Half Way There

Woah, we're half way there
Woah, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand, we'll make it I swear
Woah, livin' on a prayer

Finishing up radiation treatment #15 has Bon Jovi's lyrics running through my head. Seems fitting.  If that song is now stuck in your head, you can thank me later.

Not gonna lie. This week has been seeing red on the stress-o-meter, but I feel like (fingers crossed) we've made it through the tough part of this week.

If you've read Monday's post, you know the week started with some increased side effects from the treatment, including hair loss.  Tuesday, Kevin woke up with hives covering his head, neck, chest and back.  We haven't experienced hives in our household heretofore* so we had lots of questions (what was causing the hives? what could he take to relieve the symptoms that won't interfere with other medications? will it get worse?) Kev is such a trooper.  He said it didn't itch "that bad"so he went to work and waited for word from the doctor's office.  Okay, that sounds like he wasn't really working, just sitting next to his phone waiting.  Although I wasn't there to witness it myself, I'm betting that Kevin was actually working. By the way, the doctor's office told him to stop taking his antibiotic.

*working on the alliteration for your reading enjoyment

Sleep was sketchy last night.  At one point, Kevin said his chest hurt and he was going downstairs to sleep in his chair.  Of course, every good wife would sleep soundly after a statement like that...NOT! He did get some sleep downstairs but woke up feeling "sore all over".  Me:  Maybe you want to stay home from work and rest.  I checked the "I've got Cancer" handbook and it says you are allowed to miss work.  Kevin: No.

In addition to lab and doctor day, Kevin got to do a drug test for work.  In my opinion, he didn't need to take a test. Our counter is a dead giveaway that Kevin is on drugs.  We'll just consider it a time filler between appointments.

	This Week	Jan 20	Jan 14	Normal
White blood cells	4.84	5.97	7.2	above 1.5
Hemoglobin	15.3	15.9	16	13.6 to 16.7
Platelets	121,000	134,000	143,000	above 100,000

Kevin can now officially answer "Yes" to the "Are you allergic to any medications?" Dr. Kwong decided not to prescribe an alternate antibiotic at this time. He said the other suggested antibiotics were a bit "exotic" (the doctor's term--not sure where that fits in the land of medical terminology).

When we checked into 1st floor radiation, everyone was all abuzz about the "excitement" outside in the parking lot.  Two police vehicles had cornered a vehicle, and the wall of windows in the waiting room gave a great view of the action.  Of course, the jokes and teasing were nonstop.  As Justine came to get Kevin, he said, "They're after me. Can you hide me?" One elderly gentleman's van was parked next to the "vehicle in question" so he couldn't leave.  The nurses couldn't stop harassing him about being in trouble.  Lots of laughter, which is always great to hear, especially in a waiting room.


Although the last few days felt stressful at the time, in the grand scheme of things, it was really not that big of a deal.  It's all a matter of perspective.

The hair loss led to a fancy schmancy new haircut (okay, just a shaved head).
The allergic reaction led to one less pill to take.
It's all good.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, 

after you have suffered a little while, 

will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.

1 Peter 5:10

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

As Kevin stated in his Snapchat, "Lucky #13" of radiation is complete. Although he is still doing well with the radiation and chemo, we are definitely noticing some changes. This morning, as Kevin walked out of the bathroom, I noticed his head looked different.  His hair is falling out.  It kind of took us by surprise.  Yes, we knew radiation would cause hair loss, but I think we both imagined it would be a spot of missing hair, not a swath.  Time for another haircut.  Barber Kathy will get on that tonight. I wonder if he tips well.

Kevin has also noticed some increased tingling on his left side.  He says he feels like his leg falls asleep easily if he isn't moving it. I can also tell that when Kevin is tired, he's dragging his left leg more. We're chalking that up to the lower steroid dosage. We met with the radiation doctor tonight and he thought Kevin should maintain the current dosage to see how things go this week.

Steroids are like an angel and the devil.  They provide energy but they keep you up at night. They reduce swelling in the brain but increase swelling in the face. Kevin has definitely slept better this week with the lower levels of steroids.  But he is also developing the steroid "moon face."  That's probably why the mask is feeling so tight lately and he's coming out of treatments with so many facial imprints (golf ball impersonation).

I'm also amazed by how much muscle Kevin has lost already.  The old saying, "Use it or lose it" is definitely ringing true. His once rock hard thighs are now so thin.  His steel toe shoes are now so heavy and tire him out.  I've got to give Kevin credit, he keeps trying.  A few weeks ago, Kevin noticed his weakening legs so he decided to wear those heavy steel toe shoes to work. "They'll make my legs stronger."  By the end of the day, he was dragging. "I had no idea those shoes were so heavy."  He went back to wearing tennis shoes.

Today was a new day, a new week.  Kevin was putting on the heavy steel toe shoes this morning. Of course, I reminded him about the last time. Not to be swayed, Kevin wore the shoes anyway.  I grabbed his tennis shoes on the way out the door.  When I picked Kevin up at work, he was ready to change shoes.  "I forgot how heavy those shoes were." But he keeps trying, never giving up.

Yesterday, as we were having a rather lazy Sunday, lounging around the house, things felt "normal". A brain tumor wasn't first and foremost in my head--pun intended :) Today, as Kevin woke up more tired than usual and missing some hair, I was reminded that this is real.

We continue to be so very thankful.

Thankful that Kevin is so well and that the changes we are noticing are minor
Thankful that we have so many friends and family that make us smile and laugh
Thankful there are so many people thinking about us and praying for us

Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: 

for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

We've Got Mail!

We have been in a bit of a battle with our mail carrier.  In the metropolis of Bangor, you either have a post office box or your own personal mail box is placed in groups by your neighbors so the postal system has fewer stops to make.  Our box is across the street on a post with five other mailboxes (picture is off the Internet to give the basic premise).  Kevin's routine has always been to walk over and get the mail after work.  Even now, as we drive right by, I frequently ask, "Can I let you off at the mailbox?"  Every time the answer is, "Nope."

About Wednesday of last week Kevin comes back from his mailbox stroll with no mail.  Thursday, same thing.  That seemed strange because we've been getting a lot of mail lately (thanks to our wonderful friends and family).  You can already guess, Friday, no mail.  Kevin called our neighbor and they hadn't been getting mail either.  "We're gonna find out what's going on Saturday." Well our little post office is open from 9:30 to 11:00 on Saturday so both Kevin and the neighbor did not hit that window of opportunity.  However, our neighbor did witness the mail carrier driving up to the bank of mailboxes and placing a package in the first mailbox. No mail for us, though (#4 on the bank of 6).

Monday, no mail.  Kevin calls the neighbor again.  Neighbor reminds Kevin it was Martin Luther King day.  Tuesday, no mail.  Full disclosure - prior to this incident we did get a generic red card that reminds patrons about snow removal.  It did not mention any specific problem and we usually get one every year. Plus, two of our neighbors were getting mail; their boxes are less than a foot from ours all on the same post.

Wednesday I called the post office.  The carrier said there was ice in front of our box which caused her to slide into the mailboxes.  I could pick up our mail in West Salem.  Kevin called too.  I'm trying not to imagine what was said because he was a little hot about the situation. He also left a little note in our mailbox for the carrier.  However, he did put salt out and tried chipping away at the ice without much success. The carrier called Kevin today with explanations like her arms are short and she hits the curb(?) and and and...but we got our mail today!

Here's what I wish that mail carrier knew.  Granted, 95% of what she delivers is junk mail and bills that people aren't too crazy about getting.  But that other 5% contains that thoughtful card or handwritten note that means something to someone.  Don't think of it as delivering junk. Consider that you're delivering good wishes and encouragement that people appreciate.

Wow.  That became a long rant. And it is absolutely NO excuse for me not getting my thank you cards out to those who have been so generous.

So today we were able to see Kevin's neurosurgeon, Dr. Hughes, for the first time since he was released from the hospital.  It was a pleasure visiting with him.  I wish I had tried to record him since I only scribbled about half of what he described in my notes. Unlike many visits where the doctor has to rush off to the next patient, Dr. Hughes talked with us for 30 minutes.

Dr. Hughes recapped the surgery and showed the pre- and post-surgery MRI scans.  He was very pleased that he was able to get so much of the tumor.  The goal is to get as much of the tumor as possible (at least 90%) without doing harm to the patient.  What most people don't realize is that the tumor isn't something they can just "pluck" out. With Glioblastoma, at a certain point, the tumor and the brain cells are almost indistinguishable. This forces the surgeon to go into the center of the tumor and take gradual skinny slices of the tumor until they think they've reached the outer edge.

We are so very thankful for this talented surgeon whose work allowed Kevin to still function so well.

He reminded us that with Glioblastoma, the tumor is never really gone.  Although we couldn't see it on the post-surgery MRI, it still exists within the brain.  Surgery is the first part of the treatment to buy some time.  Radiation and chemo are the other vital portions of the treatment plan.  Dr. Hughes also explained a little more about chemotherapy.  Each type of cancer has its own concoction (my word, not his) of chemo drugs to fight that specific kind of cancer.  In most cases, that chemo causes hair loss and nausea and other not-so-fun side effects.  The Temodar prescribed for Glioblastoma patients is "its own thing" (his words).  It has shown to help in the surgery/radiation/chemo treatment plan for these patients.  And, thankfully, it doesn't seem to affect patients so negatively.

Kevin also asked about a bump on his head (near the scar) that he didn't think was there before.  Dr. Hughes, while feeling Kevin's head, "Yeah, you have a bump there.  That is one of the two places where I made a burr hole to get started. Then I used a router to make the cuts in your skull.  You are feeling the metal disks to cover the hole."

OMG--Really??  And Kevin is up walking, talking and eating later that same day? Incomprehensible.

I asked Dr. Hughes if he was into woodworking since he knew how to use a router.  He said no because he might cut his hand and he needs them. He also assured Kevin that he didn't have a screw loose.

Kevin asked how radiation works.  I think he's visioning these cells burning up in his head and wondering where they go (do they vaporize?).  This is where I wish I had the recorder because I would need to hear his explanation 20 times to even make sense of it.  Someone with any medical background will probably read this and laugh because I'm so far off base.  Feel free to set me straight!

What I gathered is that radiation poisons the replication process of cells.  Dr. Hughes said it doesn't affect the neurons but does affect the support cells.  Those support cells can support tumor cells but also neurons.  So 18 to 24 months down the road, there can be cognitive changes, memory changes. We definitely weren't crazy about hearing that since Kevin already gets frustrated with his lack of ability to remember things.

Kevin also asked about driving.  He's asked every doctor.  Since Kevin did not have any seizures and was never on any seizure medication, Dr. Hughes said he can legally drive.  This makes me really nervous but thankfully Kevin is willing to compromise.  It still makes sense for us to ride into work together so we can go to treatments together after work.  Tonight, he drove himself back to work to give the diesel students a tour of the facilities (and made it home safely). I'm betting he's thrilled for that little bit of freedom.

We pretty much knew what Dr. Hughes was going to say but we decided to ask his thoughts on trial studies.  He's not a fan.  If we decide to look at trial studies, we need to closely examine how much time is involved, how invasive it is, and how demanding it will be.  He fears that the trial will interfere with the quality of time left.  We honestly don't know what to think.  There is no known cure at this time.  By not doing a trial you wonder if you did enough.  Yet, the trial is just a trial and may make things worse. No easy answers.

Dr. Hughes made us promise to come and see him before we let anyone else operate on Kevin.  He said he hates getting the letters from other surgeons saying his patient has died under their care.

At this point, we won't be seeing Dr. Hughes again unless a second resection is necessary.

We wrapped up that appointment at 3:00 and radiation was at 5:00. Luckily they let us check in early again. Kevin took a little snooze and I had some puzzle time but those amazing radiation ladies had us out of there by 4:00 so we were home by 4:45...where we both immediately crashed for a nap before supper.

Tonight we are thankful to have such quality care, to learn from our care givers, to be getting mail, and to have time for a nap.

Nice to See You

One of the blessings of this journey has been the way people have reached out to contact and see Kevin (us, because I'm like his shadow these days).  Thank you! I've received cards from people I worked with 20 years ago; how fun to hear from them! And we've been able to visit with people we don't get to see nearly enough.

More than one person has said, "Isn't it a shame it takes circumstances like this for us to get together?" Yes.  Yes it is. But at least we are doing it now!

So if you've thought, "We should get together."  Give us a call.  I know, some of you worry that Kevin may not be feeling well or he's tired from treatments.  He truly enjoys talking and sharing memories.  If he isn't feeling up to it, we'll let you know.  But please don't let it stop you from calling.

We've developed a bit of a routine with treatments now.  After treatments on Monday we see the radiation doctor. Each Wednesday includes labs (3:00), a meeting with the oncologist (4:00), and then the radiation treatment (5:00).

I'm not sure why, but I look forward to Wednesdays.  I guess I think I'm going to learn something. And yes, I'll admit, there is more puzzle time.  However, what I have learned is that these days are rather anticlimactic, which can be a good thing since nothing much has changed.

Unlike last week, this time the labs were actually ordered (no menu jokes this time) and Kevin had his blood drawn and was in to see the doctor by 3:15. They were ahead of schedule!  When does that ever happen?

Last week we saw a different oncologist who was quite jovial and shared Kevin's lab results. Please don't take this statement as racist. We really had no idea how to pronounce his name, Ojelabi, so Kevin used another car analogy and dubbed him Old jalopy.  He certainly isn't old...much younger than we are...but Kevin's nickname helped us remember him.  Dr. Ojelabi even challenged Kevin to an arm wrestle during his evaluation--the doctor's right (dominant) arm vs. Kevin's left (weak) arm. The doctor won, but cheated.  He took both hands to push Kevin's arm down.  It gave us a good laugh.

Today's doctor was much more down to business.  He asked the usual questions and said the labs looked good.  I had to pry a few specific numbers out of him since I wanted to compare with what Dr. Ojelabi had told us last week.

	This Week	Last Week	Normal
White blood cells	5.97	7.2	above 1.5
Hemoglobin	15.9	16	13.6 to 16.7
Platelets	134,000	143,000	above 100,000

What's kind of silly is that I don't really have any clue what these mean.  The "white" number shared with us is the "ANC" or absolute neutrophil count. According to Medicinenet.com "Neutrophils are key components in the system of defense against infection. An absence or scarcity of neutrophils
makes a person vulnerable to infection." Now I know.  Enough education for one night.

I know I've said this many times, but the people on 1st floor are wonderful!  Because the previous two appointments were so speedy, we were done before 4:00 but our radiation treatment wasn't until 5:00.  Kevin asked, "Can we check in early?"

"Sure.  No problem. They'll squeeze you in when they can."  And they did.  Their 4:00 spot must be open temporarily so we were done shortly after 4:00.  Check out Kevin's impression of a golf ball on this picture.  Sometimes the mask is pretty tight and he comes out with what I think look like dimples on a golf ball.

That gave us a few minutes to stop and see Kevin's brother before heading over to the Waterfront to meet my brother and his wife.  Leave it to my brother to find the deals.  Did you know the Waterfront has $5 burgers during happy hour on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday?  We had no idea...but we do now.  And they were good burgers.  The evening reminded us how nice it is to sit and visit with people we care about.

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.

1 Thessalonians 5:11

A dog named Lucky

We've probably all heard this joke: A man says, "Have you seen my dog? He has brown fur. He's missing his right ear, is blind in one eye, and has three legs.  He answers to the name of Lucky." Clearly this is not an lol kind of joke but it might make you smile, shake your head, and think, "How lucky can he be?"

Well, how do we know? Maybe Lucky has the coziest of doggie beds to cuddle up in.  Maybe he has the tastiest of bones to gnaw on.  Perhaps he has all kinds of doggie pals who like to hang out with him. I'll bet he has the best-of-the-best when it comes to owners because he loves him despite his flaws. And just maybe Lucky has been around a bit to experience life and know that it could be worse, much worse.

Most people wouldn't call us lucky.  But Kevin and I feel very lucky.  We have so much going for us...

• Fingers crossed, so far so good on the radiation and chemo treatments.  Eight radiation treatments complete with no side effects, no pain, no headaches, and no nausea.  The radiation doctor even decreased Kevin's steroid dosage starting tomorrow.
• We are each still able to go to work and our employers are accommodating the varied schedules for treatments and doctor's appointments.
• We have quality care close by with friendly and talented health care professionals. (Okay, the one on 2nd floor isn't winning any Miss Congeniality awards yet but I haven't given up on her.)
• We have a warm house and a snuggly bed and tons of offers of people to bring us food.
  
• We have such tremendous support from family and friends who genuinely care. This is so abundantly evident by the cards and gifts and phone calls and visits and dinner invitations. So many times we are completely overwhelmed by the love we feel from you.
• We have prayer. So many of you have told us you are praying for us and asked if Kevin can be put on a prayer chain.  I know it doesn't work like this because God knows all, but I can imagine God saying, "What's up with this Kevin Hilby dude?  I've been hearing his name all the time."  Thank you and keep praying.
• Most of all, we feel lucky because we could have it worse. So much worse.

Please don't get me wrong. It's not all peaches and cream.  Social media constantly showcases what's going right in everyone's life.  But we all know there's more to the story and that awesome family picture posted on Facebook probably wasn't captured on the first take.  

Kevin gets frustrated when he can't do what he used to do the way he used to do it.  He'd love nothing more than to go snowmobiling or motorcycle riding. I get tired of feeling tired. We argue.  Mr. Positive is thankful for another day and I'm worried that another day has slipped away.  I don't want to get to the end and have him regret missing out on things he didn't get to do.  But Kevin has spent his whole life pleasing other people that he can't think of anything HE wants to do. Typical Kevin. How did I ever manage to snag a guy like him?

It would be easy to do a search for the word lucky in this post and replace it with blessed. We feel blessed.

From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another.

John 1:16

Oil Sample

Today marks one week into treatments. To honor the occasion, Gundersen schedules labs as well as a visit with the oncologist (chemo doctor) before the regularly scheduled radiation treatment. We may have preferred cake, but this will do.

The lab appointment was scheduled for 3:00.  When we checked in at 2:45, we were told the labs hadn't been ordered yet.  Huh?  If they make an appointment for labs, shouldn't they know what tests they want to do? Of course, that slowed things down.  At 3:15 we were told the labs had been ordered and at 3:25 Kevin was taken back to have blood drawn. Needless to say, I had lots of quality puzzle time (much easier puzzle on 2nd floor). Looks like my hubby captured me hard at work in his Snap.

We did have some good laughs about this on the way home.  "Could I see the menu for ordering a lab, please?" Kevin's thought, "I'd like to order one strep test and a half order of drug testing, please."  He thought he could be like Sheldon Cooper on the Big Bang Theory and order whatever tests he wanted. We aren't real certain about our check-in lady's sense of humor so good thing we kept these to ourself.

At 4:00 we were scheduled to meet Dr. Ojelabi (another new doctor, not sure why).  He reviewed Kevin's "Oil sample" (mechanic's analogy to blood test). Kevin's engine health must be good.

	Kevin	Normal
White blood cells	7.2	above 1
Hemoglobin	16	13.6 to 16.7
Platelets	140,000	above 100,000

The doctor seemed impressed that Kevin's Hemoglobin was 13.6 on December 8 and already up to 16 today. They will continue to monitor these each week. If blood counts drop below normal, they will stop chemo temporarily to get them back up again.

We also finally figured out what that one bottle of pills (take up to 6 times daily as needed) was for...another anti nausea medication.  We are feeling thankful that Kevin is not feeling any ill effects of the treatments yet and isn't needing all of those medications.

Kev was able to check into Radiation by 4:35.  He was in and out of his treatment BEFORE 5:00. Woohoo! Those radiation nurses rock!

We capped our evening off by being treated to Chinese food at my Mom and Dad's. Good food and good company.  Kevin's fortune for the night:  "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog."  I'm pretty thankful Kevin has a lot of fight in him when it comes to this battle. My Dad opened his fortune and handed it to Kevin, "Never quit!"

It's Okay to Ask

We've heard people say, "We don't want to ask. We feel like we are intruding." Perhaps you think, "They may not want to talk about it."

Kevin and I have discussed this very issue and we want you to know, it's okay to ask.

Keep in mind, if you ask a generic question, you are most likely going to get a generic answer.  Remember when you asked your kids, "How was school?" And they replied with, "Fine."  Hopefully you learned that if you really wanted information, you had to ask better questions.  If you ask Kevin how he's doing, Mr. Positive is most likely going to say, "Good," even if he's not.  If I'm asked, "How are you?" I'm most likely going to say, "I'm okay," or "Hangin' in there."

If there is something you are curious about, ask.  We don't consider it rude or intrusive.  If you ask a question we don't want to answer, we won't.

Now I realize that not everyone who may be on a similar journey feels the same way.  That's okay.  We may have a change of heart down the road.  If that's the case, we'll let you know.

Besides, you know me.  I like to talk.  It's how I process.  Fair warning:  I may just talk your ear off!

Now for the update:
I, yes me, put several pieces into the incredibly hard dog puzzle that has been on the table in the
radiation waiting area since we started last Wednesday. Oh, you weren't waiting for a puzzle update? Well, I skipped the hot chocolate tonight and had a package of saltines instead. What? You didn't need to know that either.

Radiation treatment #3 went off without a hitch so there isn't much to talk about.  Kevin isn't noticing any side effects yet.

We met with the radiation physician's assistant (Groshek) and the radiation doctor tonight.  Evidently they check in once a week to see how things are going.  Since Kevin's original radiation doctor, Dr. Driscoll, is ill and will be out for a month, Kevin was assigned Dr. Conway until Dr. Driscoll returns.  Both (Groshek and Conway) agreed that Kevin's surgical area has healed quite nicely.  They are pleased that Kevin is not experiencing any difficulties at this time from the radiation and chemo (and we're pretty thankful too). If Kevin does not experience any issues through this week, they would like to reduce his steroid medication starting next week.

They did remind us that side effects from these treatments are cumulative and that we should expect: scalp sensitivity and hair loss in the treatment area, tiredness, increased weakness, and thrush (experienced 40% of the time).

So...when's the next MRI so we can see what's happening with that tumor?  Dr. Conway says he will schedule an MRI four to six weeks after radiation treatments end. That should be mid to late March.

Tonight we decided to change things up with our prayer before meals.  We say the same prayer each night before we eat, but it has gotten so routine that we often forget whether we've prayed or not.  I asked if we could end our grace with something we are thankful for today.  I am thankful for the talented doctors who are caring for my husband.  Kevin's reply, in a choked up voice, was "Another day."  Amen.



One man considers one day more sacred than another; another man considers every day alike.  Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.  He who regards one day as special, does so to the Lord.  He who eats meat, eats to the Lord, for he gives thanks to God; and he who abstains, does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God. For none of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone. If we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.              Romans 14:5-8

My Turn - Radiation Day 2

Kevin thought I should title this post: #2...although a bit humorous, I didn't think it was a good idea.

No, we are not going to post after all 30 radiation treatments.  But this was my turn to go behind the scenes so I wanted to share what I learned. Fair warning: this post is more educational than humorous.

First off, we are making headway on our "To Do" list.  The updated wills are signed, the financial Power of Attorney documents are signed, and the health Power of Attorney documents are signed.  Tonight we stopped by the DMV to get some titles changed.  Here's a tip for you:  when titling vehicles always include both names with OR between them (Kevin or Kathy).  This gets you one step closer to avoiding probate in case something happens to one of you.

Mentioning the DMV...in general, I think they get a bad rap.  The place is always busy, but the employees seemed to have done a turn around on the friendliness factor.  However, have you noticed that there are no clocks to be found in the whole place.  Although we arrived by 3:50, I was anxious about getting out of there by 4:30 so we weren't late for radiation. I kept looking around for a clock.  Luckily, we were walking out the door at 4:30 (according to Kevin's phone).  Also, it's a bit perturbing to be charged a $5 counter fee.  Really? Isn't the overpriced sum I'm paying to have my name added to a piece of paper enough?  To top it off, we had two transactions (same counter, same person) so we were lucky enough to pay TWO counter fees.   I'll just have to think of it as a tip for the friendly service.

As promised, Kevin was able to check in tonight with his handy dandy scanner card.  I waited, but no fanfare music, no blinking lights, no bells or whistles.  Perhaps they are not aware that we think he's "kind of a big deal." Kevin barely got his coat off and Justine (formerly known as nameless nurse) came to get him.  Once back to the room, Alicia (the other former nameless nurse) asked for the secret password.

This technology is truly amazing. Since Kailey described what goes on inside the room, I took pictures of the nurses at work outside the room. Although they have markers and lasers in the room to get him properly aligned, they want/need to be super precise so they also use x-rays.  They project the CT scan from his appointment last week (see first picture), and then use x-ray devices in the room to create images as well.  They overlay those x-ray images  on top of the CT scan image to adjust for a perfect fit (see second picture with the orange tint).  If necessary, they go back into the room to make adjustments. Tiny adjustments can be made from a little device right at the computer.


From there, they turn to their right to a counter full of monitors. They recite Kevin's name out loud and click the mouse to begin treatment.  As Kailey said, the nurses hear a chirping sound while the radiation machine is at work. They can view Kevin from at least three different angles.  If he is having any difficulties, he should just wave.  But he shouldn't just wave at the camera to say "Hi."

Both of these young ladies have bachelor's degrees from UW-LaCrosse in radiation therapy. Yes, I asked.  I can't help it...it's the teacher in me always wanting to know more about careers. I'm thankful there are such competent people working with Kevin.

In just a few minutes the machine had done its work and it was time to unhook Kevin from his mask.  He's a bit unsteady when he first gets up until he gets his bearings but there is no pain (not even a tickle).


Kevin is also on Day 2 of chemo pills.  No side effects yet.

We celebrated the end of the week with pizza and breadsticks at Rocky Rococos. I'm guessing Culver's and Rocky Rococos are probably not part of the healthy eating plan that Gundersen would recommend. Life is short, right?

Last night I went out on a limb and posted on Facebook.  I looked over at Kevin tonight and could tell by the look on his face that he was reading people's comments.   We continue to be overwhelmed daily by the outpouring of support. Thank you does not seem to be enough but it's the best we can do right now. Thank you!

“Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” 

1 Thessalonians 5:18

And so it begins...Radiation Day 1

Tonight, Kevin got the real thing...his first of 30 radiation treatments.  I had a meeting tonight so my trusty sidekick, Kailey, took her dad for his treatment.  Thankfully, they didn't take his blood pressure upon arrival since Kailey was the chauffeur (just kidding, she's a good driver).

 Since I wasn't part of the action tonight, Kailey gets to write the post (with Mom throwing in bits of humor because she can't resist).

Okay, so Mom's knocking my driving skills.  We got there just fine.  Lots of traffic but I turned where Dad told me to turn and we arrived early with no grabbing of the dash or pushing the imaginary brake on the passenger side.

Upon arrival, we checked in and waited about 10 minutes before they called Dad back...just enough time for me to make some hot chocolate. :) When the nurse came to get him, she said I could come along for the first few minutes. 

The nurse, who at this point will remain nameless (because we can't remember her name) [I asked Dad but he said "If I'd known there was going to be a test I would have studied for it" }...anyway...The nameless nurse said Mom will probably get to go back there tomorrow to check it all out since each person can tag along one time. 

Even though this was only the first official day, Dad was already an old pro, knowing he needed to recite his name and birthday before he could enter the room (I guess he studied for that test). Once in the room, they laid him down on a table and strapped the pre-made mask to his head. Nameless Nurse explained a bit of the process to me at this time, and then we left the room and went to their station so they could begin scans. When they were sure Dad was lined up perfectly where he needed to be, I was sent back to the waiting room. 

Even though the nurse was using plain English to describe the process, most of it still went right over my head. Basically, they lined up the big lasers on the wall with the marks made on Dad's mask during the test run yesterday. Then they went to the computer station to double check that everything was in the right position. When the radiation starts, Dad hears some humming noises, but the nurses at the computer station hear chirping. Unfortunately, that's all I could make sense of, so my smart mother will have to fill in all the gaping holes of information in tomorrow's post.  

When they kicked me out to the waiting room, I attempted to add some pieces to the community puzzle. For 10 whole minutes I sat there, and I was completely unsuccessful...not one piece was added by me. Thankfully Dad was done in that short amount of time, so I didn't have the opportunity to get too frustrated.


Dad left with a handy dandy scanner card to automate his check-in.  He will get to use it for the first time tomorrow night so we aren't sure if it will play some sort of fanfare music to announce his arrival or not.

We celebrated the completion of Day 1 by eating out at....Culver's! Those of you who know us well are really surprised by that choice...not! You just can't beat a tasty meal and oreo cheesecake ice cream (I mean custard) to top it all off.  

Writing this together was fun.  We had some good laughs and even got Kevin to chuckle.  Tonight we are thankful we can laugh at the end of a long day.

Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, "The Lord has done great things for them." The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.   Psalms 126:2-3.

Radiation "Test Run"

So how did the test run go tonight? Uneventful.  No big deal. According to Kevin:  They laid him on the table, put on his mask, took some pictures (not sure if he smiled), adjusted the table, and drew on his mask (I forgot to ask if this is like a sleepover with your buddies when they draw funny faces on you after you fall asleep).

Since there was no actual radiation tonight, I was hoping I could go back and see the action for myself.  No such luck.  Although Kailey, who is the driver tomorrow night, might get the opportunity.

I also thought we would have the opportunity to see a doctor tonight to ask a few questions.  I dug out that "bag of medicine" from  a week ago and took it with thinking we would get a little refresher on what to take when.  Guess I'll have to study the labels.

So although the night was a little anticlimactic, here's what we are thankful for:

• The test run was short and painless.
• Hot chocolate and puzzles are available in the waiting area.
• The snow that was supposed to appear in late afternoon, never arrived.
• That daily commute to LaCrosse is a temporary thing.  We only have to drive 3 miles to work and our biggest hangup might be the occasional train.
• The ladies who check us in are always pleasant and tonight they worked to reschedule a future appointment so we didn't have to make two trips to LaCrosse in one day.
• The appointment time allows us to complete our day of work so we don't infringe on our co-workers but still home in time for supper.
• Kailey is still home this week and had our meal ready for us as we walked in the door.
• Most of all, we are thankful for another day.

Friends shared with us their message from their Sunday sermon.  

So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.

Psalms 90:12

My Better Half

"My better half"...an expression used so many ways...with love, with sarcasm, when you don't know the couple's status (married, engaged, significant other, whatever) or even a saving grace when you can't remember the other person's name (ugh, hate when that happens).

My better half is...

My Rock.  Kevin keeps me stable; he's the one I rely on.  When I'm stressing out and going nuts, Kev will remind me to relax and not make my current mole hill into a mountain.  Typical scenario:  We are having people over and I'm panicking because this needs to be done or that isn't right or... Kevin will tell me it doesn't really matter or it doesn't have to be done. Unfortunately, I don't always listen. Inevitably, things turn out okay and Kevin was right. (Yes, Kevin, I'll say it again--You were right).

My Sense of Direction.  It's amazing how some people seem to just know which way to turn when they aren't really sure where they are.  Kevin is like that.  When we are out on the motorcycle, we like to ride the backroads and experience roads not yet seen.  In my head, I will try to guess which way Kevin will turn, and I'm usually wrong. While I'm totally turned around, Kevin has us back to familiar territory.  Just this fall I was headed across the state to a conference early one morning when I "felt" lost.  Although I had a map, my GPS and phone map weren't working, and I "felt" like I should have reached my next highway.  Who did I call? Kevin.  He was on his way to work but he pulled over and looked at a map himself to reassure me that I was still on track.  Sure enough, just a few minutes later I saw the highway sign I was looking for.

My Lighter Side. I admire Kevin's sense of humor.  His quick wit and one-liners remind me of my dad.  All too often I'm so focused on the task at hand. But Kevin gives me a quick laughter break from the seriousness. Don't get me wrong, he's not always funny.  At times I just roll my eyes and say, "Remind me when I'm supposed to laugh." Kevin uses that silly humor to communicate with kids.  His outlandish questions catch them off guard and barely give the poor little tikes time to come up with a response before he's zinging another one at them.  I'm usually chuckling and trying to get him to ease up at the same time.

My Mister Fix-It. When you've always had someone around who could fix things, you take it for granted.  Some people have to take their car to a mechanic when it has an issue.  Some people just go buy a new lawn mower when the current one is running a little rough.  Some people don't even own a toolbox. Some people don't assume their husband is going to take care of it when he gets home.  I'm not some people because I am lucky to have Kevin.

Best of all, my better half makes me a better person.