Andy

 

On March 14, 1969, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed baby boy fought his way into this world. I say fought because that is exactly what he did. During the epidural before his birth, it malfunctioned medically, and instead of numbing where it was supposed to numb Mom, it numbed her all the way to her neck. This situation put both Mom and baby in danger. Once this was corrected, the baby came into this world blue with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Soon though, after some quick and diligent work, the sounds of the baby's cry could be heard throughout the delivery room to the great relief of my mother. This baby was Andrew (Andy) Robert Jacques....my little brother. 

What none of us could have known that day is that coming into this world was just one of the many battles Andy would fight in his life and how he would affect the world and change lives in the years to come. 

Andy's first year of life was not an easy one. He was born at a time when the medical community felt breastfeeding was not a benefit to the mother or child. Thus, he was thrown into a world of formula and none of it could his body handle. He was literally allergic to every formula that was on the market which put his ability to gain weight and thrive at great risk. Luckily, Mom, after much trial and error came up with a homemade formula that Andy's tiny body would tolerate and soon his battle to thrive and survive was won. 

After Andy learned to walk, Mom soon discovered that Andy began tripping and falling as his right foot began to turn in. For whatever reason, on taking him to the doctor, the first conclusion jumped to was the possibility of bone cancer. Mom had many sleepless nights as Andy was tested for the dreaded "C" word, but soon it was believed that Andy's foot just turned in and he was then put into a pair of heavy brown corrective shoes. They helped some, but Andy hated them and cried every time he had to wear them. 

About this time, we went to live with my aunt for a while who was a nurse and she told Mom to take off that awful shoe, to let him run barefoot as much as possible, and to buy him a pair of cowboy boots. Now, I don't know if these commands came from her nursing education or were simply common sense beliefs, but Mom did as she was told. Off came the shoes and Andy soon had a spiffy pair of red cowboy boots. Within a couple of months, Andy was walking fine and another battle had been fought and won. 

As Andy grew, so did his imagination and humor. He loved to make people laugh and he was about two when he learned he could capture an audience and make them laugh. At that point in his life, westerns were big-time TV fare and we had watched a show where someone had died and all the cowboys took off their hats and cried. This somehow stuck with Andy, so he would put on his red boots and he had a red cowboy hat and then he would get Mom or I to say, "They are dead. Now take off your hat and cry." Of course, we would and he would then dramatically fall to his knees, pull his hat off put it over his heart, and pretend to cry like he was auditioning for his big break in TV. To his delight, each and every time, we would laugh so hard over his dramatics, and in those early moments, we helped to cultivate his love for humor and making others laugh. 

Andy's imagination knew no bounds and some of his happiest moments as a child were spent with nothing but big cardboard boxes and his own brain. He could make that box a house, a castle, a spaceship, or his favorite.....a race car, in which he would ride down the stairs when Mom wasn't looking. He also had a thing about taking every single toy he had out of his playroom and relocating it to the den in a big pile. Once his playroom was completely empty, he would then take all the toys and put them back exactly where they went. I never understood this, but it seemed to make him very happy and so proud when the task was completed. 

One of the things that always amazed me about Andy was that he was always a genuinely good child. Before he came along, and even at times after, my mother had worn out ping pong paddles, hairbrushes, and switches on my naughty little backside, but with Andy, that was never necessary. If Mom told me to do something, it was a 50/50 bet whether it would ever be accomplished, but with him, it was done immediately without a complaint. I think he only got spanked one time in his life and that was when he ran out in front of a car and almost got hit. Even then though, it was traumatic for both him and Mom and I think she cried as hard as he did. 

As Andy grew older, his ability to tell a story and hone his humor grew. He also learned to master voices and did pretty good imitations of actors and characters. One of his best was the late great Jack Benny. When the resurgence of old-time reruns came into fashion, the Jack Benny Show was one of them and Andy dearly loved the show and spent his days getting Jack Benny's vocal and physical actions down to an art. He would then spend his time making Mom and I laugh as he would just out of nowhere become Mr. Benny. He would integrate it into a conversation at just the perfect time without missing a beat or cracking a smile. It never failed to crack me up which always made him smile. 

When Andy was 13, his world was turned upside down. I was at college and on Halloween, Mom fell off a ladder and broke her leg, ankle, and foot. It was so badly broken that they couldn't even cast it, and the doctor felt that she would likely be "bedridden" (his words) for the rest of her life. For whatever reason, Mom didn't let me know what happened (she didn't want me coming home from college I guess), so Andy was left to take care of her. He had to take over the laundry, shopping, helping her before and after school, and still go to school and do his homework. True to form, he managed, but maybe with just the teeniest bit of resentment. 

Mom later told me that she had a portable toilet in her room and in the morning before school, Andy would put it by her bed and then when he got home he would dispose of it. Well, the whole being 13 and a caretaker thing was starting to wear on him and one morning he was mad at Mom so rather than move it by the bed, he moved the toilet out of the room and left. Mom said at first she was a little upset, but then the more she thought about it, she started to laugh. She said she spent the entire day laughing and chuckling over Andy's one and only defiant act in a huge sea of caregiving. It was that day that Mom decided that she was done laying in bed and that she was going to walk again.....and she did.....in record time. To this day it makes me equal parts laugh and feel great compassion for what Andy went through back then. 

As Andy grew older, he developed some lifelong loves. He loved fishing and camping which my dad cultivated in him. He loved art, music, photography, the holidays, and Star Wars. 

He loved bands like Styx, Toto, and Night Ranger and later down the line, he got a side job using his love of photography, to take photos at the Coliseum of different bands that came to town. His love of photography started in high school and stayed in his life in some form until the end. 

In high school and college, Andy's art became a passion with him. He loved to paint in oils and acrylics, along with turning his photography into art. In college he even had his work displayed in some art shows. I always was amazed at his skill and his ability to see things with his artistic eye that most of us miss in everyday life. 

In Andy's high school years, he felt the typical struggle of trying to find his place and where he fit in. In his eyes, he always felt like a bit of the odd man out, but looking back, he did fit in, he just didn't realize it. He always had friends and for the most part, was liked by everyone. In fact, several of the friends he made in his early years, became lifelong friends. His art and photography gave him places on the yearbook staff and his dedication to studying made him a much better student than I ever was. 

While high school may not have left Andy feeling at his highest comfort level, college is where Andy came into himself. In his college years, he expanded on the things he loved, grew a lasting friend base, gained new experiences, and ultimately found the love of his life, Gail. In fact, the first time Mom and I met Gail, we both said the same thing, she is Andy's perfect match. 

Andy and Gail were introduced by a teacher they mutually had. I know for a fact that Andy was head over heels from day one and soon they were talking marriage. On June 6, 1992, Andy and Gail began a 31-year marriage that would allow them many adventures and experiences, not to mention they would have a son, who would be the joy of Andy's life. 

After Andy and Gail had been married for sixteen years, they had remained childless, and having a child was a dream they both wanted. That dream was made a reality when they adopted their son Ayden. He was adopted as a newborn and only today did I hear the complete story of how the adoption came about. It was a true God stepped-in story where He put the right people in the right place at the right time. 

As a dad, Andy was one of the best. Before Ayden, he had some practice with my boys, but having his own son brought Andy to life. As a family, they traveled a bit, and Andy shared his love of fishing, camping, and hiking with Ayden. He also became very active in Boy Scouts being a leader and helping Ayden continue to cultivate a love for the outdoors and all that being a Boy Scout entails. 

Once out of college, Andy and Gail lived in Salina, then Colorado (a place he truly loved) and then they moved back to Wichita where they stayed. Andy went to work as a web designer for Butler County Community College and stayed their 25 years until his retirement. During this time, Andy and Gail also had their own business, Jacques Designs, where they designed websites for different businesses. 

In 2017, Andy was diagnosed with colon cancer. He knew that cancer would be likely in his lifetime as he carried the Lynch Syndrome gene that our mother had. As her children, we each had a 50% chance of having the gene which meant not "if" we would get cancer but "when" we would get cancer. After testing for the gene, I didn't have it, but Andy did. 

After the original diagnosis, he ended up having colon cancer twice and the second time resulted in him losing most of his colon. He then had bladder cancer twice and the second time he lost his bladder. He got it a third time too as he got bladder cancer where his bladder had been. He also had kidney cancer twice and most recently he was diagnosed with lung and bone cancer. They were all primary cancers which is pretty typical of the LS gene. Along with the cancer diagnosis came numerous surgeries and treatments from chemo to radiation and immunotherapy. In some cases, the treatments were harder on him than the disease itself. From the treatments, he developed non-alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver, diabetes, scoliosis, and osteoporosis, not to mention a broken hip socket. Through all of this though, he rarely complained. 

Andy's life over the last six years has been stress of diagnosis, doctors, trips to KC and Houston, surgeries, infections, and many many hospital stays. Through all of this though, he tried to work until he simply couldn't, he tried to keep up Boys Scouts and he fought like it was his job. He never gave up hope and he did his best to keep as much normalcy in their lives as he possibly could. 

As children, Andy and I were very close. As adults, circumstances and situations drew us apart and we lost the bond that we had created as kids. In the last couple of years though, we opened up communication again and we were able to have long talks and get to know each other. He began to call me more after he retired and we would talk about the present and reminisce over our mutual past. I caught up on his life and he caught up on mine. I would ask him honest and pointed questions about his illness and he gave me honest answers, and through this, I saw my brother for who he really was. 

If you listen to those who knew Andy, friends, family, and business associates, the first thing they will always comment on is his sense of humor. He loved a good joke and nothing tickled him more than to catch someone off guard with an inappropriate or even scathingly funny comment. Often his funniest moments were when humor wasn't expected such as at church or a funeral. I have a bit of him in me and in the last couple of days, I have thought of some pretty inappropriate comments myself, that would scandalize most people but would have Andy rolling. Wish he were here to hear them. 

Words to describe Andy's humor that I have heard have been shocking, inappropriate, hysterical, unexpected, and wicked to name a few and to that, I say....yes. His humor was all that and more. 

Andy has also been described as a mentor, kind, generous with his time, a great dad, husband, and friend. His skill with web design and photography has been praised and apparently, he was also pretty proficient with sending the late-night meme. 

In the last few days, I have done nothing but go over my lifetime with Andy. I have deep-dived into my memories of our childhood and psycho-analyzed our adult years. Mostly though, I have been so grateful for the last year. I am grateful for the phone conversations, and the texts, and that I had the ability to tell him what he meant to me and how much I truly loved him. I am grateful he got to meet my grandkids and that we got to talk about all the people and things he loved. I am grateful he called and wanted to talk and that he would talk to me about some of the hard stuff. I am grateful that I really got to know my brother. 

So yes, Andy was an artist with an artist's eye and imagination. He was a photographer, a web designer, a lover of fishing and camping, a Boy Scout leader, a traveler, and a lover of Christmas, Halloween, and fireworks. He was a little boy who rode cardboard boxes down the stairs when Mom wasn't watching, and who had finger gun fights with me every day for a year. He loved Star Wars, decorating for holidays,  and 80's music. He was a good son who loved, took care of, and missed his parents. He was a good dad, husband, and friend.....and he was my brother. And what I have learned recently is that he was also the strongest person I have ever known, beating back cancer time and again and fighting to stay with his family for as long as he could. He was a man of great faith, understanding that God's plan is not always ours and yet continuing to go along for the ride without question. He was the greatest fighter I have ever known and through it all, he kept his sense of humor and tried his hardest to be as little "burden" as he could be for those around him. 

In the last year, my little brother has taught me so much about the struggle of living and the grace of dying. I also am acutely aware that because of Andy's cancer, he touched so many lives he might not have otherwise touched. There was so much purpose in his life and even in his illness, and I have no doubt that God worked through him to change lives. Andy definitely changed mine and through it all,  he became my hero. 

On Nov. 20, 2023, Andy's last fight ended. He left this world peacefully and quietly with Gail by his side. He had accomplished all God had laid out for him and I have no doubt that my parents, his dogs, my husband, my daughter, and a myriad of other family and friends greeted him on his arrival to heaven. In fact, I bet he attended a birthday party or two also. 

As I sit here, my heart breaks writing this as I mourn his loss, but it also swells with pride knowing that I am the only one who can claim.....Andy was my brother. 

Rest dear Andy. Your journey is complete.

Three Headlines and My Opinion

Good morning! 

Not sure how it is in your world, but in mine, it is day two of rain. The humidity of course is high but the temps aren't as fallish as I would like. It is still a bit warmer than us pumpkin spice-drinking, pumpkin patch loving, leggings, and sweater-wearing connoisseurs would like. In fact, it is still a bit steamy out there. All-in-all though, it is a pretty good day to sip hot tea and spill the T in a blog. 

I wasn't sure what I wanted to write about today until I opened up my news app and started looking at the headlines. Then I remembered someone telling me not too long ago that there were a select few who liked to hear my views on world happenings. I really thought they were joking, but apparently, the hilarity I found in the statement, they found  to be a bit insulting as they were actually being serious. Who knew?

Okay, so be it. Today's blog will cover a few headlines (both locally to me and nationally....maybe even worldwide...who knows?)and bonus, you will get my views on such. Yeah, be careful what you ask for. 

My first headline is a local one. https://www.kake.com/story/49882600/newton-man-sentenced-to-more-than-4-years-for-mistreatment-of-a-dependent-adult    This story is short, but definitely not sweet. The place they speak of Heartland Supports, is in a little town North of Wichita. It apparently is a day program for dependent disabled adults. This less than human beast, apparently beat and battered a disabled client and now will be doing a whole 4 years for his crimes. Grrrrrr....I have BIG opinions on this. First of all, from the time David (my special needs, dependent son) was about 8 years old, up until now, I have always had people pushing me to put David into either a home for dependent indviduals or a day program after he graduated high school. My reply was always "thank you....no thank you," but not always in those nice of words. 

After years of hearing stories about people in nursing homes and assisted homes of all kinds, being beaten, abused and even killed, by staff who were not properly trained and who flat out didn't give a damn about the people they were hired to care for, I made up my mind early on, David would never be put in that position. David is especially vulnerable as he is non-verbal and when he is not being understood or listened to (yes, he can communicate if his caregiver, para, etc are willing to take the time and listen), then he can become frustrated, resulting in an arm grab, a small pinch, or even mild combativeness. This seldom happens anymore though, as he has gotten good at letting us know his needs, or maybe we have just gotten better at listening. He has however, even in a school setting been verbally chastised, and according to some who chose to remain nameless, even physically reprimanded. Imagine that in a setting such as Heartland Supports, where I couldn't oversee the situations like I could at school. David could be a statistic just because someone found him challenging and didn't want to deal with him, and David would never even be able to let anyone know. 

Yes, David will always remain in our home setting where he is loved, understood and his "voice" is always heard. As for this cowardly beast who hurt someone who had no ability to fight back, in my humble opinion, 4 years is not nearly enough. There should be extenuating punishments for those that hurt the elderly and disabled, and I am sure there is a special place in hell for them. 

I also feel that the Heartland Supports should shoulder some of the responsibility and all facilities caring for the disabled whether it is a living facility or a day facility, should conduct in-depth background checks on anyone they hire as well as extensive training on both the physical and mental care of those in their charge. Unfortunately, that would have to come with a big budget and much higher pay scale, that most of these places will not provide. Most of these workers, not unlike the paras (support staff for special education in schools) get paid barely minimum wage with little to no training but a lot of high expectations in service provisions. In other words, often the most vulnerable of our society aren't deemed worthy enough to have caretakers in facilities make quality care a priority. Grrrrrr

In lighter news https://www.today.com/popculture/taylor-swift-travis-kelce-kiss-cheek-rcna121758  Oh Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. SWELCE! Yes, I had to bring it up. 

I will admit when this whole Kelce/Swift thing started, I was a bit amused. The first I heard of it was when he was apparently crushing on her and he had someone tell her (I think, my brain is humidly challenged this morning) and she didn't seem any too impressed. It was kind of the Hollywood adult version of passing a note and asking her if she liked him. This was even before pre-season I believe. Then suddenly, without football fan warning or consultation, we hear that the two are a couple. Hmmmmmm. Who doesn't remember the Jessica Simpson/Tony Romo debacle and the grief it caused both him and the Cowboys? I bet Romo does!!!! No one (or at least me) wanted to see Kelce and the Chiefs go down that same road. 

So imagine my dismay, as the SWELCE "romance" began to blossom and T-Swift became the focal point of the season, and definitely every game that the Chiefs played. I read all the gossip headlines accusing the two of an unholy alliance of self-promotion to enhance both of their careers, or the belief that this was just made up play acting to keep the Chiefs relevant. 

Honestly, it is pro-sports and Hollywood, if we have learned nothing else, we have learned that anything is possible and either/or headline could be possible, however, it didn't seem likely that two people, both at the top of their game in their individual worlds, really needed the promotion, and the Chiefs certainly didn't. So maybe the two were legit, BUT must I see more of  Swift at these games than the actual games? I posted something about this on FB and while some agreed that they were over the two before they even started, others sighed and chastised me for not acknowledging young love in bloom. I remember thinking to myself, until he becomes her next heart break, man done her wrong, top 10 single. Yes, I am extremely jaded. 

There is no question that I am and was pre-SWELCE,  a Kelce fan. I have however, never been that big on Swift....no matter how much my granddaughter plays her songs. Okay, there are a few songs that I find okay, but Swift as a person, I just kind of wonder about. So many boyfriends, so many break up songs, and if you listen to gossip media, our T-Swift might be headed to the dark-side with some of her songs and videos. Did she really sell her soul for pop stardom and now NFL stardom too? 

Then I hear stories about people in this new world of football fans and friends that Swift is starting to cultivate. She is kind to those around her. She picks up her trash and the trash of others. She goes out of her way to meet people, and okay, maybe the most endearing thing I have seen, her sweet kiss on Kelce's cheek, and their innocent hand holding. All these things are things a boy mom would be watching out for if a girl (even Taylor Swift) were hanging out with her son. 

So my consensus.....maybe they are for real. They definitely aren't throwing their PDA in our faces like some of the famous couples tend to do in an effort to show the world their love (think any Kardashian), and they aren't trying to defend their relationship through all the clapback that they get. At the end of the day, I guess it really doesn't matter if they are a "real" couple or not, and by the way, what defines real couple anyway? They seem happy, and the Chiefs Kingdom have settled down and don't seem too unhappy that the more Swift shows up at the games, the better Kelce plays. I guess the only real question left is, can SWELCE get us to another Super Bowl win? If not, then at least we know that T-Swift will have a hell of a next album. 

And finally, https://www.goodnewsnetwork.org/tumor-destroying-sound-waves-treatment-coming-to-a-hospital-near-you-for-liver-cancer/ we all need a little uplifting news when it comes to cancer. 

Cancer has been around a very long time and dare I say there are very few of us that can say cancer has not touched our lives in one way or another. It is a disease that can produce over 200 types of cancer, along with genetic mutations that can can take the disease from very treatable to completely out of control. Yes, genetics and our individual cell make up play a huge part in whether we get cancer or not. 

With cancer sometimes the treatments are almost as bad as the disease itself, using poisons and radiation to kill the cancer that can damage other organs, cause other illnesses and make the cancer patient sicker than they ever felt with the disease. Often times the treatments are also invasive, such as surgery to remove the cancer or even the affected organ. 

Of late, new trials keep popping up and some are less damaging than the old tried and true chemo and there is also positive info coming out on cannabis and it's ability to kill cancer cells, but with over 200 kinds of cancer, it makes sense that not every new trial or treatment is going to react to every cancer the same way. That is why something like non-invasive treatments such as sound waves might be an exciting breaktrhough in the field of cancer and it's treatment.  

May we one day find a cure for cancer in all its forms that erradicates it from our world. 

Well, there you have it. You have three interesting(ish) headlines and my opinion on all of them. 

So until next time, stay dry, stay happy and be kind!

Even in Our Darkest Hours.......

As most of you who know me know, I may not be fearless in most walks of my life, but in blogging, I typically am. I usually have no fear of what I say or how I say it. Today though is different. 

I have wanted to write today's blog piece for a while, and when I finally got the permission to do so, all my writing fearlessness flew out the window, so it has taken me a while to get here. Why? Because this piece is about someone whose faith and strength astounds me. I am in awe of her and I want my words to do her story and her words justice. 

I feel this story is hugely important and should be told with the grace and dignity in which it has been lived. I know, like myself, others will hear this story and find their own healing and inspiration in it. This story, simply can't help but touch others deeply and profoundly, and I only hope that my telling of it will honor all involved. 

Years ago, I had a little hair and nail salon in our little town. I was the nail tech and my days were spent doing two things I loved, doing nails and talking to people. While I loved all of my clients, there were a few that were special to my heart. One of those was an amazing woman named Tutti. Her name alone provoked a smile and her outlook on life and the vivaciousness of her spirit lived up to her name. 

My nail table was tucked out of the way in a little corner of the shop, with good reason. When my favorites came in, often we spent a great deal of time laughing. Tutti wasn't only one of my favorites because of her spirit and personality, she was also one of my favorites because she gave me free rein over her nails. She would say, "What do you think suits me this time?" She would walk out with everything from palm trees, to fish, to tropical birds on her nails and she always seemed to love whatever I did. 

Tutti's favorite subject to talk about during her nail appointments was her kids and most especially,  her beautiful little curly-haired daughter named Stephanie. She would always walk in, sit down and say, "Now ask me what they did this week." Then she would regale me with some hilarious story that Stephanie or the boys did. It was obvious those kids were her heart and I loved every story she told. 

Eventually, I sold my shop and moved on. Too many hours smelling perms and acetone took its toll on me and I got out of the business. In time I lost track of my customers, even my favorites. Years later, I was doing a cancer walk at the old high school track when I was told that Tutti had battled cancer and had lost her battle a few years earlier. It made me tremendously sad that I had lost track of her and had not known this. 

It was at this same walk, that Tutti's daughter Stephanie was pointed out to me. She too was there for the walk. She was at this time,  a grown young woman, and a striking beauty. I immediately walked up to her and introduced myself, telling her that I knew her mother and that I was so sorry for her loss. Stephanie had no idea who I was, but she was kind and gracious and so amazingly poised. I saw so much of Tutti in her. 

Skip ahead to just several years ago. My David was in grade school and he was going through a really rough time with a lot of sudden changes in his school life that were prompting a great deal of seizure activity. I was at a crossroads trying to decide whether continuing in school was even the right path for him or not. Then along came Stephanie. She was an RN that had previously worked at the cancer center, but had changed jobs and been hired by the school district after her son was born. With all the issues David had been having, the school realized that they were on the verge of losing him as a student, and that at the time, he needed someone more medically based than a para, so they put Stephanie with him. It was one of the wisest decisions they had made at the time. In a lot of ways, Stephanie turned David's world around and in her, he found compassion and stability at the school that I don't think he had felt in the presence of others. 

Stephanie literally was a game changer for David and through her care and kindness, she gave him the  dignity and respect, that others had neglected in showing him. Her nursing skills were a Godsend too as she was ever vigilant where his seizures were concerned, and if she ever became concerned with his health, she didn't hesitate to bring those concerns straight to me. It gave me a peace of mind with David and school that I hadn't had for a while. 

The impact that Stephanie's presence had on David was so amazing, but deep in my heart, I knew that working at the school was not to be Stephanies true path, so when I was told she was leaving the school district, I was not surprised. I was even less surprised when I found out that she was going back to work at the cancer center. This was where her heart truly was at. 

Like time always does, it moved on. I kept in touch with Stephanie as all of us in the 21st century do, through social media. I watched Stephanie and her husband Jeff have kids and raise them. They were a beautiful family and they were busy with sports and coaching little league, moving homes and jobs, and establishing a life full of love and adventures that they shared in their pictures and posts. It was a joy to watch and a bright spot in my day to see Stephanie's posts. 

True to her kind nature, she often also posted about her job, or more often, her patients posted about her and how she had helped them through chemo and on their cancer journey. There were also the sweetest posts from Jeff on her timeline as he celebrated her on birthdays and anniversary's and Stephanie showed the same love in return. It was as if, even as young as they were, they realized what they had in each other and they were grateful for every moment they shared together. 

On July 11, 2019, as I skimmed a post Stephanie had made, I stopped reading mid sentence and had to start reading the whole post again. What I read literally brought tears to my eyes. I am sure that I was not alone. 

Jeff had been having some "concerning symptoms" and after going to the ER, they learned that he had a mass in his brain. After a brain biopsy, they learned that he did in fact have a Glioblastoma, which for those of us who don't speak oncology, this was a very aggressive brain tumor. Being true to the nurse that she is, in the same post, Stephanie was already in fight mode and she and Jeff were getting a game plan in place in which they had every intention of giving this cancer a run for its money. I was sure that if anyone could do it, this family could. 

Say what you will about small towns, but ours is a pretty awesome place. The minute word was out about Jeff's battle, our town vowed to battle right along with him. Stephanie and Jeff had an amazing circle of family and friends which grew exponentially in the days, weeks, months, and years that followed. People were reaching out to help this family in any way they could. There were fundraisers, t-shirts, and prayer requests going out to all churches, all faiths, and all people. While I am sure at times that Stephanie and Jeff felt this battle was a solitary quest, the fact was, there was love and prayers coming at them from all directions, especially from those whom Stephanie had been there for during their own cancer journey's. 

In the weeks that followed, you couldn't go anywhere without seeing "Team Hoag" and "Hoag Strong" t-shirts, and social media was filled with posts of family, friends, and strangers sporting the t-shirts in support of  Jeff and his family. The love and kindness this couple had given out so freely to others, was now coming back to them a thousandfold. This family was not fighting alone. 

Even though I never had the pleasure of meeting Jeff, I prayed for him daily and for Stephanie and the kids, because I knew from my own family experience with cancer, that it affected the entire family. I had read a little about Glioblastoma and I knew that this family was in for a rough road ahead. 

Early on, someone had posted on FB, "God gives the toughest battles to his strongest soldiers." This proved to be such a true statement. Jeff and Stephanie knew the odds of survival from this type of cancer, and yet they decided regardless of the outcome, cancer would not win! They refused to allow this monster to damage or destroy their lives, even when things got really tough. 

Anyone who has gone through cancer or loved someone through cancer, knows there are good days and bad days and sometimes those bad days are really, really bad. There are doctors appointments and specialists that often require travel to see, and through it all, the disease can become the focal point of your life. Cancer just seems to take control, and yet through sheer willpower and determination, Jeff and Stephanie fought cancer like champs and somehow continued to live their lives even in the throes of battle. They took vacations, family photos, celebrated holidays, coached sports and shared life, made memories with their kids, and shared laughter and love with family and friends. 

Jeff lived fearlessly and touched lives with his faith and indomitable spirit. Never did you see a picture that he wasn't smiling in and never did you read a post that gratitude for the life he had and all that he had been given wasn't in every word. Rather than let cancer consume him and make him bitter, he used it as a gift to spur on faith in others and motivate both old and young with the knowledge that even a disease like cancer only has power over us, if we allow it power. He never once gave it power. 

Cancer, though it may only strike one in the family, is very much a family disease. Stephanie, being an oncology nurse, remained hopeful but realistic. Her posts gave a candid look into her world.  She was holding on for dear life to her husband, her family, and her future, and yet, being the faith-filled woman she is, she was also very aware that their hope might not be God's will. Because of this reality, she at times posted some of the most real and moving posts I have ever read, acknowledging both the emotional trials she was going through and yet the gratitude and faith that she never lost sight of. 

One such post was just months into the cancer diagnosis when she said, "This season is one of the toughest of all times. Sometimes it can feel lonely and heavy, but I know I have a wonderful tribe of women in my life that are always checking in and willing to help carry a few bricks. I've never been good at accepting help, but I'm so thankful for these women- they get me, and they show up even when I try to push them away." 

On Jan. 1, 2020, Stephanie wrote a beautiful post about her blessings. She refused to focus on anything but the good and gave a laundry list of blessings and gratitude. It touched me deeply and I am sure I was not alone. She was starting 2020 with gratitude, grace, and hope in the midst of what many, myself included, might have fallen apart over. 

In 2020, they added a fur baby to their family and continued fighting. Stephanie shared the occasional update on Jeff's health but more often than not, their posts were full of them living their lives, experiencing milestones, and enjoying the life they had as a family. 

Through the entire ordeal, Jeff and Stephanie lived their cancer truth out loud and their kids, even as young as they are, were aware of what was going on. I think one of the most poignant posts I ever saw, was in August 2020, from Stephanie who had shared a picture of their huge backyard, and their 7-year-old son mowing it with a push mower. Her post began, "The lines in our yard use to be straight. Jeff's a perfectionist at heart, and the straight lines he made in the yard reflected just that. 

Today, I cried over crooked lines. I cried because this 7 year old volunteered to mow the lawn for his dad. Our yard is no small task, but he mowed every single line and pushed up both sides of the house against those dreadful hills." 

I couldn't help but stare at the picture of that small figure in that big yard. That young man was learning some of lifes toughest lessons at such an early age. That is likely one moment in his life that he will never forget. 

In November of 2020, Stephanie shared fall family photos they had done. As I looked at those beautiful, amazing photos, I couldn't help the tears that snuck out and traveled down my face. There was something so beautiful about each of them. They were precious memories caught in a perfect moment. Something told me deep in my heart that these photos above all the other photos they had shared over time, would always hold a special place in all their hearts. 

Through the holidays, I had not seen many posts from Stephanie. I figured that like everyone else, it was a busy time. I truly hoped that no news might mean something positive. 

On February 19, 2021, a post from Stephanie caught my attention and made my heart sink. The news was not good. The tumor was continuing to grow and essentially they had run out of good choices. Jeff was on a new medication and they were just praying that it would stop the growth. Stephanies final words on the post were, "We knew this was going to be a bumpy road and at some point, we may find ourselves in unchartered waters. It's frightening, and I keep telling myself it's not supposed to be like this, but I know we're not done here, this battle's not over- we're not giving up Hope, and we'll continue to stand on His promise.... and that's my promise to them."

The faith she had. The faith she shared. The faith they had together. I was in awe. 

On April 5, 2021, I held back tears once again. Stephanie shared a picture of a smiling Jeff holding both his children when their youngest was born. You could just tell that next to being Stephanie's husband, being a dad was his favorite thing in life. His face was beaming. Stephanie's post stated, "I experienced one of the most heartbreaking moments as a parent yesterday. Individually, I had to tell my children that their daddy will be transitioning to heaven soon. Those heart-rendered faces are forever etched into my brain. They're fighters, and I pray that one day they find that special kind of perspective on life, that only comes from such heartache. Starting today, we're signing onto hospice. We've finished the course, we've kept the faith and as Jeff told Dr. Truong 'we won'.

She ended it by saying, "I'm heartbroken, but I'll continue to search out the blessings in these raindrops. It's going to be 'okay', even if it's not the okay we wanted...." 

Oh those last words! I cried like a baby.  

On April 27, 2021, Stephanie's post began, "Jeff took his final breaths last night. He crossed over to his heavenly body- no more cancer and no more pain. He WON." 

Even now as I read those words, the tears flow. Having lost my own husband, my own best friend, and the one I planned to grow old with twenty years prior, I knew the pain and sadness she was feeling and her words in the midst of all that pain, literally took my breath away. 

In the days and weeks that followed, there was an outpouring of love for Stephanie and the kids and so many beautiful memorials and memories of and for Jeff. His strength and his faith while fighting such an uncompromising and evil opponent touched so many lives and the lessons he taught about strength through adversity and never giving up, will stay with so many for the rest of their lives. In my mind though, the most important lesson he taught, was to his own children. He showed them that life isn't always easy or fair, and sometimes life doesn't go our way, but through it all, you can always find joy, peace and so many things to be grateful for, and in the end, he taught them to both live and die with grace and dignity in the acceptance of God's will. 

On June 14, 2021, nearly two months after Jeff died, Stephanie made this post. 

"I read something the other day that said ‘True Joy is found in the release’… read that again. It’s powerful and it’s real, and my heart needed to read it.

I returned to work a few weeks ago, and my heart needed that too. For me, a large part of my identity is in the release. It's giving back and helping others, but also on a more simple scale- it's holding the door for someone, providing a compliment to a stranger, taking a phone call in the middle of the night, or just providing a shoulder to someone in need. I'm not saying it's the same for everyone, but part of my Joy comes from sharing it with others.

Someone asked me the other day if I planned to share my journey with grief. I'm not sure my perspective will be helpful to anyone because I think we all carry it differently, but I'm willing to share and be vulnerable in the hope that maybe it will help someone.

So the truth is, I ended up on my kitchen floor Friday afternoon crying, because I simply came across a picture of Jeff from a year ago. It crumbled me. I let that wave hit me and hit me again, and you know what happened?.... I eventually got up.

Often times I find myself trying to validate my feelings, but I'm learning there is no right or wrong. When you're standing in the ocean you can't stop a wave. All you can do is ride it out and know that it won't last forever.

I realize that a part of me went with him and throughout this new journey comes finding that part of myself again. My goals and perspective have shifted slightly. The success and future of my family is now solely on my shoulders. I'll probably end up on my kitchen floor a few more times, but I promise you I will keep getting up and moving forward.

Maybe that's also part of the release though... going forward towards things that provide fulfillment, happiness, opportunity- but doing so unapologetically. God's going to lead our hearts down the path he's created for us... we're faithful, ready, and all in.

Whatever it is that's weighing you down, find a way to put it back into the world... and see what goodness might just come your way."

As I read this, it struck me so deeply. It was in that moment, that I just knew that this story had to be told for others outside our little town and outside Stephanie and Jeff's close-knit circle of loved ones and friends to read. I knew how deeply Jeff's story had affected me. It was a story of strength and determination with undoubting faith that in the end, he would win. He did. But moreover, this is also a love story. It is the story of a love so strong and a faith so deep that even when the ending wasn't what Stephanie had hoped for, she still found the grace to be grateful for the life she shared with Jeff and their kids.

Loss is never easy and when you lose the one you were supposed to grow old with, sometimes the pain is excruciating, but to see beyond the pain and to keep taking those next steps forward into unchartered territory takes a strength and faith that not everyone understands.

I am extremely grateful and honored that Stephanie allowed me to tell her story and to share her journey with you. It is my hope, that through Stephanie's words and the life she has lived and continues to live today, that she may give someone else the strength they need to keep the faith, to hold on to hope, and to fully understand, that even in our darkest hours......God always gives us light.

Waiting-Place (Waiting for a Cure!)

Well....I told you there were things that you were going to be hearing more from me about....and here is one of them.

I talked about Waiting-Place....an up and coming non-profit that some friends of mine started. Well today....I would like to elaborate. Sometimes things happen in your life that just seem like a perfect fit. That is what happened when I first heard about Waiting-Place. Angie Daniel a friend of mine who writes the blog http://mrs1inamillion.blogspot.com/ and her sister Shelly came up with the idea for this venture. Angie's husband KFDI radio personality Dane Daniel has been battling cancer for years and Angie and Dane have spent many hours in the last decade waiting in drs. waiting rooms, hospital waiting rooms and treatment waiting rooms....all with the hopes of finding the cure that will make waiting rooms a thing of the past in their lives.

It has been all of this waiting that was the catalyst for the idea of Waiting-Place. If you must wait, then why shouldn't some good come of it? Why should all of that waiting just be precious minutes lost from already stressed lives? Waiting-Place will make all that waiting not only be proactive, but possibly find the cure that means someone may no longer have to wait.

The beauty of Waiting-Place is that people who love you, know you, or who just want to find a cure for your particular disease can sponsor you and pledge a dollar amount on each medical visit you have that is part of your disease treatment. Those dollars then all go to research of your disease. In Dane and Angie's world that is soft cell sarcoma.

Most of you by now know that my youngest son is special needs. His official diagnosis is cerebral palsy and with that come many issues including hydrocephalus and seizures. We spend many long hours just as Angie and Dane do, waiting on drs., tests, results and most of all......a cure. Waiting rooms are never fun, but with chronic illness and disease....they are a way of life. If each one of those visits though could possibly be putting us that much closer to a cure....every second there would be worth it.

The minute I heard about Waiting-Place I said....."I'm in!" I pledged to give whatever I could to make this work. The most wonderful part about Waiting-Place is it's ability to help find a cure for not just one illness or disease.....but many.

Everyone of us knows someone who is sick. Everyone of us knows someone who needs to find a cure. That is why I am asking you to support Waiting-Place today. All you have to do is vote! As I said this is brand new on the scene and start up money to support the future of Waiting-Place is an immediate need. Pepsi has the Pepsi Refresh Project which they are donating to the top ten most voted on start up ideas. Waiting-Place is in the running but it needs votes daily until the end of the month. All you have to do is go to
http://www.refresheverything.com/  click on the "health" symbol at the top of the page, then click on $50,000, then where it says Vote For pull the drop down menu and pick "near you". Waiting-Place says Creating a tool to let patients raise research money while in treatment. Angie Daniel's name is under it. Then vote. Vote everyday and get all of your family, friends and social networking friends to do it too.

Why is this so important? Because someday....you or someone you love.....maybe waiting for a cure!

Stay tuned for updates!

Things My Mother Taught Me

This was a piece I wrote in memory of my mom a while back. I know it has been read by many of you before....but try as I might...I have not been able to come up with words that say how my heart feels about my mother...better than this. So on this...my 7th Mother's Day without her....I share this once again.

She was beautiful in every way and she was wise...far wiser than she was ever given credit for. She always marched to her own beat and could be your best friend or your worst enemy....it just depended which side of her you were on. She was a flawed human just like the rest of us....but somehow those flaws made her more vulnerable, more approachable, more Mom. She was a force to be reckoned with and she more than once brought fear into the hearts of my friends....but most ended up loving her and those that didn't....they still had a healthy respect.

My mother taught me many things and today...on Mother's Day....I would like to share some memories and lessons from a woman gone too soon.

She taught me that children are a gift and no matter what....we must always love them. I learned this from personal experience as she always considered me a gift and loved me through good and bad.....and sometimes I was very bad.

She taught me that we are not owed anything in this life and to expect this will only cause us heartache and pain. It is when we work for things we are truly rewarded. This has proven to be true so many times in my life.

Her favorite saying no matter what horrid thing happened to us was...."offer it up." Translation: God offered up His only son for our sins....so we can offer up our pain and suffering to Him. If I skinned my knee....she would kiss it, bandage it, and then tell me to "offer it up." If I failed a test and was upset about it she would say...."offer it up." Even when I was older and I was hurt by things that a kiss and bandage would no longer fix....she would listen and then tell me...."offer it up." Mom always felt that if you must suffer (and we all must) that if you offered it up....your pain would not be in vain. Guess what my children now get to hear????

Mom taught me that you are never closer to God or your own thougths than when you work in the garden. There is a peace and serenity there that can't be matched anywhere else. That is unless you run into a copperhead snake....but that is a story for another time.

She taught me that I would never truly be able to love someone else if I couldn't love myself. If you can't love yourself....then how do you expect anyone else to love you? It took me a lot of years and an awful relationship...but finally I learned to love me....and everything else fell into place.

Mom taught me that faith is essential in life and that prayer moves mountains. I was taught from a very early age to pray not on my terms but on Gods. All prayers are answered....just not always in our time or our way. My little David is living proof.

I learned from Mom that if one is good....then five are better. This may not have been one of her better life lessons...but if sure has been a fun one....especially where shoes are concerned. I mean really can you have too many shoes? Mom had 150 pair when she died....and many still live on in my closet today. Thanks Mom. :)

Finally and more importantly....Mom taught me how to die. Mom had five primary cancers before she died, she went through the loss of a lung, 3 other surgeries, and both radiation and chemo and never once did I hear her complain. Every time anyone would ask how she was doing she would always say, "if it doesn't get any worse than this....then I'm doing pretty good." You can bet Mom was doing a lot of "offering up." She never lost faith that whatever happened next was "suppose" to happen and she used every second of her life to enjoy what time she could. And finally......when the end came....she showed us that she had lived life on her terms and that she would die on her terms. She left this world with more class and dignity than anyone I have ever known.

Mom taught me that life is for the living. Death is inevitable but not to be dwelled on. She made sure that she taught me to let go of the sadness and to only hold on to the good....to the lifetime of memories.....and so Mom...that is what I've done. Happy Mother's Day.

Let "5" Save Your Life!

Five is a good strong number. Very distinct and easily recognized and remembered. Why my fascination with "five" you ask? Because the number five could save your life if you are a woman or it could save the life of someone you love. Now you think I'm crazy....right? Trust me...I'm not!
Today is May 5th and today and on the 5th day of every month.....if you gave yourself a breast exam...you might just save your own life. And if you reminded those around you....you might help to save theirs. It is proven that through regular self breast exams...a woman becomes familiar with her breasts to the point that if there is an abnormality....she can detect it almost immediately. It is also proven that early detection is the key to fighting and winning the battle against breast cancer. And since this horrid disease is one of the leading causes of womens death, isn't a little prevention worth it?
Why do I care? Because number one I am a woman and number two I have watched this disease afflict and even kill family and friends of mine. I myself have found a lump thanks to regular self exams and thankfully it was nothing, but I knew my breasts well enough to feel the difference and detect it immediately. It could have been the difference between early detection and losing my breast....or worse.
Please don't think it can't happen to you or those you love....because my family is living proof that it can.
So if you are a woman....or there is a woman in your life that you love.... please remember "five" and on the 5th of every month, check yourself and be the best friend or family member you can be and remind those you love to do the same. After all....it takes such little effort and it can have such enormous results. So please...."Let "5" Save Your Life!"


This is dedicated to: Mary (my mother), Ruth and Grace (my aunts), Pam (my cousin), Andrea (my friend), and all those who have had to fight the battle against breast cancer.

The Power Over Control

Okay....so I admit that I am just the teensiest bit controlling. Fine....I would control everything from the weather to Jay Leno's monologue if I could, but in my defense.....it is not completely my fault. I come from a long line of control freaks...so I believe that I am genetically inclined to this behavior. It is one of my more "un"lovable qualities and one that believe it or not...I spend a great deal of time working on. Believe me....it takes a lot of time and energy to try and control everything in your hemisphere....and when it comes to having the last word.....you just know that is gonna be something I have to have. As much havic as this little flaw imparts on my personal life.....it is nothing compared to what it has done to my spiritual life.

"Let go and let God," was my mothers favorite saying. She too loved to control all in her kingdom....but somewhere along the way, she learned that somethings are completely out of our human control....and more importantly....you simply can't control God. I too am fighting to learn these lessons. I am finding that the older I get....the less control over anything I really have....(although I am still quite good at demanding the last word), but in all things that really count....the only true control I have is the control God allows me.

My spiritual education about just how little control over things in my life that I really had....began with the premature birth of my youngest son. As he lay between life and death day after day...I realized that I had zero control over whether he would live or not. All control was out of my hands....the only one in true control was God.

When I came home to find my husband dead....there was simply nothing that myself or any other human for that matter could do to change this situation. Once again....God was in control....and I was a control freak....with absolutely no control.

Finally.....I think the realization of how little control I really have in this world came to me when my mother was sick. Cancer turned my mother from someone who had to control every situation.....to someone who could easily...."Let go and let God." She became a true child of God.....happily turning her illness, her life, and her heart over to Him....and willingly accepting His will for her....not the other way around. For me....it was another spiritual life lesson that once again brought home the fact that....there was absolutely nothing about the situation that I could control.

I think it was just a short time after my mothers death....when I was feeling very "out of control" about life in general....that I began searching for something that would return my world (and control) back to me. I spent some time doing some major soul searching and looking for an answer(s) that I may have overlooked. Finally...after much searching and even more praying.....one day in a quiet one on with God it came to me. In all these situations where I had felt so totally devoid of control....I had something much more important. I had power. I always had the power right there at my fingertips....I had the power to pray. I had the power to let go of all that was out of my control....and like a child....let God handle it all. (Thus my mothers lesson in learning to be a "true" child of God.) I think it was then that I realized that where control does nothing more than fill your life.....power actually fills your soul....and when you have power....then you really don't need control.

If I am completely honest....control still tries to rear its ugly head in my life on a daily basis.....especially when my son goes without a belt and I can see his underwear, when it rains on my picnic....or when Leno isn't funny, but I have also learned that I have the power to ignore my sons fashion choices, to bring my picnic inside, and to turn off the television....and more importantly I have learned that I have the power through prayer....to turn it all over to God. Don't get me wrong....I still have the "last word" issue....but I am merely a work in progress....so for now.....we will be satisfied with baby steps.

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