Where Am I

My husband and I had our first couple's counseling appointment in at least a year or so. This seemed like a necessary tool at this point to help support ourselves during a most difficult, trying time. Our regular therapist is in Southern California tending to her dad's estate. He recently passed. Our interim therapist is good, kind and has a very comfortable office in one of my favorite historic buildings in the heart of Seattle's Pioneer Square.

I'm not sure how much progress either of us felt we made. The moment our session concluded I immediately excused myself to the restroom, exited the building, said goodbye to my husband and boarded the light rail to SeaTac, my portal to my bestie in San Francisco.

Three transit police squad cars were parked across the sidewalk entrance to the Pioneer Square south station entrance, quite unwelcoming. As I stepped onto the escalator down into the cavernous shaft, I caught an overhead speaker announcement for an airport bound train in two minutes. Thought to myself I had better get my ticket, fast. And so I did. As soon as I reached the platform, I first encountered a group of young men, somewhat delinquent looking, who were being addressed by a transit officer. Two of them were smoking, which may not have met with the officer's approval. The officer was also asking them to pick up a couple gummy worms they had apparently dropped on the ground.

A few moments later my train's headlights emerged from the tunnel and then off I went. At the very next stop a couple fare enforcement officers boarded. Each of them took a car (our trains are only two cars long), and they checked everyone's ticket or transit card. The Asian woman standing next to me reading her Kindle got the third degree. The officer asked to see her ID. It was clear, like nearly two thirds of the passengers onboard, she was heading to the airport for a flight. After she pulled out her transit card and passport, the officer pulled a digital camera from his pocket and took a photo of her ID page. I felt like this was really invasive, as if to make the statement that since you're a foreign national, you are not to expect any degree of privacy when conducting business (personal or otherwise) in our country. Welcome to America?

A couple stops later the fare enforcement officers exited, and then another stop later two more boarded. Same drill, this time there was no photo taken of my neighboring passenger's ID. Still, those of us who had been on the train since Downtown had to pull our wallets out twice to be questioned. I'm going to the airport, not Brazil or India.

This transit experience left me feeling uneasy and a bit like an outsider in my all too familiar hometown where I have spent 28.5 years of my middle age life. Honestly the last time I felt suspect just going about my everyday ordinary personal business was in 1989 at age 14 traveling into former East Germany by train before the Berlin Wall fell. Back then machine gun-wearing soldiers would board the trains, especially at boarder crossings, and verify passengers' documents. It was a rather intimidating process, and clear it was engineered that way. My Sound Transit experience was eerily similar.

The one highlight of the train ride was the silly luggage staring back at me from across the aisle. I knew immediately I had to share this image with my bestie via text:

I later regretted not taking a photo of the fare enforcement officer collecting my fellow passenger's passport image as well as not questioning their practice of this. Bestie's reply was simply: Omg

 

The flight down was mostly uneventful except for some mild turbulence and a highly annoying, obnoxiously loud young family behind me along with some seat kicking.

 

Such a beautiful flight in, sunny blue skies as we sailed over green, rolling hills. I do love California, and it was a sight for sore eyes (as well as a lot of other sore things).

 

Had a lovely dinner with bestie and her fiancé at their place. The next morning we were up bright and early to luxuriate for a very well earned spa day. We could not have asked for better weather nor a more beautiful place to relax, unwind and heal ...

I lovingly refer to this wonderful oasis as The Carnitas Inn. That's pretty close to the real name of this fabulous resort and spa in Napa. The 90 minute transition massage treatment was what I opted for, complete with a very cute and extraordinarily skilled therapist named Robert as well as some Diane Von Furstenberg designer essential oils created for those in physical or emotional transition. It was the perfect elixir, most definitely one of the single best treatments I have ever experienced in my life, and I've had many a massage I am pleased to admit. It's hard for me to recall a time I felt so well cared for. Every movement was so smooth, slow and precisely consistent. I could bore or possibly make you very envious with more details. I'll spare you. Bestie had a 90 minute Mellow Mama treatment designed for prenatal women. So perfect.

 

After our incredibly amazing treatments, we continued our ideal state of decompression outdoors next to that glamorous pool pictured above. What a special treat, and to be there with one of my most near dears. Also to have hours to relax and do as little as possible after a massage is an exceptionally rare experience for me. I'm extremely grateful for this coveted opportunity.

 

Honestly I cannot recall the last time I felt no tension or inflammation in my body. Maybe 2008? Far too fucking long is a reasonable estimate.

 

After an amazing day that sailed by and I wished would not end, we returned back to The City and reality. My husband shocked me back into it, starting with a text about how my ex brother-in-law, who we hired to install the flooring at my mom's place so they can move out of ours, was a no show. I called and spoke with our contractor, who informed me he had let my mom know he wasn't going to be able to make it. While my husband's text had me thinking he might have all out flaked, he at least communicated. I then called my husband, only to have him yell at and lambaste me over the phone in front of my bestie. She was shocked. I was just trying to de-escalate the matter. Despite being at odds with my husband about how things are occurring with the progress on my mom's place, we both have the same immediate goal rooted in our cores; get them out of our home as soon as possible. Following this conversation I'm also now aware I almost had one full day without stimulus of stress and tension for the first time in I can't recall how long.

 

That seems a horrible thing to think or write about one's mom. After four months of residing with us, my mom and her "partner" have done very little to assist us around the house. A few times Al has taken out the trash and recycling. Even so, often he dumps the excessive daily use of their bathroom paper products (typically one can full per day) into our garbage can, only to have scraps of tissue spill out onto the street weekly during collection. He has also on several occasions mindlessly put recycling into our compost bin. My mom once swept our stairs and on a few occasions cooked some ground beef for tacos (typically without seasoning the meat, even with salt). My mom does some dishes from time to time. Typically she'll do my morning dishes if I leave them in the sink in a rush to get to work. I don't want her to do those dishes. I want the freedom to let them sit for a spell until I am good and ready to do them. Then there's my mom's emptying of the dishwasher, which fills my counter space as she leaves anything she might have to bend down for out for me to put away. She is fully capable of bending down. It just occurs as being either really helpless, lazy or passive aggressive or a combination of the three. My husband and I have meal planned, shopped and cooked nice dinners for us for days and weeks. I only recently realized as I had a guest coming into town a few weeks ago my home had not been cleaned since the week before Thanksgiving. Shit. So I spent a day I didn't have to spare work-wise cleaning my house.

 

On the one hand I can certainly own my part in the state of my household cleanliness. At what point in time does family go from being guests to being roommates? We receive very little meaningful help from my mom and Al. Is that normal?

 

All our utilities have more than doubled. Even though we had one of the warmest and mildest winters on record, we still had big heating oil bills to keep our home temperate for my mom. At about 5'8" tall, my mom dropped down to 113 lbs. This was initially brought about by her cancer treatment, now mostly perpetuated by her nutritional choices. For example, if my husband and I are too wiped after working a full day and don't get home till close to 8:00 p.m. to prepare dinner, they will either not eat or they will fix cereal. Being so thin my mom constantly complains about being cold. Then again, growing up I recall she always ran cold and often remarked about it while shopping the refrigerated aisles at our local grocer. We kept our home at a constant 67 F from morning till night, which we lower to 63 F. It still doesn't satisfy her. Her complaints about our inside temperature are perpetual, despite seeing what our costs for heating our home are. What's lacking is a stitch of gratitude or even some additional personal responsibility for layering more clothing to keep herself warm. You know what's cold? A refrigerator box under a freeway overpass during a nighttime downpour. That's what I would love to jokingly say, and I'm sure it would be ill regarded.

 

I think back to the time my dearest Grandma came to live with us. She cleaned; she cooked; she washed, folded and ironed our laundry. She offered us an abundance of her love and nurturing. Grandma was always a welcome member of our household. My mom is the juxtaposition of this. It's as if she has just plain given up. Then she complains about not feeling like a mom anymore. A few times I have attempted conversing with my mom about how she is occurring for me. There is no reasoning with her. No matter how gently my delivery, she either gets defensive and tries to bend the conversation into unrelated topics or she just cries. There is no resolution. She makes little if any effort to change her behavior toward improving her situation. I've hit a wall.

 

The day following our amazing spa retreat, I had another luxurious day, which started with breakfast with bestie and her sweet fiancé. After they left for work I meditated. Then I got dressed and walked on the edge of Golden Gate Park to the Whole Foods on Stanyan and Haight to shop for lunch and dinner. Hopped an Uber back. Lunched, put dinner in the oven (pot roast with onion and carrots). Then I began writing this post in the lovely quiet of bestie's living room while sipping some delicious licorice tea.

It was a perfect day. Also I have to admit, even for life's seeming deep flaws, it's still pretty damn perfect. I feel like all the woes are preparing my husband and I for something great. One such thing I'm eagerly anticipating is the arrival of bestie's new bundle of joy; my Goddaughter!

Update on Mom 3/20/15

Hello, All,

Today marks a major milestone in my mom’s health journey. Her appointment to review recent  scans with Dr. Martins this morning revealed the tumors are shrinking and barely noticeable on screen. Of course mom is quite pleased and cried tears of joy! Dr. Martins said he was not surprised with these results based on how good she has been feeling as of late. Good news to welcome in the spring equinox. J

Keeping this brief as I am traveling. Finish work is being completed on mom’s new place this week. I know they are anxious to move in. You can begin directing mail there, address: 1110 S 249^th Pl., Des Moines, WA 98198

All my best,

What Makes Us Human

You may have already seen this video making its way around Facebook and YouTube:
I watched this video first thing the other morning while laying in bed with my husband and our little Daschund Millie. When the office worker kicked the robot, my husband let out a big gasp and in that same moment I also instantly felt uncomfortable, offended even. This lead me to further thought. This is a non-living being, a machine, so why did this bother us so?

Perhaps it was merely the act of a human's ill intention; the seeming cause of harm through violence. I actually wonder if it goes a little deeper than that.

This robot has legs that mimic a terrestrial mammal. So maybe we're projecting some sort of personification onto the machine. We do this all the time already. People commonly name their cars. We've even given names to artificial intelligence services like Apple's Siri. It's as if we're conditioned to want to relate to our creations we designed to serve us. So this begs further inquiry. Are we just uber human-centric, or is our own technological wizardry pushing the very envelope of what we understand as living consciousness itself? If something has the ability to perceive, is that a level of awareness and does that count as consciousness? Do we equate consciousness to life?

Last Night's Dream

Last night I dreamed I was in Mexico. It was one of those vague dreams. I don't recall a point to it necessarily. At some point I toured an Aztecesque pyramid, which was a modern day homage to entertainment. From the outside it looked like an ancient monument. Yet each level had different exhibits and rides sponsored by various entertainment companies. The pyramid even had hotel style rooms one could rent, though the interior finishing leaned toward rustic. In fact the room I toured was a little odd to me as it had two bath tubs, one of which was adjacent to the open kitchenette.

I recall being there with my mom, and the person who once had claimed to be my dad, now long estranged, inquired why she got to be there with me.

During another part of my dream, I was pedestrian in a busy open market area, weaving around auto and other foot traffic. The streets were brick paved. The architecture appeared to be was somewhat Caribbean colonial with soft pastel colors. For some reason I don't recall, I felt like I was in a hurry to get through the market, which was a labyrinth of shop spaces, many of which required having to pass through one to get to another (like a crazy Ikea). I paused in one shop to admire the wares. It looked like a crystal shop. The object I picked up appeared to be a cross between a snow globe and a crystal statue. When the "snow" was settled, a creature appeared. When the object was moved in any way, the snow would disburse in a swirl and the creature would change stance or disappear altogether. It was quite strange and felt like it had a mystical quality about it.

Upon examining the object, I was greeted by an older, white-haired man who was the shopkeeper. He was kind of Gandalfesque, kind and joyful. That's about all I remember ...

Interpretations

Foreign Land: To dream you are in a foreign land represents change in your life. Consider how you feel about the surrounding. If you are excited or happy in this unknown place, it suggests you are ready for change.

Pyramid: To dream of pyramids denotes many changes will come to you, possibly in a short amount of time. It is a symbol of longevity, stability and a firm foundation. Considered to be a focus for power, if a pyramid appears in a dream, it shows we are concentrating on the inherent power within us. If you scale them, you will journey along before you find the gratification of desires. Spiritually, the pyramid is a symbol of integration of the Self and the Soul. In dreams it can represent death and also indicates rebirth. It is a guardian of power. The pyramid always signifies a wider awareness of power and energy. There is a point inside the pyramid where all the planes intersect. This will regenerate any matter that is placed there. For instance razor blades will become sharp again. In a larger pyramid, that particular spot can be used for enhancing mystical experiences. To enter a pyramid is to be searching for the meaning of life. A pyramid is a very powerful image. On a physical level it is a building of wonder. On a mental level it is a structure of regeneration. It will depend on our level of awareness as to which interpretation is valid.

Market: To dream you are in a market denotes thrift and much activity in all occupations. This also may represent some emotional or physical need you are currently lacking in your life. You could be in need of nurturance and some fulfillment. Consider the specific items you are shopping for. A marketplace can be viewed as a place of spiritual exchange in dreams. We can establish a balance between our everyday reality and our spiritual or inner world. A market is a bustling, happy place. To dream of one may indicate that we may need to look after ourselves more and to spend time with more people. Dreaming we are in a market indicates our ability to cope with everyday life, of being able to relate to people and particularly to relate to crowds. It is also the place of buying and selling, therefore often gives us some sort of indication as to how we value our various attributes, whether we have something to sell or are buying.

Street: To see a street in your dream symbolizes your life's path. The condition of the street reflects how much control you have over the direction of your life. If the street is well-paved and easy to progress on, you are in control of your own destiny. If you dreamed about alleys or side streets, it suggests you need to be less rebellious or adventurous for now and return to more traditional ways.

Crystal: To see crystal in your dream signifies wholeness, purity, healing, development and unity. It represents your higher Self. The dream may be a metaphor for something in your life that is crystallizing or taking shape. To dream you are looking into a crystal represents how you are looking within yourself to find your true destiny. Alternatively, it indicates your outlook of the future.

Groundhog Day

I had my first biofeedback session this week on Groundhog Day. They connected me to various sensors which plugged into an application to monitor my body's stress responses. I felt as humorously awkward as I appeared in the associated image posted here.

Groundhog Day 2014 @ Bastyr Center for Natural Health's Team Care.

So where are we at this week in life. Oh, yes, we still have yet to close on the purchase of my mom's home, which was originally slated to close the first week of January. She and her "partner" Al are still living with my husband and I. They are likely still feeling homeless. We're still feeling like our 2,800 square foot home is now tiny.

We are on a merry-go-round with our lender. They ask for documents. We give them documents. They ask for same documents a different way. We give them same documents a different way. They tell us we will have an answer by the end of a certain day. The day comes and goes. They tell us we'll surely have an answer by the end of that next day. The day comes and goes. They tell us we need to do something else. We do it right away. Then they tell us we have to wait a little longer. I imagine it feels much like we are blindfolded and being asked to aim an arrow at and hit a bullseye on a moving target.

Last night I had a dream about being in a zombie apocalypse in California. Hmmm ...

Today my mom's best friend Sally, who was like another mom to me growing up, went in for double lung transplant surgery. She has a rare lung hardening disease, and was given five years to live. That was seven years ago. If the transplant takes, she may have many good years ahead. If that does not occur, well it would be her time to transition. Sally has been in since sometime around midday. We just received an update the left lung is in and she is doing well. They're now prepping her for her right lung and it will be another two to three hours in the OR. Wow.

One thing is certain, as the days tick by we continue to have a lingering sense of uncertainty. Such is life I suppose, the only certainty being that of change.

As a whole I feel I'm coping better with anxiety, which is understandably present given current circumstances. With regard to my mom's home deal, so many variables that are somewhat out of our hands. The most obvious being underwriting. Also, my husband decided he wanted to change jobs because he hates what he's doing. Job changes can be a challenging proposition in the midst of getting final loan approval. Despite my pleading with him to withhold notice until we closed, he blabbed to his boss. Then he asked if he could stay on until we closed. We thought this would be just a few more days. So far it has been a couple weeks, and seemingly continuing to move at a snail pace.

Then there's the repair situation. The appraiser called a couple things that we had initially been informed we could do an escrow holdback for. Then late last week they changed their minds on one of them. The property is bank owned, and sold as is where is. As buyers we're prohibited from making repairs to the property prior to closing unless through an escrow hold back. So somehow this needed to get done and somehow mysteriously that occurred this week.

Even if and when we do close, mom and Al still have a couple weeks of work to do to get the property in move-in condition. Then there's the moving in piece, for which I will refer movers for them to hire. Then there's whether they'll be able to sustain themselves financially. With Al's IRS garnishment they barely scrape by. Yet another thing that has been moving at a snail pace. My mom got him to finally go into the IRS office several months ago. Since then they have only in the past week or so starting going through his 2004-2007 files. They have not set a date to meet with counsel, even for an initial free consult. I have to be honest here, and I know she's my mom, and I know she's battling stage four lung cancer ... If they continue to make poor choices, they are choosing to be poor and that's their choice. Unless they go through the actual process of exhausting all their resources, which they are still very far from doing, I have nothing to offer them except a roof over their heads and food on the table in the meantime. Once they are under their own roof, they have to figure out a way to make it work or experience the consequences of their inaction.

I'm just now getting back up on top of things work wise. Being a business owner means I don't just collect a check for sitting at a desk and breathing. I have to create the systems to support my actions. Then I have to take the action to bring in the business. Then I have to serve the business such that the business writes me a check. Then I have to keep up on all the aforementioned simultaneously while engaged in the aforementioned. It's quite a cycle. I'm learning how to manage it better for myself, and that is a painful process.

And this brings us back to the theme of this post, Groundhog Day. Remember that flick with Bill Murray back in the 90s was it? The premise of that movie is quite analogous to what life is feeling like during this phase. It's like starting over again every day and working hard to make each day as good as it can be. Some days are just a mess. Other days feel good. Then there are those days that feel messy with good things happening throughout. Overall I am feeling pretty run down today. I feel like I've lost a sense of sanctuary in my own home. I had a hard time today figuring out how to unwind, at home, in my own space. Hence logging in and writing this post.

Keeping things in perspective is challenging. Yet I am truly grateful my mom is doing as well as she is. And she is doing very well. I am grateful my husband is being so attentive and kind to my mom and Al. I am glad my mom has Al as a close companion. I'm pleased with the progress I'm making at work. I'm just feeling I would appreciate a break from my household, some me time to just lounge around and do whatever I wanted or absolutely nothing at all.

Each day I've been waking up and reading a list of 33 or so affirmations. The one that really stands out in my mind is, "thought these times are difficult, they are only a short phase of life." I am looking forward to that really long phase of enjoyable times. I know I am cause in the matter of this. Time to pull myself up by the bootstraps for a coloring frenzy or perhaps a peaceful meditation or siesta.

Uncertainty

I see from my "This Day in History" widget in 1845 Edgar Allan Poe published "The Raven." I've only read a little of his work, which I find intriguing and a bit of a pandora's box. Incidentally, the home I lived in from ages two through seven outside of Richmond had bricks that were salvaged from the studio next to Poe's.

One of my very favorite of his quotes is: "The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends and the other begins."

Life is delicate, fleeting and entirely fragile. Therein one finds the beauty and meaning in it. I'm having challenge making sense of things right now. I think it's bedtime. Tomorrow is a new day full of amazing possibilities.

Update on Mom Jan. 29th

Hello, All,

Hope this message finds you well.

It has been just more a one week since my mom began a trial-based chemotherapy treatment program. Her first infusion a week ago Wednesday and her second occurred today. I’m pleased to report she seems to be doing rather well, certainly much better than she had anticipated, or rather dreaded. Aside from feeling a bit low on energy toward the early part of this week, she’s holding up strong.

They anticipate mom will lose her hair following today’s treatment. As such, she was fitted for wigs today at SCCA. They sent her home with two. They become her, one more so than the other in my humble opinion, and give her a more youthful appearance. I’ve attached a photo I just took of her tonight with her new hair. Of course she was concerned about getting her new ‘do cut and styled prior to a photo opp and wanted to make sure she had some lipstick on. It’s truly wonderful to have her concerned about such things. That’s the mom I know and love.

The upside to all of this is she no longer has to fuss with her hair in the morning, which was a considerable time commitment for her. She’ll just love that I shared that and yes I’m being sarcastic. J Also, she no longer has to wake up at 7:00 a.m. each morning to take the daily pill treatment she was previously on. Mom has been able to sleep in each morning, which I think is better for her overall wellbeing.

Mom and Al are still staying with Terry and I for the time being. We’ve been helping them buy a bank-owned townhome in a 55+ community just down the road from us. The process has been unexpectedly complicated. We were supposed to have closed earlier this month. They are both so excited about this prospect. So please send your positive thoughts and prayers this home works out for them. It would be such a great place for them to be settled over here close to us with an active community of their peers, walking trails and great access to Town for medical, etc.

I’ll continue to keep you all posted periodically. Thank you all for your wonderful thoughts and support.

All my best,

Happy New Year

2015 is certainly off to a start. My husband and I agreed to leave the following behind us in 2014: anxiety; illness, impatience and procrastination. I think we may have overdone it on the procrastination as we jumped right into a substantial home remodel project the day my mom and Al arrived back from tying up their loose ends in Coeur d'Alene. With the house, namely our sleeping quarters, in chaos and a terminally ill elder under our roof, we are certainly anxious for our lives to feel more settled.

Part of our lives being settled hinges on my mom and Al's lives being settled in their own place. They sold their home in Idaho, which closed at the tail end of last week. I found them an ideal place over here, which I'm co-signing on and representing us in the purchase. We were slated to close tomorrow. This new home deal means everything to my mom She is so excited about it, and I honestly think it is giving her longevity.

Late Friday I received an email from my lender, notifying me underwriting needed some additional clarification on my income. Incidentally I'm co-signing on my mom's loan in addition to representing us in the purchase. I am a small business owner, thus I would expect additional scrutiny. At the same time, this scrutiny I would have anticipated weeks ago. They've had all of my supporting documentation since prior to Thanksgiving.

While this loan process is unfolding completely haphazardly, other things have gone well. We were expecting for my mom to have to cough up $5k-$6k for a moving company. As it turns out, Al's family local to Coeur d'Alene all pitched in to pack them up, rent a U-Haul and move them over, saving them thousands. The plan was to close on the sale and then the purchase a few days later and move them directly into their new garage while we make interior improvements. Best laid plans ... So now we have a truck full of their household goods and have to scramble finding a place for it all to go. Then we'll have to move them a second time vs. just from garage to house. After spending a weekend wondering whether this new home deal was actually going to go through, as of late yesterday I have confidence of its success. That this is happening and our appraised value is more than $15k higher than our contract purchase value, I'd say we're overall in pretty good shape.

Meanwhile, back at home, we have an oncology appointment for my mom this morning. She has been waiting for a couple weeks to find out whether she's a candidate for a trial program. This resulted from her current treatment being effective, just not as effective as her oncologist would like to see. I cannot imagine the level and degree of anxiety my mom is grappling with. I am optimistic she will be accepted into the program and this new treatment course will be somewhat of a miracle. Yes, I know this is wishful thinking.

Yesterday my mom and I had a chance to connect. I was able to calmly relay to her the hiccups in our deal, be open about the fine line I had to walk between her excitement and my fear that it may not happen. We were able to talk about our feelings of disconnect, that she doesn't feel like she's gotten to be my mom and that I haven't been feeling like I've gotten to be her son.

Though this time is difficult, it is only a short phase of life.

Update on Mom Jan. 20th

Hello, All,

Hope this message finds you well. Just a brief update today. Mom had a consult this morning with her oncologist Dr. Martins about next step in treatment options. Happy to report she is even less anemic than she was last week. So her hemoglobin levels are continuing to improve since her two blood transfusions over the holidays. Most importantly my mom continues to report feeling well and much stronger.

At today’s meeting Dr. Martins discussed the two treatment options he proposes. Both are chemotherapy. There is a standard care chemo, which has two agents and tends to elevate blood toxicity. There is also a trial chemo, which has only one agent and lower blood toxicity. Standard care would be one round every three weeks. The trial is one round weekly with one week off. Standard care has less likelihood of hair loss. The trial has less likelihood of nausea and vomiting.

My mom has conceded to the hair loss as she has already lost quite a bit. Most important to her is feeling as well as possible/having a high/normal quality of life. As such, she has selected the trial chemo known by its drug name as Abraxane. She begins this treatment tomorrow morning.

Overall my mom is encouraged by Dr. Martin’s confidence and the hope he inspires during consults. I have to say, he is truly wonderful. My mom feels she is absolutely in the best possible care she could be in. Of course she is apprehensive about how she will respond to the chemo on two fronts: tumor shrinkage and overall wellness. I told her today when I encounter situations I’m unfamiliar with, if I think it’s going to go poorly it usually does. She got the memo and acknowledges she will pour some positivity into her mindset.

I’ll update again when there is news to report on her new phase of treatment progress. Thank you for your positive support!

All my best,

Update on Mom Jan. 16th

Hello, All, Happy New Year!

Hope this message finds you well.

Happy to report my mom is feeling very well. She looks good and is eating very well. We had an oncology follow up this last week. Her levels are all looking good. She responded well to her pre-holiday blood infusions.

We have been anticipating that mom would be a candidate for a very promising cancer treatment trial. They informed us at the end of the week she does not have the right genetic mutation for this particular trial.

Dr. Martins has stated while the current treatment is effective, it’s just not as effective as he would like to see. To better manage the tumors in the immediate, Dr. Martins recommends one of two chemotherapy treatment courses. After which mom would resume the daily pill she has been taking since late summer.

Of course mom is very apprehensive about chemo. She’s mostly concerned about potentially being sick, especially now that she has been feeling so well. She’s also concerned about hair loss. This bump in the road has her frustrated and a bit down. At the same time, mom feels so grateful for the care she is receiving at SCCA. She loves her oncologist who we’re confident is doing everything possible to support my mom’s cancer battle.

After Christmas, mom and Al returned to Coeur d’Alene to tie up loose ends and close the house sale. They were preparing to have movers pack and haul everything over to Seattle after the first week of January. In what I can only convey as a completely generous act of compassion, Al’s daughter Michele and her family spent countless hours packing and moved their belongings over here. Simply amazing.

We were anticipating having closed the purchase of mom and Al’s new place this week. The closing process is taking a bit longer than anticipated. It’s looking like things will be finalized in the next week or so. Then we have some sprucing up to do before they can move in. They’re really excited about their new home and community.

Thank you as always for all your positive thoughts, prayers and words of encouragement to my mom. She’s really anxious about this next treatment phase. I am optimistic it will be much better than she envisions. Only time will tell. More to come in the week ahead after she chooses which form of chemotherapy to undergo. At that time we’ll have a better idea of what we can expect.

All my best,

Out With the Old ...

I wrote a draft euology for my mom today. I'm not expecting she's going to go any moment. I just recall a couple years ago I waited until my grandma was going until I wrote hers. I was dealing with so much at the time, namely grief, and my words were heavy hearted. I had inspiration today, so ... I have a solid working foundation anyway.

Spent the day being domestic. Made pancakes for breakfast. Had a delicious pulled chicken taco lunch. Then made a beef stew in the slow cooker. It's nice to relax at home, I really enjoy it!

My husband and I have been under the weather. Today he's much worse off than I, and he kept plans with his family only to return home totally wiped.

This New Years Eve-ning has just been really super duper low key. No plans. He's watching The Wolf of Wall Street on his iPad. Then a text comes in from one of our friends about whether we wanted to see a movie tomorrow.

This particular friend I've known since 1999. We've been close at times. Though forgiven, I will always remember a time when I was at my lowest. He told me it was really hard for him to see me that way, and so he kept his distance until after I worked through it. Working through it took months.

The past few years this friend has occurred to me as someone who thrives on self-inflicted crises. For a time it seemed all we discussed were his issues. Once in recent months he stopped by and engaged me about what I've been dealing with.

It's been weeks since we've connected. It's been weeks since I've really connected with a lot of people being heads down with life as it is.

So I get this friends text invite to a movie tomorrow, one I've not heard of. It was a question whether I wanted to go. In that moment I just replied with a simple "No."

It was a group text my husband was on, and even he challenged me. I didn't want to so I was honest about not wanting to. Then I get an individual text from my friend:

"Your response to my invite hurt my feelings. Is there something wrong that I don't know about?"

I replied:

"Just wasn't something I wanted to do, so I wrote no. That is all."

He replied:

"I guess I'm sensitive and get my feelings hurt for no reason. There hasn't been a hello or anything for God knows how long. Maybe I'm too selfish for anticipating some type of acknowledgment of our friendship."

I replied:

"Did you not get my text on Xmas? Or my acknowledgment about hanging out after the holidays?"

He replied:

"Apparently not. We don't speak the same language anymore."

I replied:

"Between having my mom & Al with us since Thanksgiving, getting them relocated, that my mom is dying and I'm struggling with my own health issues ... my plate is a little full. Though this is a very difficult phase of life, I know it will just be a short part of it. I'm doing the very best I can. Thank you for your understanding."

He replied:

"We all have issues and struggles. Nobody's life is easy. I couldn't relate if I knew someone who had it easy. Having a pissing match about who has it harder doesn't get us anywhere."

I replied.

"Was not my intention. Thanks for being a friend?"

He replied:

"I'm digging my feet in the ground. The fact is I can count the number of times I've spoken to you in the last three years on one hand ..."

Had to push the pause button here. That last statement was an illustration of a point and absolutely in no way fact-based. He continued ...

"How is that being a friend? I'm afraid to reach out to you because I feel like an imposition because I feel you actually have greater issues to deal with than a simple 'hi, friend, how are you.' That might be too much of an expectations for me so that's my problem, my expectations might be too high. I acknowledge you have a lot on your plate and we all have tremendous issues to deal with."

I replied:

"I encourage you to take as long as it takes to think more clearly on the truth. Not just your truth, the absolute and ultimate truth. From there we may find ourselves able to engage one another in a meaningful dialogue."

He replied:

"And what's the absolute and ultimate truth?"

I replied: "That's for you to discover. Everyone lives in their own reality. And then there's just what's so."

He replied:

"Well there it is. I have found no truth so I'm not worthy of your friendship. Good night."

I replied:

"OK, just to be clear you made that up. If that's what you want then so be it. All the best to you in 2015 and well beyond. I sincerely mean that. I'll always want the best for you."

Here's a little something to know about this friend. In the last couple years he has gone through cycles with several of his and/or our other friends. He gets upset, acts out and/or does something to put the smack down on the friendship. Then a while later he thinks things through, feels regretful and reconciles. My encouragement to have this friend get clear on truth was more or less just an invitation to think things through. I know this friend well enough to understand he typically sees things, as most of us do, exclusively from his perspective. I've also seen this friend be the person who injures others and then takes no responsibility. My sense is this friend does at time expect more of others than others can expect of them.

Also, I clued him into what I'm dealing with right now, appealing for a little empathy. Goose egg. This time in my life right now feels to me like my personal Everest. Anyone who would trivialize what I'm dealing with, especially the weight of my mother dying, I will be much lighter and in better company continuing my journey without such "companionship." I understand the point of "everyone is fighting a battle no one knows anything about." I'm actively in the trenches, and really all I asked for is understanding. My sense is this friends need to have things the way they want them trumps what I'm able to and/or willing to give of myself right now. It won't always be this way. Even so, so be it.

ER Revelation & Dose of Reality ...

Awoke around 6:00 a.m. as I wasn't able to draw breath. After coming to, it quickly resolved, yet my throat felt horrible with a terrible scratchiness. My windpipe felt really tight, constricted. As well I was short of breath with a bit of an unproductive cough.

I drank some water and it was difficult to swallow. My husband continued to sleep soundly next to me. The first thought I draw toward: "What now? Is this going to worsen?!"

It seemed to be uncomfortable laying on my back, so I sat up, which seemed to help. I continued to notice the uncomfortable sensations. I closed my eyes and gently breathed into them, with not much breath to draw.

"OK, maybe I'll get up and gargle with some salt water," I thought to myself. As I rose to my feet, I felt even more winded.

"Perhaps I had just better settle down for a minute," I thought again to myself. The next thought was that I hadn't been doing anything to provoke such a response from my body. I had been asleep, and for at least five or six hours.

I got back into bed, sitting upright. I noticed the sensations again. Upon noticing it felt like my throat and airway passage was further constricting. My throat got scratchier and I felt a lump in it that felt like a mass or that perhaps something was forming in my throat and not allowing full passage. My pulse quickened.

I went and got my phone off the charger. After unlocking it, I searched my browser to see when the nearest urgent care clinic would be open. There's one just a couple minutes up the road. Oh good, 8:00 a.m. What time is it now? It's 6:26 a.m. "Hmmm ... do I have that long?" Again to myself I thought. "Is this going to resolve itself or do I need to take further action? Is this serious? Dire? Lifethreatening?! Do I have enough time?" My thoughts continued their distress ...

"OK, calm yourself. It will be OK," I assured myself, physically being mindful of releasing tension anywhere in my body I felt it, especially my lungs, chest and throat, which were tight.

About twenty or so minutes pass. My husband awakens. "Are you OK?" he asks.

"Yeah, I think so ..." I replied unassuringly, and then explained to him in detail what I had been experiencing.

He throws off the covers, switches on the bright ceiling light and says in an utterly declarative manner, "Alright, I'm taking you to the ER at UW, and we're going to get to the bottom of all of this and get this resolved once and for all!"

"OK, I will take your lead on this," I said in absolute compliance. We threw on some clothes and away we went.

The thought of being in the car on the bustling freeway, even though it was before first light, gave me an uneasy feeling. It was chilly out, and I was already having some shivers when I was still wrapped snugly in bed. The head and tail lights of my black SUV flash on and off, an indication he'll be driving me in my car as he's the one who has the key. I climb in the passenger side and pull the hood of my thick woven sweater jacket up over my head. I close my eyes and breath gently with what breath I am able to carry in and out of my lungs. Feeling the strong pull of the car toward the driver side for an extended time, I could tell we were on the cloverleaf about to get onto state route 509 into town.

First what struck me was the rush and roar of traffic. The speed and urgency of the forward motion at 60 plus miles per hour. I opened my eyes. Lights flashing by. My heart sped up, my breath shortened. Most perilous of all, we live quite some distance from UW, and what if it's something serious and we don't make it in time?! What if I stop breathing? What would happen? How would my husband handle things?

I looked at the car ahead of us, focused on seeing the plate and almost noticing the make and model. It was a smaller, newer hatchback, like a Kia. I looked up at the sea of city lights as they sparkled in the distance in front of a dark and gloomy backdrop of barely distinguishable clouds. I suddenly remembered that saying "it's always darkest before dawn," and here we were in that very moment. What will my dawn look like? Am I going to survive this?

Suddenly towers of sleek glass and metal are passing over us, one by two by three. There are lights blazing in all directions. A bright red ambulance screams by in the oncoming lanes of Interstate 5. I think to myself, "Should we have called an ambulance? We're getting closer, will we make it in time?"

As we exited onto Montlake Boulevard, the streets were eerily desolate and quiet; complete juxtaposition to my racing mind and body. We get to the final protected left turn signal guarding the ER driveway entrance. It's red, steady red.

"It's OK, go!" I demanded. My husband obliged. As far as I was concerned, we couldn't get there fast enough. He let me off at the main entrance. I briskly stagger in and see a reception window right away. The chair in front of it is facing outward to greet me. There's no one there. No one behind the booth, nor in the hallway beside it, nor in the- Wait, there's a person in the waiting area changing the channel on a TV no one is watching, because there's no one other than her in the waiting area. I catch her eye as she turns away from her channel change.

"Are you here to check-"
"Yes!" I interjected over her.

She comes around into the booth and assumes a professional administrative position at the helm of the desktop terminal.

"Do you have some ID?" she asks.

"Do we have to go through all of this, really?" I thought to myself. Before I knew it a triage nurse greeted me, and took me back to check my vitals.

"Is anyone with you?" he asks.

"Yes, my husband." I replied. Almost no sooner had I said so, hubby appeared.

After asking me a host of questions about my symptoms and taking my vitals, I am taken back to a room and given a gown to change into. Pretty customary procedure here. The room is just able to accommodate a patient bed, a side chair, a medical stool, some bits of equipment and a counter with a sink. I change into the gown, take off my shoes and climb up onto the bed. Immediately I notice how much more comfortable this bed is than the one I was on at the Highline ER. Then I notice my breath shortness is still present, as is the throat soreness, as is the tightness in the front of my neck.

A short while later the resident doctor comes in to introduce herself and quiz me about my symptoms. Hadn't we gone through all of this already? We gave her a complete rundown of everything that's transpired from beginning to end. Terry did most of the talking as I was still quite winded. The doctor's with us a while longer and then leaves. The nurse comes in, inserts an IV, draws some blood and checks vitals.

"Um, if they're going to do a urinalysis, I have to go and could bring back a sample." I offer.

"Sure, there are cups in the restroom, do you know where it is and are you OK to walk there?"

"Yes, yes I think I am." So away I went and returned with a cup full of light amber. My husband was sitting back in the side chair and had found the TV remote.

"It's hermetically sealed so they can swap it down," he said, a reminder to me about how many creepy crawlies lurk in hospitals, like mersa. He began flipping through channels. He stopped on a channel with a man in church robes in a cathedral was talking about part of ancient Roman history. I thought that seemed heavy. Then another with a woman who was being violently chased down by a man. Um, no. The next he discovered was Fox news and he changed it before it could even register on Nielsen. He landed on Little Fockers, and that seemed alright. A little silly. Laughter after all is the best medicine.

"I heard you talking with my mom last night about my brother, what did you say to her?" I asked my husband.

"I brought up to her his misplaced priorities," he said. "He's only here for a short period of time. He went out last night, too. He slept all day yesterday when he could have spent time with your mom. He pulls a tag of a new $46 shirt, and says he has no money. Then how can he go out, two nights in a row, and party?! And be OK with us paying his airfare to come up here, which he also spent another $100 upgrading to first class. I just don't get it."

"I know, he has no grasp on reality," I said. "Was my mom upset?"

"Yes and no. I mean, sure, she is of course, she said that's just the way he is," he said.

"Yep. He gets a pass. Al gets a pass. I get her fist up my ass," I said.

"Your dad discarded her, and you've always been the stable one for her," he said.

"Yeah, real stable here, total rock," I quipped. Just then there was a knock at the door and in emerged a beautiful, young blonde woman with perfect makeup, a cute outfit and a clipboard. With a big, bright smile she said, "Hi, I'm the social worker."

Social worker? My mom has a social worker at the cancer clinic. Oh boy, this can't be good ...

She continued, "I brought you some resources for counseling services, including some really great, affordable graduate program resources at Bastyr. They have a great cognitive mindfulness program for dealing with anxiety."

She handed me a few white pages that were stapled in the top left corner. A few bolded headings had been highlighted in pink. Yeah, I thought the pink gave the pages a little something extra, too.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked us.

My husband and I looked at one another, me more toward him as if there was something more that I didn't pick up on. He said no, I just turned back and shrugged. She smiled and said OK, good and I hope you feel better, then spun around and breezed out of the room.

"Wait, did she say anxiety?" I thought to myself. I looked up at the clock and turned to my husband.

"What a fresh, perky spring breeze of pleasantness just blew through here at twenty after nine on a Sunday morning!" I quipped. "Did you see how well applied her face was? She was so sweet."

"Anxiety. That can't be right." I thought to myself. "I've yogaed, gone through a MBSR course, continue a mindfulness practice at home, taken Zen meditation classes, study Buddhism. I've seen an energist, psychic, spiritual guru. I've gone on a Shamanistic soul retrieval for goodness sake. How can this be right?!"

Call it intuitive, or just knowing me perhaps better than I knew myself at this juncture in my life, my husband smiled anticipatingly and allowed pause for me to process. I looked over the list of resources. One by one counseling, counseling and more counseling. The clue phone was ringing off the hook for me. You know what, I answered the call.

"Bubba," I said. (that's one of many of my pet names for him) "I know there's a lot going on right now. I guess I just didn't realize until now how big it is for me ... I'm aging, sure. That is a given. My mom is dying of cancer. Some guys run out and buy expensive Porches. I get sick for two years. Welcome to my midlife crisis."

And there it was, as plain and simple as the Midwest. My eyes welled with tears. I knew what a gift my husband had just given me for the holidays. It was terribly wrapped, and there is a strict no return policy. Yet is the most priceless and admirable thing another human being has done for me.

For so many weeks and months my husband has mentioned that ugly, dreaded word; anxiety. This always left me feeling like he thought I was going crazy, making this whole chronic illness thing up, that it was all just in my head. I'm medically hypothyroid and have chronic inflammation, one cannot just imagine that, can they?

If I step back and take a good, long look at the bigger picture, perhaps even being hypothyroid is just a component of being on a life path that clearly was not sustainable. My reality is altered, paradigm is shifting. Eureka! This really does explain a lot.

Bubba reached over, grabbed a hold of my hand a rubbed it. As comforting as that was, I've just been hammered with a huge dose of reality and a prescription for re-wiring my mind. I allowed the tears to stream down my face.

A while later the doctor returned, foremost asking if we had been paid a visit by the social worker. "You mean the fabulous fairy," I thought to myself. "Yes, she came by." I said.

And now for the shocking results of my ER urine, blood and x-ray labs (drum roll, please): Sore throat with some protein deficiency and a prescription for GERD (which I had already received from my GI doc). It was one of those moments where all I was really compelled to do was lay there and blink.

A little while later we were discharged and heading through the long hospital corridors to the car. I noticed all the peculiar modern artwork on the walls, some of it really disturbed me whereas previously I may have just somewhat noticed an object's presence. Now I think I'm really seeing things as they actually are. I'm capable of so much, and there are plenty of times I will want help. I get it.

As we were on the freeway home, I turned on the radio. I wanted to hear music as I happily watched the scenery go by. I turned on Sirius 70's on 7, and "Only Want to Be With You" was on. I took hold of my husband's hand as I gazed at him and smiled. In my head, however, are still those thoughts about what it's going to take as well as whether I'll get better. Of course, every thousand mile journey begins with a single step. For me, today, I feel like I took a giant leap. One cannot solve a problem if one doesn't acknowledge what the problem is.

Next thing I knew I was feeling lighter, my chest felt more open. The song "Alive Again" started playing. I sang along a little bit as I watched gleaming skyscrapers diminish into to towering port cranes diminish into low-rise warehouses, which bled into industrial wasteland and then timber enshrouded highway up our plateau toward home. The mood changed and so did songs. Finally "If You Don't Know Me By Now" aired, and all I could think about was how perfectly life unfolds. It's a matter of purely trusting and having faith you're going in the right direction. As a wise, beloved friend once told me, when you are on the right path, the doors of opportunity will open to assist your arrival. Isn't that the truth!

As we were nearing home, a couple things dawned on me. The first is I had best shoot a little text to my mom and let her know I'm OK and we'll be home soon. The next is to carefully consider what to share with she and Al when we get home.

"Bubba, I think it's best if we just tell them I'm being treated for GERD and have a protein deficiency," I said. "No good will come of telling them I've been unofficially diagnosed with stress induced anxiety. My mom would make it about her, she'd feel terrible and spiral."

He agreed and added perhaps we could politely ask to fill in the details at a later time.

"Bubba, with my Grandma we could just, you know, be with one another, gazing at one another lovingly, enjoying ourselves immensely without even having to converse, and it was like time could stand still." I recalled. "I keep thinking I might be able to find some of that magic in my mom, and I know that's an unrealistic expectation."

Again, he agreed, reiterating that's just not who she is anymore and I'm going to have to learn how to have a good relationship with her regardless. Of course I already know this, and it's one of the things that overwhelms me the most. I've been through the medical gauntlet with her these past six months as well as all of her emotions around victories and losses. I've been a coach, a guide, a parent, a problem solver. Heck, I've even been her Realtor, literally. All I want to do is continue being her son, and yet I know she deserves much more of me than that. I want to be a wonderful son and caregiver to her. So this starts with being a wonderful caregiver to myself.

As we rolled up to our home, I could see from the street my mom cross from the kitchen into the living room as if in anticipation of our arrival. Our place has huge windows, it's kind of a fishbowl. Anyway, she was in her white robe. The way she sat and was seated, she felt like my old mom again. It was sweet. My heart felt light.

My husband opened the door for me to walk in first. For a time I have been reluctant to be the first in the door and have to set the tone with people. So I paused for a brief moment, then proceeded confidently.

"You're home!" mom said. "You look so much better."

I immediately went to her and gave her a hug. "Thank you, I feel so much better."

"What did they say?"

At first I almost tabled the discussion entirely. Then I suddenly just felt more able, more free, to just say what was so. "They treated me for GERD, which I now have a prescription for, and told me that I'm protein deficient."

Both mom and Al seemed pleased it was nothing serious. In my mind, the seriousness is what lies ahead. It's a road I have yet to travel. I don't even know what to pack. Or maybe it's all the unpacking I'm going to be doing. Either way, I do get that this is big, at least for me. It's also good. It's a time for healing and preparing for whatever life has to dole out to me and especially to my mom.

A while later I scrolled through Facebook. I noticed I had some notifications. One of them was from my mom's cousin Karol who posted a comment on the Christmas photo I posted of my mom and I by our tree.

"Thank u brad for taking care of my sweet cousin patty!!! XOXO"

I liked her comment and posted a reply. "You know what, Karol, she's actually taking care of me." (with a winky face blowing heart kiss emoticon at the end)

As has been the case since I was 10 weeks old, my dear old mom is taking care of me yet again. This time as my profound teacher.