Monday, January 11, 2021

70 in Heaven


Drafted in 2016


70 in Heaven

You would have been 70
on your birthday today.
But you got sick
and had to go away.

We would have had cake
and probably ice cream too.
We would have sung
Happy Birthday to You.

There would have been presents
for you to unwrap.
You would have smiled
while we laughed and clapped.

You would have been 70
on your birthday today.
But you got sick
and he took you away.

You would have been Papa
to more than just three.
There's one who is five
and one who is three.

When you left you left
a big whole in our heart.
Why did this happen?
Why are we apart?

God has his reasons,
we don't understand.
But we know He loves you more
than any of us can.

You would have been 70
on your birthday today.
We wish you were here,
We wish you could stay.

But Heaven gained an angel
on that sad but happy day,
You are 70 in Heaven,
Happy Birthday!

by Carolyn Chapple





Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Safely Home

Dear Ed,

Son, Husband, Father, Brother, Uncle, Grandfather, Great-Grandfather, Friend

How we do miss you!  You have been gone from us four years now. Not a day goes by that we don't speak of you, remember you, think of you. You left behind much to remind us of you. The things you said. The things you did. The things you made. 

You were a man of few words, but your actions made a deeper impact on us than any amount of words could have.
Ed and Amber

You were kind, soft spoken and gentle. Did you ever utter an unkind word about anyone? If you did, we did not hear them.

Today, when we speak of you, we are finally able to let some of the memories of your suffering slip away. We are more able to remember you the way you were, before your illness. We see you smiling your big, toothy grin! We hear you laugh and see the twinkle in your eyes.
Me and Ed, with his prayer quilt.

And it brings us much comfort knowing you are with our Lord, waiting for us, surely saving us a seat near you. Because that is what you would do. You would see us coming, and pat the seat beside you, to draw us near to you. 


 


Mama, Ed and Bo (December 2007)

Safely Home

I am home in Heaven, dear ones; 
Oh, so happy and so bright!
There is perfect joy and beauty
In this everlasting light.

All the pain and grief is over,
Every restless tossing passed;
I am now at peace forever,
Safely home in Heaven at last.
Me, Mama, Ed, Bo, Bobby December 2007

Did you wonder I so calmly
Trod the valley of the shade?
Oh! but Jesus' love illumed
Every dark and fearful glade.

And He came Himself to meet me
In that way so hard to tread;
And with Jesus' arm to lean on,
Could I have one doubt or dread?
Bobby, Mama, Ed, Bo, Me (December 2008)

Then you must not grieve so sorely,
For I love you dearly still:
Try to look beyond earth's shadows,
Pray to trust our Father's Will.

There is work still waiting for you,
So you must not idly stand; 
Do it now, while life remaineth-
You shall rest in Jesus' land.
Jess, Mama, Me, Ed and Amber (November 2009)

When that work is all completed,
He will gently call you Home:
Oh, the rapture of that meeting,
Oh, the joy to see you come!

Author Unknown

(Catholic Prayer Card given to me by my Aunt Judy Glass, 
who is not Catholic, but works at a Catholic School)


Bo and Ed. Summer 2009. Bo shaved his head to match Ed's!

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Happy Birthday Ed!

March 28, 2014 would have been Ed's 68th birthday. 

We used to celebrate with a cake and ice cream, maybe a meal, and some gifts. 

Ed was always teasing me that I was trying to 'catch up' with him when I had my birthday a couple of weeks before his, and I'd tease back that he would have a birthday to stay just ahead of me.

Most of the time, we would celebrate his birthday and Jessica's birthday together, as they were only one day a part. He would tease her and call her his 'girlfriend'. 

I am thankful to God that Ed got to celebrate 64 birthdays. Now, he celebrates in Heaven. I cannot even imagine how wonderful that must be!



Sunday, March 9, 2014

Almost 4 years...




Mama and Ed. Early 80's I believe.



It has been almost four years since Ed, my step dad died from a cancerous brain tumor. 

Four years ago, I didn't think I would ever get over this. I was right.

But time does bring some healing with it.

This past year has been very hard for me, but when I compare it to what he went through, my 'bad year' was a piece of cake.

When I think of Ed, I think of all the good things he did, what a good person he was, how no one has an unkind word to say about him. And I am happy.

I am happy to have had him for my step dad. I am happy he got to live a pretty long life, though each year I find myself saying, he died so young. I am happy he was 'saved'. I am happy to have reminders in my home of him. I am happy to see the cardinals which make me feel like he is sending good messages. I am happy for my certainty of where he is now.

It has been almost four years since Ed left us. He left us, and yet, he is still here.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Photo Card

Initially Snowflake Christmas
Shop Shutterfly for beautiful photo Christmas cards.
View the entire collection of cards.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

On the Brighter Side...

My brother found some pictures on his camera that he hadn't looked at or downloaded before. We had fun looking at the pics! I hope he doesn't mind me sharing some of these!



That's me! I got caught in the kitchen. Christmas 2008.

Ed and Bo - Close up!

Ed and my Uncle Larry. My mama's brother.

Ed and my Momma.

Siblings...Judy, Mert, Kathleen (mama) and Larry.

Terry and Bo - another close up! LOL!

The night before Amber and Chris' wedding - I missed out on this fun!

My family at Amber and Chris' wedding.

The photographer said tell your daughter a secret...hmmmmm. Must have been funny!

And finally...my brother's cat, Jack. He got his tail caught in the door and he had to have it amputated by a few inches. He had to wear a cone so he wouldn't amputate it further!



Monday, November 5, 2012

50/50





I got a free movie rental code from Redbox today.

While in Walmart I decided to see if there was anything good to rent. I didn't really see anything, but then I saw this movie called 50/50. I got it. I mean, even if it's not good, it's free. So what's the big deal.

I had seen previews for this movie months ago. A guy finds out he has cancer. His dopey friend thinks he can use sympathy to pick up girls for them. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is the main character (you know him - he's the kid on 3rd Rock from the Sun) and his side-kick is Seth Rogen. Ok, with that guy you know it's going to be a dopey movie!

Oh God. I didn't know.

I thought it was a comedy. And it is, partly. I mean, it does have some humorous parts to it.

But mostly, it's kind of real.

The shock of hearing those words. Tumor. Cancer. Chemotherapy.

The disbeleif.

The people in your life who say you can count on them. But you can't.

Shaving the head.

The loneliness of chemo for some...hose who don't have someone to be with them during the process.

People who believe it's about them. Not about the person with cancer.

Needles. MRI's. Surgeries.

Ups. Downs.

This movie has brought back a lot of things I try not to think about. Ed has only been gone two and half years. I know as I get older and more time goes by, certain details will get lost in the tangle of my brain. Some things I want to forget, some I don't, some I need to, some I can't. I hate crying over Ed, because I know he wouldn't want me to.

Lucky for me, this mostly, 'cute' movie, was not too depressing. It just made me remember. And lucky for me, this movie had an ending that didn't send me over the emotional edge.

I wish all cancer stories could have an ending like that.

Would I recommend this movie? Yes. Like I said, it's mostly cute. And if you've never seen anyone go through cancer, it probably won't effect you in a sad way. If you have seen someone go through it, it might help you release some pent up feelings. Maybe even a tear. And it will make you laugh a little too. I'll give it a thumbs up!











Monday, October 29, 2012

Quantity vs. Quality

I read an article in the April/May 2012 edition of the magazine Neurology Now titled Antiepileptic Drugs for Treating Brain Tumors? by Andrea King Collier (pg. 13-15).

According to the article, a study done in Switzerland determined that Glioblastoma patients who took valproic acid (a common anti-epileptic drug) while taking chemo treatments fared better than patients who took other types of epileptic drugs or who did not take any type of epileptic drug at all.

I found this article very interesting because Ed, my step dad, took the drug Lyrica and Dilantin to control his seizures caused by his glioblastoma (brain tumor). To the best of my knowledge, Lyrica nor Dilantin do not contain valproic acid. I wonder, if he had taken valporic acid to help control his seizures, would he have lived a few months longer?

This article states that the average survival rate for glioblastoma patients is 15 months.  Ed found out he had the brain tumor in November, 2008. He lived till April, 2010. So he lived about 16 months after diagnosis. Did his anti-seizure medications help him live longer? 

I don't know the answer to any of my questions. But I know that even though he lived a bit longer than expected, his last month of life was not a high quality of living. His last month consisted of him being totally bed-ridden, totally depending on others for his toileting, eating, bathing, everything. I think he had his mind till the end, but he was trapped in a body that didn't respond to his needs or his wants. He couldn't sit up. He couldn't feed himself. He had to have a catheter and wear depends, and someone else had to change him, bathe and dress him.

If you or your loved one has Glioblastoma, I promise you, you will do whatever you can to make your symptoms or your loved one's symptoms less painful, and more endurable. Ed had seizures, so of course he was prescribed anti-seizure medications. Had we known this other drug was available and might extend his life, we more than likely would have asked for it. It may have helped him live a few more weeks or months longer. But I am not sure that would have been as ideal as it sounds.

'"If you are talking about a better quality of life for the time you have versus using a therapy that may prolong life for a month but decrease the quality of life, most patients choose quality of life, " Dr. Taylor says.' , states the article in Neurology Now. I must say, if I could live a month longer with increased mobility, clarity of mind, ability to communicate, etc., I believe it would be well worth taking the drug. Or even if my quality of life stayed the same with the drug while causing me to live longer, I would be happy with that. But if living a few weeks longer as a person in pain or frustration, it may not be worth it.

It's hard to know what I, or anyone, would choose in that situation. But at least the drug is out there, and the option is there if one chooses to take it. Perhaps with more research and testing, doctors will know more about the effects of valporic acid on the survival of Glioblastoma patients and will be able to offer that drug as another way to extend life, and hopefully improve quality of life.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

The Blame Game

Ed gets attention from older sister, Janie.
When someone we love dies of a horrible, seemingly senseless illness, accident, occurrence...we tend to want to blame someone.

Perhaps, we can blame someone whom we feel caused our loved ones death by being negligent, careless, reckless, or uncaring. Or maybe the environment played a part in causing his/her death. He worked with chemicals or dangerous tools. 

And we can also speculate that the doctors who looked after our loved one were not competent, didn't care about him/her, didn't give the right treatment or medications to help or cure our loved one.

Sometimes, we blame ourselves. We didn't see the signs of illness soon enough, we didn't listen when they said they didn't feel well, we didn't visit enough, care enough, give enough, or do enough.

Often, we blame the beloved him/herself. We think, if only he didn't smoke, drink, do drugs or make poor choices in his life. Or if only she had lost weight, exercised, or did the things her doctor told her to do.

I admit I had all these thoughts during Ed's illness and after his death.

I blamed his boss for not providing safety equipment such as ventilation for the wood shop where he worked for many years, and for exposing him to the chemically treated wood used to build cabinets. I would sometimes forget that his boss was one of his best friends and provided Ed with a steady job for the past 25 years or more, and even paid him his full paycheck the weeks there wasn't enough work to do to make a full 40 hours.

I blamed his doctors and the drug companies because maybe they could have provided better care and made a more potent drug that should have killed his cancer. Maybe they were prejudiced against him because of his age or because he was uninsured. Then, I would have to remember, his care and medications were almost all donated or provided for by some type of agency or from someone's generosity, including his oncologist.

I would get angry at myself for not doing enough to help. But then I would remember, I can only do as much as I can without endangering my own health and sanity.

I admit, I wondered sometimes what if Ed had stopped smoking years earlier? Would it have prevented his brain cancer? Made it less devastating? But upon research, I learn, that this type of cancer doesn't appear to be directly related to cigarette smoking or any other thing he could have drank, eaten or smoked.

And lastly,  people will blame God. They will scream, yell, cry and even curse God! They will be angry at Him, because they know He could heal their loved one from their illness...if only He would. They become so angry because God didn't listen to their prayers, or the prayers of others, and cure the one they love. 

I can honestly say I never 'blamed' God for Ed's illness or death. I don't pretend to understand why God let it happen to him, and I have even been angry with God for letting him suffer. Luckily, God is big enough (*smile*) to handle my temper tantrums and easily forgives me for my outbursts.  I never cursed God or threatened him. I did try bargaining with him..."God, if you will make that brain tumor go away, I'll dedicate my every breath to you....", well, you can imagine the look on God's face when he heard that one! 

But, finally I was at peace with God's decision to have this happen to Ed, and to us, for He has a reason for it. Whether or not we understand it or like it. God is always in control, even when we think our life is nothing but chaos.

One thing you do find out when you go through something like this, is who your true friends are. I am talking about friends, friends who are also family, co-workers, neighbors, and people you go to church with. You learn that sometimes, no matter what you are going through, some of your 'friends' think what you are going through is nothing compared to what they are going through. 

Then, you have those friends who just really step up and rise up and lift up. Those are the friends...be it friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, and maybe a fellow church member or two, who really reach inside themselves and give to you what you need when you feel like no one understands or cares...they are the ones who came and visited, the ones who sat and held his hand, or yours. The ones who brought a meal, or gave a hug. The ones who came to the memorial service even though they had NEVER even met your dad, or the ones who sent a card or a note. They are the ones who pitched in a few bucks to be tucked in a card, who brought a plant or said a silent prayer. Your friends are the ones who did these things, but didn't expect anything in return. These are the ones who didn't tuck their tails and run when things got ugly and uncomfortable.

Thank you to everyone who did any small thing that brought me or my family comfort. I hope to return the favor someday, but hopefully not because someone you love very much is suffering or passed away.

To all those 'friends' who turned away during my greatest time of need, it's okay. I don't blame you. Well, maybe a little bit.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Ed's Family - 2011

Mama and Greyson
Ed is gone, but his family lives on. The year is 2011...

January 22, Mama, Ed's wife, turned 73 years old.

On March 23, 2011, Ed's granddaughter, Amber, gave birth to Greyson. His first great-grandchild.

March 28th of 2011, Ed would have been 65 years old.

On April 3, Ed had been gone from us one year.

On October 22, Ed's granddaughter, Nicole, gave birth to Jacob. Now he has two great-grandchildren!

In November, we had our second Thanksgiving without Ed.

In December, we had our second Christmas without Ed.

It is sad to go on without our husband, dad, grandpa, friend. But he would want us to go on, and be happy. We can sit and cry, and wring our hands, or we can rejoice in the time we got to have with him and celebrate his life. I admit, I do think of him and cry sometimes, but I also give thanks for all my wonderful memories of him. And when I think of something funny he said or did, I smile.

Nicole and Jacob

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Five Things I Wish I Could Tell Ed Today

If I could see Ed again for a few minutes, these are the five things I would tell him.

1.  Everyone is okay. Yes, we miss you like hell. But we have learned to deal with the sadness better and we    are actually doing okay!


2.  You're a Great Grandfather! You have a great grandson and he is wonderful. He would have loved to sit in your lap and you would love to hold him!

3.  We all love you. We never told you enough while you were here.

4.  We know you are in Heaven. I have no doubt in mind where you are and that you are in eternal peace and happiness!

5.  We will see you again. As sad as it was to watch you go, we know you are safe and that you are waiting for us.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Where to go?

A friend forwarded this poem to me. It reminds me of all the pills Ed had to take. They were all different colors, sizes, and shapes. They each had a job to do, and up until just a few weeks before he died, Ed knew which pills to take, how many, and at what time. I am not sure he, or I for that matter, knew exactly what each pill did.

Every weekend, when I went to visit Mama and Ed, I put together the pill box for the upcoming week. It could be quiet confusing trying to figure out which pills were taken in the morning, which ones at noon, which ones at dinner time, and then sometimes there was one or two to take at bedtime. There were also multiples of certain pills...maybe two in the morning, three in the evening. Whew!

I finally decided instead of going by a list, I would take a picture. The picture was attached to the side of the fridge with a magnet, and the list came down each weekend to lay on the table to use as a guide to fill the pill box. As long as he was able, he sat at the table with me and 'helped'. 



At one point, Mama felt like Ed didn't always know what he was talking about. His speech was increasingly hard to understand and he sometimes switched words about without meaning to. This one particular evening, Ed somehow made Mama understand that he missed a pill. She told him no, that all the pills were in the box for that day, and that he had taken each one. No, he shook his head. He held up one finger. One missing. No, Mama said. Up goes the finger. One missing, he insisted. Mama was aggravated with him and I suppose they went to bed a little perturbed with one another. Ed was convinced he had missed a pill. Mama was convinced he had not. She even had me on the phone with him telling him I was sure I made up the pill box correctly.

The next morning, after breakfast, Mama was sweeping the kitchen floor and under the kitchen table was a pill.  Ed had a look of satisfaction on his face.





SPECIAL POEM FOR OLDER FOLKS


A row of bottles on my shelf

Caused me to analyze myself.

One yellow pill I have to pop

Goes to my heart so it won't stop.

A little white one that I take

Goes to my hands so they won't shake.

The blue ones that I use a lot

Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.

The purple pill goes to my brain

And tells me that I have no pain.

The capsules tell me not to wheeze

Or cough or choke or even sneeze..

The red ones, smallest of them all

Go to my blood so I won't fall.

The orange ones, very big and bright

Prevent my leg cramps in the night.

Such an array of brilliant pills

Helping to cure all kinds of ills.

But what I'd really like to know........ ....

Is what tells each one where to go!

Friday, April 22, 2011

Thinking about Krista and her Numbers



When Ed was diagnosed with a GBM (glioblastoma multiforme), I immediately began doing research on the internet. I was happy to find information regarding the disease, but not so happy to see the treatment options, the side effects of treatment, the statistics for survival.

While doing this research, I came across several blogs created by other persons with GBM. The one which I most connected with was the one by a woman named Krista.

The things that drew me to Krista and her story was the fact she was a woman, mother, Christian, and at the point I 'met' her, she had been declared 'cured' for over three years. In Krista's blog, she marked milestones by the months. Sometimes her blog title was a number...and that number might stand for how many months she was cancer free or how many times she had been to the doctor that week.

It was fun getting to have an inside look at Krista's family life and her medical life. She shared the good, the bad, the ugly and the pretty. She drew the perfect picture of how a person with a horrific disease can overcome, continue with life, and be filled with hope. 

What fascinated me most about Krista and her blog, was the fact that she had connected with a doctor that tried everything, stuff Ed's doctor doesn't seem to know or try.

Checking in with Krista, via her blog, became a weekly activity that I looked forward. Seeing that number show up as a title...and knowing it was more months that she was celebrating cancer free.

Until recently.

Krista's brain tumor didn't come back. Not exactly. But what it did do, was relocate to her spine. Earlier this year, after a most brave and heroic battle, Krista died. 

As sad as that is, I can tell you this, Krista was an angel on earth. To her children, her husband, and her followers. Her story is one that she wanted to share.

If you have time, and want to see true inspiration and bravery, please go to this site and read some of Krista's blog. ( http://onkristasmind.blogspot.com/ ) .  Her husband still posts little updates about himself and the children. I am sure they are having a tough time adjusting to her being gone, but doing this small thing probably helps him.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Ed is a Great-Grandpa!

Greyson...having sweet dreams!
Ed is a great-grandpa!

His granddaughter, Amber, gave birth to Greyson on Wednesday, March 23, 2011. Only a few days more and he would have been born on Ed's birthday...but he was ready to come out!

Ed was a great dad and grandfather, and he would have made a super great-grandpa too.

It's sad he isn't here to share the joy with us, but I know he knows all about Greyson and he is rejoicing in heaven!

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Forever Smiling

Ed's Famous Smile


I am so happy to report, Ed's smile is forever. He is in heaven, walking around with Jesus, talking about the things men like to talk about.

Some people called Ed 'Smiley'. It fits.

There were a few times I can remember Ed not smiling. Such as, when Bo was five, he was diagnosed with Rocky Mountain Tick Fever, I came home from school and Ed was crying. That was the first time. I was so bewildered.

The second time I saw Ed cry, was when me and Chuck were seperated for a few weeks, and Ed met me at the kids daycare. I told him I didn't think I could go through with it (divorce), and Ed cried with me. I think that might have been the first time he hugged me. (Yes, I was 31 years old.)

The next time I saw Ed cry, someone had hurt his feelings terribly. I didn't actually see him cry, but I heard it on the phone.

I saw tears again when Dr. Wolpert told Ed, and us, his family, that he had a brain tumor that would he would probably die from. But his tears came after ours, so I know it saddened him to see us so sad.

The last time I saw Ed cry, was after he'd been through numourous chemo and radiation treatments, and was told his tumor had grown back and that treatment was over, and we broke the news to Mama.

From that time on, we did everything we could to just make Ed comfortable and help him live the rest of his life in peace.

For all the tears I saw Ed shed in my lifetime, I saw a hundred fold in smiles and laughter.

He suffered tremendously the last two and half years of his life, but he never complained and didn't cry or show sadness unless he saw it on our faces first. 

I am very fortunate. When I remember Ed, I do not see tears in his eyes, I see a twinkle. I do not see his lips turned down at the corners, I see a smile. I do not hear sobs, I hear laughter. I see him whole, healthy and vigourous as he strolls down the streets of gold, walking with Jesus.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

A New Year

Today is New Year Day. We begin a new year and leave the old one behind. And though the calendar year changes, my family is still in our first year of 'firsts' since Ed passed back at Easter.

We had our first Christmas without Ed. Last Christmas, we practically had to beg Mama for her and Ed to go to my brother's for our family Christmas party, for we feared (and rightfully so), that it could be his last Christmas. Mama felt like he wasn't up to it, that we shouldn't take him out. But we convinced her to let us take him. The boys carried him up the stairs while he was still seated in his wheelchair, and it all worked out wonderfully. Perhaps we were being selfish...in wanting to have this 'Last Christmas' with him and making precious memories. I think it did tax him; that he was quite ready to go home and rest after the party, but I do feel that he enjoyed being with us all and laughing, eating, playing games and laughing some more.

This year, not only was Ed not present, neither was Mama. She didn't want to attend. She has her reasons. Reasons none of us will probably ever understand.

We had our Christmas party, and my brother Bo stated, 'Pops will be there', ( at the party ). And I feel like he was in spirit. We didn't sit and wring our hands, we didn't cry, honestly, we didn't talk much about Ed. I think we were afraid we would start crying and being sad, and we didn't want to be sad. Ed was there with us. As he will be with us every holiday from here on out.

He  is with us as we begin our new year. He 'll be with us on our birthdays and each holiday. He was not a big partier or big story teller, but instead, he was the quiet calmness at all our little parties and the best listener. 

He would want us to be happy, to go on with our lives, and to learn something from his life and his death. He would want us to celebrate, to love one another, and to listen to one another. 

Happy New Year!


Christmas 2009 - Ed celebrating with his family!

Friday, November 26, 2010

Ed, What Were You Thankful For?

Chuck, me and Ed, December 2009.
It is our first Thanksgiving without my step dad, Ed. In the past recent years, we had drifted away from celebrating Thanksgiving at Mama and Ed's house. We used to all get together the weekend before Thanksgiving (Mama, Ed, me and my family, my brother Bobby and his family, and my brother Bo and his girlfriend). I think the last time we all got together, it was actually at my brother Bo's house. But for whatever reason, we all started doing our own thing. 

Each year, during this holiday, I reflect on the things I am most thankful for. My family, my friends, my home, car and job. Health and financial stability are always at the top of the list too. 

Two years ago, Ed was diagnosed with a deadly brain tumor. It seemed at that time, there wasn't much to be thankful for in regards to that. But looking back, I see there truly was a lot to be thankful for; Paramedics, doctors, medicines and operations that extend life, the kindness of strangers and friends alike.  I can reflect now, that I am so thankful for the time I got to spend with my step dad, that had he not been ill,  I would probably would not have spent that time with him. 

I know my family members are thankful too, that they got to spend time with Ed before his time on this earth was over. I know they must too be glad of the things and people that helped him get through the last year and a half of his life.

But now I wonder, what was Ed thankful for?

I am sure Ed was thankful for his family, that rallied around him, during what had to be the most frightening and painful event in all his life. I think he looked around and saw his wife, sons, and daughter, and extended family and saw that they were not going to desert him and leave him on his on to deal with this thing. He saw that we stepped up and made sure he got to the hospital, doctor visits, chemo and radiation treatments, and other destinations that he could no longer get to by himself. I am sure he was thankful.

I am sure he was thankful for the means by which he came about getting his operation, his treatments and his medications. They were astronomical in cost, especially for a carpenter who made a modest living, with no health insurance.

I am quite sure he was thankful for the kind spoken doctors, the soft touch of a nurse, and the gentleness of the technicians who had no choice but to stick him with needles, or bolt him to a table to receive radiation. I know he must have been thankful.

I know in the end, he must have felt completely robbed of dignity, when his son had to lift him onto the toilet, or into the bathtub, or his wife had to bath him in bed in the mornings because he sweat so bad during the night, or she or his daughter or other family member had to spoon feed him. But on the other hand, I am sure he was thankful it was his family, and not strangers, doing this for him.

I could feel his thankfulness, when, after doing something like changing dressings on the bedsores on his feet, he would pat me on the arm. It was like he was saying, "I'm sorry you have to do this for me. But I thank you".  He took to patting most anyone who helped him do anything. Even the Hospice nurses and aids, who we finally had to call in, though he didn't want Hospice care.

I know Ed was a thankful man. Even though he could have hated the doctors, nurses, us, the world, even God, he showed his thankfulness in his pats and in his eyes.

Today, I thank God that I know where Ed is today on this Thanksgiving holiday. Without that knowledge, I couldn't have peace in my heart about him and what he went through. And I thank God to, to have known this man and have been able to help him the small amount that I could. 


Here's hoping you have a heart full of thankfulness today also.


Ed and Mama. December 2009.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Side Effects (subtitle: Danged if You Do, Danged if You Don't)

From the very beginning of Ed's journey with brain cancer, he experienced many, many side effects.

Ed had a glioblastoma multiforme tumor, a tumor that the doctor believes started growing approximately one year before his first symptom. The first side effects of this tumor was muscle weakness, a change in breathing, a slight personality change (seemed very quiet, looked like he was deep in thought or in 'another world'), and finally, seizures.

He had brain surgery to remove the mass from his brain, and the immediate side effects of the surgery were nausea and pain at the incision site, and brain swelling (edema) and weakness, loss of appetite. The long term effects of the surgery were continued brain swelling and pain at the site, and muscle weakness. He also developed a bad case of hiccups that were finally controlled by a drug used to calm your nervous system.

Ed was put on various medications to control his seizures and brain swelling. Side effects of the seizure medications were muscle weakness, sleepiness, dizziness. The side effects of steroids, used to control brain swelling, was increased appetite and weight gain, and muscle weakness.

Soon after his surgery, he began radiation. The side effects of radiation were a blistered scalp, hair loss and destruction of brain tissue that controlled the right side of his body (his tumor was on the left side of the brain, which controls the right side of the body) and destroyed speech . . . slowly but surely.

Along with radiation, Ed also began chemotherapy. The side effects of chemotherapy were weakness, loss of taste and smell, and brain 'fog'.

Because of his illness, treatments and medications, Ed became quite immobile. He was urged to exercise, but he didn't feel like doing a whole lot of walking. A side effect of his immobility was a DVT (deep vein thrombosis), a blood clot, in his right leg. He had to take injections and later medication by mouth to thin his blood. A side effect of the blood thinner was easy bruising. 

His sense of taste was so badly effected that foods and drinks he loved in the past were things that nauseated him now. He used to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of milk before bedtime nearly every night, and he enjoyed that immensely.  And now these things made him sick to speak of them.

As time went on and Ed was on various medications longer and longer and some medications being increased in dosage and/or strength, more side effects appeared...including constipation, mouth fungus and yeast infection, losing the ability to use his right side and later the inability to use anything but his eyes and mouth and maybe move his fingers. Also, from near the beginning of his treatments he developed a sensation of water trickling down his arms, that is the best way he could describe it. His feet turned nearly black from bad circulation. He dealt with constipation and stomach upset. He needed the medications and treatments to stay alive as long as he could (or as he believed, to beat his cancer), but the side effects were sometimes as bad as the illness I think.

Other side effects of his illness and the treatments were the changes in his life style they brought about. He was always a man in motion; working at his job, working at home around the house or on various projects, driving and being completely independent. But now he couldn't work, couldn't drive, eventually getting to a point that he couldn't dress, bathe or feed himself. He always took care of his wife, my mother, but now the roles were reversed. 

Other side effects were that because he received chemo treatments he was poked with needles every week. He took intravenous chemo treatments every other week, so the week before chemo he had to get blood work done to measure the amounts of toxins in his bloodstream, and different levels of white blood cells, iron, etc. to see if his body was tolerating his treatments well, and to keep an eye on the blood thinner he was on. Therefore his veins began to deteriorate from all the sticks.

One good side effect, I do believe got more in touch with his spiritual side because of his prognosis. He began to discuss his beliefs with ministers and began reading healing passages from the Bible.

Ed tried everything he was physically, mentally, and emotionally able to do to try and get well. He took chemo treatments well after his body showed signs of distress. He read the Bible and prayed. He would do some exercise in bed, squeezing a rubber ball and lifting small weights. He ate asparagus...took it by the tablespoons full like medicine, because he heard it might prevent the growth of cancer. He stopped eating sugary foods, as he had heard that might 'feed' cancer.

Near the end of his life, Ed had more side effects to deal with. Because he was now completely bedridden, he had to have a catheter inserted in able to urinate. Because fluid easily built up in his lungs, he took more medications to loosen up the mucus and clear the airways. Sometimes eating would now cause him to vomit and or have terrible coughing spells. 

The last few days of his life, Hospice started administering morphine drops to control his pain and help with his breathing. The side effects, despite Hospice personnel telling us otherwise, he began sleeping more than being awake. Because food now went into his lungs if we fed him, he no longer took water or food. I am not sure what side effect this was from, but he began having deep hiccuping, which happened periodically the last days of his life. He would wake up now and then, and we would hold his hand, talk to him, and soothe him the best we could. A side effect from being taken off his seizure medications were something like electricity that coursed through his arms and legs and head. At least that is what I think it was. 

The final side effect of all this;  Ed stopped breathing in the early morning, the day before Easter.

As a terminal cancer patient, are you danged if you don't , and danged if you do? If you don't take treatment and medication, do you risk living a shorter life? If you choose treatment and medication, you must also choose to deal with the side effects. For some, like Ed, the choice is easy. You choose to do whatever you think might heal you, or at least keep you with your loved ones as long as you can.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

I Recognize That Scar

This Photo Was Taken About Three, Maybe Four Weeks After Ed's Brain Surgery. As You Can See, He Appears 'Normal", Happy and Healthy. No Obvious Signs of Brain Trauma. Even his Surgical Site is Hard To See Unless You Look For It.



While at work this past week, I met a young man with a horseshoe shaped scar on the side of his shaved head. I recognized that scar.

I do not know if all GBM patients end up with a half circle scar, but all the temporal-lobe patients I have met or seen photos of, do have this distinctive scar.

This Photo Was Taken Several Weeks After Ed Began Radiation. The Scar is Healing, But the Skin is Red and Blistered...A Side Effect of Radiation.
Dr. Walpert explained to us that the incision made into the skin is horseshoe shaped, then the skin is peeled back like a flap. Then a saw is used to cut out a circular portion of the skull. At that point, instruments can enter the tough membrane that covers the brain and the tumor can be reached and excised.
The young man I met last week appeared fresh from his resection (tumor removal surgery). His incision was well on it's way to healing, but still raised and red. The shaved area appeared to have about a two or three week regrowth of hair. He was fully informed about his diagnosis and his surgery. His mother accompanied the young man as he attempted to go about taking care of some traffic tickets he'd been issued a few months back. This would be normal as a GBM patient is informed not to drive until they are seizure free for six months.

I studied this young man and determined he had probably had brain surgery two or three weeks ago. That he was probably in the 'resting' stage of 4 - 6 weeks which comes after resection, and before chemo and radiation. Just like Ed was after surgery, he seemed for the most part 'normal'. Ed's hair had been long, and Dr. Walpert lifted the hair and shaved only the near circle shape where she made the incision. So that after surgery and replacement of bone (and titanium plate) and skin, his hair above the incision and the hair inside the skin flap circle fell down and covered the incision, making it difficult to see his battle wound. This young man's hair was shaved nearly the whole right side of his head. Not shiny and bald the way it appears when radiation makes the hair fall out. His speech seemed a little bit unsteady and perhaps ever-so-slightly slurred, which seemed to come after radiation began for Ed. But I did not know this man and his speech capabilities before his surgery.

I handled meeting this young man and discussing his disease quite well...him telling me about his, and me explaining that my Dad had this same this thing. His mother asked me . . . 'Had???' with such bright, hope-filled eyes. I looked at her and said quietly, 'Yes, had. He's gone now.' I didn't want to lie, and didn't want to scare this mother and her son either.

But the young man was not scared. At this point in our conversation he told me that he was a 'miracle'. That the doctor had successfully removed all his tumor, which was the size of a plum. He told me that all his doctors were excited and optimistic for him. I smiled, but at this point, I was slowly beginning to lose my composure. Because these were all things we were told about Ed's condition.

He saw my tears, and then he said, 'Do you know most people don't live past two, three, maybe four years with this cancer? Do you know it is the most deadly form of brain cancer? Do you know only one person in the world is known to have beat it, living 22 years?' I nodded my head yes. Yes, I knew all this. My tears came because I know our Ed was so full of hope, so full of belief in his ability to get well, so optimistic, and so full of desire to beat his disease and he so wanted to live. And yet...he is gone.

As he walked away from my payment window, he was grinning, He said 'I am a miracle, and I am going to be okay'. I answered 'Yes, you are, because you have God on your side'. He looked back and said 'Yes, I have God on my side'. 

I do not know this young man, nor remember his name, but I pray for him. Also, I am comforted to know that he knows God, and has faith in him, and that he DOES INDEED have God on his side. For the parents, spouses, children, friends, and other loved ones of GBM patients, I am sure there are times when this is doubted. But you see it in the GBM patient's eyes. Maybe it is God looking out of those eyes.