Birthdays

I was too overwhelmed to gift shop this year, but Michael happily did the shopping for both his and Grace's birthday. Grace got a pair of Vans and Michael got a magnet fishing kit. They were both very, very pleased.

This year Grace wanted to decorate her own cake. In the interest of time and sanity, I baked and frosted it and then she was given permission to do whatever else she wanted to to the cake. She was well pleased with the final result. 

Michael once again requested an ice cream cake and I was able to make that dream come true. 

Between Mother's Day, birthdays, and trying to help Heidi gain weight, my clothes are going to stop fitting. But worse things have happened.

Mother's Day

I lived within thirty minutes of Leslie Gulch for most of my adolescence. Yet I had never gone.

For Mother's Day this year I requested a road trip. We got a late start out of Boise, but after an hour on the highway and an hour on a washboard gravel road, we found a treasure. The Owyhees are absolutely gorgeous. 

Even the children who were angsty in the van, started to unwind once we were hiking. The views were so gorgeous and so alien they forgot to be cranky.

After an hour of hiking we had a quick picnic dinner and headed home. Michael was getting tired of the gravel road and was going at a quick clip. That necessitated pulling over so Sam could be sick along the side of the road, among the curious cows. After that Michael slowed down a little and we managed to make it home without further incident. 

On the way home Ethan and Libby were cracking themselves up with inappropriate jokes and innuendos. I challenged them to see how long they could go without being vulgar. They lasted for exactly thirty seconds. So we tried again. The second time they lasted six minutes. Life with teenagers. Happy Mother's Day! 

19 Years

For our anniversary this year, Michael and I decided to leave the kids at home overnight, for the first time. Spoiler, they were fine. House didn't burn down, no emergency room visits, people were fed, and the house was mostly clean when we came back. 

While the children were behaving mostly competently, Michael and I enjoyed renting a cabin at Bruneau Dunes State Park. We just kicked back and relaxed.

The cabin was charming and we enjoyed having a little space to ourselves. We planned on attending the star show at the observatory but I just didn't have the energy to be around other people, so we stayed in. Later we noticed the clouds had rolled in as well, so we hadn't even missed anything.

The next morning we enjoyed the view, packed up the van, and decided to go on a hike. Michael wanted to go on the two mile loop. I wanted to go on the six mile loop, over the top of the big dune. As it was already getting warm, we decided to do the shorter loop. 

It was probably a wise decision. Except, we missed the marker where we were supposed to turn. The trail is very, very poorly marked once you reach the sandy areas. We wandered around, heading in what we hoped was the generally correct direction until we found ourselves at the base of the large dune, in full sun. We got my desired hike after all, but Michael was floundering. He can usually out-hike me any day of the week, but he does not deal well with heat, and there was absolutely no shade. I was having visions of having to hike out and find a ranger to bring a four wheeler back for him. Once we made it over the big dune, we found a massive sage brush to sit under. Cool blessed shade. We had also brought a lot of water, which proved to be very necessary. Once we got Michael cooled and hydrated, he felt a lot better, and was able to continue. Which was good because we had another mile or two to go.  

We did finally make it back to the van, three hours after we started. Thankfully we were all packed up already. We refilled our water bottles, used the bathrooms, and headed towards home. We stopped at a little Mexican restaurant drive through in Mountain Home and pulled into a park with lots of shade to eat. Best meal I've eaten in a long time. Hunger will do that every time.

Memories

I've been sorting two totes full of family photos while Michael has been working on digitizing them. Here I am surrounded by lots and lots of photos, mostly of my eldest siblings. 

Michael also has been working on digitizing old slides. A lot of these pictures haven't been seen in close to 50 years. 

Krys, the oldest! So many pictures of her.

Krys, Lucinda, and Ellis. My parents hadn't given up quite yet.

My dad in his Army uniform. Probably in the late 60's. Between the orange couch and the standing ash tray this picture couldn't scream the decade any louder.

We still have a box of photos to go through. It's a lot of work, but finding new photos can be so much fun. It can also be boring. Why did my dad take 30 photos of the ocean waves?  Just the waves? I enjoy seeing the photos but it is a bit overwhelming trying to digitize them. 

In case you are wondering, I am the youngest. My parents were plumb wore out. I think there are about two pictures of me. I understand. I don't even want to compare how many pictures I have of Ethan to how many I have of Sam. Parental fatigue is real.

My Excused Absence

I've been pretty faithful about updating my blog for the last 14-ish years. I enjoy having a recorded history of each stage in my family's life. I need a place to safely store everything I might otherwise forget. I record a lot of the good and even some of the bad, as I strive to be honest. 

Early March of this year I was starting to feel hopeful. My kids' schools began to hold some classes in person, I was able to sub a couple days a week, and Michael and I received our first COVID-19 vaccination. After a year of masks, cancellations, and changes we were ready for things to be a little simpler. I had hope. 

Right around this same time my sister, Heidi, went to the doctor with gallbladder pain. A week after that we were at the gynecologic oncologist to learn it was not gallbladder pain. She had stage four ovarian cancer that had metastasized to her lungs and liver. She was scheduled for a complete hysterectomy on April 1, with chemo to follow. Her doctor made it very clear her chances of a cure were very low, and we were looking at a terminal disease. Heidi and I just sat there in shock. No tears, screaming, or raging. Just quiet, quiet shock. It was as if a cold spoon had just scooped out all my internal organs and left me standing there, completely bereft. 

It was an ugly day, but only the first in a lot of ugly days. Heidi had her surgery on April 1, and then was given a few weeks to recover before starting chemo. Before she was even able to receive her first chemo treatment she was admitted to the hospital, due to malnutrition and possibly liver failure. She spent an entire, miserable month in the hospital, getting weaker and sicker. Our siblings and parents took turns sitting with her for entire days, as she could only have one visitor a day due to COVID protocol. So we would stay from early morning until nine in the evening, making sure someone was always there. Despite all the tests and attempted solutions, she continued to struggle with nutrition. It was a hard, sad month. She was able to start chemo, though, so not all was lost. After exactly a month in the hospital, she finally decided she had had enough. She told the on-duty doctor she was going home. She was done with the hospital. She couldn't stay another day. The on-duty doctor released her but also cautioned most cancer patients die of malnutrition and she probably only had weeks left. That particular doctor's name has become a curse word among several family members. 

That Wednesday, Heidi was able to leave the hospital and move into Becca's house. The first week she was "home" was the scariest week of my life. She was so weak from the hospital, it was difficult for her to make it to the bathroom, never mind in a timely fashion. She spiked a fever almost every evening with no discernable cause. She was eating slightly more than at the hospital, but still not enough to keep a squirrel alive. She needed help with every single self-care task. Two nights after coming home she asked us to shave off her remaining hair, as she didn't want to die with her hair looking patchy. My niece shaved her head and we put her to bed. Then my niece shaved most everyone else's head. It seemed like the only reasonable course of action. 

On Saturday we built her a fairy garden, which she has always wanted, with flowers and décor donated by loving family and friends. Heidi was too weak to go out to the garden but loved seeing it through her bedroom window. That night her fever climbed really high but she refused to go to the hospital. I wondered if we had built a garden for her to enjoy for one evening. I didn't regret for a single instant the work or expense. We called Michael and my brothers to give her a blessing, and everyone showed up at ten o'clock at night. I watched people I love put aside big hurts and issues, so they could be there in Heidi's time of crisis. It was the most personal, sweetest moment I have ever been a part of. Soon after the blessing, we gave Heidi some more Advil, and tucked her into bed. The guys went home and I spent another night on my sister's couch. Heidi woke up sick and weak in the morning, but cool to the touch and able to eat half a piece of toast.

It has now been three and half weeks since Heidi has come home. She is 2/3 the way through her first chemo treatment and is getting slowly stronger. Last week she was able to walk half a block with her walker. Being so weak frustrates her, but she has progressed so much since she has been home. And she is so much happier. Eating enough food is still an issue, but yesterday she ate 1900 calories!! Not every day is like that, but every day shows a little more improvement. 

I don't know what the future holds. She still has another chemo treatment after this cycle, so she won't be done until mid August. While the chemo is shrinking the tumors that make her weak, the chemo itself is making her weak. It's a horror show of catch-22. Right now I have a little hope, though. She is getting stronger. We have evidence the chemo is working. While a cure is unlikely, it is remotely possible. Even without a cure, the chemo is giving her more time, and as she keeps progressing it looks like she will be able to enjoy that time. In the meantime, we will keep trucking along. Becca will keep giving Heidi all her countless meds and feeding her high-fat, high-protein meals. I will keep taking Heidi to multiple weekly doctor/chemo appointments. My kids will keep preparing family dinners and running errands. Michael will keep working and picking up the slack around the house. We will all keep going. Prayers for all of us to have strength are greatly appreciated.

So that is my excused absence from blogging. It's hard to write about the day to day of family life, when my day to day now revolves around my sister. Cancer does not make for fun blog posts. I plan on playing a little catch up, but I imagine posts are going to be a little sparse for awhile.