That one's mine

I love it when people call and say, "We want to come see you. We'll be there in half an hour." Amazingly, my house gets really clean in just 30 minutes. Of course, all the clutter gets stuck on my bed. But then it's all in one place and much easier to sort and put away after they leave.

We had a busy day. A couple of Scott's colleagues dropped by, C. proposed to the neighbor boy, N. washed one of her frogs down the sink, and the kids sang at the college christmas concert.

Someone said, "Oh, there's that little boy from the front that stole the show. He was our favorite. He kept looking up at the conductor and had so much energy."

During the concert, I had felt a little mortified because it was my child standing out in front of his line, swaying to the music and all but picking his nose, while all the other children stood still and sang with their hands straight down.

But then, he really was absolutely adorable in that navy blazer and tie. So I said, "That one's mine, thank you."

Un-Brella

This is Scott's book, "Un-Brella". I am so excited because everyone can just look at a little version right here on my blog. Scott's website is at www.scottefranson.com. I would link it for you, but I have absolutely no idea how.

confessions

Most of the time, I pray that I will want to be the mother. The rest of the time, I have to pray really, really hard that I will want to be the mother.

Long, stinging hot showers may not be very green, but it is well worth the ability to control some aspect of heat in your life, and the walls continue to weep long after you have stopped.

Something great

I was wrong. Something great did happen, yesterday.

My grandmother came to see me.

Grandma was in her forties when her husband died of leukemia. He left her with 10 living children, and a dairy farm. She later remarried, but it was never, ever easy. Among memories of mentholatum treatments (gasp) and learning to crochet, I have her timeless example of endurance and diligence. It's humbling to know she prays for us.

Scott is still in bed, this morning. He hasn't slept well and continues to have drenching sweats. I suspect I will be taking him back in for IV fluids, today. He will not want to go, as usual. Perhaps, I will give him options, "Do you want to walk to the van, or crawl to the van? You decide."

There

Scott said I should go blog. I don't know why. Nothing really great happened, today. I shopped Home Depot for annoying repair stuff, purchased a windup radio, and yelled at my children over homework.

There, I blogged.

little fevers

It's ok with me if C. decides to run a little fever, today. There's concern, but until she shows some other, significant symptoms, I'll not worry too much about it.

It is not ok with me if Scott decides to run a little fever. I don't care if there is nothing else going on. With our luck, it could mean a week in the hospital. It's an instant high anxiety, a brain scream.

I am just tired enough that every little thing with Scott feels like the sky is falling, and I am a chicken running around with it's head cut off.

I have friends, dear friends, at the local oncologist's office. They took us in at closing, gave Scott some IV fluids and ran a CBC. He's a little anemic, but his white blood count was well within normal.

So comforting.......... Thank you, Chris.

even close up

So, Scott's family is fasting, tomorrow, for a speedy resolution to this chaos. My side of the family is fasting next Sunday. Everyone is invited to participate, if you wish to join us.

Sometimes, I feel panicked, stuck in a script I didn't write. Other times, like now, I'm ok. I have a steady, "Wait for it....... it will come...... relax.... everything is as it should be........ things are good..... breathe......", going thru my brains. In a minute I will switch back to, "I can't take this anymore."

Scott is doing well. He's just tired.

If I stand back far enough from this situation, everything is perfectly fine. Even close up, right at this moment, isn't bad; just tense.

It's been a pleasant day. Jan and Bill's house is the perfect place to relax. Things were a little too quiet without them here, so we watched Transformers in Bill's honor and ate Sixlets in Jan's.

My sister and her husband brought dinner. We played Iron Dragon. I won by a landslide, so it was a good game.

The kids are doing well. They played hard with the cousins and can't hardly wait to get home.

Scott is exhausted, but he had a good day. We'll go home, tomorrow.

good enough

You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get Scott out of the hospital, today. They must really enjoy seeing how close to insanity a sleep deprived a person can get before he starts throwing broth flavored jello.................... tempting, so tempting.

Anyway, we are at Jan's for a day or so. Scott just needs to rest, not so much because he's been sick, but because his roommate watched cartoon network for 72 hours straight. It's hard to believe that we pay so much for blatant torture.

So, while he sleeps, I am watching, "I love Lucy" reruns, and eating orange creamies.

It's good................. good enough. You might think that with it being Thanksgiving, I am not very thankful. On the contrary, I am so thankful this day is over.

not very fun

Scott was much improved this morning. He spent the day with minimal pain and nausea. They still won't let him eat. It's not very fun, but at least it's better than yesterday.

the whole time

I woke up with a, cry till you go to bed, cry stuck in my throat. I can't afford that yet. I need the composure to advocate on Scott's behalf. In other words, I need a miracle; a big "walk on water" miracle.

It seems inevitable, a breakdown. That raccoon is stuck, bloated on the tracks. It feels like a simple matter of time before my emotional entrails are scattered to the crows. Heaven help the spectators, because I'm sure it won't be pretty.

At the hospital, Scott was still having serious pain and nausea. Our dr. comes in and Scott tells him what he told him last night, "This really feels like pancreatitis."

"It can't be pancreatitis. Your bile ducts have been stretched by the bigger tube. Sometimes, that's painful."

I am so frustrated, because something really is wrong and he is still not listening. I feel vibrations from the approaching train and this man has no idea what is about to hit him point blank in the face.

"But, it really feels like pancreatitis."

"Well, let's look at the lab-work............damn, you have pancreatitis."

The roar in my head is so loud, I can only send prayers in incomplete sentences.

What happened next, I'm not exactly sure, but it felt like an angel shoved that raccoon down in between the tracks. The train went right over me, and I was left with complete peace. Within two breaths, I went from imminent disaster to perfectly fine (enter miracle). The dr. will never know how dangerously close he came to being the victim of a total meltdown.

"He'll live, but it will be this hard the whole time.", echo reverberated from last June. It was a promise and a warning from the Holy Ghost during an equally trying time.

I get it........ I get it. This is supposed to be hard. It is going to be hard. I guess it is a little easier knowing what to expect.

I really am grateful for that clue, but would someone please tell me, what exactly is, "the whole time"? Is it until transplant? Until Easter? Until he dies? How do I know when "the whole time" is up? Will there be a, "Ding, you're done."? Do we get a star on our chart? A glitter sticker?

So, Scott will spend the next couple of days without food or water. They might put a port in his chest as it is getting progressively more difficult to draw blood and maintain an IV. If the pancreatitis does not resolve within the next few days, they will downsize the biliary drain. If a liver becomes available, he probably won't get it till he is better. He's no longer first on the list, so that would not be likely, anyway.

Too bad

We were on time for our appointment, this morning. Too bad, it is not until next Monday.

Scott's drain was leaking so very badly, we thought we'd make the trip productive and get it checked. Our interventional radiologist decided to upsize the tube in hopes it would drain better.

In the past, we have discussed which is worse: nausea or pain. There was no argument, today, since he woke with plenty of both. It hurt him so badly and made him so sick that he was admitted to the hospital, and is, at this very moment, heavily medicated.

If they could take an emotional x-ray, mine would look like bloated roadkill .................probably raccoon.

We are in SLC tonight for an appointment in the morning.

Scott is doing fine. It's nice to have a week off of chemotherapy.

His biliary drain is leaking a lot, which is a major pain. The drain is currently the only thing I swear over in my mind.

I hate being late for church, but we have been, for some reason, ever since Scott was diagnosed with cancer. We were not late this morning. I urgently prodded the kids along so we could get there before 9:00. Too bad, today was stake conference, and it didn't start until 10:00.

................ oh, brother.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today was such a good day.

After cleaning and cooking, we all found our way into JA room to play with the Knex. It was heaven for a full 2 hours. We haven't played that peacefully for months and months. The kids felt it, too. What an incredible gift.

The turkey was great. The company was fabulous. It was a heavenly day.

It turned out so well, I was thinking about holding Christmas next Saturday. In fact, if we hold a major holiday every Saturday, we could be well past Easter by Christmas, and celebrate the NEXT Christmas by Valentines.

Surprisingly, Scott has some pretty passionate feelings about pushing the holidays. He said he has to draw the line somewhere, and I'm pretty sure he wasn't kidding.

.............oh, well. It was fun to think about.

Anyway, this is my new favorite salad:

SNICKER, POMEGRANATE SALAD
pomegranate seeds
tart apples, chopped
Snickers, chopped
Cool Whip

The recipe is actually an adaptation from Jan's pomegranate salad. I am allergic to pecans, so I just substituted Snickers.

We have a dr appointment on Monday morning. We are leaving early tommorow afternoon in hopes of getting to SLC before dark. Scott's drain is leaking pretty badly, so I don't know if we will be back Monday night. If they have to change out the drain, we will come back on Tuesday.

I am not praying for anyone's specific demise that wouldn't have happened anyway. I am praying that whoever's number is up can die in a way that would be conducive to donating their organs.

It's the oddest thing in the world: waiting for someone to die, so your husband will live.

I wonder if anyone's waiting for me.

Turkey confessions

We celebrated my mother's birthday party here at my house, last January. My only assignments were to clean my house and cook the turkey. It was a huge 30 pound turkey for a huge party. Not having been thawed enough, it was only cooked two inches into the skin and bleeding when company started to arrive. In an attempt to save the main course, my sister and I hacked off the breast pieces and shoved them back in the oven, turning up the heat to speed the process. A sizable amount of grease had dripped onto the bottom of the stove. It lit on fire and promptly smoked the entire house. We opened the windows and waited in 4 degree weather for the house to air out. Another sister purchased substitute rotisere chickens, and it turned out to be a fun party with good laughs. Scott had wiped out the stove and as the party was winding down, I chose to recook the turkey. Unfortunately, there was some grease residue left in the oven and the party was smoked out again.

They only ask me to bring chips, anymore; dessert, if Scott will make it.

We're #1.......

Scott is now #1 on the transplant list. Our surgeon will still turn a liver down for Scott if it is damaged at all, and there is the chance that someone else's status will worsen and bump him down again, but hopefully, we will not have to be #2 again........................ please, not #2.

I ran into an acquaintance while shopping this morning. She started crying and said that what we are going thru is so hard and so terrible. She just cries whenever she thinks about us.

Yes, all this is extremely difficult. I have never in my life been stretched so far, but I don't think it terrible........Ok, so waiting is pretty terrible, but it is not SO terrible to warrant weeping every time I think about it. And believe me, I think about it all the time.

Our closest family and friends can see that we are being carried by God. It's the people on the periphery that need the most comfort, the ones that can't feel the blanket of grace smothering my house. It's an incredible gift resulting from everyone's combined faith and prayers. We feel it.

We are celebrating Thanksgiving on Saturday. It's probably a blatant revelation of my control issues, but I feel like having Thanksgiving at my house with my little family.

On the real Thanksgiving, both our parents usually have huge family parties. It's a crazy, 5,000 calorie ritual with screaming kids all over the place. I can't handle much more craziness.

I would declare Saturday as Christmas also, if I really thought I could get away with it. I'm all shopped for it. If the neighbor kids weren't here today, I would be stuffing stockings and wrapping the last little bits. All this nervous energy has to be for something constructive.

A new record

Mental Note:
Hayride and bonfire with 20+, hyperactive cubscouts = neurotic episode............Avoid repeat episode at all cost.

Today, I purchased 3 milks, several loaves of bread and lots of fruit. That would be a big, "So what?", to most, but for me it's a big deal. Since June, I have purchased only one gallon, or one loaf of bread, and hardly any fruit at any given time because I didn't want a lot of food to go bad if we get called for transplant.

I am so stinking sick of living jug to jug, I just went bananas with groceries. Actually, I didn't get bananas, but I did get two whole boxes of clementines and ten pounds of apples. I am hoping that it will all rot in my fridge and mold out the front door because we get called to leave.

Scott has had 3, relatively good days. It officially beats the 42, consecutive, good hours in August; a new record.

knex and cubscouts

Bridgette came over today. She took my place as den leader in June when things got hairy. We made 10 bird feeder kits for the bear cubscouts. As always, it is a relief, after working with major tools, to end up with all your fingers still attached. We had a great time.

Not that I could handle it right yet, because really, just the thought of crowd control for 10, nine year olds gives me an eye twitch; I miss the crazy fun of doing cubscouts.

Maybe, I just miss normal life.

Anyway, JA earned knex privileges by hauling cinderblock rubble to the back fence. I hate knex because it is another million of little pieces to step on when you're barefoot, going to the bathroom at night. I was happy to rebanish the bucket at bedtime when he chose to ignore my requests for him to brush his teeth. You might think that this is a harsh punishment, but you have not seen his teeth. Also, my current tolerance level for being ignored is extremely low, AND, I hate knex. JA loves knex enough he will, at the very least, rake leaves to get them back.

Scott illustrated a new unbook called "Scales", today. That says a lot because, usually, he is not able to concentrate.

We are still waiting.........waiting.

At least we both got something done, today.

The perfect therapy

I love demolition therapy.

Lucky for me, we have the world's ugliest stone/cinderblock fireplace downstairs. I have been working on it, without much success, for about a year with a sledgehammer. So, my neighbor lent me his jackhammer drill and I have to say, that is darn good therapy.

Saturday Morning

C. is my alarm clock. She gets up at 6:30 sharp every morning to tell me that she is hungry. Saturdays are no exception.

We got back last night just in time for Scott to go to the pinewood derby race with N. She placed fifth overall and is very happy. Halloween and the pinewood derby had been first and foremost in her anxious mind since mid-September. Perhaps, now she will stop praying for the liver transplant not to come yet.

Scott is now at the very top of the transplant list. Waiting drives me beserk.

Scott is taking the kids to his mother's house this morning. He thinks I need a break, and who's to argue with that. I thought about getting a hotel for a few days, but that leaves me coming back to my house in the same condition, or worse, than I left it in. If everyone else leaves, I can throw everything away and there is no one to stop me.

The dilema

Scott's mom just called. She wanted to know why we weren't out the door yet and on our way to Utah. I told her that Scott laid down and he hasn't gotten up yet. She asked if he was dead and said that maybe I should check on him.

It's a dilema. Clean your house, versus go find out whether or not your husband has died in his sleep.

The way I look at it is this; if he is dead, there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Also, it is going to be a lot harder to clean once I know that there is a dead body in my house. I may as well clean while I am in the groove of cleaning.

It is most likely that he is just as wiped out as he has been every morning since he started chemo. He will wake up in an hour or so and say, "Thank you so much for letting me sleep. I needed that." We will then drag our pathetic bodies to Utah for his appointments tomorrow.

I am so tired, I couldn't care less either way.

Now, where did I set that windex.......................

what I learned today:

It doesn't matter how long it took you to install that beautiful, nickel plated, 3 light vanity. If it results in not being able to open the cabinet, it is just wrong.

When he lovingly takes down your blunder, while you bury your head in the pillows; you know you have a really, good husband.

Jan's cream of brocoli soup is the best ever, and makes a great comfort food.

If you eat your 4 year old's portion of brocoli soup, while she is momentarily distracted with the TV, she will be mad for a long, long time. (It is that good.)

Frogs shed, and it's kind of gross.

Jumping softly on a mini-trampoline produces the same, undesirable effect as jumping hard on a large trampoline.........enough said.

Leverage

It's been a nice day. We went to church and celebrated a birthday. We now have frogs. Heaven help them survive.

Scott is extremely tired and his mouth is dry. Some people get terrible mouth sores on this chemo. At least he shouldn't be vomiting and losing his hair. People are always commenting on how good he looks; that they expected him to look a lot worse. Personally, I don't care how he looks, I want him to feel good. He just doesn't feel good.

What do you get when you put one frazzled mother in with a big bunch of eight year olds?

..........purgatory.

What do you get when you put two frazzled mothers in with a big bunch of eight year olds?

............leverage. (this is my evil grin :)

So, for the last two Sundays, I have sat in on my friend's primary class. These are pretty good kids on an individual level, but collectively, they carry what I call, "high, purgatory potential". They have been downright naughty.

I take it rather personally when this happens to a fellow, frazzled sister. We have got to stick together better when it comes to issues of sanity.

Anyway, there's this whole, warped portion of my brain devoted to making everyone else completely miserable. Fortunately, it is well medicated and, for the most part, subdued. It is this part of me that takes great joy in the fact that these eight year olds know, and fear, that I will retrieve their fathers the moment they decide to tromp on the teacher.

It's just another, fulfilling reason to go to church.

God Bless the Relief Society

We had to come to Utah this morning. Scott's drain got caught on a doornob and was yanked out a bit. Besides, I really miss driving in Salt Lake. And surely, everyone at interventional radiology has missed us. I am thinking that the staff might even send us a christmas card, we are getting so well acquainted.

Scott's fine. His drain is fine. He started chemo today, and is tired, but fine. We are staying at Jan and Bill's and that's really good because Jan made eggrolls. I needed eggrolls.

So, you know that you are probably pretty close to your breaking point when: those thoughts that are best left unsaid come out of your mouth. Thoughts like, "I am going to give you away."

Closer still: you stop the car so the little angels can get out and find a new home.

Even closer: your son asks if you would ever really give him away, and you have to close your eyes while biting your lips in order to construct a loving, nurturing answer. (He allready has plenty of fuel for future therapy. No need to add more by being absolutely honest at that moment.)

I am well aware of how close I am to breaking, right now. I am so seriously vulnerable, I called in the big guns. I called in.........

(drum roll, please)

..............................the Relief Society.

Now, for anyone who doesn't know, the Relief Society is the biggest women's organization in the world. (Not that the women, themselves, are the biggest. There are just lots of them, thank you.) It boasts of, literally, millions of women, each dedicated to saving the world one casserole at a time.

Out of all those women, you will not find any finer women than are in the Lyman third ward.

So, on the cusp of breaking, I called these women. They did my laundry, mopped my floor, threw out all the moldy food, and wiped out my filthy fridge. In short, they will have saved me, albeit temporarily, from crawling into a hole and dying.

Truly, God bless the Relief Society.

Franson Flock

The Girls
Parrot Dance
the Ghost Parrot
Rear View

The kids had a blast at the church party last night. They won the prize for the most coordinated family. M., N. and C. wore their parrot costumes. JA wanted to be a sheeted ghost but we thought a ghost parrot would be more fun, and it was.

Tomorrow, Scott starts the chemotherapy. We've postponed it for as long as we possibly could. I am just praying for a call to Salt Lake tonight.