Ode to Mom and Dad

Not bad for a couple of old folks in their 80's, eh? That's my Mom and Dad. My Dad is 84 and has two kinds of cancer which he has miraculously made temporarily disappear. My Mom is 82 and still hopes to dance in the living room if my Dad can ever remember to come when she calls. :-)

My father is a retired advertising man who was a Managing Director of Ogilvy and Mather, where he worked for almost 30 years. That was back when being an ad man was a good thing. During the Camelot years, as they call them. He taught me about honor, and about how to use my curiosity to keep learning, and how to use that learning to develop tolerance and compassion. That is the legacy he will leave behind when he goes.

My mother was a concert pianist before she married and had a family of six kids. Yes, S-I-X! When I think about how hard it is to raise one or two children, I am filled with more admiration for her than I can possibly express. She did it with her eye focused on our becoming good, educated, healthy, talented and productive adults. She never once let her guard down, and if you look at my family you will see her work continues to this day.

I think it is fair to say her job was more important than my father's, although without his we wouldn't have had the music lessons, the sports, nights at the opera or symphony, or the lovely home with a library filled with books and music.

This post wasn't what I sat down to write, but as a writer I know, sometimes you just have to let the juju work and it will be good. Here is why I ended up writing about them. I was thinking about how Parker's final surgery has been postponed to February. Then I was thinking about the blessings that have occurred in my life as a result of that terrible, horrific time spent earlier this year while he critically ill.

Then I thought about how over the past few weeks I have had two complete strangers email me after they found this blog. One had a father, another a husband who was someones son, who were in the midst of very similar experiences with severe pancreatitis. They wrote to tell me my writing had given them peace and comfort and hope. I can't even express to you what that meant to me, to Parker and to James. That what we endured made a positive difference to someone else.

Then I started thinking about the Literacy for Hope Project that was born from my need to do something to give back after what we went through. I thought of how excited my 82 year old mother is to be a part of this, how it has given her a new purpose when she really needed to feel needed again. And I thought about how I will take her on my birthday next week to deliver books to a homeless shelter in New Jersey, because that is how I want to spend my birthday.

And then I thought about how it was my parents who gave me the ability to get so much joy from spending my birthday that way, and I realized how incredibly lucky I was to have those two people, with all their flaws, and all their dedication, at the helm while I was growing up.

Thanks Mom and Dad. It made a difference.
P.S. I just realized with surprise that today is the 14th, which is the 8 month anniversary of the first time the doctors told me to say goodbye to my son. For the first time since then, I didn't spend the days before this with that burning feeling in the pit of my gut. In fact, I might not have even remembered if I hadn't been writing this post.

Blessings

As I watch this year draw to a close I am tempted to give it a swift kick in the rear. This was not an easy year. But sitting this morning ready to write and listening to Let There Be Peace On Earth, I realize it has been a year filled with more blessings than angst, hidden in the layers of torment. Through quiet reflection I understand I have much to be thankful for.

~ My father lived another year with two kinds of cancer.

~ My mother put away the demons that have made parts of her life so agonizing.

~ My oldest son survived when the doctors said he wouldn’t, and I will spend Christmas night with him.

~ My younger son showed incredible depth of character, lifting me up with surprising strength when I needed him most, and I will spend Christmas morning with him.

~ My breast biopsy was negative.

~ Complete strangers reached out and surrounded me with love during the darkest hour of my life.

~ I lost my job which humbled me and opened many doors to new opportunities.

~ I followed a calling and started an organization that will bring hope to the homeless through the gift of books.

~ I made friends with people across the country who have touched my life with wonder.

~ I rediscovered the gifts of my siblings and put to rest the burdens of the past.

~ I reconnected with God, who sat by my son’s bedside while his brother and I cried, then took our hands and walked beside us every step of the way.

Thank you God, for all these blessings that have given new purpose to my life. Thank you for the gifts of my family, the love of my two sons, and the hope I hold in my hands. I am one lucky girl.

The Literacy for Hope Project

I knew it would come to me, I knew one morning I would wake up and would know what it was I was supposed to do. I am so proud of the result and the work ahead of me, and all the possibilities that that can come from The Literacy for Hope Project.

Below is what I wrote this morning to post on the web site to explain to people who don't know me how this all came about. Please check out the web site: www.literacyforhope.org.

Two things happened in the last few years that brought this project to life. First, I interviewed a woman for a position at my job who had a touching story to tell. Karen was modestly dressed, literate, drove a car, had two children and a husband who worked full time. Unfortunately she didn’t have the necessary skills and I wasn’t able to hire her. But in the course of her interview we began talking and what she said astounded me.

Karen and her family had been homeless the entire time her children were in high school. No one knew, which made the kids lives even more awkward as they tried maintain friendships without revealing their secret. Living in a county where the median income is $76,000 per year, and with their combined incomes of less than $35,000, it took them four years and the generosity of a stranger to help them climb out of homelessness.

I was very touched by Karen’s courage and endurance and what I perceived to be the uniqueness of her situation. In fact I was so moved I made the main character of the novel I was writing a young homeless girl.

This past year my older son spent 4 ½ months in a hospital in TX, eight of those weeks clinging to life in the Critical Care Unit. I lived in the ICU waiting room for many weeks, praying, writing a blog and finishing my novel.

During that time I made friends with a homeless man who showed up a few minutes after 6:00am every day and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was so thin he had to hold his pants up when he walked. I knew he had to be hungry, and while there were many days I lived on peanut butter and graham crackers from the ICU refrigerator, I started leaving him granola bars propped up against the coffee pot. The first time he looked over at me and I nodded. He grabbed the bar and his coffee and left without saying a word.

I left him granola bars everyday, or sometimes when I didn’t have any money I left him the peanut butter and crackers the nurses had given me. He never said a word. One day when he lay his back pack down on the counter, it fell open and I saw a stack of books inside. I thought that was rather curious, but since my perception of the homeless had already changed by Karen’s story, this just added another dimension.

A few weeks went by and one morning the security guard said to me, Lady, don’t feed the homeless.

He isn’t like a wild animal you know, he’s a human, and he’s hungry, I said. By this time my son was getting better and I knew we would be moving out of ICU within a few days, so I kept leaving the granola bars.

On the last day I left the granola bar sitting on top of two books. One was s from Obama’s Dreams from My Father, and the other a more sophisticated book called Angle of Repose. My friend came in, saw the books, looked at me and I nodded. He read the titles and then walked to my table where I was writing and laid Angle of Repose in front of me.

I’ve already read this one. Thank you, he said. Then he turned and left.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

When you go through a life altering experience like my sons and I did, when you think you are going to lose your life, or your child, or your brother, something happens and all the rules change. Normal is redefined. All three of us came away with a strong sense we needed to do something to give back in a way that could be magnificent. We didn’t know what it might be, but I had faith we would be led in the right direction.

Because of our belief in the power of books I wanted to use the written word as a vehicle to offer hope to the weary. The fact that doing this could make even a tiny dent in the decline in book sales our country has experienced over the last few years is an added bonus. It's a win-win proposition.

We have been enormously happy at the response we’ve had in such a short time. It shows a genuine benevolence from people who understand the power of making a difference, one book at a time.

Thank you for your interest. Keep reading, and remember “There but for the grace of God go I.”

Parker's Birthday

I am so grateful. Today is Parker's 26th birthday. There were many weeks back in the spring when I agonized over what I might be doing on this day, and if Parker would still be alive to celebrate.

Yes he is! Thank you God, once again. Now let's eat cake!

I love you boys, have fun together in Austin!

It Was All Fake

I walked a different way this morning with the dogs and was so entranced by the scenery, I was glad I took my camera along. The photo here shows the corner of a pasture that must have been home to some fat ponies once upon a time, because at the top of the hill is a metal horse gate, and in one of the corners is a small old fashioned, two stall barn with Dutch doors. I love Dutch doors. It was a barn almost exactly like that in Connecticut where I had my first "real" kiss. I love that little barn and will walk that way again tomorrow.

I have been taking the hundreds of emails I sent and received over the first three days that Parker was in Critical Care, sorting through them and putting them in proper order for the book. With each one that I read, I remembered more of all the things that happened. Somethings surprise me. Like I remember one nurse in ICU who shall remain nameless because she was so nasty. Plastic nasty. Fake smiles. Rolling her eyes nasty..... ugh. But I didn't remember that she was the nurse on day two, I thought she was more like week two. I guess the fact that I was in such shock kept me from telling her to give up the attitude, because I certainly spoke my mind a lot as the days went on.

Anyway, the thing that surprised me the most was the tone of my own emails. If I were the reader of those emails I would have thought wow! She is in such control! She is so strong! Indeed, I sound focused, and completely in control of my emotions, not falling apart, able to write about things other than the fact that my son was in the other room possibly dying.... I surprised myself. But guess what? It was all fake. I just didn't realize how good a faker I was. I was totally and completely falling apart. There was a burning sensation in my heart that comes back even at this minute, while I am merely remembering it. My insides shook, my legs quivered when I walked, I threw up constantly, and felt as though the skin on my face was the only thing holding back so many tears I was afraid to let loose in case I never returned from crazy. I still have that fear.

Anyway, so that's the truth. I think it is probably those emails and my blog posts were the best thing I had to keep me sane during those very dark, horrific days. And I am glad, in the end, that my true feelings were not exposed as I thought they were. But I also wonder if someone who read them might have thought I was emotionless? I hope not.

Through the Tunnel

I feel better about things since my visit to Austin. I had been gone 6 weeks and it was the right thing for me to do, to go back to the "scene of the crime." It made me see that I had started to push my way through the tunnel. Like there would actually be a "normal" in our lives again.

Yesterday I set a timer for 2 1/2 hours, during which time I wrote about the darkest days of Parker's journey. April 14th, 2009. I only got through 3/4th's of the day, but today I am gearing up to revisit and write about the rest of that day. It was hard, and I was surprised that I felt that same horrible burning pain in my chest that stayed with me all those days when his life was termed "imminently critical."

Before I started I propped up the prayer book for parents that the stranger on the plane gave me way back in April, and lit three candles, one for each of us in our little family. I did this because I ran into Nurse Nancy in the parking lot of the hospital and told her I was struggling, trying to get to the writing of this book. She said, "Well then, light a candle for it." Silly me. So I did. Nurse Nancy practices Native American spiritual traditions and I think she knows what she is doing.

But every time I started to cry, or felt like I was going to throw up while writing yesterday, I stopped for a moment and looked at the candles and the book, closed my eyes and said a little prayer. Somehow I got the energy to push forward again. Thank you God for continuing to be there for me. For us.

Today the sun is shining and on our walk it felt like a true autumn day. The deer teased the dogs, running away with their white tails flying. My hands are raw from holding their leashes. But it was nice. Nature is nice to start a day when I know I'm going back into the dark place, even if just for a few hours.

No more procrastinating, I'm going in now.

Today Was A Hard Day

Today was a hard day, and it is reflected in my writing. But tomorrow I will wake up early, walk the dogs and start again.

The Power of a Praying Parent

Today is the six month anniversary of the ambulance ride from hell, the day Parker went into septic shock and had his first surgery in the middle of the night. Sherrie, one of the nurses from IMC, rode in the ambulance with us, and kept us somewhat sane. Parker and I both will always be grateful for her steady compassion. She was our rock.

I am trying to write about that day for the book, but am struggling, so instead I want to bring your attention to the photo to the left and ask for your help.

On April 2nd, when I left work in the middle of the day and flew back to Austin, when they were beginning to tell us the seriousness of Parker's illness, I had a very strange thing happen to me. I had made it a point not to talk to anyone on the plane about why I was going to Austin, I was afraid to talk about it and fall apart and be stuck 40,000' in the air, flipping out. So before I got on the plane I took big, deep breaths and extra airplane drugs and kept my mouth shut.

As we were exiting the plane in Austin, I saw a woman sitting in a seat about ten rows ahead, facing backwards, looking at me. I could only see her from the eyes up and she bore a startling resemblance to Dovie, my ex-husband's mother who was surely one of God's busiest angels.
As I got closer to her, this woman who I had never met before, stood up and looked at me with a sad smile on her face. She held out a book, the one in the photo, and said, "I think you need this book... read it, it will help."

I was fairly stunned, and paused for a moment to thank her, not really sure what to say, but aware of the people behind me who were waiting for me to move. So I thanked her quickly and left, clutching the book in my hands, and rushed off to the hospital.

She was right, that book helped. It kept me upright during some really dark moments. I held on to it, along with Critter, I propped it up next to my chair when I slept in the ICU waiting room, read passages from it, posted scripture from it on this blog, and thought a lot about who the person was who gave it to me, and how did she know?

It was a day or two before I was able to open it up, but it was a week before I found the photo tucked inside. It is the photo of a handsome man, maybe about 40 years old, smiling, on a sail boat.

That photo torments me to this day, because I am worried it was the adult child of the woman who gave me the book, and maybe he had died. Maybe it was the only good photo she had, and now I have it and I don't know how to get it back to her. There was a phone number written in the book, and the words Jordan Plymouth. For the longest time I thought that must be the man's name, but eventually I found out that is a hospital in Plymouth, MA.

I tried calling that hospital and gave them the date the woman was flying from Baltimore to Austin, but they couldn't help me without a name. I gave them the phone number written in the book, but they said they couldn't trace it without a name, or if I wanted to, I could send the photo and they could see if anyone remembered him. But I didn't want to let go of the photo in case I could find the woman myself. I mean, what if the hospital lost the photo?

So if anyone has any thoughts on how I can track this woman down, to thank her, and to return the photo to her, please let me know. If I were her, I'd want it back. Not to mention, I want to tell her that Parker lived, and I survived, and her gift helped. And I also want to tell her I know God was working through her, and how lucky she was to have been chosen. How lucky I was, too.

The Decision

So here's the thing, I had a decision to make about which book needed to be written first. I have all the materials for the 2nd in the Tugboat series, and a lot of it done in a first draft. And while I have some interest in the first book, it has not sold yet, which I am assured by at least one reputable editor and another pony book author, is due to the economy, and that it will be swooped up soon.

I also have the non-fiction random and fun pony fact book which I was writing primarily because I can do it blindfolded with very little effort (compared to the three years it took me to complete the first Tugboat book), and because it was suggested to me that it would help build my "platform" to launch the Tugboat series from.

But then there is The Other Book. The one that keeps nagging at me, but the one I am afraid to write. That is the book based on this blog, that needs to be done before I will really be able to put the trauma of this year behind me. But it also needs to be done because there is a deeper truth to our story which has not yet been unveiled, a truth that makes the story even more valuable, more heart breaking, and more victorious than most people know.

No, I am not going to tell you what that truth is.

I have been afraid to write that book because there are several weeks of this blog that I have not yet been able to go back and read without breaking down. I am still tormented by visions of Parker laying with his body opened up on his hospital bed, attached to a jungle of machines that were keeping him alive. I am tormented by things that were said to me about his chances for survival, and things I overheard being said about him.

When these memories pop into my head I force them away and refuse to allow them to break me down. But I am also stuck. Emotionally, I am frozen in place and know that I will not sleep through the night again, I will not feel safe, and I will not experience the full scope of joy due because my son lived, I will not have any of those things until I face my own fears.

Courage is the resistance of fear, the mastery of fear, not the absence of fear itself.

My dear, sweet friend Elizabeth, who grew into an adult while I was away, told me I needed to write this book now. She sent me a private message which said, in part: "I feel that your writing is so captivating and interesting, that an adult audience would really take hold of it. It's true. It really happened. I'm not trying to diss Tugs, but I can see you becoming an author that gets their book on Oprah's book of the month club. It's really powerful, and you've already got a ton of it written."


How could I not take this sage advice from my 16 year old friend and former student?

So I am going to take a deep breath and plunge in. And if the publishing Gods smile on me and the first Tugboat book is swooped up as promised, well I can always take a break from this book and do whatever work is required to get the Tugboat series moving forward. I am prepared to dig in with everything I've got.

As far as this blog, well, this blog is like an old friend and a cup of hot cocoa. It got me through many months of crazy, and I am hoping it will get me through many months more. I don't know how often I will write, but if I need to vent, or cry, or visit an old friend and cry on a shoulder, this is where you will find me. The fear of writing this book taunts me, and suggests reliving everything may send me over the edge, and I might never come back. Elizabeth assures me I have the strength to do it, so I will, with a little help from my friends.

I am also going to encourage Parker to write on this blog as he continues on his journey toward complete wellness. He has a lot to process himself, a lot of emotional and physical work to do. He told me the other day that every time he takes off his shirt he is reminded of what almost happened to him. And it makes him cry.

So stick with me friends. I'm goin' in!

BENIGN!!!!!

Thank you God! Life is good.

I Am Ready, Life

Much has happened over the past week and a half. I was an emotional wreck in the days leading up to my leaving Austin. It is very hard to leave your child behind whom you have just watched practically rise from the dead before your very eyes. But I had done what I could do to help get Parker set up for success in his life going forward, and I knew he was in good hands with Quinn by his side.

Since the day I left Austin I have had a second, diagnostic mammogram; I have attended my brother's wedding in a very interesting Russian ceremony in DC; I have driven my parents home to Bay Head when my father became ill; I received a text message from James that filled me with pride; I spent the weekend digging up papers for my Dad's 2008 taxes to be sent to the accountant; I have taken the train home again, and yesterday went for a stereotactic biopsy because the second mammogram confirmed what the first one suggested. A couple of little problems.

But here is what I want to write about: I was terrified yesterday. I was afraid of the pain, I was afraid of the unknown, I was afraid of the outcome and what I might be facing in the coming months. But while I was laying face down on the table with the doctor talking me through the procedure, a calm came over me that I recognized from those weeks I spent in the ICU waiting room while Parker was critically ill. I thought about Parker's courage, and the constant, horrible pain he endured for so long, and how he faced every step with such strong mental armor, and I was able to use his courage to keep myself calm.

I also thought about the text message James sent me when I was so sad about missing his birthday this past weekend because I had to drive my parents home. James wrote: "Honestly I'm ok, I know u love me and I really do understand and am not hurt at all. Its ok, you've done right by me cuz I still have a brother, and you, not to mention I've learned a lot in past 6 months. I will be around a lot longer than Ninny and Papa will be."

I am so amazed at my boys, so proud of who they have become. We have all learned so much over the past six months. We have a greater understanding of what is truly important, and what doesn't matter. We stand taller these days, stronger, united, with a feeling of peace that sings "que sera, sera" in our ears as we approach each new day.

So come on life, bring it on! I am ready for whatever hand you deal me.

Quinn The Miracle Dog

I forgot to post these photos. Last weekend Parker, Quinn and I explored some of the areas dog parks. Here's what we learned: There is only one that is fenced in, and two is way too many for Parker and Quinn in one day. They both fell asleep as soon as we got in the door and they plopped themselves down in their spots.

When Parker woke up and went to get a shower, Quinn snuck into his chair to finish her nap. The bottom photo shows her when Parker came back in the room and she jumped off and ran back to her own bed. Don't ya think she looks a little guilty?

Quinn continues to amaze us. I wish we knew more about her background. She definitely has a lot of really good training. We found out when you say, "Back," she backs up a few steps and sits. As long as we keep saying it, she will go as far as the wall, then she'll turn backwards and keep backing up until we stop telling her to do it.

She knows when Parker is getting ready to go to work (and can distinguish from when he is just going for the mail or to run to the store because she doesn't behave the same way) and whenever she realizes he is leaving for work she brings him a ball or her rope toy or anything she can find to engage him in play. Almost like she thinks maybe she can distract him and he won't go. Then she watches his car drive away from the patio and whimpers once. Not twice, just once. About 2:15, which is when he gets home, she starts watching the cars go by in the parking lot. As soon as she sees his car, she barks once, gets up stretches like she hasn't a care in the world, and meets him at the front door.

What a great thing to come home to every day. :-)

She also does something we can't figure out. Whenever one of us calls out with a loud voice (like from one room to the next), or if we clap our hands, or jump and yell during a football game or tennis match, first she barks, then she jumps up and runs around the house frantically looking for her rope toy. She brings the rope toy to Parker and won't calm down until he has thrown it for her a few times. It is very consistent. We figured that if she were an competition agility dog at some time, maybe the clapping and loud voices remind her of the competition ring, which is very noisy.

What we still can't figure out is, with all her training, as perfect a dog and well mannered as she is, and if she was a competition dog..... why did she end up at the pound on the kill list?

A City Set On A Hill

One of my Bible verses is Matthew 5:14-16. Years ago some young Mormon missionaries I had made friends with left it written on an index card on my door. I still have the card with the blue highlighter writing in Sister Garrelts handwriting, and I treasure it.

Matthew 5:14-16 "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven."

I am remembering that verse this morning while I sort through papers, cards, books, hospital forms, medical supplies, mementos, prescriptions, and carefully written notes from meetings with doctors ~ all the things that have made up my life over the last six months. I knew it would be an emotional day, and I probably didn't help by the choice of music I played while working ~ To Dream The Impossible Dream and Put Your Records On.

Megan, the tattoo girl contestant on American Idol, was singing Put Your Records On when I got the text message from Parker on that cold March night. I love the song, but it will forever be linked to memories of the night that started us marching through hell (okay in case you didn't catch on, those are words from Impossible Dream ~ Man of La Mancha, the other song I have played about 15 times already today). Interesting that I linked these two together, on a day I am filled with a mixture of joy, gratitude and melancholy, as I prepare to go back to Maryland.

I also listened to Miss Saigon and remembered the night I took Parker to see it at The Kennedy Center when he was ten, and we stood on top of the roof and watched planes landing at the airport across the Potomac River. And I listened to Les Mis and remembered taking James when he was about the same age, and how he fell asleep in the middle of it until the guns all went off and he startled awake and kicked the man's head in front of him. Those memories made me smile. I tried really hard, even as a single Mom without a lot of money, to have special occasions with them like that. I hope it made a difference to them.

So I am way off track. Sorry, just remember this blog is for me and my kids, so if I wander down Memory Lane, bear with me.

The point of the camel photo and the reference to that Bible verse is because as I have come to love Austin, I have also come to love the fact that this city has so much personality. For instance, the artistic guitars on the street corners. And the feeling of camaraderie among the residents and visitors to keep it green, clean and weird. The people who crowd the side of the Congress St bridge, sitting in folding chairs and watching thousands of bats fly out from underneath at dusk. The way the homeless have no shame and love to have their picture taken. And what other city would have two camels walking up Congress toward the Capitol just to announce that Lawrence of Arabia was showing at the Paramount Theatre?

Austin may be weird, but it is fun and interesting and clean and it definitely shouts all about it from the very top of that hill!

A City To Love

As my time in TX most probably draws to a close, Parker is eager to show me around the city he loves. I smile when I realize how he seems to know every inch of it.

Thank you God for allowing us the opportunity to have these moments together. You scared me for a minute there!

Over the past weekend, between visits to the various dog parks, Parker and I spent a lot of time driving around downtown Austin. He pointed out many of the places that make this city so special to him. One place where he ran head first into James McMurtry coming out the back door. Another place where he watched as his friend Chris got his career start with his band. He excitedly pointed out many of the vivid 12’ guitars that are placed randomly around the city on street corners. Austin has almost as many guitars as DC has monuments. His face lights up when we top the hill going north on Congress, right near the bridge where the bats fly at dusk every night, and when the Capitol building comes into sight he says, I’ll never tire of that view.

For all my complaining about Texas over the years, I have to admit it is hard not to fall in love with Austin.

Parker still has a lot ahead of him. Another possible skin graft is looming to cover the mesh that is pushing through. And the big surgery to repair and rebuild his abdomen in a few months time. But he is working 4 hours a day now, and while it exhausts him, he feels really good knowing he has gotten this far.

Something happened yesterday that made Parker incredibly happy, and gave him a much needed boost of motivation. When he first got out of the hospital, Parker emailed a guy he has tremendous respect for, a guy who runs a nationally known program for competitive power lifters. Parker wrote to tell him his story, ask for advice on how to work himself back into competition fitness with his current disabilities, and for information about the program.

The guy wrote back a very warm, encouraging and congratulatory note, gave Parker some advice, and told him he looks for people that have a strong drive to succeed to be part of his program. He pointed out that Parker obviously has that drive, having come through everything he has in the last six months. He asked for Parker to send him a photo, and to keep him abreast of his progress.

Of everything that has happened, the email from this man who is famous, and who has taken an interest in Parker’s story, did more for his state of mind than anything else. Well, possibly except for the times his brother was here with him. But other than that, I’ve never seen Parker so excited, so happy, and so motivated. Whatever your name is out there in power-lifting land, Thank You!

Milestones

Back in April and May when Parker was critically ill, on the days I felt the universe was pushing me face first into a pit of darkness, I would clench my fists as I walked The Green Mile and say out loud, "One day Parker is going to walk down this hallway by my side... he is going to walk and he is going to live!" I believe once I punched the wall, just to be sure it heard me.

Today, for the first time, Parker walked The Green Mile with me. Walked, standing tall, no wheelchair, no cane. We went to see Yonus, one of the nurses who was so instrumental in keeping Parker alive and keeping me upright and strong during the darkest days. When we left, Parker leaned against the wall in the hallway and burst into tears. He didn't know it was the same wall, the same spot, where his brother collapsed after seeing him the first time.

We have so much to be grateful for.

Earlier this morning, before the trip to the hospital, we took Quinn to the dog park for the first time. She caught about 30 Frisbee throws, then we let her go into the area where the other dogs were. She wasn't interested in them until one of them, a little Boston Terrier, stole her Frisbee. Then she ran after that little critter for half an hour, not really that pressed over it, more interested in the principle. The trip to the dog park gave me a great idea for an article for Austin Magazine.

After the dog park Parker and I went to the fitness center to start our workouts back up. It's amazing how much harder it is after five days off. He is still not allowed to lift weights, and won't be able to until after the surgery to rebuild his abdomen. But he is working on the stationery bike and treadmill to build stamina and increase his metabolism. Sixty pounds in three months is a lot of weight to lose.

The photo above is of Quinn waiting for Parker to come back when he left to go buy her a new bed. She is a little like a love stuck teenager, the way she stares at him where ever he goes. So cute, and such a perfect companion for him.

Talked to my Dad on the phone a few times today. Although he sounds very confused and is mixing up his days, he sounds healthier than yesterday and the docs think he should be getting out of the hospital by Tuesday or Wednesday. I told him that was good. Less chance of his getting a disease. :-)

When we went to the hospital we literally ran into Lindsey coming off the elevator. Even with all her throwing up for the last two months, she has that glow of a pregnant woman and looked great. Went up to the 4th floor also and visited with Kim, Jeff and Allison. It was good to see them, but Parker was unnerved being there, too.

Even though I was by his side the whole time, it is hard to put myself in his place and imagine what it felt like to be the one who might die at any minute, or the one who was in constant pain for four months, who had to go through Ct Scans, MRI's, almost daily ex rays, medication changes, doctor visits, tracheotomy irritations, NG tubes, feeding tubes, picc line infections, MRSA and VRE, more throwing up bile than any human should have to endure, multiple ileus's, blood clots in the lung, wound vac changes ...... ugh. I can't go on.

Thank you God for bringing us through that nightmare, and for giving us the strength and wisdom and courage to understand the changes we need to make going forward in our lives.

Optimism

Optimism works. I just spoke with my Dad's nurse and she said he is sitting propped up reading the paper this morning, waiting for his test. Yea!

Update to Post Below

My Dad is going back to his room. There was too much blood in the esophagus to be able to see where the source of the bleeding was, so they could not fix it. They are putting the tube back in to try and continue to clean it out and they will try to do the procedure again tomorrow.

Prayers would be great. Thank you.

Death Has Come Too Close

This is my Dad, the photo was taken two years ago this month when my parents met me out in Wyoming for a wonderful four day vacation.

As I write this my Dad is being transported from the Critical Care Unit in a hospital in New Jersey to have a procedure done to look for esophageal varices, otherwise known as areas in the esophagus which are bleeding and causing him to throw up masses of blood.

This has been quite a week. Monday we went to Houston for the appointment at Methodist Hospital for Parker. Tuesday I found out I had lost my job and spent the day wallowing in my woes under the covers. Wednesday I woke up ready to slay dragons again, and Parker had his first day back at work since he fell ill in March. He only lasted two hours, but we expected that.

Then later in the day yesterday, after sending out 30 resumes and looking for job online for 6 hours, I kept trying to call my parents. They were supposed to go to Sloan Kettering yesterday for my Dad's check up with the bladder cancer doctor. there was something wrong with their phone, and of course their cell phones were turned off (which usually means they can't find them and the battery died). So I called Sloan Kettering and was told they hadn't shown up for the appointment. Panic set in.

I called a good friend of the family who lives up near them, Seamus, and asked if he was in the neighborhood could he stop by and check on them. 30 minutes later he called to tell me he walked in the door to find my Dad vomiting blood everywhere and my mother struggling to get down the stairs to help him. As much as they resist it, these are not two people who should be living alone.

Seamus called the ambulance and, to make a long story short, Dad's blood pressure was really low and his heart rate high (good God this is making my hands shake from the familiarity of it). They got him to the closest hospital and got him somewhat stabilized. But during the night he continued to vomit blood, so this morning he was transferred to the CCU. When Seamus got back there this morning Dad had what looked like an NG tube sucking blood out of his stomach. So far there had been a quart.

Dad has liver cancer, and bladder cancer. Two cancers for drinkers and smokers, of which he is neither. Bad luck I guess. Liver cancer leads to cirrhosis (and visa-versa), non-alcoholic fatty liver disease and a thing he has called portal hypertension. All of the above can cause this esophageal varices, or bleeding from the esophagus.

So right this minute, my 84 year old father is undergoing a procedure to investigate and repair if possible. I have seen my son come back from being on the verge of death twice in the last six months, so I am optimistic this will turn out okay. If not, I sure am glad I said those thing to my Dad when I saw him two weeks ago. Death has come too close to me not to know I need to say what I feel to those I love, because you never know.

Hug your family today.

A Day of Celebration!

Five months ago today Dr. Garcia looked at Parker's MRI report, called John and told him to get Parker checked into Seton Hospital immediately. Parker had already spent two weeks at another hospital, then almost two weeks at home in unbearable agony.

On that day, when Dr. Garcia sent him to Seton, he told us to expect him to be there for at least three weeks, maybe as long as six weeks. Dr. Garcia is very optimistic. It was three and a half months before Parker went home.

But he lived! He beat the odds! And today he has just left to return to his job for the first time. It is definitely a day for celebration!

I, on the other hand, will be spending my day searching for a job when I return to Maryland in less than two weeks. I am sorry to say my boss could not hold my position for me any longer. It is a truly sad day for me, as I have worked for that company for the better part of the last 18 years, and it is a company I love and respect. But, he has a business to run, and I understand that. I am sure the decision was not an easy one for him to make.

Knowing that doesn't make me any less sad. Or scared. The only other time in my life when I didn't have a job was 18 years ago. It was scary then, but scarier now for some reason. Wish me luck!

The photo above was taken at Parker's birthday party when he was in the 4th grade. The photo I really wanted to post was taken when he was two years old, but I don't have it here in Austin. In it he is standing by the back door of the house where I grew up in Houston, holding up a brown paper lunch bag, a smile lighting his face and his curly hair flying all over creation. It was his first time to go to a half day "school" at the church. He couldn't wait to get there and see what the world had to offer outside. My mother had written on the bag something to the effect of "This belongs to a very special boy ~ please take good care of him today!"

Of course when Parker left today he didn't have a brown paper bag, his hair is short and not curly anymore, he's a bit taller and has a beard, and since he is returning to the job he held for a year and a half before he got sick, he pretty much knows what to expect. But believe me, the moment was no less magnificent than that day 23 years ago. What a blessing. He made it!

Houston

Parker and I rented a car yesterday and drove to Houston for an appointment with a surgeon at Methodist Hospital. We are doing this so I know, when I leave in two weeks, that all bases are covered, everything has been checked and double checked, and if Parker ends up having to move to Houston, we are already set with a surgeon to take over and do the somewhat complex abdominal repair that still has to take place.

The surgeon was perfect, his specialty is complex gastrointestinal surgeries with a focus on diseases of the pancreas. He looked at the Ct Scans and reassured us the pancreas looks good. No worries. Yes, we have been assured of that here in Austin as well, but I am a Mom, and I sat next to his bed for four months, I was the one the doctors told I was losing my son. So there is no such thing as too much information.

While in Houston we drove past the neighborhood where I grew up from age 13 to 18 when I moved out. 142 Hickory Ridge, as seen above. The house is still lovely. Kind of makes your heart sing a little when you pull onto the road. We ran into the parents of my friend across the street, Denise, who married one of the Dallas Cowboys. Mr. and Mrs. Morales looked awesome. Just like I remembered, except Mr. Morales has this beautiful head of snow white hair. My mother always said he was the best looking man on the street. I bet he still is.

Houston is a HUGE city. Neither Parker nor I could wait to get out of there. So big, it goes on forever. When you are driving down by the Medical Center, which is near Rice University, although it is a lovely area it feels like a prison to us country folk. Like we couldn't wait to get out Interstate 10 to the stretch of highway where the only thing on the side of the road were cows and a few dead armadillos.

But the day was a success, we have this other surgeon and I feel much more comfortable going forward. Like there is Plan A and Plan B.

Parker returns to work tomorrow. 175 days later, 25 weeks, 5 3/4 months since he first left work because he was sick, way back in March. He goes back tomorrow for a few hours. Yes, he is apprehensive. Yes, he is excited, and grateful to have a job to return to. No, he did not sleep last night and I suspect he might not tonight either unless I can drug him. Which I probably will.

I am trying minute by minute to keep myself together and focused on the future. I knew this moment would come, when I started to let my guard down and all the horror of the past months would come flooding back. The flashbacks are terrifying, the dreams never ending, remembering things that are horrific to a mother, feelings of guilt for having to be tough when Parker felt like a trapped wild animal. So much to deal with, to process and go through before I can come out at the other end of the tunnel. Back out into the light.

Dr. Garcia told Parker that for every day he was in the hospital, it will take three days for him to fully recover and feel 100%. The surgeon yesterday told Parker he needed to get 60 more lbs. off before anyone tries to repair the abdominal wall, and he told Parker he thought he should get that done in 3 months becauswe of the mesh pushing through the skin graft. That's a lot of weight to lose in 3 months, but it will make the surgery and recovery much easier and more successful. Parker is more motivated than I have ever seen him before. I am so very proud of him.

Meltdown

I have not been able to write because the long awaited meltdown has begun. I'll be back - soon I hope.

Thank You James

My trip to Bay Head and Maryland is almost over. Tomorrow morning Parker and I return to Austin to get his last things done so he can return to work. We will leave James behind again. And the dogs. But as I have been working on cleaning my cottage over the few days I have been here, in between the bazillion doctor appointments, I can't stop thinking about how much I appreciate James's role in all this. He, too, had his life uprooted, and was plunked down in the middle of my world. He took over care of the dogs and the cottage without question, without complaint. he changed his life to be supportive of us in the way that was the most important thing he could do.

It wasn't just taking care of the dogs and the house, it was dropping his job he loved to be in Austin when they said Parker was going to die. It was staying the month, doing his classes through emails with his professor, and bringing me food at all hours. It was sleeping in the chair in the ICU waiting room when I desperately needed to sleep in a bed at the League House. It was also not taking the amount of classes he wanted to take over the summer so I had money to pay my rent.

There was so much more, and I just don't feel like either Parker nor I have really acknowledged how much he did for us. So James, thank you for everything. You are a real hero. I love you.

The photo above is of my Dad standing in front of his beautiful garden in Bay Head.

The Things I Left Behind

It's a really odd feeling, being here in my little cottage in Maryland that I have only lived in for a total of 3 1/2 weeks. That's how long I lived here before Parker got sick. Before Austin.

Seeing all the things that made up what my life was Before Austin is surreal. I have spent hours wandering around my cottage, batting away the dust and dog hair that gathered over the last 5 months, touching the photos on my "muse wall," throwing away the tube of hair conditioner I left open on the back of the sink when I raced out the door to save my son's life, shaking off the clothes that were left behind, sitting at my desk and running my fingertips over the keyboard of the computer which helped me write my book with Peach and Scout at my feet, listening to Willie croon.

I can't quite grasp how simple my life must have been. The things I took for granted. On the floor when I came in was Critter's mate. A little blond Critter that I bought at the same time I bought gray Critter. Critter being the little stuffed hamster I carried in my pocket, and clutched in my hand, during those first few weeks when Parker's life was termed "imminently critical."

Just writing those words, that phrase, has done me in for the night. I have a long way to go before I reach Normal again.

Parker is weary. This trip has been great for him in the sense that he is building stamina which he will need before he returns to work in a few weeks. But the crowds of people, the sensory overload, has worn him out and he told me today he is ready to go home. But we can't go home. Not yet. Not until he sees the surgeon here tomorrow, and not until I have my meeting with my boss on Wednesday. Then I'll take him back to Austin for the last tests and studies and clearances from doctors so he can start work again. I will start shipping my belongings back up north, and prepare for the return to my old life, or the start of my new, whichever way it ends up, which has yet to be determined.

But tonight I am emotional, and I am weary, too.

Standing at the edge of the ocean in Bay Head used to make me feel both invincible and powerless at the same time. There was a serenity to knowing my burdens were in the hands of a being who created, and managed, such magnificence. It's the same feeling I get when I stand knee deep in fragrant sagebrush along the valley floor beneath the Tetons. Somehow my shoulders lighten, my mind clears, my heart begins to sing and I feel I can do anything. I can overcome any obstacles placed before me.

We are in Bay Head and I am hoping to spend time at the edge of the ocean today, to pull strength from the rhythm of the waves, from the smell of the salt water, and the cry of the seagull and osprey. I need strength for this last push. To figure out so many things, like what happens next in my life, and how am I going to solve the financial crisis I find myself in, and what will keep me upright when I have to leave Parker alone in Texas in a few short weeks.

Parker has done beautifully. The plane ride being the exception. And the day before the plane ride when suddenly there was something else, another unexpected problem with his illness and recovery.

The plastic mesh that is holding his body together has started to push through the skin graft. So the skin graft wasn't as perfect as had previously been announced. The plastic surgeon seemed disappointed and said I will have to continue to clip back the mesh pieces that come through, but what I want to know is, if I do that, then what is left to hold his guts inside? If piece by piece I am clipping away at the mesh that is serving as his abdominal wall, then what is holding it together? And is that why the area where the skin graft was done is bulging out some? Will he wake up some morning after I have gone and find his bowels laying on his stomach, like when he was in the hospital, before they put the Marlex mesh in place, when he had the absorb able mesh that split because they turned him?

John got him an appointment with a surgeon in MD for next Tuesday. I am so relieved to know someone else will be looking at this and giving us a second opinion on what is happening, what needs to be done, what the risks are. I can't rest, not knowing. How am I to leave, to return to MD after all this without knowing everything is okay?

On a positive note, Parker and James have been joined at the hip. They laugh together, they go to movies, they hang out and talk sports, they listen to music ...... everything James told him that night in the hospital when Parker was supposed to die, they are doing all those things. Like James promised.

Hearing them together, the chatter of their conversations, the hum of their laughter at jokes only the two of them understand, and the music of their voices, makes my own heart sing. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Because you never know what tomorrow will bring.

Not Funny Ha-Ha

It's funny, that thing called Hope. Not funny ha-ha, but funny in the way we hold onto it just to experience the euphoria it brings.

Like when I buy a lottery ticket. I know exactly when the numbers are drawn for the Mega-Millions. You learn things like that when you are sitting in a hospital for four months. But on the occasions when I buy a ticket, I don't rush to my computer to check the numbers at 11:01pm. I don't really want to know, because so long as I don't know, I still have hope.

The reality is I know I'm not going to win, so what I am buying isn't really a chance at the $175 million that screams at me from the billboards above the highways. What I am paying for is a little bit of hope. A day or two of dreaming, checking out of reality. And so sometimes I go two weeks before I check the numbers, because I want to coast for a while.

Today I had my hopes dashed about something I had begun to count on. Not the lottery, and no, nothing to do with the book or Parker's health. Something else that now makes me know I have to re-think my life going forward. Maybe my brother Jamie was right. Maybe the Universe is pushing me in a different direction. Maybe what I was hoping for isn't what is supposed to happen after all.

The funny thing about hope is that it is always there for the taking. If I check my numbers and didn't win, I can just go buy another $1 lottery ticket and let hope seep back into my heart. If what I was expecting to happen doesn't, I can change my plans and hope for something else.

However I use it, hope helps me soar to impossible heights, if even for a moment or two.


P.S. Couldn't resist adding this photo of Quinn, who continues to fill our days with joy.

It's All About The People

I never would have made it through this horrific journey without people. As much as I may have thought I was an island before Parker got ill, what I have leaned is this: to really get through the night, it's all about the people.


Parker and I went to visit my friends who live out west of Austin today. I thanked them for always being there for me, and for their quiet, constant support. Throughout the last five months their home has been open to me whenever I needed it. Although I only got out there for two very short visits, I knew, if I needed to, I could walk through their door, drop my suitcase on the floor, and take a nap on their couch for three days. They wouldn't have blinked an eye. And these are friends I hadn't seen for 30 years. Forever friends.


Another good friend sent this poem to Parker yesterday. It is simple gestures like this that stayed with us, gave us courage, and helped keep us strong. Thank you.



Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Thanksgiving

Today is a day of celebration.

Four months ago today the critical care doctors in the ICU told me we were losing Parker. There was nothing else they could do, everything was failing.... I'll never forget the pinched look on Dr. Morrison's face when he said it, knowing he was serving up the worst kind of sentence any mother can bear. The loss of a child.

I prayed that day like I have never prayed before. I am not Catholic, but my sister-in-law emailed me a copy of a prayer to St. Jude, the Saint of Lost Causes. She had used it before herself. I kept that prayer up on my computer screen all day, praying, pushing the tormenting, horrific thoughts from my mind ... thoughts like what would I be doing four months down the road if Parker died? Pushing those thoughts out of my head was some of the hardest work I have ever done in my life.

I prayed for Parker to hold on until his brother, James, arrived that night. Somehow I knew if he could hold on, if he could hear his brother's voice, it would make a difference. If Parker knew we were all there, gathered around him, he might do the impossible. He might live.

And I'll be darned. He did. He lived.

And so today we are celebrating. How? Well this morning we did a very ordinary thing. We took his new dog, Quinn, for a vet check up. She passed with flying colors. Then we did another ordinary thing. We came home, made lunch, watched tennis on tv, and took naps. We are not going to the fitness center today because just the trip to the vet's office sapped every bit of energy Parker had.

But later we will go pick up his medicine at the pharmacy, and I am cooking a Thanksgiving dinner. Turkey, low fat stuffing, cranberries, the works ~ new diet style. And at the end of the day, I will hug my big grown up son, I will call my other grown up son, tell them both how much I love them, and then I will sleep well, thanking God for His gift.

How will you celebrate this day?

One Month To The Day

This morning Parker took Quinn out for her morning exercise and she taught him how to play with the words she knows. When he first threw the little rope toy for her she would retrieve it, but would argue with him about giving it back, as you can see in the photo.

Parker kept saying, Let go, Quinn! Let go! which only made Quinn pull harder. But the second he said, Drop! she let go and turned, waiting for him to throw it for her. She retrieved it, brought it back, and waited for him to repeat the correct command before giving it back to him.

I told you she was a smart dog, and apparently she thinks she is smarter than us!

After she ran and jumped and fetched and ran some more for about ten minutes, she told parker she was done by dropping the rope toy at his feet and plopping herself down on the ground. Done! There was no more play to be had.

Quinn slept at home while Parker and I went to the fitness center for his daily work out. One month to the day after he left the hospital, he is now up to 10 minutes and 2 miles on the bike with low resistance. It is hard, and the walk back in the 104 degree heat up and down the little hills was harder, but worth it. But he is making slow, steady progress and has initiated solo trips out in the car many times. Although now his solo trips include Quinn riding shotgun.

Later, when Parker took a nap, Quinn decided enough was enough, time to rise and shine and play again! I walked past his door several times to see her sitting at the foot of his bed staring at him, trying to silently will him awake. Silly Quinn, she doesn't know Parker very well yet. But she soon took matters in her own hands/paws.

Wake up Parker! It's time to play!

Parker slept all the way through the night last night. About 3:am I woke up and stuck my head in his door to check on him (I know, it's a Mom thing, what can I say?). Parker was fast asleep and Quinn was sleeping with her head laying across his arm. I wished I'd had my camera then!

Meet Quinn

Quinn (formerly known as Xena) arrived today for our trial. Although I am guessing there will be no trial needed. I'm not kidding, she came in the house today, went to Parker to be petted, and settled herself right down by his feet as if she belonged here already. And she is exactly what Parker had hoped she would be, to the point where he told the rescue/trainer guy it was a little spooky. This whole process has been a little like Match.com for dogs and humans.

Once Parker found out today she was coming for the trial, he was at once elated, said he felt a huge sense of calm come over him, and got as nervous as a new father. Then we had to clean house, so everything was perfect when she arrived. Maybe he should have named her Princess.

Already I can sense a change in him. It is a known fact that a dog in your life reduces all kinds of ailments of the heart, including your stress level. Quinn could not have come at a better time. She is so polite ~ and truthfully, with two golden retrievers at home, we're not really sure what to do with a "polite" dog! Quinn has been thoroughly trained, knows everything from sit, stay, go back and come, to find the toy, crate, place (meaning go to your spot), hi-5's, shake hands and much more. And, she'll retrieve a stick all day long if you will keep throwing it for her.

More later. Just wanted to post that she is here and appears to be the perfect dog for Parker. She is much smaller than the golden girls back home (about 35 lbs as compared to Scout and peach who are 75-80 lbs!), is very feminine and loving, excellent on the leash, hasn't made one move toward the trash or dirty socks, and sits at Parker's feet waiting for him to tell her where they are going next.

Does this Mom's heart good to know I will be leaving him in such good hands. Or paws I supposed...

Companionship

After much consideration and thought, Parker has decided it is time for him to have a dog in his life again. This is a HUGE relief to me to know he will have a companion when I go home, and he says it will fill a big void in his life that happened when he left Scout with me in Maryland. We have always discussed sending Scout down here to live with Parker once he got settled in an apartment of his own, but after being here this summer I know Scout would not do well in this heat, so that is no longer an option.

Yesterday we went to a shelter in Bastrop. Ugh. So sad, so hard. Although I could tell the people who worked there really did like the dogs, and they knew their personalities, it is still a high-kill facility and it was really hard to leave without a dog. However, the dog we went to look at had no interest in us what so ever, so we left empty handed. It has to be just the right dog. the dog who needs and wants Parker as much as visa-versa.

Three of these photos are the rescues he is considering. The top is a smaller Aussie mix. We watched a video of her retrieving a stick for her foster owner. Like Scout, so long as they threw the stick, she went for it and brought it back. She also has that same kind of "duhhhh" look about her that Scout does, which is why the picture of Scout is right below her.

The second photo is a small husky mix who was rescued from the shelter here with a broken front leg. He's had surgery and is now mending well, but needs a quiet, low key home with someone who will take him for rides in the car.


The bottom photo is a female golden mix, small, who apparently was rescued from an abusive home because they said she is a little shy with strangers. She is very quiet also, and has that golden retriever "What do you want me to do next" look and attitude about her.

Austin has tons of dog parks (and a surprising number of dog rescue organizations ~ with a huge amount of unwanted pit bull mixes.... so sad) and many of the dog parks are near the river. There is a strong dog-lover community in Parker's apartment complex, too, and his apartment is across the driveway from a grassy, tree filled area where people take their dogs to play while they cook out on the grills. we've seen so many different kinds of dogs, from labs and great danes to chihuahuas and bulldogs.

For the first time since we got home, Parker slept through the night last night. I think he slept for 7 hours straight. Can't help but wonder if the idea of having a companion dog is helping him settle in his mind a little bit.

Ouch!

Yup, I'm sore. Pits and buns. Ouch!

Parker got up to 7 minutes walking on the treadmill today. His goal is to walk a mile before we go see my parents the end of this month, right before he returns to work. A mile on the treadmill, not a mile in the 104 degree heat. He still has to hold the sides for balance, but for someone who was on his back in a hospital bed for three months, that is AWESOME!!! And he only stood up for the first time less than two months ago.

I'm so proud of his determination. We discovered there are machines he cannot use because of the effect they have on his abdomen and the risk of ripping the mesh holding him together. But going to the fitness center, even with limited work, is giving him a sense of taking control of his life again, in addition to re-building his cardiac strength. That's progress.