Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Garment District
Yaz visited us in New York for a few days and we were so happy!!! She looks us through the Garment District where she used to buy textiles for her job. Maeve selected some fabric for a dress Yaz is going to make for her and we enjoyed looking at all of the millions of different kinds of fabrics!
Monday, April 3, 2017
Bronx Zoo
We made the long trek to the Bronx Zoo after seeing it on Animal Planet and in the movie Madagascar. It was a cold and rainy day and many of the exhibits were closed. The gorillas and giraffes were off exhibit as well. We enjoyed tons of birds and the Madagascar building. It certainly wasn't the perfect zoo day, so I guess we will just have to go back!!We did get to experience a Rio Movie in 4d and enjoy the bug carousel, complete with a dung beetle chair.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
The view
Our apartment in NY is really great!!! The master bedroom and living area have huge windows with clear views of The Empire State Building. It's quite noisy with all of the taxis and traffic, but it's pretty close to Paul's office.
Our address here is:
777 6th Ave, Apt. 18C
New York, NY 10001
NYC
It's hard to know how to write about this transition because my emotions change every twenty minutes. Last fall, Paul was approached about a position in the NY office of Amazon. We prayed and prayed about the right thing to do for a long time. We loved Seattle.... everything about it reflected our "style" and our way of living. We had an amazing, visionary church, a completely walkable life, good friends, and the greatest outdoor opportunities imaginable.
All of the times we missed our friends and family in PA over the last few years, we would always come back to the fact that Paul wasn't ready to leave Amazon. So, when this option presented itself, it was a bridge between the sadness of missing our "people" and the opportunity to keep a great job.
Dozens of journal entries log my emotional highs and lows of trying to listen for God's voice in the middle of the questions.
Because the kids struggled so much moving West, our first duty was to let them decide. Maeve quickly agreed to move and delighted about seeing her family much more often. She started counting the days she could spend with her grandparents and delighted in more celebrations at "home." Noah immediately said "no." and so we left it at that.
As weeks went by, we didn't bring up the topic, but one day, while sitting in the back seat, Noah said flatly, "I'm ready to move back." Of course, we talked it all through and he agreed that he was on board. He was excited about the idea of having a yard and a house with more space and seeing all of the people he has been missing so much.
God's voice has been more clear to me in the past few months than almost any other time.
I sat on a rocky beach one afternoon, tears streaming down my face saying to God, "It's so great here.... I love it so much." and clear as day, God responded "It will be better there."
Weeks later, still making lists and weighing my options, I cried out, "I just can't decide." to which God quickly responded, "I have already made the decision."
And so, those two clear moments have carried me and focused my thoughts and actions over the past months of preparation.
Sitting at a concert one night, we heard a song talking all about "home" and we just looked at each other and smiled, excited to be returning home again.
All of the times we missed our friends and family in PA over the last few years, we would always come back to the fact that Paul wasn't ready to leave Amazon. So, when this option presented itself, it was a bridge between the sadness of missing our "people" and the opportunity to keep a great job.
Dozens of journal entries log my emotional highs and lows of trying to listen for God's voice in the middle of the questions.
Because the kids struggled so much moving West, our first duty was to let them decide. Maeve quickly agreed to move and delighted about seeing her family much more often. She started counting the days she could spend with her grandparents and delighted in more celebrations at "home." Noah immediately said "no." and so we left it at that.
As weeks went by, we didn't bring up the topic, but one day, while sitting in the back seat, Noah said flatly, "I'm ready to move back." Of course, we talked it all through and he agreed that he was on board. He was excited about the idea of having a yard and a house with more space and seeing all of the people he has been missing so much.
God's voice has been more clear to me in the past few months than almost any other time.
I sat on a rocky beach one afternoon, tears streaming down my face saying to God, "It's so great here.... I love it so much." and clear as day, God responded "It will be better there."
Weeks later, still making lists and weighing my options, I cried out, "I just can't decide." to which God quickly responded, "I have already made the decision."
And so, those two clear moments have carried me and focused my thoughts and actions over the past months of preparation.
Sitting at a concert one night, we heard a song talking all about "home" and we just looked at each other and smiled, excited to be returning home again.
School
It was part of the plan to keep the kids out of school until we find a house and move in. We get corporate housing for two months in Manhattan and we felt that it would be educational to explore this great city and all of the culture, art and museums. When else do you get to live in Manhattan for two months, rent free?!
The kids are convinced they are being "home schooled" which is a pretty funny idea. I have been making them do work and they have to read and write every day.
A few days ago I had them watch the Gorsuch Supreme Court Justice Confirmation hearings and we explored the three branches of government, learned about the balance of power, veto and a very basic outline of how a law is made. We had a really great time exploring all of the topics and they are just eager little sponges.
Today we picked up some small sketch books and they decorated the covers. Inside they have written about what they have done each day, adding pictures, thoughts and feelings to this whole process.
I'm not sure if I'm home school mom material, but for a short time, it's really fun!
Friday, January 27, 2017
All Clear
My two year appointment went well. The MRI was shorter which I attribute to the doctor requesting less of an in depth look (and to save my body from the extra radiation). The doctor looked through everything and said it was fine. It never looks fine to me as there are large white blob like sections on the scans but he assured me that it is scar tissue. I asked how they know the difference between scar tissue and tumor and he said they don't. Great. In any case, they look for other factors like a change in shape of the tissue, the folds of the brain showing pressure, or changes in my vision, balance and abilities. My white blood cells still aren't completely up to snuff, but as he said -- they have been much much worse. They decided to move my appointments out to three months instead of two. All of these signs are very encouraging and are the exact words you would want to hear.
Despite all of this, I never seem to leave the appointments feeling a sense of relief. I always harbor this small voice that thinks that they missed something or that I saw something on the scan that they didn't (as if I have a clue what I am looking at!). I wonder if anyone who has been through a cancer diagnosis every really feels a complete sense of freedom or a complete release of fear.
Once I am back in reality, away from the hospital, I do forget again that I've been through all of this and I don't replay those days of surgery, recovery and treatment over in my head. I live separately from that experience.
Though I never bump into walls anymore and the left handed vision episodes are very sporadic, one of the pieces that still lingers in my life is the ability to piece together mental puzzles. I'm not sure how to explain it fully, but I can't organize my thoughts the way I used to be able to do. I have to physically draw out how things relate to each other sometimes and I have to review schedules and lists and plans over and over and over again and sometimes even then I can't see the sequences or order of how it should all play out. The amount of variables I used to be able to carry and organize is much smaller.
The second noticeable difference that I feel is from the medicine that I am on. The medicine dulls areas in my brain in order to prevent seizure activity. Through research and talking to a friend of mine who is a doctor, I have been able to explain that I don't have the same enthusiasm or mental energy that I used to have. I'm sure this also comes with being a little older, but I don't feel as though I have the same mental way of looking at things. Life feels almost muted and it seems logical to me that it is from the medicine. I can look into other medicines and I might do that.
So, all in all, it was a perfect report. I am grateful.
Despite all of this, I never seem to leave the appointments feeling a sense of relief. I always harbor this small voice that thinks that they missed something or that I saw something on the scan that they didn't (as if I have a clue what I am looking at!). I wonder if anyone who has been through a cancer diagnosis every really feels a complete sense of freedom or a complete release of fear.
Once I am back in reality, away from the hospital, I do forget again that I've been through all of this and I don't replay those days of surgery, recovery and treatment over in my head. I live separately from that experience.
Though I never bump into walls anymore and the left handed vision episodes are very sporadic, one of the pieces that still lingers in my life is the ability to piece together mental puzzles. I'm not sure how to explain it fully, but I can't organize my thoughts the way I used to be able to do. I have to physically draw out how things relate to each other sometimes and I have to review schedules and lists and plans over and over and over again and sometimes even then I can't see the sequences or order of how it should all play out. The amount of variables I used to be able to carry and organize is much smaller.
The second noticeable difference that I feel is from the medicine that I am on. The medicine dulls areas in my brain in order to prevent seizure activity. Through research and talking to a friend of mine who is a doctor, I have been able to explain that I don't have the same enthusiasm or mental energy that I used to have. I'm sure this also comes with being a little older, but I don't feel as though I have the same mental way of looking at things. Life feels almost muted and it seems logical to me that it is from the medicine. I can look into other medicines and I might do that.
So, all in all, it was a perfect report. I am grateful.
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Approaching Year 2
How unbelievable that I am just one month away from my two year anniversary of the discovery of my tumor. I'm also about six months post treatment. I recall vividly in the early days of this journey I found a blog about a man with a brain tumor. He detailed his experiences throughly -- from diagnosis to treatment to fatigue and more. I read every post he had over and over again, trying to compare exactly where I was on the journey with his reflections. I wanted to know what would happen next, every step of the way. While I was still in my early days, his posts became fewer and fewer and I desperately wanted to know his thoughts when he wasn't posting. And now, as my face to face reminders of brain cancer become less and less, it seems so ironic to me that I don't post very much anymore, either. Each visit to the doctor would bring up a huge mess of emotions for me, an unwanted opportunity to face my mortality. Now that I visit the doctor so much less frequently it is easier to tuck away those fears. I refuse to "pretend" that everything is fully okay, but without the long corridors of the hospital and the continuous needles jabbing my skin, I feel more comfortable exhaling.
Last month I received a letter on a Tuesday saying that my team of doctors had left the University of Washington. I had an appointment on Friday. I had no idea why they left or what happened, but it felt like someone had ripped my security blanket out of my crib and thrown it away. I loved my doctors. They were honest and funny and intelligent and they knew my case and my story. In the meantime I would be with a temporary doctor until they hired a new team.
I went to my appointment and had another scan. I was determined that something was wrong and yet the doctor said she absolutely couldn't tell an iota of difference between the scans from 6 months ago to now, which means that my situation is stable with no change (which is what you want).
I was also at a Halloween party last month and as it turns out our school crossing guard was diagnosed with a stage 2 glioma ten years ago. She had it removed and has never had a recurrence.
The distance from December 2014 to now, along with the reassurances from survivors truly help me to feel as though I am healed, maybe just for now, maybe forever, but well enough to shed 99% of the notion that I am "sick."
Over the next few months, I will be working on transitioning this blog back to its original intent -- to share the joys of our family. I will catalog the specific brain tumor posts and put them to the side in a separate blog that will link to this one. My hopes are that if someone wants to see the dirty details of the journey, as I did, that those thoughts will be condensed in one place. It will take me a little bit to get it all organized, but I will feel better about sorting it all and releasing the hold that the illness has had on our lives. It will always be a part of our story, but it is no longer the dominant narrative in our story.
In addition, I am working on putting all of my old sermons, prayers and reflections in one place. They are currently on three different computers! Those reflections will slowly be organized on the blog listed to the right -- Thin Veil. As I am invited to preach and teach I will have a place to keep and save things I am currently working on, as well as things I have done in the past. For the sake of disclaimer, I often write sermons as a mix of "stream of consciousness" and research, so there are often run on sentences and grammar errors.
It is good for me to do this because I run into things so often that move me and I would love a place to tuck them away and also to share them.
I know that not many people read this blog anymore, but whether you read or not, I still feel so connected and united to the incredible witness of people that have walked this journey with me. For that I live in complete gratitude to you!
Last month I received a letter on a Tuesday saying that my team of doctors had left the University of Washington. I had an appointment on Friday. I had no idea why they left or what happened, but it felt like someone had ripped my security blanket out of my crib and thrown it away. I loved my doctors. They were honest and funny and intelligent and they knew my case and my story. In the meantime I would be with a temporary doctor until they hired a new team.
I went to my appointment and had another scan. I was determined that something was wrong and yet the doctor said she absolutely couldn't tell an iota of difference between the scans from 6 months ago to now, which means that my situation is stable with no change (which is what you want).
I was also at a Halloween party last month and as it turns out our school crossing guard was diagnosed with a stage 2 glioma ten years ago. She had it removed and has never had a recurrence.
The distance from December 2014 to now, along with the reassurances from survivors truly help me to feel as though I am healed, maybe just for now, maybe forever, but well enough to shed 99% of the notion that I am "sick."
Over the next few months, I will be working on transitioning this blog back to its original intent -- to share the joys of our family. I will catalog the specific brain tumor posts and put them to the side in a separate blog that will link to this one. My hopes are that if someone wants to see the dirty details of the journey, as I did, that those thoughts will be condensed in one place. It will take me a little bit to get it all organized, but I will feel better about sorting it all and releasing the hold that the illness has had on our lives. It will always be a part of our story, but it is no longer the dominant narrative in our story.
In addition, I am working on putting all of my old sermons, prayers and reflections in one place. They are currently on three different computers! Those reflections will slowly be organized on the blog listed to the right -- Thin Veil. As I am invited to preach and teach I will have a place to keep and save things I am currently working on, as well as things I have done in the past. For the sake of disclaimer, I often write sermons as a mix of "stream of consciousness" and research, so there are often run on sentences and grammar errors.
It is good for me to do this because I run into things so often that move me and I would love a place to tuck them away and also to share them.
I know that not many people read this blog anymore, but whether you read or not, I still feel so connected and united to the incredible witness of people that have walked this journey with me. For that I live in complete gratitude to you!
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