Happy CFF!!!!

That is the mantra for today my friends and family...Oh...CFF???? CANCER FREE FRIDAY!! Today will be etched in my life now and forever. Todd's post said it all. Now we can begin the long road back to what I refer to as the "new normal".

It still is so overwhelming for me as I try and put these last few weeks and months together. I would be lying to you all and to myself if I didn't honestly tell you that this has been the most difficult and daunting road I have ever traveled. Were it not for the support, love, and prayers, and my boys, and most importantly my Superman...I'm not sure I could find the strength to take that walk too many more times. You have all been there for me, and I will never ever let any of you down, I promise!!

There will be challenges ahead, we all know that, but we can do this...together. Hang in there Harley and Tico...Momma and Daddy will be home soon!

No Way

I was taught, as a news reporter, to never bury the lead.

Dr. Fergany told Mom & Dad that it looks like, as of now, follow-up chemo will **NOT** be recommended!

Dad said "Well, I don't want to take this to the bank yet...but finally...some good news!", after eating some semi-appetizing hospital oatmeal.

That, and it looks like we're still on target for a Sunday release from the Clinic.

This is a good day. A very, very, very good day. Keep channeling those good vibes this way.

Little Saints Everywhere

Howdy and hello out there. I just got off the phone with Mom (it seems like that's a perpetual motion these days) and she told me that she and Dad were going for a little walk. With Dad's progress coming along (even at the slower-than-desired rate) she even manged to sound upbeat, and for those who know her (which I assume is 99.9% of the people reading this blog), it's very easy to detect even trace amounts of tension in her voice. That "tension" was still there, but quite far removed from the intensity it's reached over the past couple of days, weeks, and months. "It looks like we've really turned a corner today" as she put it. Anyway, it was just nice to hear that kind of tone, and in a way, when she told me that they were going for a walk, it almost seemed...romantic. I am all but positive, however, that the 7th floor of the H building at the Cleveland Clinic is far from the tunnel of love, but does make me feel good that right now, an upbeat Mom and thoroughly beat Dad are walking together, making progress.

In any event, as I learned that the date for dad's release is now set for Sunday, my plans to head down there tomorrow are now scuttled. So the call was made to my friend who agreed to doggy-sit Benny that the need for his services would be placed on hold for short while. His response (to what I am sure was a frantic, over-apologetic, babbling stream of consciousness): "Whatever you need, whenever you need it." Those seven words seem to be a common theme when it comes to all of the people who have been helping out myself, Todd, Mom and Dad in this (and there's no other way to put it) strange time. It really is jaw-dropping to learn how much support you really have out there when something goes wrong, and we're blessed to have such caring people in our lives.

Thanks gang!

-DG-

Day Eleven

Yuck. Just the sound of that is nasty. Dad's on his 11th day in the hospital after what was supposed to be just 7-10. Now it's officially 'too long'. That's OK though, because it again seems like things are moving in the right direction. The digestive system is still waking up and doing some things it's supposed to be doing. The nutrition bag Dad is getting intravenously is making him feel stronger. This morning, the nasal-gastric tube just 'fell' out of his nose, and the doctors decided not to put it back in. Swelling is down in his abdomen; and today we're trying clear liquids. If the liquids stay down without problem, then it's onto solid food. The doctors talked a little bit about a release day and put it at Sunday for right now. That would be great if it would happen, but we are just focusing on one day at a time for now.

Today is a big day...let's hope everything goes smoothly and continues marching FORWARD!

Tom Petty Was Right

If you've ever had the delightful pleasure of a hospital stay, you know that you are basically in the middle of a giant machine. The nurses, doctors, orderlies, attendants, pillgivers, pressuretakers, ad nauseum are all part of a well-oiled machine. That said, the machine rivals that of an old tube TV from the 70s sometimes where you have to give it a whack on the side to adjust the picture. I learned in a couple of days there that you do have to stay on top of things, because with so much going on -- it's easy to have things slow down a bit, become delayed, or, get mixed up. I'm not talking about major medicine doses or whatever -- it's the orders. Like the fact that even though the doctors/nurses had ordered a bedside X-ray of Dad's abdomen on Sunday, TWICE someone came up with a wheelchair, ready to roll him down to some other floor in the depths of the hospital. Or the fact that when his diet was switched back to liquids only, a cheerful woman brought in a nice tray of semi-appetizing tuna salad (which should never be a liquid).

Last night, the Nutrition Team decided that it was time to get Dad some vitamins and calories since his digestive system SEEMS to want to get started. A doctor (another whose name I can't remember, but he's only like the best nutrition doctor ever) made a special concoction of stuff in a bag to get Dad's strength level back up. The IV was set to begin at 10pm.

However, due to an 'order mixup', it wasn't started. So when Mom came in this morning, the bag wasn't going. And another emotion - anger - gets to come into play. Actually, it was good to hear Dad was angry. He's starting to feel better almost everywhere else and just needs something to bolster his strength! Needless to say, after Dad threw the nurses out of the room and Mom worked it like only Mom can, and just a short while later -- that bag was going. So we're hoping by the end of the day today, Dad will feel stronger. His digestive system has shown more signs of 'waking up' as well, and that's very promising. It's really the last thing left to get kickin' -- since his vitals all look good, white blood cell count is back to normal, etc.

So at the risk being cliche:
The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card/
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart/
The waiting is the hardest part

True dat.

This Is The Longest Car Ride Ever!!!!

For those of you who don't know, my Superman and I can be in a car for oh whatever and we just don't have much conversation. Not a problem...music playing...an occasional exchange of words and we continue on our way. Chook has not been real responsive today, but I know he is feeling better if even a little...not much to say to me but then again he usually doesn't have a tube running down his nose to his stomach...he looks better and we went for four walks around the unit today, and the best news is....HE IS GETTING A NUTRION BOOST BAG TONIGHT...although you won't find the recipe in any of his issues of Bon Appetite collection...it will be a 4 star delight in terms of helping him get his strength back. Ido not recommend losing 15 pounds his way to anyone!!

The quote of the day..."I just want to get this thing moving forward."
Chuck Gladfelter

I know that all of you who are supporting and loving us share in that thought for sure. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers. It is really really really working, and Todd, Darin, Chook and myself are so greatful to have all of you in our lives!!

Love and kisses and sweet dreams to all my guys!!!

Tuesday AM update

Since I'm still sifting through the backlog at work here, just a quick update. Dad had a much better night and is feeling WAAAAY better today (that's 'way' with four a's). The G-N tube relieved a lot of pressure, got out a lot of nasty stuff, and helped a lot with his infection -- Dad's white blood cell count is much lower than yesterday. Hooray! Mom says he is much more comfortable and got some sleep with the help of an Ambien.

Should have some more update later on today. Thanks again for your continued support, love, and good thoughts/wishes/prayers.

One Giant Step Forward...One Little One Sideways

Today was a really really really long and lousy day. My guy didn't have much fun at all. Hiccups...all day...and this time Todd, Darin, and myself will give him a pass...really having post-op gastro stuff going on as well as an infection somewhere that needs to be addressed. More antibiotics and the dreaded NG tube...no you guys...not that one...the Naso Gastric Tube!!!!! Really unpleasant experience to get but started doing the RIGHT job almost immediately. So instead of looking 8 months pregnant...he looks like he's in about his sixth.

Deep breaths everyone, I know he will be better by tomorrow morning. He was already starting to feel some relief by the time I left around 9:00.

Good night my babies, Momma loves you, and to my Superman...remember Red and Navy Blue!! We'll be on the porch listening to the "munchers and the crunchers" real soon!!! Promise!!!!

Forever,
Naaan

Sidestep

It's been a rough day today for Dad. The doctor checked out Dad this morning and said that he has some kind of infection. They're not sure what it is, but his white blood cell count is up and that indicates they need to zap somethin' somewhere. They did x-rays today for Pneumonia, and took a bunch of cultures....so they can isolate the infection. Meantime, digestive system is also havin' a tough time gettin' kick started on his own, so this evening Dad had a nasal-gastric tube put in. This is already helping to relieve the pressure and buildup of air and fluid in his abdominal organs (I think I have that right). This is NOT a fun tube to have -- Dad says it hurts like crazy...but if it's going to help get his digestive system reset, then it's a good thing.

Tonight Dad should get a little rest. We've told ourselves this is not a step backward...just a little rest stop on the road forward in recovery. So...send a few extra good thoughts out tonight, and hopefully we'll be talkin' about resuming the push to get on out of the hospital and get to gettin' back to feelin' good!

Get Out

I didn't get to meet Dr. Fergony (I'm going to try a 3rd spelling here. I'm still not sure this is right. Now that Mom can blog, she can correct me and tell me not to slouch at the same time), but I know the man means business. This is apparantly not a chatty, bouncy, sing-songy doctor who dispenses cheer with each bag of Cipro. He apparently comes in, does his doctoral duties extremely well, and then gets out.

So this morning, he told Mom that 'we are going to get him out of here in a couple of days. Not a few, a couple'. It's great to hear that he is as motivated to get Dad out of the hospital as Dad is to get himself out. Last night Dad had a little digestive action goin' on, which is good...and I think Mom said that the reflux was subsiding a bit. We have *not* had to go back to the nasal tube, which is really good, and let's hope it stays that way. Today Dad will have to have a few tests to figure out why his white blood cell count is slightly elevated. Doc doesn't seem too alarmed about it, but still wants to know what's goin' on. Hopefully between some tests today, Dad will give some real food a try again.

Some of the best medicine is still gettin' up out of bed and walking. Now that Dad's pain is almost down to zero, he's much more eager to get up and take a stroll (with his little IV cart and everything). Get up and WALK, Dad!

By the way, yesterday Dad got to read the blog for the first time. He really liked it and especially liked reading your comments and good wishes. It's one more thing that helped make him want to get out as quick as possible so he can see y'all instead of just reading your comments.

More later. Think OUT!

I KNOW I'M NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE

I just want to let everyone know that I am OK and trying to be the Lois Lane to my Superman…who knew that a stay in Cleveland Ohio could cost three times as much as a vacation in Maui…all things considered my loves…I’d rather be in Cleveland!!!

I am so greatful and in awe of all of the support that we have received from family friends both old and new...you are all treasures to Chuck, Todd, Darin and myself. The old addage of words cannot begin to express...I cannot find the words...

All of your kind words and mostly your prayers have added immensely to Chuck's healing process...if I may please enlist all of you to keep it up for him, we promise to "pay it forward".

And as another day in Cleveland draws to an end I look forward to the sun coming up tomorrow.

A special good night and love to my guys!!! Momma loves you!!!

Your Comfort Zone

Sometimes it's easy to find, sometimes it's tough to leave. I think we're all experiencing that again here on Sunday evening. First off, your good thoughts must have worked -- because Dad is much more comfortable today. In fact, most of the day he's described to the nurses that he has 'no pain'. The worst thing today has been some acid reflux, which Dad refers to with in the cutest of terms 'the pukies'. Hopefully they'll be able to square that away. For that reason, though, he hasn't felt much like eating, so he's back to a liquid diet. If they can get his reflux under control, and get back to eating and everything that goes along post-eating, we're goin' to be really close to being discharged from the Clinic.

I'm about to head to the airport to head home to Boston. I hate that I have to go...but there's just a few things that I need to check on back at the homestead since I haven't been there in about 13 days. I hate that I'm going back while Mom and Dad stay - I know it's been great for her that she can have someone else with her. And as I told her -- I'm always just a flight away. With any luck and your continued good thoughts and prayers, Dad will be out soon and the next time I head over to Cleveland will be next week to watch over him post-release while he's attending his follow up appointments. We're all moving in and out of our comfort zones here -- but I know that with great folks to lean on, and each other, we're in the zone no matter what.

Remember to hug someone ya love next time you see them...no matter where they are.

I Heart Golf

Tiger Woods really doesn't interest me. I mean, he's cool and all, and despite the fact that he's a hell of a golfer...watching him walk around a course all afternoon with sweat-soaked (and mildly unattractive) pants is not my idea of fun.

Dad, however, has always enjoyed watching golf. I've never really understood why; it's just so boring...but he's always had the Open, the Masters, or whatever other tourney that's being played on the TV on Saturday and Sunday afternoons.

Today, after a few laps around the 7th floor, I watched golf with Dad for awhile. And I've never enjoyed it more. It's important to be able to sit with him and let him know that we are there, feeling the same anxiety about wanting to get the hell out of that place. It's important for him to know we feel every bit of his pain and wish that we could take it all away.

I know if you're readin' this, you're sending the best positive energy directed to the east side of Cleveland. And if I had one request tonight -- it would be to crank up those good vibes just a little stronger -- so Dad can get comfortable, get some rest, and get to gettin' out.

Off to enjoy this comfortable patio and a nice dinner that isn't within walking distance of the hospital. More updates tomorrow...and thanks for checking in on us!

Seeing Is Believing

Wow.

I started to type some sort of an into to this post, but erasing it all and replacing it with the single word above is probably more appropriate.

Nothing can ever prepare you for seeing someone you love in a hospital. I arrived in Cleveland last night late, about 10:30, and Mom asked me if I wanted to go over and see him. She knew I did. So we went.

I could tell Dad was happy I was there, even though he was in some discomfort. Which leads us to where we are now -- the part where artificial, medical things wind down and the real body takes back over. That transition process is not the most fun. For now, there's a lot of functions kicking back in -- so there is some moderate discomfort from things like gas.

Another of Dr. Fergony's (I hope I'm finally spelling his name right now) residents stopped in today. They said Dad is continuing to look great. The resident pulled some of the stents out that were helping things drain, and hopefully tomorrow we can start to get rid of more of those tubes. Mom asked if Dr. Fergony would be coming by today, and the resident said "he'll only come by if one of his patients is really sick. And I'm sorry, but your husband just doesn't fit into that category." Onward!

I'm heading back over to the Clinic to do 'horseshoes' with Dad (that's the laps) and to give him his iPod back (somehow the 'volume limit' thing got enabled with a password. WTF is that?)

Thanks for checking in. More later!

Let 'Em Eat...?

Howdy folks! Darin here and I just got off the phone with mom who told me that they were going to let Dad have solid food tonight. That's a big step for him as he really hasn't had the pleasure of chewing food since last Friday. So with the duality of blessing/curse in mind, I'm sure that he's stoked about getting to eat solid foods, but less than enthusiastic about eating hospital cuisine. However, much like his desire to be mobile on his feet, when it comes to enjoying food, he's going to have to take baby steps.

I actually talked to him today and he told me that more tubes have been removed, which makes him both happy and hopeful that he'll continue on the road to a fast recovery. His spirit is definitely willing, his flesh is certain to follow suit.

After quickly being brought up to date on his recovery, the second half of our conversation dealt with him trying to figure out why he can't adjust the volume on his Ipod. As he explained the problem, I was at a loss as to how to help him out. Now if you're familiar with Dad's temper when it comes to not being able to master modern technologies, you can probably get a beat on how much I was dreading a Vesuvius-type explosion from the other end of the phone. However, Dad seemed to take the whole thing with a "no biggie" attitude. Perhaps in the face of a radical surgical procedure and the overwhelming support from family, friends and the matter-of-fact Saints who inhabit this world, a temporarily stubborn Ipod just ain't a big deal. However, having said that, It is my hope that in post-recovery future, Dad will once again don his armor and do battle with the evil forces of technology. Perhaps we'll have to get him an Iphone for Christmas. Look for a hilarious Youtube video (and the trademarked line "THIS IS FU**ING PREPOSTEROUS!) sometime in late December.

-DG-

There's always room for J-E-L-L-O

Ugh, I can't think of anything nastier. In college, my fraternity had an entire party that was founded on it. We filled the basement with it, made a giant slide coated in it, and mixed any booze that would solidify with it.

But it's the first thing Dad gets to eat now. Clear liquids day -- jello, tea, coffee, that kind of stuff. His body is responding well to it, doing everything your body should do after ya eat. And that's one step closer to gettin' out!

We're hoping that today, some of the drainage tubes will be removed as well.

Dad has been doing his 'NASCAR laps' around the floor, walking more and with less discomfort. This morning, he had a paper and kicked out some more jams on the iPod.

Hopefully we'll hear back about the pathology report soon, so we can plan for whether any follow up chemo will be necessary.

Flying up to Cleveland tonight so not sure if there will be another post today...but I will do my best.

Enjoy the weekend!

How YOU doin'?

So maybe it's appropriate that I happen to be watching not-quite-as-funny-as-it-was-when-it-first-aired 'Friends' episodes, when our longtime friend Toni asks to hear how everyone else in the family is doing (I try to imagine her imitating Joey...it kind of makes me chuckle).

We're doin' OK. For anyone who's been through anything like this, I don't think I have to tell you that it's like putting all of your emotions into a blender and selecting 'frappe'. It becomes a concotion that marries a bunch of flavors, and tastes anywhere from decent to downright disgusting, depending on the time of day you take a sip. For so long (actually, it was measured in weeks, but seems much longer), we waited for the surgery day to arrive. We physically prepared -- packing, arranging who's going to be where and when...and we mentally prepared, trying to come to grips with the fact that everything seemed to be going along so well before some amateur, aspiring magician yanked the tablecloth out from under our neatly-set table. We reminded ourselves that we have to be strong and positive. And then the surgery day came. It went so well. We cried because we were happy and relieved.

And then we realized that for every mountain you climb, you have to shimmy your way back down. Down Cancer Mountain we go, this part of the journey called 'recovery'.

And the truth? TISNF. You've seen that commercial with the mom grilling the girl about texting, and the girl protests in the above text-speak. It's so not fair. And for everyone who says 'life's not fair', I say 'yep, and we're allowed to voice protest to that anytime we feel like it'. So we're getting through by vocalizing to one another that it sucks. And that Mom wants to go home and wants Dad to be able to go home, to actually sleep through the night and eat a real meal without tubes and nurses. And that I want all this medical jargon to be a part of my historical vocabulary. And that crying gets old and generally makes one feel unattractive and puffy.

And we're so fortunate to be vocal to one another about having to delay plans...rather than not have the chance to make plans at all.

Each time we talk, we remind ourselves that we *are* OK. We've got Chuck and we've got each other. The one thing that we always end up talking about -- We have all of you to thank for helping us on both sides of the journey. You know us -- we're a ridiculously strong and stubborn family, another 'frappe' of unique personalities who've managed to add some of the best people in the world into the blender.

If we didn't have that, who could we turn to?

IDK...my BFF Jill?

The Natives Are Restless

"You know, it's kind of like 'Groundhog Day'".

I can only imagine.

While Dad continues the healing process, it's only taken 3 days of basically being in a bed for him to want to get the heck out. I would guess it would be the equivalent for sitting still, with the exception of someone poking at ya every now and again. Ick. Still, we all know that it's part of the healing process, and soon enough, he'll be out and on his feet. That's going to be an amazing day that we're looking forward to celebrating. For now though, it's still all about getting well.

Still good stuff: Dad's a walking machine. He says there's little in the way of actual 'pain', it's more like soreness that you get from layin' around all day, then trying to exert all your energy into something. More good stuff: 'Was that you, or did a dump truck just rumble on by?'. All the pieces and parts are starting to get moving again, which is good after a surgery where they do replumbing. It's especially good because soon, the foodie will get to eat some real food...because I've yet to see a chic restaurant touting a menu of only 'clear liquids'.

Most of the medical stuff has been pretty standard -- chest xrays, irrigation, vitamins, etc. It's good to hear the energy and the edge in Dad's voice...a clear indication that we're continuing to walk down Recovery Road.

And as a completely related aside: Shreveport, LA, is ungodly hot, humid, and nasty.

Talk with you soon!

Come On Over

Quick update from the airport:
I talked to a much heartier Dad today. I believe he might have been inviting the nurses back to his hotel when they gave him a little too much morphine earlier on. Now that they have all that squared away, everyone is much more coherent and comfortable.

Dad got another walk around today, although Mom says it was more of a 'trot' and the nurses had to keep telling him to slow down. Good luck with that, nurses. Mom has tried for some 33+ years to no avail ;-)

I will be heading up to Cleveland on Friday to join the party. I am excited to get to see Dad and to give him a hug. Mom too!

Wednesday AM update

Mom called this morning after seeing the doctor. Good things: vitals look great; no more oxygen (one less tube!), and fluids are clear. Tough things: Dad didn't have a very comfortable night. Dr. Kiefer switched him back to morphine this morning, so the button will be a little more powerful. Hopefully he'll be able to get a little more rest then this morning and in the early afternoon.

Somehow, we've managed to orchestrate this crazy conga of juggling the rest of everyday life. The frame shop is still in good working order and we're pretty caught up. Big shout-out to Jenna Plating, our CPF (Certified Professional Framer) and my 'big sis', who put in a lot of hours and is about to put in a lot more. Without her, it would not be so easy. Love ya J!

Keep thinkin' those good thoughts!