MuM aNd DaD cHrIsTmAs DaNciN

gma and gpa

always show us 

how to be in love and have

fun during the holidays.

they broke out in an impromptu

dance while christmas carolers sang

while we were getting 

hot chocolate.

so sweet!

SaNTa StIlL hAs MaGiC...

Christmas 2011

A ChriStMaS TreE fOr ThReE

A Christmas Tree For Three 

by Tatum Merrill

written for sprouts Cole &Ethan

____________ 

The hunt was on,

to find a tree,

one to be

the tree for three.

A 'noble' fir showed up the rest,

'we three' had found the tree,

the best.

Tradition called for mom

to trim, 

to prune, to groom, 

and make us

grin.

Our music tunes

we danced about,

the Christmas spirit

left no doubt, 

 Our tree would soon 

be glam adorn,

with lights,

and magic, 

and trinkets 

forlorn.

 Our favorite decor 

so long packed away...

A snow globe,

a reindeer, 

 a bike,

 and toy sleigh, 

Visions of Santa,

soon came to mind..

boxes, presents,

and gestures of kind.

So much magic

for a tree to unlock.

Is Christmas more 

than a toy-filled

sock?

Dreams of eight 

reindeer,

and the man 

who wears red,

quickly changed pace,

as I thought in my head.

The story oft told, 

during the holiday 

season, 

made me ponder the tree,

it's message, 

and reason.

 The star atop the tree

lit up the sky,

shone brightly 

back then,

for The Lord, 

Prince,

One High.

 It lit up a path

where the babe Jesus lay,

born in a stable, 

a manger with hay.

Gifts, treasures, and love unfold, 

were brought to the babe, 

they even brought gold.

The gift he gave back was

life to man-kind.

No greater a gift could 

any man find.

 

So why the tree 

in the dead of the night?

...to represent life,

new birth, gift, 

and light?

  Yes, my heart said,

this was the reason,

for Christmas,

gift-giving,

the tree, 

and the season.

Christmas is more than just

Santa and toys.

It's the cause

of our 

happiness,

and all 

of our

joys.

 

I stood back from the

tree,

and stood with some

poise,

 

it needed respect,

we quieted the

noise.

 How lovely our tree 

made my heart simply say,

this is a message

we should give away.

In our actions, 

our thoughts, 

and even our deeds, 

we should pay attention

to others needs.

Whenever a gleaming 

tree 

I walk by,

I'll give the true 

meaning

of Christmas

a try.

Who knew

the message of 

The Christmas 

Tree, 

would give new 

meaning

of Christmas for 

me.

Merry Christmas!

Surviving Cancer, My Story Part 22: Change

 Part 22: Change

 We drove to Hunstman for our next appointment with Dan’s chemotherapy doctor.  Dr. Chen reviewed his blood work, and chart. “We are going to put your treatment on hold for now”, she said, not averting her eyes from studying his chart.  “What does that mean?”, Dan asked.  She explained that his red blood cells were just not recovering the way they should be since his last round of chemo.  Dan had received 4 blood transfusions since round four of chemo.  Starting him back up for round 5 with his body not recovered enough from all that he had been through would be dangerous and counterproductive.

“Will that put him at risk for a relapse in his cancer?”, I asked with concern.  Dr. Chen dropped the chart to her lap as she sat casually in a chair across from us. “We will keep an eye on him”, she continued, “because so many dangerous cells from his tumor were killed we would probably only have recommended 2 more rounds anyway.”

My heart leaped with excitement from the news.  Could the treatments really be over?  Was that it?

It was more important for Dan’s red blood cells to return to normal in order for his fight with cancer to be sustained, and so his hand could heal properly from the amputation.  He was prescribed to start walking a little longer everyday, resting another month before going back to work, get his physical therapy under way, and to eat a healthy diet, to put the weight he had lost back on.

The swelling in his hand had started to go down. Full physical therapy was scheduled for the following two weeks.  He would need the healthy red cells to make it effective for the movement ability in his hand to return.

Dr. Chen explained that Dan’s type of cancer would require him to get screened every 3-6 months for several years, and then once a year for life.  Sarcoma was unlike other cancers, that usually had a five-year wait period before survivors could omit themselves from worry.  Dan’s rare type of cancer was the most deadly, unknown, and highly reoccurring kind out there.  Dr. Chen’s nurse, Cherry, set up two follow up appointments for us in the following two months, for final review of moving Dan to the official remission list.  He would undergo two full series of the tests he had done the last six months for more thorough results, and confidence in the decision to take him off treatment.  Dan could be taken off the ‘active patient’ list, back to work, and on with his regular life by Christmas.  I was anxious for the past year to be a forgotten nightmare.  The timing would be perfect for a new beginning.

 (Dan's Hickman Line) 

Dan’s favorite part of the appointment was the ‘go ahead’ to have the Hickman port coming out of his heart to be removed.  90% chance of no more chemo made Dr. Chen confident enough to chance that he wouldn’t have to have it put back in later. She knew the pain, and annoyance it brought to the patients it helped save.

On the way home Dan was beaming with excitement to get home and call our Radiologist to make the ‘tube removal’ appointment.  “I can’t wait to take a regular shower without saran wrap”, he said.  I was happy to know that I wouldn’t have to mother him as much for those tasks.  Although he would be unable to go swimming for close to 6 months to prevent bacterial infection at the site where the tube would be coming out, he would no longer need assistance before getting in the shower, and right after to dry off and disassemble the plastic wrapping protecting the dangling tubes.

As soon as we got home Dan was on the phone calling his parents with the news.  I went to the computer and wrote a ‘thank you’ letter to our church congregation, and friends for the silent auction and support they had given us during the last 6 months of our scary year.

 We wanted to write a letter to express how grateful we are for what you all did last Saturday.  The fundraiser was so overwhelming and uplifting to us.  We never would have expected it to be as successful or as big as it turned out.  We honestly were amazed at the efforts you all went to.  

The bishop said on Sunday that this wasn't an official church activity.  Showing true compassion and charity for the people in our ward and our neighborhood should never have to be an "official activity", it is something we should be doing everyday, by coming together like on Saturday or behind the scenes when no one is looking.  From the time we found out about Dan's cancer we have felt so loved and cared for.  I came home from the hospital several times to notes, cards, and treats on my doorstep, or a message asking how I was doing on my answering machine from a friend or sometimes someone in the ward I didn't know very well.  I've had people drop off food or diapers when I wasn't expecting it but really needed it because I hadn't gotten to the store that week. We have had meals brought in. People were always watching my kids.  A young man in our ward organized a car wash fundraiser that many of you went to and supported.  We didn't even know about this until he came to our door and handed me the money.  How can I even begin to express how these random acts of kindness have affected my family and affected my heart. 

We have gained friendships that wouldn't have been gained without this experience.  We consider all of you more than just our ward family, we consider you our friends. "A friend is one who strengthens you with prayers, blesses you with love and encourages you with hope."  You have all done this for us and we are greatly indebted to you all.  The money we received from all of your giving will help us through this hard year financially, but it is the love that we felt throughout this from you that will stay with us forever.  Thank you again, with love and gratitude, The Merrill Family.

I sat and reread my letter several times before I pushed send.  I heard Dan from the other room calling me.   He wanted me to help him set up the appointment for the Hickman removal.  After that phone call I knew I needed a nap.  I still wasn’t fully recovered from the staph infection I had contracted at one of my visits to Dan while he was in the hospital.  The antibiotic had large amounts of sulfur in it, which I apparently was allergic too.  My skin had turned very pink, resembling a bad sunburn, although I hadn’t seen much of the sun all year. My muscles, and joints were sore, and I was not only tired from the drugs fighting the infection, but tired from being a cancer patience wife.

 (Cole on his first day of preschool getting on the bus)

Cole had started his first year of preschool the week earlier, and our life had been trying to move forward.  Daily life of a family requires so much planning and attention from the wife and mommy.  On top of the regular tasks, I had been busy trying to save my husband from dying for half a year.  As I lay in my bed, I let my thoughts retrace all that had happened, and where we were at as a family.  I compared my tired thoughts against what was normal, and things that seemed unsettling to me.  On one hand I felt like we had grown so much together, while on the other hand I recognized that certain things wouldn’t be fully available for comparison until we were well past this hurdle, and onto a stable routine without cancer as a lingering factor.

I had become good friends with the other two young people in our neighborhoods who had recently battled cancer. All the stories they had shared with me flooded through my mind.  One you had cancer, even after remission, your life would be changed forever.   It couldn’t just go back to normal.   

Life after something traumatic required a new course, either full of new appreciation and gratitude, or cursed with regret, bitterness, and paranoia. 

Only time would tell which course Dan, and ultimately our little family would be on.

Before Dan’s appointment in the following week to have the Hickman line removed, we had one of our long talks on the couch.  These had consistently happened over the last year usually started out with a video update, and ending with us talking ‘off the record’ with each other about where we were at with our feelings, and attitude toward the unexpected trial in our life. 

In the beginning of all the diagnosing of Dan’s cancer, and the realization from his doctors that Dan could die from his disease, we made the decision to document the journey on film.  A documentary for others of what cancer was like, or a memory for our kids of their dad (in case he did die) when they got older was the motivation.  As I held the camera and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Dan, he talked about all the little things he took for granted that he was excited to get to do again once the tube was removed.  Who knew sleeping on your stomach, wearing a shirt, or holding your baby would be so under appreciated.  Everything that touched his chest, or rubbed up against it had hurt for 6 months.  Ethan had developed a habit, once he discovered the bump under his dad’s shirt, to try and pull on it like a toy, leaving Dan with less enthusiasm to hold him too close. 

 I talked about my excitement to not have to flush the tubes with daily doses of heparin, or do weekly dressing changes that made me more nervous than anything else.  All the exciting things we talked about led to the one scary part of the tubes coming out, the procedure itself.  The tubes would be gently tugged on, and pulled away from his body until the entire tubing system came out.  With only local numbing, and Dan awake watching the whole thing, it was a little scary considering the length of the tube, how long it had been in his body, and the vital organ it would be passing through and sliding out of, his heart.  

(chart of a Hickman line)

As we talked about it Dan lifted up his hand and ran it across his color bone where the tube could be felt under the skin.  There was a good size lump where they had stuck the tube into this jugular, and shoved it down the vein into his heart.  I shuttered at the thought of watching it come out, and was grateful I wouldn’t be permitted into the surgical room where that would happen.

No more home nurses would be required. I was looking forward to having my ‘open house’ become somewhat more quiet and private. Instead of attending to Dan all the time, I would be allowed to attend to the daily demands of my small children, which usually gave me happiness.  I had been missing a lot of the little things about them, and most of the big things that come with a new baby.  Ethan hadn’t had a full time mommy, nor a normal life since he had been born.  My mind was ready to be "dumbed down" to the simple things in life.  Instead of reading cancer pamphlets, and internet forums on ground breaking treatments, I would get to go back to reading 'Dr. Seuss', and 'Goodnight Moon' to my boys.

Before shutting off the camera I asked Dan if his cancer had taken a turn for the worse, and we knew he was going to die, what would have been one of his last requests or wishes.

He turned to me and quickly responded, “A new house”.

“What?”, I said confused.  He smiled and said, “I would wish for a house, for my family, so you would be taken care of, and the kids would have a place to call home.”

I pulled the camera away from my face as it still recorded, and looked at him with a half grin and said, “oh really…”, and then waited for his response.  He said, “Yep, a house…right next to your mom of course!” He couldn’t finish his sentence without laughing.  Although the conversation had turned to teasing, and late night banter, I still knew the thoughts had crossed his mind that if he had died he wanted us to be taken care of, and be by people who would love his wife and his kids.

In my heart I knew death wasn’t a factor anymore, and I was relieved. I could live without a house, but I couldn’t face thoughts of living without a husband.

The next day the tube would be coming out and representing a valid change.  The transformation of becoming Dan again from that point on would be marked by a series of checkpoints over a short amount of time.  How well he did when he came to them would determine how well he did at becoming himself again.  I would never have known that cancer would have changed my husband more after it had left his body, than it did during the time it cursed every physical part of him.  

 I was about to see how 'change' comes in the form of the decisions we make, more than it ever does by what happens to us, far from our control.