "number" it was, how many treatments she had taken now over her lifetime. We were thinking, counting, and he replied ..."I just did number 44." 

We all stood silent for a moment, processing. Tammi asked, "What are you being treated for?" And Mike, young Mike training for his Ironman replied, "Colon cancer. 44 Treatments down, endless more to go."

Cancer is an asshole. Hurting Saint Tammi, and even this sweet Mike. And I hope we can be like Mike as we continue on this road. I hope mom can skip, and laugh, and make jokes about weed.

Thanks, Mike. For the excellent care, the awesome attitude, and the inspiration. Friends, pray for Mike.

Abort the Port!

Most often, things only make sense in hind sight.

We went to St. Mary's in Galesburg for Tammi's port to be put in. (A port is a small device that sits under a chemo patient's skin, and connects to a major vein. It allows doctors access to her veins, without having to poke her every time. It's weird, and amazing.)

We weren't feeling real positive about this procedure. It had just been put on the calendar the day before, when the surgeon (who will remain nameless...) met us in his office with blood stains down his scrubs. (This, friends, is never a good sign.) We would have ran, but his bedside manner is great, and he had done mom's port procedure 6 years ago.

We were waiting now, for mom to have a PET scan, and the port placed right after. She couldn't eat or drink for 12 hours, as the port surgery required her to be NPO for the night. All the time, no food or water sucks. When you're really sick, it sucks even more.

So imagine our disappointment (re: incredible anger), when the surgeon found us in the waiting room to let us know he wouldn't be doing the procedure that day. The PET scan was taking too long, and there wouldn't be time.

Tammi emerged from the PET scan fifteen minutes later, not late at all, proving the surgeon had received misinformation. 

So, we were leaving with no port, and an extremely tired, hunger, thirsty Tammi. 

Enraged, Hallie called the oncologist and demanded an appointment for the same procedure at St. Francis.

We realized only after going to St. Francis that mom's initial surgeon was planning to use the same kind of port device she had 6 years ago, and was planning to put her under general anesthesia. This new team at St. Francis used a new, up-to-date, much better port, and kept her only lightly sedated while they did the procedure. They were quick, and good, and even funny. (Read other entry, "Mike.")

So we're grateful for the misinformation that caused us, Tammi's family, fly into a crazy rage, and got Tammi exactly where she needed to me.

Sometimes, mercy is very frustrating. 

Gina

Okay, she's not really an angel. She's a Physician's Assistant at Tammi's cancer center, and the only remaining part of mom's team from 2009 (her former oncologist has retired since then). But we like her, a lot.

When mom was out of her initial hospital stay, we traveled to her Cancer Center all together, grandma and grandpa, Tammi's sister Vicki, all three of us kids. (We tend to travel as a pack...) All we knew was that cancer was back, and didn't quite know what that meant. 

And by God's grace, Gina spoke calmly, hugged mom, and told her it was going to be okay. We heard words like "metastatic," "liver," "bones," "chemo for life," but more than any of the words, we felt her care for mom. 

None of the news we received this day was good news, but we're glad Gina was the one to give it. 

Say a prayer for Gina, a prayer of thanksgiving, and for the hope that all patient's can feel this kind of care.

Grateful for Pneomonia

Tammi loves Sawyer. He is her favorite. So to be clear, she would never wish pneumonia on her SoyBoy. But she learned that little Sawyer was sick with walking pneumonia on New Year's Eve. And with this knowledge, she walked a little lighter, and began to believe that the pains and discomfort she was experiencing may be due to pneumonia, and not the more serious diagnosis we were dreading. 

It was her knowing this possibility of pneumonia that led her to want to go to Urgent Care when she returned to Monmouth on January 1. She thought she could get some medicine, be cleared up and feeling better. Without this as a possibility, I'm not sure she would have gone to the ER at all. 

Sawyer is feeling better now. He's praying for his Aunt Tammi every night, and I'm pretty sure God hears these prayers louder than most. We're grateful he's better. And we're grateful for this little, weird way that God helped her to the ER.

Closed for the Holiday

Two weird things led Tammi to the ER on New Year's Day. One was Sawyer's pneumonia (written below), and the other was Urgent Care being closed.

Apparently no one was allowed to be urgently ill on the holiday, so the Urgent Care building was closed. We're not sure what would have happened had it been open. Tammi needed the technology available in the ER to see her spots of probable cancer, technology that wouldn't have been available in the clinic. 

We're not sure what would have happened if Urgent Care was open, if spots hadn't been found that day, if the diagnosis had been delayed, but we're certainly glad for holiday closing.