Day 336 -15

I was just 26 when my dad died, from cancer, 15 years ago today.

He was 53.

We were both too young.

What really bothers me is that I lost my father when I was just old enough to really get to know him.

And I never got to see him as a grandfather.

My mom reminded me today that as she was taking him to the hospital, literally hours before he died, he turned to her and said when he was better he was going to be out on his bike again, riding the hills they were driving.

In his eulogy I spoke about how he would not be mourned by other nations, his life would not be written about in history books, but the legacy he left behind could be seen in his three strong, independent daughters.

We have missed him these last 15 years. There is a piece to our family puzzle that can never be replaced.

But we learned then, as we did again with me, that we are strong women, my mom, my sisters and me.

And no matter how tough a day may get, we will always fight to ride any hill put in our path.

Day 335 - Well

We didn't win the half a billion dollar jackpot tonight.

As far as I am concerned the only reason to win is to be able to fly via private jet for the remainder of my life.

Otherwise, as this year has taught me, I have everything I need.

We are having an amazing family vacation.

My favorite part of today was when we were all in the pool together. My little tribe of five.

I was trying to remember what we did last year for Spring Break, and then I realized, we spent a few days up at our mountain house skiing.

The next week we would be thrown into the insanity of cancer.

As a fellow cancer survivor put it to me last week, "cancer is a heartless thief"

It robbed me of a year of my life.

But it also gave me such clarity, and helped me realize that the best part of any day could be found in a simple moment, in a swimming pool, that goes unnoticed by the rest of the world.

Day 333 - vacation

Oh the pure luxury of vacation. The hours of pure nothingness. My life becomes so simple on vacation.

Most people use vacations as a way to escape from reality. I used to be the same way.

But this vacation, our first since I finished my active treatment, is all about reality.

Tonight, as we sat outside together having dinner, I asked the kids what their favorite part of the day was.

Each one had an answer that was wrapped in the simple act of their parents spending time with them.

For Graham it was playing baseball with Doug.

For Harper it was swimming in the pool all day.

For Harris it was when I sat and helped him with his sticker book.

For me it was every single minute of it.

Day 331- Balance

I am a firm believer that you can have it all. For some that means a house full of kids, with or without a partner, with or without a career.

For other people having it all does not include children, but maybe a pet or two.

I am on the have kids and a career team. Some days I love this better than others. When I walk out of the office at 5 I feel guilty leaving my workmates behind. When I try and work late, I feel guilty leaving my family behind.

There really is no way around it, some days work wins, some days family does.

On those occasions when I have to choose between the two I use the 30, 1, 5 rule.

In 30 days who is going to be more impacted by my decision?  What happens when I look back in a year, then 5.

So if the choice is going to Harper's school play, or being at the table of a critical meeting, Harper is going to win out.  Sure in 30 days my boss may still look back and think I am soft, but Harper would carry the sting much longer.  Within a year my boss will likely forget the meeting altogether, but Harper would never forget.

It helps keep things in perspective.

Part of Balance is also making sure to take vacations.  As a family we have not been away for a week long vacation in over year.

Tomorrow we leave for some fun in sunny Palm Springs, and I can't wait.

It won't balance out the last year, but it is a good start.

Day 327 - Too Soon

My friend "S" died this morning from a recurrence of breast cancer.

The miracle that everyone was hoping for, the miracle that she and her family so deserved, never quite made it.

"S" was that girl.  The one with the big dimpled smile, the one with a great husband and two young kids.  The one who was PTA President.

She was also that girl.  The one who got cancer at 37, the one who didn't get to defy the odds, the one who didn't get to see her kids grow up.  The one who doesn't get to grow old with her husband.

Lucky for us she will always be THAT girl.  The one who taught us to live in the moment.  The one who showed us what courage is.  The one who loved all of us - and more importantly was not afraid to tell us.

Day 326 - 20 more

Twenty years ago today I married my best friend.

As I have said before, it was the singularly best decision I have made in my entire life.

This last year has been our toughest.

When I found out I had cancer I sat in my office stunned.

I picked up the phone a few times to call Doug and just waited. I knew that what I was about to tell him was going to be devastating, that it would forever change our lives.

I wanted him to have a few more moments of peace.

When I finally found the courage to tell him his first words, "oh honey", were delivered with such love and compassion it nearly broke my heart.

We have always imagined growing old together.

Like really old.

Never did I ever think this wasn't going to happen.

Until this year.

For some people 20 years would seem like a long time. A successful marriage.

For me it is not nearly enough time.

We are just getting started.

Day 325- Ashes to Ashes

In our family humor is the best medicine.  And I can tell if you are friend or foe by how you would react to the following story.

When my father passed away, my mother, sisters and I suffered through making funeral arrangements.  To this day I still feel sorry for the funeral home, they didn't know quite what to make of us.

We walked into a room full of caskets, and turned around and walked out.  Dad wanted to be cremated, so no need to spend anymore time in that showroom.

But we soon learned that you even have choices when it comes to the box you wish to go up in flames in.

You could chose a fancy casket, a pine coffin, or, in our case, a cardboard box.

That's right, cardboard.

And considering what happened next, it was lucky we did.

We were told to wait in the funeral directors office, since my Dad had to be identified one last time before he was cremated.  That is one mix-up that would be hard to explain...

Anyway, it was taking FOREVER.  We took the time to tell funny stories, and misbehave, when finally my mom was called into a room to say her last goodbyes.

The poor funeral home director did not know what to make of us.

She came back crying, but also shaking her head and laughing.

You see, my 6'7" father, who in life bumped his head, knees, and elbows on every available surface, who had to duck when going through doorways, even in death was too big for the world. 

They had to cut some holes at the end of his cardboard box to make way for his feet.

We find this endlessly, morbidly hilarious. 

His ashes are at my mom's house - in a proper urn.  Years ago Kristy snuck some out and brought them to Portland.  We took a long hike up into Forest Park and scattered some around.  It was not quite a Big Lebowski moment, but I am pretty sure some of them ended up on my dog.

But he would have loved it. 

And isn't that the point.

Day 324 - Words of Wisdom

One afternoon when I was in 3rd grade, my sister Kristy and I were playing on the school playground.

I was having a blast on my roller skates, Kristy was flying around on her banana seat bicycle.  

She cruised right up to me, said, " hold of my seat and I will pull you around", and just as I was grabbing to hold on she took off.

I reached for the seat that was no longer there, my skate hit a tiny rock, and CRASH I was down.

I knew immediately that something was wrong, very wrong, with my left arm.

Luckily we knew one of the families that lived across the street, and they bundled me into the car to drive me home.

The whole time we were driving I was so afraid that my parents were not going to take this injury seriously.  I thought my mom was going to give me her trademark, "you'll live", and send me on my way.

Thankfully on that day she sprang into action.  My arm was broken, and the bone had dislocated.  It was a millimeter away from fulfilling my greatest fear (compound fracture).  

I was in a cast for what seemed like forever.

Looking back on my childhood I realize my mom did me a big favor, a favor that I am passing on to my kids too.  She helped me become  a pretty tough cookie.

Unless you were bleeding out of your eyeballs, or had a very seriously broken arm, she was not going to pay any attention to the myriad of scratches, bruises, cuts that make up a childhood.

She would simply remind me, "you'll live".

Day 321 - In Treatment

Herception day today.  Which is given exactly like a chemo treatment, sitting in a lounge chair with other cancer patients.

While the treatment is simple - the room is tough.

As I was walking in I was hoping for a few things.

1.  That there would not be any young cancer patients today.
2.  That my favorite nurse would be there.
3.  That I would have the room to my self.
4.  That there would be a new People magazine for me to thumb through.

None of the above came through.

In reality the room looked like this:

1.  My least favorite nurse was on duty today.
2.  There was a young (remember 40 is young in these parts) guy receiving treatment (but he still had all his hair - it is so ironic that most treatments for girl cancers cause hair loss - not always the same for men).
3.  Two other patients.  One who was quite literally the LOUDEST person I have ever experienced.
In my entire life.  And don't forget I am typically the LOUDEST person you have ever met.
4.  No new People.   No old People.  Just Time and Newsweek.

Oh well - the good part was Doug came to join me, and afterward we had an hour together drinking tea and talking.

I think the reason cancer brought us closer is not because of the seriousness of the situation, but because we were ironically given the luxury of time.

Something that I will work to never take for granted again.

Have a great weekend everyone - let's see what Monday brings.

H+D.

Day 320- Kafka

The first major commitment Doug and I made to each other was getting a dog.

I think this happened less than 3 months after our initial meeting, and before we lived together.

Kafka (remember I was an English Lit major), was half German Shepard, half Lab.

He was a spectacular dog.  He lived in California, New York, and Portland.

When we lived in New York, Kafka was lucky enough to spend his weekends "Upstate" where Doug's parents owned 300 acres.  It was a long drive in the car, but the second we would pull off the highway he would begin whining.

After about 10 minutes of an incessant dog cry we would break down and simply open the door to the car, let him out, and floor it.

Kafka would run the next few miles to the house.

If you swam in the pond on the land, you were subjected to his countless rescue attempts.  He would swim out to wherever you were, and try to get you to grab his tail in order to pull you back in.

He is also a legend at the Portland Airport.

When we made the move from New York to Portland Kafka flew on the same plane we did.  While I am sure he would have preferred a seat, it seems there are rules against a 100lb dog stretching out in first class.

We could hear him barking as they put him on the plane, and every once in a while as we were flying.

Once we were at the gate the pilot came on the intercom and asked, "whoever was traveling with their dog, please let yourself be known as you get off the plane."

I immediately panicked.  I could only assume the worst.

And it just so happened we were in the last row of the plane, so it took forever to get to a flight attendant.

When we finally got there, the captain and crew were just shaking their heads and laughing.

Somehow Kafka had chewed a hole in his crate, and somewhere over Chicago/Denver/Oregon got out.

The baggage handlers opened the belly of the plane and were met with a large, barking dog.

Doug had to go up on lift in order to grab him and carry him out of the plane.

He was about 12 years old when Graham was born, very old for a dog that size.  A few months later we knew it was time to let him go.

It had been just the 3 from the beginning.

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things we ever had to do.

I am just glad everyone who got to know him, got to know him.

He was legendary.

Day 319- "Were you really..."

The tallest human being in JR. High?"

Graham has probably heard me make that reference ten times during his lifetime. The truth is I think there may have been one teacher taller than me and that was it.

Thankfully he thinks it is really cool, considering he will likely have the same experience.

It never really was that big of a deal. I played a ton of sports where being tall was an asset, my whole family was tall, and like I tell people, being a physical freak of nature helped me develop my sparkling personality.

I was also lucky enough to have two other friends who not only excelled at sports, but were also over achievers in the early growth department.  I think we were each at least 6 feet tall by 7th grade.

We were referred to as The Redwoods.

To this day I am not sure what teacher gave us this name, but we loved it.  It branded us as something special.

One of my nephews is experiencing something similar. There is no denying when you look at him, the first thought is "linebacker".

He has had a rough time in school, trying to figure out where he fits in and all. The football coach / science teacher has recently taken an interested in him.

Upon meeting my nephew he said, "son have you ever thought of playing football?". His response was "I have never thrown a football in my life"

The coached just laughed and said,"only one person throws the football, and that is never going to be you."

Ever since then, my non football playing nephew has been doing better in school, and practicing with the football team.

I have always felt that being an athlete saved my life. Not that I was dying or anything, but playing sports simply made me feel good. Made being a 6 foot tall 7th grader something special.

It looks like the same thing is starting to happen for my nephew.

And all it took was a teacher, reaching out to a different kid, to make a difference.








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Day 318 The Hard Part

A friend from another cancer really encouraged me to keep my blog going.  She had been keeping a blog during her days as a cancer patient, and when her treatment was finished she decided to go dark.

Big mistake.

A few days later she was back to writing.

She warned me that I was going to need this outlet, that Survivorship might be harder than I realized.

I thought I could tie cancer up in a little box, put it on the shelf, and forget about it.

Eventually, knowing me, I figured I would take that box to Goodwill.

Reality is much different.  I probably think about cancer more now than I did before.

Some days I am scared shitless.
Some days I know I have this licked.
Some days I feel completely changed.
Some days I feel like my old self.

Everyday I am thankful that I write.

Day-317 Family

Eikenberry Family Portrait - Harper age 5

Doug sent a photo of this drawing to a client of his who was a child development specialist, just to show her how cute it was.

She immediately called him, and remarked that it was one of the happiest drawings she had ever seen.

Doug is portrayed with big open arms and "flower fingers".

I am the center of the family - and wearing Oregon Ducks colors.

The boys are tossed to the side - but at least smiling.

And Harper is snap dab in the middle of both of us, dressed in what appears to be a tutu.

What I love is that after the year Harper has had, she still see's us the way I always want her to see us.

One big happy family.

Day 315 - you got know when to hold 'em...

I try to avoid going through those new fangeled metal detectors at the airport.  You know the ones that sort of swirl around you, with your arms raised, taking x-rays of your body.

The problem is, I still have my port inserted in my body, and it flags further inspection.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And every time it pisses me off.  I try to explain what it is, but I still get pulled over, and subjected to a full body pat down. 

Today this got to me, I sort of simmered, I sort of got teary.  I knew I had to keep it together if I ever wanted to get on an airplane again.

By the time I got on the plane I was feeling a bit worn out.  As I was powering off my phone, I read the following message from my husband, that turned my day around.

"Through the years, when everything went wrong

Together we were strong, I know that I belonged

Right here with you ...Through the years

I never had a doubt, we'd always work things out

I've learned what love's about, by loving you

Through the years

— Kenny Rogers

This is was a quote that started a market report I was reading that literally brought a tear to my eyes. I thought to myself, Kenny Rodgers  must have a great wife too. 

Just out of curiosity I goggled him.  

He has had 5 wives."

Day 314 - one more day

I was asked to write about what motherhood means to me.

Tonight this is what I came up with.

314 days ago I was diagnosed with Stage 2 Breast Cancer.

I am 41 years old.

I am a wife.

I am a mother.

I have 3 young children.

Graham 7

Harper 5

Harris 4

I have never fought to be something so hard in my entire life.

It took 10 years of trying to have my first baby.

It has taken 16 rounds of chemotherapy, 3 surgeries, and 33 rounds of radiation to keep me alive.

I would do it all over again.

Simply to be their mother for one more day.

Day 313- Sorry Dad!

My poor father.

When we were growing up he had to literally chain his hairbrush to one of the cabinets in his bathroom just so he could guarantee it was in the same place each morning.

We stole his white under shirts, plaid shorts, and socks.

I am pretty sure he probably opened the pantry and refrigerator multiple times and sighed in exasperation over the lack of cereal, bread, ice cream.

No amount of apologizing could ever make up for the fact that he had to witness his three daughters become teenagers.

Sometimes Doug walks around the house muttering to himself, "people need to stop messing with my stuff".  Between me, the kids, and our nanny he doesn't stand a chance.

And it is just getting started.

I am sure there will be a chained up hairbrush in my future.

Day -312 - I am going to try this one again

Doug and I became parents late in the game.

We had been married for twelve years, I was 34 and Doug was 42 when Graham was born. 19 months later came Harper, 17 months after that came Harris.

3 kids in 3 years.

I always say if we had started earlier I would have kept going. Maybe I would have stopped at 4 but who knows.

Now I wonder what would have happened if I didn't get cancer.

I am sad that Harper does not have a sister. I remember my mom telling my sisters and me, as we fought through our teens, that we would be best friends today, and she is right.

But little Harper is going to miss out on that.

One of my dearest friends doesn't have sisters either - in fact she is an only child. However she was lucky enough to grow up with two cousins, and the three of them acted more like sisters than mine did some days.

So there is some hope that Harper will have a sister/cousin.

Because her Auntie Kristy is pregnant.

And I know Harper is holding out hope that it will be a little girl.

Day 311- It's the simple pleasures

Yesterday afternoon Harper and I had the rare opportunity of spending 3 solid hours together, just the two of us.

We had some chores we had to do - first stop Ikea.

As we were driving Harper asked me, "what color was your veil when you married Daddy?".  When I told her white she said, "I think some people choose purple too."

She then asked, "will you help me pick out my veil when I get married?".  And when I told her yes, she wanted me to, "make a note about it so I wouldn't forget."

As if I would.

We buzzed around Ikea for a while, checking out all the 500 square foot apartments, testing multiple beds, couches, chairs.  Harper would really like the loft bed - and chose a bunk bed for the boys.

We left with a few frames, some organizing baskets (again!), and an ice-cream.

Next stop was Target.  Our only goal was to get Graham a new swimsuit - but somehow Harper ended up with sparkle butterfly barrettes and bubble gum.  She also wanted a gold necklace, my little pony stickers, a new swimsuit, a bracelet, an Easter bunny stuffed animal, and popcorn.

But I held my ground.

Finally we made it to the grocery store where I had to have a prescription filled.  While we were wandering around Harper ran into not one, not two, but three of her classmates.  They were all shocked to see each other, and chatted away excitedly.

As we were walking away Harper announced, at the top of her lungs, "We have to go pick up my mom's pills.  She takes a lot of pills!"

Later that night, as I was tucking her in, she said, "Mama, that was the best day ever!  Can we do it again next weekend!"

And I felt exactly the same.

Day 308 - The only drunk I ever loved

My mother's favorite relative growing up was her Aunt Mary-Lou Harris.

Mary-Lou was an amazing, strong willed, smart woman.  A teacher, a mother, and a homemaker.

She made the most incredible peppermint ice-cream every time we visited her house.

My sisters and I were sort of in awe, but also sort of afraid of her.  After dinner, when all the dishes were done and put away she would announce, "The kitchen is closed."  And from that point on that area of the house was off limits.

You wouldn't enter the kitchen if your life depended on it.

Mary-Lou was married to Randy.  Uncle Randy had boundless energy for children.  To this day I can remember riding on his shoulders, all around their house, and feeling loved.

When my father died, Mary-Lou and Randy were right by our sides.

And then Uncle Randy did something that shocked us all.

He got drunk after the funeral.

Like blind drunk.

So drunk that Doug and several of my Uncles had to carry him to the car, drive him to his hotel, and put him in the bathtub (as per Mary-Lou's request), to sleep it off.

You see, Uncle Randy never drank.

Never.

When we told his son, my cousin Mitch, what had happened, he didn't believe us.

Uncle Randy never explained what happened.  He really didn't need to.

We all understood that he simply did not know how to deal with my father's death. He loved my Dad so much, that he had to get blind drunk to try and forget what had really happened.

And that my friends, is the story of the only drunk I ever loved.

Day 307 - Back in the Day

Today a friend posted a photo I had never seen before.

It is really a nothing photo to anyone except for those captured in it.

It shows a group of young women - likely in 1985/1986 - warming up for a long ago forgotten volleyball match.

I can name almost everyone here, most of whom are still friends.

It feels like a lifetime ago - the years spent in a gym - without a care in the world.

If only we had all realized how special we were.  Every single player in this photo received a full ride athletic scholarship.

Every one.

One of us became a 4-time Olympian.

Most of us are mothers.

There are a few teachers in the group.

Two of us have/had breast cancer.

In fact, if the camera had captured the moment a little sooner, or a little later, it would picture three of us who have had breast cancer.

Out of the 10 sixteen year-olds - 3 of us.

So I googled (I had to, just this once) - odds of getting breast cancer in your lifetime.

The chances of a women developing breast cancer in her lifetime are 1 in 8.

The chances of a girl receiving a full ride scholarship for playing volleyball are pretty slim.  About 380,000 girls compete in volleyball, while just 6,000 receive scholarship money.  Most do not receive a full ride.

We were a group that beat the odds.

One of us is right now up against what appear to be insurmountable odds.  Odds stacked so deeply against her that the only thing that will get her out of this jam is a miracle.

Considering what this group of girls have been able to accomplish, I wouldn't put it past her.

We are all thinking of you "S".  We love you.