Thalidomide/Dex

In Little Rock, they simply commence treatment. If however, you are like most of us, and you have a general oncologist treating you at diagnosis, and your doc doesn't refer patients to Little Rock, you are put on some sort of "oral" chemotherapy in the interim before SCT. (Stem Cell Transplant)

Thalidomide is the drug given to women in the 50s for morning sickness that produced a huge number of what became known as "flipper babies". The birth defects were so profound and widespread that the drug was pretty much banned worldwide. Needless to say I was a little taken aback. Dave had no clue, but boy I did. Well it turns out that several years ago, some scientists in Israel started playing around with it and discovered it did some amazing things in the blood cancers. It was one of the huge turning points in the treatment of MM patients. So as long as Dave wasn't getting girls pregnant he was in the clear to use it. Each month he has to answer a questionnaire with some group at the Federal level about his sexual activity. Our doctor apologized, but it was the rules. I laughed and said, "Well, if he gets some girl pregnant, I will be pretty mad. If he gets me pregnant I'll be REALLY MAD!"

Dex, better known as dexamethasone, is a steroid. Dave would have to take this on and off through his treatment regimens. It started out 4x a week and then eventually it became 1x a week. It would make him hyper and he would lose his voice. He became emotional and angry at the drop of hat over perceived wrongs that in reality didn't exist. But we had prepared ourselves and did all we could to suck it up and let it go. It was not easy.

The Thalidomide made him tired and he would take it at night. The dex was like speed, so he would take it in the morning. Dave had a VGPR (Very Good Partial Response) on the Thalidomide/Dex within 30+ days of treatment starting. VGPR is one step below CR which is Complete Remission. Not a bad response at all. We were pleased.

Narcotics Run

Image via Wikipedia

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

I made my first of many "narcotics runs" to the pharmacy. Each time the pharmacist would want to meet with me. Each time, I would explain that I understood that he had "other" narcotics and that we needed to be careful, and so on and so on. I had taken care of my mother in her last days, I was well aware of the need to be careful and understand what we were doing... self medicating. Sometimes I had a question, like how to wean him off one as I put him on another and so on. But for the most part it was just another thing I had to endure.

Dave and I had NEVER, EVER taken drugs of this magnitude, nor frequency, nor volume. In our 27 year marriage we had never been sick nor satisfied our family deductible on our health insurance. We never bought a prescription plan because the most we spent was $100/year on someone in our family of 4 needing an antibiotic.

Suddenly overnight, the drug management became the focal point of our day, and rarely only once a day. Constant checking and rechecking.

David was not a good patient. Not because he was being noncompliant, although there certainly was protesting going on, and understandably so, but because he had no experience with being ill. Each administering of his drugs, if he didn't do it himself, was a quiz on each and every pill. Why? Are you sure? Do I HAVE to take this one? What does this one do? Did you mark it off the list? Which one is this? The last question was probably the most exasperating for me. Once I took them all out of the bottles and laid them out, I didn't remember which ones where which for cryin' out loud! He wouldn't take them unless he knew. It became exhausting, day after day, 3x a day.

There were the pills he was supposed to take, then there were the pills he "could" take as needed. Getting him to take the "as needed" pills became a problem, particularly the prophylactic (taken to prevent something undesirable that was most likely to occur) ones. Those were where tremendous frustration would occur for both of us. He wouldn't want to take pills and concoctions for constipation caused by the disease, the morphine and the cancer meds (he had a triple whammy), until he BECAME constipated. This of course made no sense whatsoever to me, because he WOULD BE constipated. How could he not be? It was impossible. If he waited until it was a problem, then like the pain, we were chasing it down and it was brutal and would start all over again with him not wanting to take them, wait and see, as if somehow now he would no longer be constipated.

He would also take each pill, one at a time. Oh yes, let's just prolong the agony here...

The other thing Dave would have trouble with was articulating exactly what was going on, so that I could better assess the situation and prescribe, from our now growing drug supply, what I should give him.

Dave: "My stomach hurts."

Lori: "Oh, I'm sorry. How does it hurt?"

Dave: "It just hurts."

Lori: "Pain or cramps?"

Dave: "Ummm, I guess pain."

Lori: "When did it start?"

Dave: "Its been going on for a couple days now."

Lori: "Couple of days!"

Lori: "Ok. Do you feel nauseous?"

Dave: "No. But I threw up last night."

Lori: "Geeze Dave. When were you going to tell me that!"

And so it would go... This went on for months. I got smarter about my 20 sleuthing questions and Dave got better at describing more precisely what was occurring. It was an evolution to be sure. He was just so behind the learning curve and it was not a learning curve he ever wanted to master. He just wanted it all to go away. The pills, the pain, the cancer...

Who can blame him.

At one point I would describe to people just how many prescriptions we had as being more than all of our 90+ year old grandparents, in their entire lifetimes, combined! (We had 6 grandparents between us who all lived over 90.) The last time we went to Little Rock, I had to pack a small suitcase just for all the prescriptions, past and present, in the event we would need them.

The First Marital Unpleasantness

An entry from the Caring Bridge:

THURSDAY, JUNE 26, 2008 6:26 PM, CDT

Oh man! Well we went for the radiation treatment for Dave's ribs and we got hit with a bunch of stuff that needs to be done for his treatment to start on Monday for the Myeloma. The upshot is that it was my first moment of frustration and anger given that I'm leaving tomorrow. Anyway, we got it all sorted out and taken care of and then Dave confessed he didn't want me to leave yet, so I've rearranged my flight to leave on Sunday AFTER Hudson gets here. This will allow me to "hat" him up on everything and get the two of them situated before I leave. Dave felt much better about this new plan. So my packing party was cancelled until the following weekend.

Thanks for the messages. We REALLY enjoy reading them!

Love, Lori

PS Some of you have contacted me "worried" that I'm delaying my departure. Its really nothing to worry about. Dave is just still adjusting to all this and the meds and everything and he was wanting me to stay longer. Its totally understandable and totally fine. No big deal. Please don't worry. The upsetting stuff today was just a bunch of paperwork to start the cancer treatment and we weren't prepared for it. Once they knew the scene, 3 staff overcame all barriers to make it possible for Dave to start his treatment as scheduled on Monday.

This was such a weird experience. Dave and I had been doing great and bumping along just fine and then we head into the Cancer Center for the first time and were bombarded with people and paperwork and it was overwhelming. I kept saying, "But I'm leaving tomorrow! I can't get all this done by..." Evidently as we figured out later, every time I said, "But I'm leaving tomorrow!" Dave got more and more agitated. We were not a pretty picture. We were snippy and angry and we really didn't understand why, it was downright embarrassing! We didn't make a very good impression. Once we got out of there and had a chance to talk, Dave was able to articulate his frustration that I was leaving. He also had lost track of time and didn't realize I had to "close" on the Brookeville House on Monday! So the compromise was for me to wait a day for Hudson to get there, so Dave wasn't alone and vulnerable. This would be the beginning of many such marital episodes on this journey. As one wonderful Myeloma patient, Bart from Tennesee said to me in LR (Little Rock), "Yeah, it TESTS ya!"

The Other Child & The 2nd Mom - Montana & Judi

Normally, Montana is front and center. She is our second child and 2.5 years younger than Hudson. She wanted to help. Of course. She had a full time job as a pool manager and a summer diving coach. She was also still competing in the summer league (Montgomery County Diving League) with her last year of eligibility (and I missed THE WHOLE SEASON!). In addition to that, she was practicing with her coach, Anton Slobounov, at the University of Maryland. She is an organized, time manager kinda gal - clearly. She set about finding a place to live for her and her brother in the fall.

She remained calm, attentive and focused on the tasks I gave her to do, which was essentially, "... take care of getting you and Hudson squared around and continue doing all the things you have going on."

She, like Hudson, stepped up and grew up. She was amazing. She was 19. It had its price. We, she and I, weren't completely ready for this separation. I knew she could handle it and I knew she "wanted" it, but on her terms, which this clearly was not. It was a struggle for both of us. And, yet again, my friends stepped up. Judi (Russell's wife) and one of my closest friends and "California Buddy", assured her that she would be there for her and Hudson. Jude went to Montana's meets, she went to the family opening BBQ for the UMD team. Judi went to the end of Montana's summer diving career banquet and awards. Montana told me she just would introduce Judi as her Mom because she got tired of explaining it. Judi of course was wonderful and she would explain she was really the "2nd Mom". Marlene Powell was one of mine - I had a few. I couldn't have made it as well without mine and I was thrilled that Montana had hers. Judi was always marvelous about calling me and telling me all about the wonderful things she was doing and goings on. Besides enjoying someone bragging on my children, I appreciated knowing that they were really doing great throughout this whole year.

We each had a "job", we were part of a team, a family, but we were each doing our task, very much alone, separate from each other, in solitude. We all stood tall, stayed focused, didn't whine, didn't demand of each other anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. It was a time that is both extremely painful for me but also one where I am immensely proud. We sucked it up.

scri6y9me4

Please ignore this, its done in order to get the blog on Technorati, a search site, to help promote it.

scri6y9me4

Dr. Creep

June 23 & 24, 2008

So I called Diane and got the skinny on Dr. Creep. I discovered he is not well thought of by the staff or colleagues, but "he's much better now." Oh God! I felt better though having been validated about my instincts. This further spurred my desire to get Dave out of there. However, I LOVED Rideout Hospital and I will talk about that a little later.

I did manage to get my displeasure across to Dr. Creep the next day. I was speaking to a coordinating nurse/social worker who was going to help us make sure we had everything we needed to go home and be safe. I was out on the floor at the station and she and I were talking. Dr. Creep, walked up and actually interrupted our conversation! I mean, "Hey, I'm a customer A%$#@E! and she is doing her job, and YOU are interrupting!" So, I turned my head slightly as if to say "oh its just you" with a perfunctory cursory glance (at that point he took a step back and away), turned my back on him and stepped between him and the nurse just slightly and subtly, and said, "We can finish this up later, thank you so much for all your help and support." I turned around without acknowledging him in anyway, but his body language said it all. I had just launched a BIG BAZOOKA! He never showed up in Dave's room again.

JERK!

BIG JERK!

BIG, HARRY, UGLY, JERK!

Dr. Humble & Dr. Creep

Monday, June 23, 2008 (evening)

Before we left Rideout, we had a couple of visits from doctors. Dave came through the emergency room and was admitted and it wasn't until the following day that the Oncologist, Dr. N, became involved. Of course I wasn't there, so I didn't know these guys. But one evening the Emergency Room doctor stopped in to see Dave. He was so happy to see that he was comfortable. Dave had been in so much pain the ER, and this poor doctor was desperately trying to ascertain the problem. I liked him. I validated him. He said, "I didn't do anything." I said, "Yes, yes you did. You could have just as easily sent him home with pain meds for his 'back' problem. But you didn't, you ordered the chest CT. Good job!" He was very unassuming, kind and humble.

Then the weirdest thing happened late one evening. I was still at the hospital and it was past 11pm. I was kind of tucked behind the curtain in the room, all he lights were out except a reading light, and this doctor walks in and stands at the end of Dave's bed and then is startled to see me sitting there. It was strange to me. I introduced myself and got a very wimpy handshake, like it was forced and unwanted. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had a bad feeling...

This was the admitting physician when Dave came into the hospital from the ER. He started to have a conversation with Dave that went something like this..."So, well, I would never have pegged you for Myleoma, not in a million years. What will you do now?" Dave looked at him, as did I, like, "What do you mean?" Dave finally actually said that. The doc said, "Well, I mean you have Myeloma. If it were me, I would go back to Maryland. I would want to be with my family." The way he said it was so encrypted though... we were both struggling with this feeling of what is he really saying. I said, "What family? We're not FROM Maryland. We lived there a long time, but we aren't FROM there." He said, "OH! Well, I mean, well, where is your family?" I respond, "We have family all over the US and our children are in College." He says, "So I guess you really can't go back, I mean your job, your health insurance, wow, that's too bad. Well, why don't you go to Stanford for treatment then?" We are like, "Why, we have UC Davis here, they do treatment?" He says with a dismissive, derisive tone, "Well, I mean, well, Dr. N is in charge of your ship now!" (Ohhhh, he doesn't like Dr. N!)

He left. Dave looked pale. I was angry. I had finally gotten Dave in an optimistic frame of mine with a Cancer Diagnosis (with a lot of help mind you!) and this guy comes along and made him feel like, he should rethink his life because he's going to die. Now, remember, at this point, we still didn't know that MM had a short life expectancy (except that isn't true anymore). So he was taking the outdated point of view, but we didn't know there was any other point of view but the one we had, which was a full recovery. Dave was falling apart right before my eyes and I wanted to go out there and string the guy up from a beam right there. But instead I decided not to waste my time with this guy, nor give him any power or attention whatsoever. I stayed focused on Dave. We talked on the phone while I drove home and into the night. I got him out of the mental hole he was slipping into. I didn't get him back completely to where he was, but he didn't slip away into that dark horrible void of being totally defeated. With Dave, its a head game. I was struggling to get his head in the game. He's an athlete, he's a coach, he knows the deal, but right now, he was none of those things. He was a guy that just found out he had cancer and he was scared, he was acting like he had already lost. I was very angry and very scared, but right now, I was Dave's cheerleader, I had to get him in the race and Dr. Creep just really screwed with his head!

More Logistics - Incredible Friends & Neighbors

While all this is going on on the West Coast, I learned that my incredible friends and neighbors were rallying around and organizing a "packing" schedule. When I got home I had troops of friends all doing something and coming over here and there to help me pack 27 years of CRAP for the movers. The more I packed, the more money I saved, we had a cap on our relo package and we desperately needed to do as much ourselves as we could to get under the cap. We had it all planned of course and then I was in California dealing with Dave, instead of at home dealing with the packing, which Dave was going to be helping with.

One of the things that is hard for "able" people to learn how to do is ALLOW others to help. We are the helpers, we don't need help. Fortunately, in caring for my mother I learned how to let things go and accept assistance. But for those of you ABLE folks who suddenly find yourself in this medical crisis, and you aren't used to letting people help you, suck it up! Learn fast, on the fly. Its not going to be perfect and it won't be the way you would do it, SO WHAT! Its help and you have to take a different point of view. I can manage dammit, so that's what I did. I directed and organized things so that others could do it. Whatever they did would be well meaning and have to suffice. At least it would get to the other end and I would deal with it there. You know what? They did a FANTASTIC job. All of them. The boxes made sense, they were labeled and I had very little if any breakage. I couldn't have done it without them, no way, no how. Well, maybe I could of, but I probably would have ended up in a funny farm.

Good people want to help. Let them. You would do it for them right? Well let them do it for you. Its a universal exchange. I have helped people my whole life. Its what my family always did, I learned it. Its second nature. Now it was time for me to cash in and the trick is to recognize that and then accept it, graciously and gratefully.

The Great Escape!

Its a Tuesday, the 24th of June. Dave has been in the hospital almost a week now. He is desperate to get out and I'm desperate to not be sitting in a hard chair all day long, but... the pain is really tough. He is having a hard time emotionally taking all these pain meds and they aren't really handling all his pain. He's tired of feeling lethargic and in a drug haze. He's never been sick before, he's never been in the hospital or had to take pain meds. He's an inexperienced patient - very inexperienced. Whenever the nurses ask what his pain in on a 1-10 scale the HIGHEST number he ever gave was a 4. Now he does this while grimacing and writhing in pain. Dan was there one time and said, "LOOK! He's a 10! He's totally lying!" We all laughed. I later learned that all the nurses were adding +3 to whatever number he gave because the numbers were so low they wouldn't even qualify for them to give him anything. It became the joke on the ward. But in reality, Dave kept thinking the pain would go away, so he preferred to wait to see if he was still in pain. This is not the kind of situation where you do that, but he just didn't know. He found himself constantly in the position of what is often called, "chasing the pain". It is not desirable or advised. It made it hard for me too. Here all my life I was a non drug, natural remedy kind of person and I've turned into a drug pusher. Then he was worried about getting addicted. I finally had to break it to him. "You are going to get addicted. But you are not of an addict mind and we will deal with that issue later. Your doctor will help us with that. Please Dave, you can't be in this kind of pain all the time." He was emotional. We both were. This was just terrible.

So we wanted to break out, but Dave wasn't sure he could manage the pain at home on his own. The doctor said he could leave when he wanted. Dave decided we could manage and he was tired of snorting, snoring, farting, rambunctious roommates that kept him all night along with the early morning blood suckers who wake him up to take blood. We decide, we're going. I tell the nurses and they are like deer caught in the headlights. Oh crap, paperwork! I stand firm, "I'm sure you can make it happen." Around 7 pm that night we break out! Its a slow, slow, slow process to physically get Dave out of the hospital and in the car, but we did it. It felt fabulous.

Later on that night as I laid down in Dan & Sarah's beautiful guest room, where Dave had been living for 6 months, I was comforted to be laying next to my husband of 26+ years. We hadn't slept in the same bed but a couple of times while he was away and this crisis brought a lot of emotions. As I laid next to him, it was so comforting to just be gently snuggled up against him while he slept. It was intoxicating and overwhelming actually.

Somehow, we'll be OK. We always are...

Shocking!

Looking back now what is so shocking about Myeloma at this time in our journey, was how Dave was working, driving, flying and living his life and then WHAM! He is knocked on his preverbal ass in an instant and can hardly get out of bed. I have to dress him and help him with a shower... I mean, shoot! With my mother in her last cancer which took her life, it was a slow and gradual, gradient decline... This was WAY DIFFERENT. This was like Dave had been in a terrible accident or something and we had to get him back to normal somehow and that would be the road. But it wasn't an "accident". I remember when I helped him step over the 3" tile lip in the hospital bathroom shower, and found something for him to hold on to while I put his dressing gown back on him and his PJ bottoms, I said, as I'm snapping up the back,

"Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"We are way too young for me to be doing this."

"Yeah."

"Ok, turn around, put your arm around my shoulders. Are you steady?"

"Yeah"

"Ok, let's get you back in bed, take it easy, take your time..."

Later...MUCH LATER...we learned that Dave had a compression fracture in his spine at T8 or T9, I don't remember which one. Holy Crap!

"Logistics Lori" on the War Path

One of the things I have always been really good at is lining up all the things that need to get done and organizing it in a logical manner with tight scheduling and make it happen.

I still had a job! I had left abruptly while my boss was out of town, I needed to get back. We were to close on the house on Monday, June 30th (a week away). Dave was supposed to be home to do that, help me pack (the movers were coming on July 7th) and have our going away party at Gail's house next door. The original plan didn't have me coming out to California until early August! I was going to help find my replacement, train her and take a trip to Egypt with my wonderful friend Paula. (Paula's parents befriended my parents when they were newly married in Louisiana and Paula was my first baby sitter when I was born. She was 9. Before my mother died, she made sure we were connected up. Her parents were long since deceased and my mom wanted us to "have each other". Paula has a wonderful, modest Throughbred and American Saddle Bred horse farm near Lexington, Kentucky and works for Lane's End (a huge horse farm) and Keeneland Race Track. I go there once a year after the world famous Keeneland Horse Sale and we have come to love each other very much. Thank You Mom!)


Anyway, she had been invited to Egypt and invited me to go along. I have never been off this rock and was so excited to be "traveling abroad". This trip was to occur after the move, while I was still in Maryland. I would go for my two week vacation, come back, check in on the new gal and then head out in the car with Kip to California. I would deal with this all a little later.

Right now, Dave could hardly walk or sit and he certainly couldn't drive or take care of himself at Dan & Sarah's all day. He needed someone full time to be there for him and drive him back and forth for radiation. It couldn't be me, even if I wanted it to be. The wheels were turning on what to do and the pieces were falling into place.

The hospital Social Worker had already stopped into meet me (remember I had called the hospital the first night and made sure that they all knew I was coming and needed their help!). I told him we needed a notary to get me Power of Attorney so I could fly home and close on our Brookeville home with the new buyers on the 30th. My wonderful, best ever, realtor, Marsha Crowley had already fax'd the necessary forms to Sarah at work and Sarah brought them to the hospital. The Social Worker said, "No problem. I have a good friend and pastor who does that. I'll call him." The next evening this pastor and his wife came to the hospital and filled out all the paperwork and prayed with us. We overnighted them the next day to Marsha.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I called our son, who had just finished up the semester at Maryland and didn't have a job lined up.

"Hudson"

"Yeah Mom, what's up?"

"Here's the situation...."

"So, can you fly out here in a couple of days and take care of your Dad for me so I can get back home and take care of stuff there?"

"Emmm....yeah, I just need some time to move out and get my stuff in storage."

"Oh Hudson, that's great!"

Ok, that's done! He flew in on Saturday and I flew home on Sunday, just in time to close on the house Monday morning. The child becomes the man...

A note today from what of my buddies in the UK at WhatNow..."I've read some of your blog which is absolutely fantastic; extremely genuine and well-written so please do carry on with it, I agree it will be a different thing to the Caring Bridge one as it is from your personal perspective."

Not Unique

As I'm working on this Blog, this chronicle, this "story", I am keenly aware that neither I, nor Dave, or this experience is unique. Its important that I let you know that I know that. While our personal experience, and the cathartic writing it all down and sharing it is a very self absorbing activity, I am keenly aware that it is not unique. But for someone who has just been thrust into this situation I hope you can find solace in knowing you are not alone. If you can have a realization or two, or forgive yourself, laugh out loud, or cry - with me. I think its a good thing.

You can do this. Be brave, have courage, you WILL come out the other side, somehow, but only if you keep moving forward.

"If you are going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill

I received an email from a fellow MM Caregiver today commenting on this latest endeavor (the blog) and she said, "... it sounds like you certainly have had some amazing people with you along the way helping you through." She is completely right, I have had the most wonderful friends, family and complete strangers help me get through...

Radiation, T8 & T9 "Involvement"

What the hell does T8 & T9 "Involvement" mean? All we knew was Dave had "lesions" on his spine and shoulder. Ok, so this explains the pain I guess. The solution was to handle it with radiation. Ok. Dave couldn't move, so an ambulance had to come to his room, get him from the bed to the gurney. This was harrowing. Seriously. Dave could hardly move. He was urinating in a jug to avoid getting out of bed. Watching him trying to get out of the bed and onto this gurney was painful and stressful. What happened! What happened to my Dave! Holy crap! Fussing around now with elevating his torso so that he could be wheeled out of the hospital was another 5 minutes as he was in so much pain. All of this so they could drive him .9 miles to the cancer center across the street to the tune of $1,000 for each trip and we had to do this for days! A simple skywalk would have done the trick and been a whole lot less than $1,000! Good grief! I know many of you understand how awful you feel when your loved one is sick and suffering and coupled with all of that is the COST! You feel sleezy to even have such thoughts, but they are there, they are the reality.

The good news, after the very first radiation treatment Dave could WALK on his own to the bathroom. He got up and shaved and brushed his teeth. It took a lot out of him, but he did it!

So we got 2 days of that and then they are closed for the weekend. That stinks. Slowly but surely his pain and muscle spasms returned over the weekend, not too mention we were BORED out of our gourds! By Monday he was begging for, yep, RADIATION! MORE RADIATION! Sad when you think about it. But it brought him such immediate relief.

Little did we know that this wonderful radiation would cause potential problems later with his stem cell collection...

Mack Truck

One of my CB entries early on...

Monday, June 23, 2008 - Whew Folks! What a week. From Monday morning when Dave couldn't get out of bed and missed his trip to Las Vegas, to Monday evening being told after a chest cat scan that he had metastatic cancer of the spine, to finding out en-route through Las Vegas on my way to Marysville that he had Myeloma, to finding out on Friday morning the "Great News" from his Oncologist, that he would make a FULL RECOVERY. It was at that point that I felt run over by a Mack Truck. Just such intense emotion. Telling his parents who were devasted, his brother, our children, our friends, getting some of our medical people in Maryland involved, etc. Dave is doing really great now. Has a great attitude is responding unbelievably well to the two radiation treatments he has had. He was cranky this weekend because he wasn't getting anymore treatments (M-F is all they do). So I was teasing him that now that he knows he's going to LIVE, he's being mean to me! :) He had a really great day today, very relaxing, pain under control, two walks around the hospital floor, showered and shaved. Warm Prune Juice for you know what, and yes, he was successful! :) Tomorrow we have lots of questions for Dr. Nguyen, his Oncologist from UC Davis about exactly what treatment he is getting, what is the timeline of all of this, whether he has any restrictions, how to manage the pain when he leaves the hospital, etc. I'll report more tomorrow. Imagine Dave whizzing down PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) on his new motorcycle in a few months! Love Lori

We didn't know at the time that Multiple Myeloma was more often than not a terminal disease. We had no clue. Our doc gave us no indication of the history of this disease. Later on as we learned of it, it was like being run over all over again. But we had conflicting data... sorting it all out became part of this story. All of it fell on me. Researching and withholding from Dave all the bad stuff about this disease in terms of life expectancy. I needed time to reconcile what we had been told vs. what I was reading... this just can't be happening.

Caring Bridge

I knew about Caring Bridge (if you don't, you should check it out) from friends of a teenager who had been in a car accident. It is a wonderful tool that allows you, in seconds to set up a website and tell everyone what is going on and then make "Journal" entries that friends and family can subscribe to. Guests can leave encouraging words in the "Guestbook" and you can put up some pictures. Caring Bridge is a "private" concern. If you use it, no one can search on the net and find you or your situation. It allows you to notify everyone about it and then they have the link and can visit or subscribe.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

I hesitated. I didn't know how Dave would feel about it. Midnight, a few days after I arrived, I was feeling pretty rung out and my cell phone battery was dying regularly from overuse. I had received many wonderful calls and had many to make. Going over it again and again was exhausting, though I was willing. Some had called with completely wrong information, 3rd and 4th hand. I really wanted a way to give everyone one source of information on what was going on with Dave, and me. So I plunged in and set it up. I sent out the link to everyone in my address book and by the next morning when I woke up there was about 60 "hits" and many messages. By the time I got to the hospital an hour later and asked Dave if he had gotten my email about his website, he looked at me funny (NO!). So I pulled it up while explaining to him what it was, and he was way over 100 hits! When I showed him the hits from midnight and the guestbook entries, he was clearly moved and emotional. Whew! He wasn't angry.

It was a godsend. I was able to keep everyone up to date, blow by blow, how we were doing. People would contact me to take care of something that they could see I needed from the site. The messages were wonderful, his family was beginning to chime in from all over the country. We were hearing from so many, it was uplifting and strengthening beyond words. I now was able to talk to people about other more important things that needed addressing, while still hearing from friends and family without spending the majority of our conversation on Dave's Cancer situation. It was great.

As time wore on and the crisis began to subside a little, or I should say, the lulls between the activity, I would get emails from friends "LORI! Why have you made an entry in two days? Is everything OK?" I was like, "Really? Do you guys really want to hear about the banalities of our day?" When things are not going on cancer wise, did they really want to know that I found a cool new store in Elk Grove, or something in a box I had been looking for? I received a flurry of emails "YES!" Later on, when complete strangers were following the website (because I had posted it on some public spaces) they too would get concerned if I didn't put something every day or couple of days. I was incredulous, but buoyed by it all.

It was also helpful when someone would re-enter my life and I would have to tell them about Dave. I would fill them in briefly and then say, "Oh, you know, you can read about the whole sorted saga on his CB site." That way I didn't have to try to condense the whole deal in an email or a phone conversation.

Caring Bridge became a part of my day. The guest book entries slowed to a trickle, but the hits keep climbing and are almost 17,000 now.

It has been an amazing internet tool and I highly recommend it should you find yourself in a similar situation.

Marilyn saves the day - again

Wednesday, June 18, 2008 (late afternoon)

After my conversation with Dave's parents, I called Marilyn back and asked her to call them for me. She knows them and she knew Dave's mother would take it very hard. She, like me, also knew, that Dave needed full support, infused with complete optimism and confidence in his recovery process.

She felt very strongly that Dave's parents would be more helpful if they did not come out to California, but waited and helped us with the move and the Stem Cell Transplant recovery.

She called them. As a physician she was able to answer their questions with authority and give them sincere hope and optimism, advice and guidance. It was such a load lifted off my shoulders, it was another one of those immeasurable things.

The truth was, I was staying with friends, and spending long days at the hospital sitting in a hard chair next to Dave's bed. There was no point in them coming now. There were things that we really needed help with and that wasn't one of them.

I called them daily from that point on and gave them reports.

Calling the Folks...

Wednesday, June 18, 2008 (late afternoon)

We now knew what Dave had. It was Cancer. Multiple Myeloma. I learned it was a blood cancer. In the same family as Leukemia and Lymphoma. I later learned it was an "orphan disease", comprising only 1% of all diagnosed Cancers and 14% of the blood cancers. Dave would begin treatment immediately with a pill. We later learned it was considered "chemo", more precisely, "oral chemo". At the time we were like, "whew! no chemo!" Ignorance is bliss.

Ok, so back to his parents. They live in Florida, retired. Dave's mother is a consummate worrier. She'll worry about things no one else would give a thought too. She is fearful, anxious, and always thinks the worst. Dave's father is a bit more grounded, but he, although stoic and seemingly to have command of most situations, is a softy and has been known to be emotional. Both are "doers" though and will work through their issues and "help".  However, I wasn't looking forward to this conversation. Honestly, I had enough to deal with, with Dave. I just didn't know if I could take anyone else's issues right now. But they needed to know and I already felt horrible that we had waited, but again, I felt confident that since we didn't know anything, it was better to wait. Now we knew and we needed to tell them. There was no reasonable justification to delay any further, it needed to be done.

Surprisingly, Dave was stalling. I was really taken aback actually. I wasn't expecting him to not want to tell them. I thought honestly he was just waiting, sanely, until we knew something certain, and that I was there with him so we could tell them together over the phone. So both criteria had been met and he was stalling. "No, not yet, their eating dinner now." "No, let's wait until we are done eating dinner." Etc., etc. After about an hour I said, "Dave, you're stalling. We need to call them. I'm going to call them right now. I'll tell them and then you can talk to them." GULP.

I had just had a lengthy phone conversation with Dave's mother night before last and didn't tell her I was going to California. She had tried to reach Dave and assumed he was busy on his Las Vegas business trip. I agreed that he was probably busy. All the while, I know he's in a hospital room in California with preliminary diagnosis of cancer. It was a very hard conversation for me. As I mentioned earlier, I'm an open book, a high disclosure kind of person. Its not in my character to withhold such things.

I get them both on the phone, of course they know something is wrong right away in that request. There is no other way to do it. I tell them I'm in California and Dave is in the hospital. He's OK I say, right away. But...

There is silence on the phone from his mother the entire time I'm talking. Not a word. His Dad was engaged and asking questions, talking and listening. I did my best to instill my optimism on how things would ultimately turn out. But I knew, for his mother, there was absolutely nothing I could say or do to calm her fears. I was helpless. I handed the phone to Dave.

He cried. It was short. It was hard. It totally SUCKED. It was done.

Marilyn G, MD - Dear Friend

Wednesday, June 18, 2008 (afternoon)

While I was getting a bite, changing clothes, picking up Dave's car, I get a phone call from a dear, dear friend, Marilyn G, MD, Internal Medicine Extraordinaire! Hudson, our son, had driven over to her house and told her what was going on. Her son, Taylor and Hudson went to pre-school together since they were 3 years old. She wanted me to know, that "Myeloma is no longer a death sentence! Dave can beat this! Tell me what you know..." We had a great conversation, and I said, "Marilyn, I would LOVE to talk to you more, but YOU really need to call Dave, NOW. He's a mess, he's not taking this well. He needs to hear YOU and all that you are telling me." I gave her the number and we hung up.

Thank God for Marilyn. She was incredibly helpful and supportive and was often someone I called for a "sanity check" during this whole ordeal.

She made Dave promise NOT to go out on the Internet searching for information (which he was already doing of course!) She told him she would do some up to date research for him and extrapolate the data and call him tomorrow. He agreed.

Rideout Memorial Hospital - Marysville, CA

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

My dear friend from my teenage days, Carmen, insisted on picking me up at the airport. Carmen and I go way back to when we were 15 years old. Her Dad and my Mom dated, that's how we met. We have kept close in touch all these years and she stayed with me in 2001 when she decided to give Washington, DC a go. She was trying to get work on the Hill when 9/11 happened and everything shut down. My mother was at my home with hospice care and Carmen was a gift from Heaven. She and my mother were very close. To have someone in my home caring for my mother besides me, that my Mom was comfortable with, had value beyond measure. It was one of those "meant to be" kind of things. I mean, for 20 years Carmen wanted to come back East and work in DC and she picks this time in our lives to finally make the trip and my mother is dying of Cancer. How amazing is that? Needless to say, we have journeyed together through some difficult moments and are forever changed by it, and hold each other in very high regard. It was comforting to have her picking me up, my dear friend.

I arrived at the hospital and as I was coming down the hallway, when one of the Powell's stepped out into the hall and saw me. I can't remember who it was, but they hollered into the room, "SHE's HERE! SHE's HERE!" With that they all came out into the hall, Marlene, Diane, Linda, Dan & Sarah and there were A LOT of tears. When I stepped into the room, Dave began to cry. I realized very profoundly at that moment, the stress, tension and burden that my dear friends were all carrying. It was very heavy on them. I had no idea, but of course, they probably didn't fully realize it either until the hat was passed off. The relief.

Marlene and my mother were best friends in a group of very close SR-71 wives. Her husband Bob was also a U2 pilot before coming to Beale. I went to school with Dan, he was my "obnoxious adopted brother" and Diane and I were great friends, while Linda and my sister Lynn, have been best friends forever. They had taken on the role of taking care of Dave, like "family" friends do. Dave was never left alone the entire time from his trip to the hospital, until I arrived. Before my arrival they were stoic, strong, calm and doing everything they could to keep Dave on an emotional even keel. They were in a word, "amazing." Diane, had worked at Rideout Hospital and so did a good job of making sure everyone knew who Dave was and that I knew he was getting good care. She was invaluable. I think they all went home and slept for 3 days after I got there. Can't say I blame them.

After a bit, we decided Carmen would take me back to Dan & Sarah's, I would change clothes, get something to eat, and get Dave's car. Suddenly I'm in my "home town" after over 30 years, running back and forth from Yuba City to Marysville, seeing some familiar things along the way as I'm racing back to the hospital.

We desperately need to call his parents...

Vegas - Plane Change - "Stupid" Fog

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

As you know from my earlier post, that I got the definitive diagnosis on Dave when I landed in Vegas from my dear friend Jude. Dave has the "easiest" form of Myeloma to treat and he is expected him to have a "full recovery". Whew! Whatever the hell all this means. I only know that Myeloma is some sort of "blood cancer." That's all I really was able to comprehend of the conversation. Those of you who have been there, totally get it. You are in a "stupid" fog, no matter how smart or able you are, you just don't hear it all. You don't hear much after "Cancer" is uttered, it's pretty weird actually.

I haven't even arrived and I'm feeling tired.

Preparing for Cali

June 16, 17 & 18, 2008

As with many things in our lives, initially Dave was, "I'm fine. You don't need to come. Let's wait and see..." I hesitantly go off to work the next morning and within about 30 minutes, I have secured a flight, and started making arrangements to get out there the following day. Carmen graciously and with insistence is picking me up at the airport.

I've called Dave, "I'm coming tomorrow."

What to do now...I tell a couple of key people at work and then and only then, do I feel the stoic genes of my grandmother, beginning to crumble around the edges. No problem, they say, you go, we'll take care of things here, let us know Lori, keep us posted. All the usual things wonderful people say at a time like that. What else is there? I mean, we don't even know he has Multiple Myeloma yet, we just know they have said, "CAN-cer!" It can't be. He's been fine, a little tired, his shoulder had been hurting him - but he was moving boxes, his back has been bothering him - but he was moving boxes. He had a physical in November 07 - all was fine, he had kidney stones in January 09, but when he got kidney stones in April 09 again, I began, I now recall, to get a little suspicious...but I was busy taking care of things, working, the house, house hunting, etc... HOLY SHIT DAVE HAS CANCER! It can't be, its a mistake, but something isn't right, but its all a mistake, it can't be cancer. The oncologist will straighten it all out tomorrow and I'll have flown out for naught...

I call Jude and we talk. Like me, she is strong and certain we will get to the bottom of this "mess" in short order. No let's not tell the kids just yet, or Dave's parents, we don't really have anything to tell them. All we have is a dx we don't believe is correct (we were right, it wasn't metastatic cancer of the spine as we were told), but we know something is wrong, but we don't know what. Why get everyone all worked up and worrying, thinking the worst, until we know what we are dealing with. Ok. Agreed.

The following day, Montana (my daughter) comes home and we sit on the back stoop and I tell her, Dad's in the hospital and we aren't sure what's wrong. I'm flying out there tomorrow. I don't want you to worry. She presses, I tell her everything I know, and everything I think. She is strong and like Jude and I, her sense is, the same, something's wrong, but its not metastatic cancer of the spine. She believes her Dad will be OK. She's fine. Now I have to tell Hudson so I call him on the phone. He's quiet. Keep him posted.

I go to my neighbor Gail to have her take Kip (our beloved Lab). I lose it. I'm crying now. I'm a mess. She's crying. Gail and I do that to each other. We blubber like babies and spur the other one on. Its comforting though. Gail has been my good friend and neighbor for the past 9+ years and we have a lot of history together. She's very dear to me.

Russell (Jude's husband and my pretend "boyfriend") drives me to the airport (BWI) the next morning, door to door service. Jude has made me a lunch to take on the plane with strict orders to make sure I eat and stay nourished.

I'm in the air. Small talk with the passenger next to me, as usual. I'm light and keep the conversation on them. You see, I'm a very OPEN, high disclosure kind of person. I always have been, can't seem to help myself. Its one of my more endearing qualities. But this is just not the time. My trip is OK, but I feel a bit like a deer caught in the headlights and wonder if I look how I feel and if anyone is looking at me, "Oh, dear, look, cancer has struck that one! Yeah, you know - the LOOK."

An aside: while I'm waiting for my plane to board I notice a man that looks strangely like Jack Nicholson. He's sitting at a high counter, wearing sunglasses. Oh, shoot, he's looking at me. Yep, he is a younger, handsome version of Jack alright. Oh, he's getting up...walking by, he's short, OMG! Its him! What on earth is he doing on a Southwest Flight to Vegas? Oh maybe he was out for the Tim Russert Memorial today in Washington DC? Oh, oops, he's looking my way again - be calm. Funny, wait until I tell the kids. His best disguise is to NOT smile that wonderful Nicholson smile. Its a dead giveaway!

Prelude - The "Adventure"

Well, now you have it up to the point of when this grand "adventure" begins. This is clearly not the "adventure" Dave and I had planned, but it is an "adventure" in every sense of the word.

adventure

Noun

1. a risky undertaking, the ending of which is uncertain: our African adventure

2. exciting or unexpected events [Latin advenire to happen to (someone), arrive]

Collins Essential English Dictionary 2nd Edition 2006 © HarperCollins Publishers 2004, 2006

Multiple What? Melanoma?

June 16, 17, & 18, 2008

Clearly something was wrong, but I was very uneasy about a Radiologist making such a definitive diagnosis with no supporting data. His blood was fine, his urine was fine.

He was getting admitted now and I was trying to make sure that paperwork was signed adhering to the HIPPA laws (I hate those damn laws), to make sure that the doctors could take my calls. I called the front desk immediately and was transferred to the Social Worker's office. By this time they were closed, but I left my plea. I knew from caring for my mother, that every hospital has a Social Worker (or two) who are there to help you. I left my message, who I was, the situation, I am 3,000 miles away, I need help, I need a liaison, please call me. I'm asking the nurses to get the forms, the waivers, the releases, whatever is necessary to make sure that Dave's doctors HAVE to talk to me. I don't want some arrogant hind-part blowing me off because he's too busy to tell it twice and using the HIPPA to get himself off the hook. Bastards. I'm all worked up.

I call Jude, my best friend, who is in the medical field, vascular stuff. She's totally freaked out, but like me, she moves into action and we have a plan. Like me, she is concerned about the diagnosis without supporting data, but she agrees, clearly something isn't right. I call her husband Russell and at this point, that's it. I'm not wanting to spread this around until I have more information. What's the point? We don't know anything for sure yet. The oncologist will see him in the morning and they will get some tests rolling.

I'm making reservations and figuring out what "Hill 10's" I have at work that need to be addressed, if any, so I can head out. I'm not going the next day, but the day after. I go to work in the morning and get the IT guys to make sure I'm set up to remote desktop in. My boss is out of town. I'm the only admin person for the research center. I have no backup. But I do have the Mechanical Engineering Business Office and a great bunch there and terrific professors and students who will all pull together to do what they can without me and to help me.

On my way out to California, Jude and I know that the tests will be completed and the diagnosis will be rendered. She is to speak to the doctor (yes, made sure she was on all the damn forms) and we would talk when I landed in Vegas. Before I even get off the flight, I'm turning on my phone with the signal I have a message beeping at me. Jude has a good sense of these things and works with surgeons daily for the past 30 years in her profession. I trust her instincts as she can spot medical incompetence/arrogance 90 miles off shore with the smallest utterance of words from the doc.

As predicted, a diagnosis has been determined. Jude he tells me that the doctor is "on the ball" and that Dave has something called, Multiple Myeloma.

"Multiple Melanoma? What's that?"

"No, no, Myeloma. Its a blood cancer. Dave is going to be fine. He said that if he had a Heart Disease patient vs. Dave, he would put all his money on Dave."

"Ok, ok. Thanks Jude."

"Hang in there Lor. Call me when you get there."

I land in Sacramento and one of my dearest friends from my teenage years, Carmen M picks me up at the airport and drives me into Marysville to the Rideout Freemont Memorial Hospital. I remember this hospital from over 30 years ago. I'm a little worried. I've already been working on getting him moved. Trying to decide whether to bring him home to Maryland or take him into Sacramento to UC Davis Medical.

What the hell?

Monday, June 16, 2008

"Lori?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Sarah."

"Oh Hi Sarah, what's up?"

"Dave can't get out of bed, his back."

"What?"

"Yeah, he was supposed to go to Vegas this morning and he can't get out of bed he's in a lot of pain. I don't know what to do. I could take him to the ER, but he can't get out of bed to get to the car. He wants me to just go to work, but I've called Marlene (Dan's Mom) and she's coming over."

"Ok, Sarah, that's fine. Geeze. I'll call him. Thanks Sarah."

"Lori, I feel terrible leaving him, but Kyra will be here watching Cameron and they can get him anything he needs."

"Sarah, its OK. He'll be fine."

Marlene in fact arrives quickly and calls me. We talk on the phone about what to do. Dave has been laying on a heating pad and I suggest to Marlene if he's having spasms he really needs to be on ice. If after 30 minutes on ice he still can't get out of bed, call an ambulance and get him over to the ER that way. We need to get a picture of his back and see what's going on.

Ten minutes later Marlene calls me. She can't even get the ice behind him without him being in excruciating pain. She's called the ambulance.

A few hours later, I'm at home (remember they are 3 hours behind us on the East) getting dinner. The phone rings...

"Lori?"

"Hi Sarah."

"Lori? Have you talked to Dave?"

"No. He hasn't called me yet. Is everything OK?"

"Uh, its not good."

"Sarah? What do you mean?"

"Uh, its not good. Do you want me to tell you or do you want to talk to Dave?"

"I'll call Dave. Does he have his cell phone?"

"Yes."

I called Dave. He had been diagnosed with Metastatic Cancer of the Spine. WHAT! Wait...

California!

My father, LtCol Jim Hudson, was one of the original squadron pilots of the Lockheed SR-71 Reconnaissance plane, also known as the Blackbird. Less than 100 men have flown this aircraft. It is believed to be responsible for many of the UFO sitings in the 60s and 70s.

Jim Hudson & Norb Budzinski, mid 1960s Crew Portrait

He was tragically killed in a freak T-38 crash at Beale Air Force Base back in 1971. I was 12 years old and worshiped my father in a big way. I had breakfast with him that morning and then was picked up at school by his commander, Col Jim Watkins and our minister, Pastor Adrian Olsen and told of his accident. I never saw him again. I wasn't just a daughter idolizing her father, he was truly a really good guy. You would like him, ask his advice, respect him and enjoy hanging out with him. I have kept in touch or gotten reacquainted with his old pals all of my life. It has been a wonderful opportunity for me to get new experiences of my Dad through hearing their stories of their relationship with him. It is always fun for me to learn of new things about him or wonderful things he did for someone. I never tire of it. I often tell his friends that my memories end in 1971 when I was 12 and so I have to steal theirs to increase my experiences with him. They are wonderfully tolerant of me in that way. He wasn't perfect, but he was close enough to being well loved, well rounded, bright, ethical, moral, a great Dad, a good son, brother, uncle, husband and friend. He was 37 years old. He came from rural Pennsylvania, a holstein dairy farm just north of Scranton (Kingsley address near Montrose), that my grandfather built from scratch (after it had been abandoned) on 200+ acres of beautiful country north of Scranton. He graduated from Penn State with a degree in Dairy Husbandry through an ROTC scholarship.

My mother decided to stay in N CA after his accident and so I graduated from high school in Yuba City. I'm a Honker. I didn't really understand what that was all about until I left. Our mascot was a goose. I remember the Canada Goose in the purser's office with a Marysville Indian (the neighboring town's school mascot) dangling from a noose out of the goose's beak, but why were we Honkers? I had no idea. I later learned its because we have so many rice patties (very agricultural area of California) that we have what is considered the best duck hunting in the entire world. Go figure. My world was SR's, snow skiing in Tahoe, playing in San Francisco, driving to the mountains to party, but duck hunting? Nope, had no clue.

So my adopted brother, Dan Powell (his Dad was also an SR pilot AND a U-2 pilot - Lt Col Bob Powell), and his wife Sarah, opened up their guest room to Dave to stay until I could join him in Cali.


Dave headed out January 2008 for the West Coast, while I stayed behind and got the house ready to go on the market and he looked for houses in the Sacramento area. Stressful? You bet. Doable? Of course.

Dave was busy learning and loving his new job, driving 1 hour each way to stay with Dan & Sarah, and looking for a house on the weekend. None of which we could buy mind you, because we hadn't sold ours, in fact, ours wasn't even listed yet. I knew we would be downsizing, or I hoped we would, and so I needed to sell things, get the house repainted for proper staging, eventually tell my boss I was leaving and help him find a replacement. I was getting the kids to spend some time going through their stuff, what to keep in College Park, what to send to their rooms in California, what, what, what! Also trying to turn over my other responsibilities in the community, etc. Oh yeah, and sell my house and not listen to everyone freaking out that I was 1) moving, 2) selling in this terrible market, 3) who would move into our court! Honestly, it was almost required that you get approval on who I could sell my house too! Now I love my neighbors and I'm seriously not bashing them. They were and are THE BEST! We had a good thing going in our cute little court and I was clearly upsetting the apple cart. Not too mention, they didn't want to lose me, nor me them. It was sometimes comical though. Of course with the market being so bad, selling my house for less was not a fun thing either, but it was what it was and as it turned out, it didn't get much better.

Time was not on my side. I was committed to finding not just a buyer, but the PERFECT FAMILY. And guess what? I did! I found the most wonderful family, or they found me, but it was my desire, my postulate, the minute I met them, that they were the ones that were going to buy my house. They were perfect, our house was perfect for them, and they would fit into our court and neighborhood perfectly. I know you aren't supposed to care about who buys your house, just get a decent price and boogie. That's just not me, I always want more than that, I'm more emotionally connected to things like that. You think I'm kidding? Let me tell you...I have a beautiful yellow lab, Kip. He is the littermate and brother of my next door neighbor's dog, Maddie. Gail and I were both looking for dogs when we moved in. She came home with a puppy one day and I was out the next getting the brother! We put in an "invisible fence" around both of our yards so the dogs could run in both yards. I loved coming home and seeing two wagging labs greeting me on my porch, but only one was mine to take care of. Gail and I never kenneled our dogs, we took care of each other's dog. I needed to find a nice family who had a dog or at least liked dogs. Just in case though, I did talk to the fence people to figure out what we would have to do to "pinch" off my yard. Well, when Lisa & Tom (my buyers) came over to look at the furniture I was selling and their girls were petting Kip, they told me they had a dog too. "YOU DO? What kind?" I asked. "A Chocolate Lab, Bosco, he's 7." "NO WAY!" I said. "Yes, and we want to get one of those invisible fences." Smiling broadly, "Oh, you have one." Lisa responded, "We do?" "Yes, you do, but here's the deal..." A puppy play date was set and there is now a beautiful chocolate male lab named Bosco sitting on my old porch with an occasional visit from Maddie next door. Dave still shakes his head in disbelief.

Our house in Brookeville sold in about 5 weeks.

We did well, thanks in large part to our premier realtor, Marsha Crowley. She sold us our first house in '81 before we had gotten married and every house since then while we lived in Maryland. She's tough, but thorough and very well connected. We took a reasonable hit in a very bad market and Dave bought the house we wanted in Elk Grove, which surprisingly (haha) lowered their price about the same amount we lost on our house in Brookeville.

I wanted a realtor just like Marsha in California and I found one, by fluke on the Internet, Bob Watlatka. I knew immediately from talking with him that he was my man. He was very similar to Marsha and I spotted that quality right away. I was so lucky and very happy. He took Dave out weekend after weekend after weekend looking for houses in and around the Sacramento area, with me online looking at listings and photos. Sometimes I was on the phone with them looking online and sometimes they were sending me pictures. There were Saturdays where my eyes were just worn out. I went out to Cali once for a few days and Bob picked me up at the airport and we ran around Sacramento looking at neighborhoods I was interested in. It was on that trip that we found the house we eventually bought in Elk Grove. I wanted to move to Folsom and be a little more in the foothills vs. the flat valley, but Dave was tired of commuting and I couldn't blame him for that. Funny how things work out for a reason. We live 2 miles from his office. Had we moved to Folsom as I had wanted, his subsequent illness and drive to the office would have been quite problematic.

With the house sold and a new one under contract, we were all set for our packing and our going away party and I get the phone call...

Our Life

Dave and I are typical. We are essentially the same age, although I am 1 year and 3 months older, which he LOVES to remind me of every year on my May birthdate when I am 2 years older for the summer until he "catches up" with me and is only a year behind. It turns out that marrying older women runs in both our families. His mother is older than his father and my grandmother was older than my grandfather, so we didn't get any crap on that when we were dating.

We met in college and got married after Dave graduated in 1981 from Cornell University.

He graduated, we got married, moved, both started new jobs and bought a house all in a month! I now wonder if we set the tone for the drama to come later in our lives and I look back on it, not with regret, but with the sense that perhaps I could have been a little less "efficient" and "enjoyed the journey" a bit more.

We moved from beautiful Ithaca, in upstate New York, to the Washington, DC burbs in Maryland. I didn't want to leave Ithaca. I loved it there. But Dave hated the cold and didn't have nearly as much fun as I did. Being in the Electrical Engineering program at Cornell meant he was buried in his studies. I, on the other hand, had a job I enjoyed, friends and a social life. I often say, I had all the fun of being an Ivy League Student and NONE of the responsibilities. It was a wonderful time for me. But we picked up and made our move to Washington, DC, which I also loved, as a city. However, I never got to live in Washington. I got stuck in the burbs and I hated it for a very long time. I discovered that I loved the country, small towns, and big cities. I could have any of them. I'm a military brat, so adaptability and flexibility is something ingrained in my very existence. Living out in the middle of nowhere with everyone else piled on top of each other with nothing to do where cars are required, was not something, I discovered, that I cared for. I learned to appreciate fully why people live in the suburbs and what it has to offer in raising your children and making friends, but it is still on the bottom of my list of places I would choose to live. Whenever I would get annoyed with Dave, I would remind him, that I didn't want to move here, that he said we were moving to Washington, DC and that I had yet to get anywhere close to living in DC! However, I was committed, to our marriage and his success in his career as a telecom engineer. As a seasoned military brat, I adapted and made the best of it, and I did appreciate the people I met and the experiences we had living there for 27 years.

We have two children, our son, Hudson (named after my father, Lt Col James Webster Hudson) and our daughter, Montana. They kept us busy with all their activities and typical suburban lives. I worked on and off, but I learned early in my marriage that I was sold a bill of goods growing up in the 70's with the idea that we (women) could do it all! In the words of Cokey Roberts, "We can do it all, just not at the same time!" Dave's profession was clearly the big income producer for us and I began to find that while we could both work, we couldn't both have "careers". Its just too hard to coordinate conflicting priorities when you are running a home and raising children. I took a back seat to his career for my own sanity and that of our family. It was the best decision I made, with all its obvious pitfalls, it was the greatest good for our family. I kept busy by getting involved in my community and did a lot of volunteer work in areas, that benefited my family and community; in addition, I worked part-time in other areas that generated some money for the kids, our household, and me. Because I was involved and I had two active and charismatic children, I became, like many parents, "Hudson and Montana's Mom". There are still people who I'm sure don't know my first name - a common plight of the suburban parent. However, it has its perks and it is a role I enjoyed. So, dreams of a career for "Lori"? Nah, that became just a pipe dream, but that's ok.

After my mother passed away in November 2001, Dave lost his job, along with most of the other telecom engineers during the dot com bust. For some reason, the satellite industry tanked and disappeared very dramatically. Dave had risen from a hardware designer out of college for Digital Communications Corp, in Germantown, MD, to a Senior VP of Business Development with a large company (Loral's communications company) and, then, POOF, it was gone! It was pretty shocking. Our son had just started high school at a private school in Washington, DC. We had a BIG suburban home in a great neighborhood and I wasn't working. I was honestly still in the throws of nothingness after my mother passed away. I can tell you that when she became ill this last time, I was working part-time and homeschooling our children. I got Hudson through middle school and off to private high school and then had put my daughter back in public school in the middle of 6th grade, due to my mom's illness. I couldn't homeschool them very well from a cell phone at Bethesda Naval Hospital. I would often get a call with them fighting and killing each other while I was trying to get someone to help my Mom who couldn't breathe or had some other healthcare crisis! It was not fun, nor pretty, but was, in fact, comical in a twisted sort of way. You will find throughout my adventure that I find humor in things that aren't really funny. "If you don't laugh you will cry" is a very true statement for me and how I look at things.

After my Mom died, and Dave lost his job, he insisted I go back to work and I insisted I wasn't ready, the kids needed me, I didn't think I could find a job, part-time, close by, etc. Well, he found me a job. I kid you not. I got an email thread between him and an acquaintance from NASA that he knew through our son's baseball activities, and this guy's former professor at University of Maryland. The final comment was, "Yes, we are desperate, have her send her resume right away." Damn. Long story, short, I was hired by a wonderful man who is the director of a energy research center at the University of Maryland in College Park. Professor Reinhard Radermacher. I'm now a Terp (short for Terrapin, which isn't really a turtle, but a tortoise, native to the Maryland area). The good news was, I had healthcare benefits for our whole family, it was a great "re-entry job" for me, a win-win, I could go back to school (paid for), and finish my Bachelor's Degree (I have an Associates), and in 2 years, my children can attend UMD tuition free. Ok, OK, so I was back in the fray. After the first day, I came home and said, "Well, nothing has really changed...you have the hard workers, the not so hard workers, the incompetents, the gossip, etc." I loved it.

Dave reinvented himself and got into the wireless Internet business with some old telecom buddies and did some work for AOL, EarthLink, Motorola and others. It was tough on us, but he was excited about his projects and I was happy he was working and we somehow muddled through it all, with lots of support from our friends and family. But it was hard on Dave. Once he was diagnosed with Cancer, it was not hard to look back and see just how insane everything had become. I had inklings of it and would get on his case about his eating habits and my concerns, but I was busy and involved with my own responsibilities and I expected him to take care of himself. He was driving each week to Philadelphia and living up there in a hotel room, eating poorly and then driving home for the weekend. Eventually he was doing the same thing by air, down to Atlanta each week while working for Earthlink's wireless division as a Director. Earthlink got a new CEO (theirs had passed away), and once again, POOF, it was all gone!

Then he got this wonderful job offer in Elk Grove, CA near where I graduated from high school some 30+ years earlier. Imagine that! So we decided to ditch the kids before they ditched us and go for it. Well, I decided. I'm still not so sure Dave was fully into the idea of moving 3,000 miles away. Remember, I'm the military brat and Dave is, well, Dave - he likes things the same and predictable. He does like warm weather though, so my friends and I sort of ganged up on him and he was extremely excited about the work. I don't know really how much I pushed him, or if I just confirmed his decision for him. Oh well. Such is married life.

Anyway, that is the short story of how we ended up in northern California in 2008.