just the three of us

Every ornament has a story

2011-12-10T22:45:00.007-05:00

It all started in Hatteras. If I close my eyes I can still see the light from the Hatteras Lighthouse blinking in the distance the night Mike kissed me on the beach. I was wearing a gray sweatshirt. We were drinking wine. I still have the cork.

A few months later, we took our first trip to Savannah. We would go back many times over the years, even got engaged there. We bought this ornament of the famous Waving Girl the day after he put his mother's diamond ring on my finger. That night at dinner, Mike kept fidgeting with his shoe. He had put the ring in his sock. Don't ask. That was just Mike. He got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I couldn't finish my lobster bisque.

We would go back to the Outer Banks to get married. Hurricane Alex (or was it Isabelle?) had done some major damage to Hatteras the year before, so we got married in Duck. We bought this sand dollar ornament the day after we stood barefoot in the sand and said "I do." We had just climbed the Currituck Lighthouse. We felt like we were on top of the world.

We honeymooned in St. Thomas. We snorkled for the first time. I loved it! Mike, not so much. He couldn't see all the fish without his glasses, but he indulged me. He also tolerated the Jimmy Buffett that played everytime we went out on the boat. Once, while the boat was docked offshore, we jumped off and swam to the beach. I don't ever do anything like that! I remember lying there in the sand, without even a towel, and thinking if I died now, I would die happy. I didn't think anything better could ever happen to me.

April and October meant horse races at Keeneland. Sometimes we went alone. Sometimes we went with friends. Mike had an elaborate system for betting. He liked to pick jockeys. I bet based on horse names. Our wins were about equal.

We spent a long weekend in the other Charleston. We fell in love with it and wanted to make it our home. We tried. But it didn't quite work out, work wise, so we had to move on.

For Mike's 50th birthday, we went on a cruise. Right after I booked the trip, I left AAA and stopped at Publix for a pregnancy test. It was positive. I was about four months along by the time the cruise rolled around. Mike thought it would just be the two of us (actually, the three of us) but once we boarded, he was surprised to find his sisters and brothers-in-law on the ship.

Five months later, Julia was born. She was only two months at her first Christmas. Her gift was Goodnight Moon. I still read it to her.

When Julia was nine months old, we flew into Washington DC, the closest airport to Canaan, where our good friends Marina and John were getting married. It was our first trip away from the baby. Our luggage got lost somewhere. So instead of driving three hours into the mountains and then having to come back, we decided to spend the night in DC. We checked into a hotel, closed the blackout curtains and napped for hours. It was bliss. Mike bought this ornament when he went to pick up our bags.

This is why Christmas is so hard.

The stockings were hung...

2011-12-02T17:31:00.003-05:00

I wasn't going to hang Mike's stocking this year. I felt like it would seem weird. And that it would invite pity.

Julia noticed the two stockings.

Why are there just two?

Well, I was thinking we wouldn't hang up dada's stocking this year. What do you think?

I think we should hang it up. He's still a part of our family.

You're right, baby, he is.

Thankful vs. unthankful

2011-11-26T22:35:00.002-05:00

I really want to feel thankful this time of year. I have so much. A beautiful daughter. A new home, a townhouse that requires NO lawn maintenance. A mother who lives close by and is a tremendous help. Health. A job I love. Working on a new degree. My sisters-in-law and extended family. Good friends. Food. Clothing. Wine...

But man do the holidays make that hole in my heart even bigger. Mike's absence is so much more pronounced around Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was the center of our little family, the glue that held us together. The one who made us laugh.

It's hard to push through. It's hard not to pull the covers over my head. It's hard to feel joy. It's hard to make these special days seem more than just another day.

On Thanksgiving morning, I lay in bed trying to remember all of the Thanksgivings I spent with Mike. I wanted to write them down so I wouldn't forget.

In 2002, our first holiday as a couple, I took him home to Moundsville to meet my mother. My great aunt talked his head off the entire time, but he was gracious and kind to her.

In 2003, we made another trip to Moundsville for Thanksgiving. The details are hazy though.

2004 was our first married Thanksgiving, but we lived apart. He in Charleston, WV. Me in Charleston, SC. I flew, alone, on Thanksgiving morning to Pittsburgh where he picked me up at the airport and took me to my mom's for dinner. I remember he had to leave that afternoon to cover the WVU-Pitt Backyard Brawl.

In 2005, we were in Florida. And I had to work Thanksgiving night. It was our first holiday away from family. I was determined to make an entire dinner from scratch, all before I went to work. I got up at the crack of dawn and slaved over a hot stove all day. I don't even think the food was that good and I was exhausted by the time I got to work. I do remember I managed to get Mike to peel the potatoes. He wasn't the handiest in the kitchen.

The next Thanksgiving we had Julia. She was only five weeks old and I had this insane notion that now that I was a mother I needed to prepare an elaborate, multi-course meal from scratch, served on a Martha-Stewart-like table. I thought Mike could take care of the baby while I was cooking. I emerged from the kitchen to find her in her car seat facing the dining room wall while Mike sat in the living room watching football. A huge fight erupted. I blame the hormones and lack of sleep.

2007, the last Thanksgiving before cancer. We took a walk with Julia in the stroller that morning. And had dinner with my mom that evening. We ate during Julia's nap so we could have a peaceful meal. It was rather uneventful. Perfect, really.

By 2008, Mike had undergone several rounds of chemo. He was bald. He was nauseous and couldn't eat much. But we had just come back from seeing Dr. Greco in Tennessee and had some hope that things were going to get better.

2009. Our last Thanksgiving. Mike had a good year. We celebrated the holiday with friends at our house. I said grace. I thanked God for health.

When I write them down like that, I feel thankful that I had all those years with Mike. And I feel thankful for the friends who took Julia and me in the last two years, so that our hearts wouldn't be so empty.

On death and dying

2011-10-29T23:18:00.006-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about death lately. And a lot about what ifs. When someone you love is dying of cancer, there's a lot of second guessing.

A woman we used to work with left her job recently because doctors told her there was nothing more they could do for her cancer. She was out of options and she wanted to spend her remaining time with her family. I didn't know her all that well, but she and Mike used to talk, commiserate about chemo and the like.

But it got me thinking. If we (or was it me?) hadn't pushed for that last chemo, maybe Mike would have had a few more months to spend with his family, to enjoy his little girl, to write a letter for her, to say goodbyes.

It would have been nice. But in reality, I don't know what I would have done if we (he) had ever stopped fighting. I don't know what I would have done if it came to a point where he had stopped treatment and came home to die. The only way for we (or was it me?) to continue to breathe in and out was to keep pushing forward. I think he felt the same way. There was a little girl. He had to do everything in his power, take every last chance, cling to whatever hope, to try to be there for her.

There's a country song about a wife who is diagnosed with cancer. The husband tells her: When you're weak, I'll be strong/When you let go, I'll hold on/When you need to cry, I swear that I'll be there to dry your eyes.

I can't bear to listen to it, because it makes me feel like I was never the strong to Mike's weak. He was never weak. And I wonder now, was it because he knew I couldn't handle it? He couldn't cry because he knew I would break. He had to keep going, for my sake. Maybe he, like the woman at work, wanted to stop and wanted to come home. And maybe I pushed him.

So strong was my desire for our lives to be normal and to avoid the horror that we didn't even talk about the possibility of death. Mike had Stage 4 cancer and there was never once a conversation about where the important financial papers were located or what specifically he wanted in terms of a funeral. Denial? Maybe. But at the time, I just always felt like we were operating under the promise of hope and to talk about death would be like giving up.

Did we do the right thing? I don't know. I hate what ifs.

My baby is FIVE!

2011-10-16T00:01:00.001-04:00

I can't believe my baby girl is five years old. I just can't believe it. I wrote about it here. So I thought for this blog I would just share some pictures of this past year. When I look at them all together here, her beauty just takes my breath away. I know it would Mike's too.

Irrational

2011-10-05T21:35:00.003-04:00

I hate the word "widow," but now that I am one, I'm having irrational thoughts. Most of them angry. Maybe I'm entited, maybe not.

For example, as irrational as this may sound, it really pisses me off when people say things like "Mike's death really makes me realize how short life is and how I need to live every day to the fullest." I know people mean well. But you know what I think? I think, good, good for you, you go have a wonderful life, hug your husband tight, live happily ever after, yay for you. Meanwhile, Julia and I will just go to bed alone tonight with huge holes in our hearts. You, go, live it up. Glad Mike's death was good for something.

I've become an unkind person. But it's just how I feel.

And when I read recently about another young widow who was taken to the ER because she was catatonic, found completely unresponsive outside a coffee shop, instead of feeling sympathetic, I felt jealous. I told you -- irrational. This woman has two young children. I have one. How did she get the luxury of being catatonic? I sure wouldn't mind being completely unable to respond to the world around me for a little bit. To not have to think or do or speak. Just for a while. But I can't. I have to keep going and taking care of my daughter. Maybe I don't really want to be catatonic. But I wouldn't mind a whole day in bed. Alone. I haven't been able to do that in the 16 months since Mike died.

And more irrational thinking -- my goodness, did I not love Mike enough? I didn't love him enough that losing him left me catatonic at a Starbucks. This other woman loved her husband so much that losing him made her break with reality. Am I doing this wrong?

I hope Mike understands. I have to keep going. Keep moving. Keep taking care of our daughter and attempt to take care of myself.

Levon

2011-09-19T21:56:00.003-04:00

I haven't been able to listen to "Levon" since Mike died. One note takes me back to the darkest hours I've ever known and hope I will ever know.

After the dust settled with the doctors and after the decision was made not to put Mike on life support, I had a chance to sit alone with him in the ICU. I was dressed in a yellow gown with gloves and a mask. He was asleep, or more likely nearly comatose, in the bed beside me. I held his hand. I listened to his labored breathing. I was watching him die.

I thought he would appreciate some music. Mike loved good music. We had made a playlist of songs not too long before. His favorite was Elton John's "Levon." I can still see him singing and drumming on the steering wheel. I turned on my iPod and the room filled with music.

Mike turned his head and opened his eyes. It would be the last time. Several hours later, he died.

Any time I would hear it on the radio, I would have to immediately change the channel. It made me feel like I was sitting in that room.

Fast forward 15 months.

It is a beautiful day, almost fall. Sunny, breezy, 72 degrees. Julia and I go to the park. We played on the playground. We sat by the pond and watched the ducks. We put a blanket in the grass under a tree and read five "Curious George" books. It was a perfect afternoon. I snapped the picture at the top so I would remember it.

But soon it was time to go home. Mine and Julia's lovely day had come to an end. We put the blanket in the trunk and got in the car.

I turned the key and the music started playing. It was "Levon."

But this time I didn't have the instinct to change the station. A feeling washed over me. This sounds nuts, but it was like a message from Mike. That he is watching over us. That he was with us. That he was part of our perfect afternoon. Even if it was just by playing his favorite song.

I turned it up and sang at the top of my lungs.

Overwhelmed

2011-09-08T21:27:00.003-04:00

You would think that after one year, three months and one day, I would start finding my own groove, learn how to handle things on my own. But I'm not. I'm overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with worry. Overwhelmed with stress. Overwhelmed with life.

Julia's left eye is doing a weird thing. I'm petrified she has a brain tumor.

I made a couple mistakes at work. I'm terrified I'm going to lose my job.

I went back to school. I'm fretting I've taken on too much.

Julia cries some days about having to go to school. I ache for her.

I started to like someone. I am incapable of moving forward.

I feel so alone. I feel overwhelmed.

Talking about Mike

2011-08-03T22:21:00.003-04:00

I was talking with a friend at a party recently. We were talking about Mike. She grew up with him and we were just standing there, sharing a few stories. Nothing I can specifically remember. Just Mike.

And it was so nice.

My friend lost her daughter to cancer several years ago. She told me she wanted to talk to me about Mike because she knew that other people were afraid to bring him up. It's true. I guess it happens after someone dies. They fear saying his name in front of me will send me into a sobbing, snotty heap on the floor.

It won't. I love talking about Mike. It makes me feel close to him. It brings him into the present. And I want nothing more than for Mike to be in my present.

My year of magical thinking

2011-06-21T22:45:00.003-04:00

I just re-read Joan Didion's "Year of Magical Thinking" and realized I've had some of my own "magical" thoughts this year. Didion writes about how she can't give away her dead husband's clothes because he'll need them when he comes back. She can't move because her husband won't know where to find her when he comes back.

I haven't really indulged in thoughts of Mike coming back, but I was overcome by a strange feeling at a restaurant recently. I was having dinner at a place on the beach where Mike and I once ate. Then, it was a cold winter day in Florida. It was raining and we had just gone out for a drive along the coast. Julia was just over a year old. We stopped for a bite to eat. I remember running through the parking lot because it was so cold. We hurried inside and got a table and ended up eating the best lobster bisque. The inside of the restaurant was kind of dark with kitschy beach stuff on the walls. It was warm though. I didn't want to leave.

The other day, I was with someone else. Julia was there. We sat outside on a deck, shielded from the hot Florida sun. I could see the door that led to the inside. It was kind of dark with kitschy beach stuff on the walls. I couldn't stop staring every time it opened. If I walked through, out of the sun, would my old life be waiting for me? Would Mike and Julia be sitting at the table waiting for me, as if I had just gotten up to go to the bathroom? If we went out the front door would it be cold and rainy? Would we have to hurry to the car?

I could see it so vividly. The door was pulling me in. I wanted to go and see. But I knew I would just be disappointed. I had to stay focused. My old life was not on the other side of that door. No matter how bad I wanted. No matter how much magical thinking I did.

One year ago

2011-06-07T00:01:00.003-04:00

Dear Michael,

It’s been 365 days since you died. Three hundred sixty-five days since I saw your face. Three hundred sixty-five days since I sat next to you, holding your hand, listening as the time between your breaths got longer and longer. Three hundred sixty-five days since I leaned in and told you I loved you, promised you I would take good care of our baby girl and that it was OK for you to let go; you didn’t have to fight anymore.

I wish I could tell you in all those days that things have gotten easier, but I still miss you all the time. I miss you when I see something funny and want to tell you about it. I miss you when I walk into a dark, empty house. I liked it when you would wait up for me at night. I miss you on holidays. They have been so hollow, sort of pathetic, really. I miss you when Julia is wearing me out and I feel like a bad parent and I have no one to tell me that it’s going to be OK, that I’m doing the right thing. Or if I’m doing the wrong thing, no one is here to tell me what’s right. I miss you when my friends complain about their relationships, because even though I liked to bitch about you never once turning on our dishwasher, you really were a good husband. You loved and honored me as your wife, and as the mother of your child, and you never once spoke disrespectfully to me, even though I’m sure I deserved it on more than one occasion.

And speaking of my annoyance with your lack of household help, I see now what contributions you made to our family. So I miss you when I’m pushing the lawnmower up the damn hill and taking the car in to get the oil changed and paying the bills.

Sometimes I’ll come across something, like your handwriting or a photo, and it will literally take my breath away. I got my West Virginia license plate and on one side is the number 5, the other side, 30. Your birthday: 5/30. I like it. Feels like you’re with me. Other times, I feel a physical emptiness, a hole in my chest. I feel incomplete.

But when I think about you, I think about how you were full of life. You loved life. You were larger than life.

I envision you sitting at the Anchor, everyone gathered around, cracking up at whatever you were saying. And I felt so happy being the girl sitting next to you. The girl who got to go home with you.

And I know that you would want me to live life. To teach our girl to live life. To love life. To get on with life.

It scares me a little bit, because to let go of the pain would, in a way, be like letting go of you. But I will never let go of you. I’m working on separating the two. I’m trying to push those memories of you so sick, struggling to breathe, out of my mind. But oh, do they haunt me…

I want to remember the you who still ate the key lime pie I baked for you, even after I dropped it on the floor, because you didn’t want me to cry. The you who took me out for a drive in your car with the top down on a Sunday afternoon. The you who saved the cork from that bottle of wine we were drinking the first night we kissed. I still have it, by the way.

I want to remember you kissing Julia’s belly while she squealed with delight. And watching Eagles games with her. And pushing her around the neighborhood in the stroller.

Oh, if you could see our girl now. You were always so eager to watch her grow and learn and discover new things, while I was the one who wanted her to stay a cute, cuddly baby. You would be beaming right now. She just finished her first year of preschool. She spent weeks watching caterpillars turn into butterflies. She can put together 100-piece jigsaw puzzles by herself. She’s finally starting to pedal on her bike and can successfully blow a bubble. And on this very day, she’s taking her first tennis lesson. I have to admit, it is pretty cool.

She’s not into dolls or really girly things. She still likes books. She sneaks them into her bed at night. It reminds me of how you told me you used to go to bed with a radio to listen to Phillies games. She still eats blueberry Eggos and vanilla yogurt every single day for breakfast and still can’t drink through a straw.

She can still test my patience, wear me out and get on my last nerve. The whining and yelling. Oh God, the whining and yelling. But we’re working on it. I’m trying to teach her to be a proper young lady. She’s so smart. And funny. And beautiful. But you already know that.

Thank you for giving her to me.

I feel like I haven’t been the best mother to her this past year. I’ve been distant, in a fog. But I want to snap out of it, and I know you would want me to snap out of it. You would want me to live. So I’m going to try. And I hope you’ll watch over us and maybe point us in the right direction. We’ll try not to disappoint. And I hope you know that you’re always with us. Always.

Love, C

An honor for Mike

2011-05-10T09:37:00.004-04:00

We went to Florida last week for a tennis tournament. As a sportswriter, one of Mike's duties every year was to cover the MIMA Foundation USTA Pro Tennis Classic. It was one of the things he liked about his job. It seems he made an impact on them as well. They named one of the competitions after him: the "Mike Cherry High School Skills Challenge."

Lisa, Madison, Julia and I attended the award ceremony. It was very nice. Such an honor. But also a little more emotional than any of us expected. As we get close to the one-year anniversary of his death, I'm starting to worry that I haven't really grieved. At least not properly. And I'm scared it's going to catch up to me.

For one, I don't have time to stay in bed and cry. I have a 4-year-old who needs to be fed, dressed and tended to. I have to do some work keep a roof over our heads. I have to clean and do laundry and yardwork. But also, I try to avoid situations that will really let me feel the pain. I haven't had more than a couple glasses of wine at one sitting in a year because I'm afraid of totally losing it and being one of those sobbing, hysterical drunks.

What I've just been doing this past year is moving. Moving. Moving. Moving. I don't sit still. It's all about constant distractions. This doesn't mean I don't think about Mike every second. And sometimes, something will stop me in my tracks and bring me to my knees. Like a few months ago, I came across his glasses and I was just standing there holding them in my hand. I started picturing them on his face and then I realized I couldn't remember which of his eyes was the lazy eye. He had one pupil that was a little lower than the other. It was barely noticeable. But I noticed. And now I can't picture it. And that was more than I could bear. Am I starting to forget?

Mad

2011-04-01T23:14:00.004-04:00

I took Julia to the dentist for the first time this week. Despite all the talking we did about it and the book we read, it was a disaster. She screamed, kicked, thrashed and ran away. She wouldn't let the hygenist clean her teeth and barely let the dentist even look at them. Total nightmare.

We got in the car to go home. It was gray, rainy and cold. I started sobbing uncontrollably. I was mad. Not just at Julia for her behavior. But mad at Mike. Furious, really. Furious that he died and left me here all alone to deal with this crap.

Dreams

2011-03-23T22:35:00.003-04:00

I've only had two or three dreams about Mike since he died. I didn't dream about him at all for the first five months or so, which really upset me. I read some other young widows' blogs, and several of them have written about how they have these great dreams about their husbands, almost like they were there. A visit, of sorts.

I've been waiting for my turn.

In all of my dreams, Mike has been sick. In the one last night, we were in an airport. He wasn't obvioulsy sick, but I knew that he was. He was carrying Julia and walking in front of me, so I couldn't see his face. I woke up with such longing for him and such an emptiness. A punch in the gut. I couldn't shake it all day.

In a previous dream, around the time I sold our house, I dreamed that Julia and I were getting ready to move. But Mike wasn't coming with us. And I was upset, worrying about who would take care of him. But he wanted us to go. That much I knew.

It will be three years next month since cancer came into our world. Have I forgotten the happy, healthy Mike? Do I not remember what it was like when we were just normal people in love with each other and our baby girl? I would give anything to dream about him, before cancer. To see his face and hear his voice.

Nine months

2011-03-07T21:57:00.000-05:00

I miss how he used to call me and Julia his "girls."

I miss that hint of Jersey in his voice when he said my name.

I miss the mornings when Julia and I would pounce on him to wake him up.

I miss hearing him crawl into bed after Friday night football.

I miss shopping for polo shirts without any sort of logo because he hated logos.

I miss kissing his temple.

I miss sitting next to him on the couch.

I just freaking miss him.

Stupid cupid

2011-02-12T15:22:00.004-05:00

I don't know if it's all the Valentine commercials or what, but I've been in such a funk lately missing Mike. One in particular says Valentine's Day isn't for saying "I love you," it's for taking the time to say "I love us." And I really did love us. Mike and me. Me and Mike. We were funny and sweet. We laughed. A lot. We traveled. We laid in the sand. We danced in the living room. We ate good food. We made a beautiful baby.

It's easy to forget "us" after having a whole other person to take care of. And then cancer. But I've been remembering lately. And knowing there's no more us is like a physical hole in my body. I don't even know who "me" is without "us" anymore. I don't even want to know. So far, she's not nice. She's not fun. And she certainly doesn't dance around the living room.

But I'm working on it. And looking at this cute face certainly helps.

A new year

2011-01-11T21:51:00.005-05:00

Wow. 2011. A new year. A new house. And Julia's getting to experience something new: snow!

Our holidays were a bit all over the place -- we had our closing on Dec. 21, visited family in Naples, camped out at my mom's house for a week and then made our way north. I'm grateful for the chaos on this first Christmas without Mike. I didn't have much time to dwell. Or get sucked into the sadness.

So far this year, I've been busy trying to get us settled into our house. We're seeing old friends, sitting in front of our giant picture window watching the snow fall and playing lots of board games. And of course, we're taking many trips to Target for shopping and soft pretzels.

The other day, though, I couldn't shake the feeling that our house didn't feel quite like a home yet. I went to Pier 1 and bought some stuff for the wall. Still not right. Then it hit me. The reason it doesn't feel like a home is because part of us is missing. Mike is not here. It's going to take some getting used to.

Here are some pics of what we've done so far:

The living room:

The dining room:

The kitchen:

Julia's room:

Back half of the downstairs family room, also known as my work area and Julia's play area:

Built-in bookshelves in the front half of the downstairs family room (new furniture including a lovely red couch will arrive Thursday...):

Downstairs fireplace:

And yes, we have a pink bathroom. It's growing on me:

So, we still have some work to do. But we're liking it so far.

Happy New Year!

Sold!

2010-12-13T19:49:00.003-05:00

Julia and I will be starting a new year, and I guess a new life, in this house. We sold ours, by some miracle of God (or St. Joseph), in the rough Florida real estate market and we're moving back to Charleston after Christmas.

It's what I've been wanting since shortly after Mike died -- to be back in the place we considered "home," where we were surrounded by friends and fun and good memories. But now that it's becoming a reality, I'm starting to get nervous.

Mike and I bought our house when I was four months pregnant. We couldn't wait to move in and get things set up for the newest member of our little family. It's the place we brought our baby home from the hospital and sat around looking at her thinking, "Now what do we do?" It's the only home Julia has known and it's the home where Mike and I lived together the longest.

I have a job here with flexible hours and good health insurance. I have a few really good friends here. Like my friend Sara, who came to the hospital when my daughter was born and was there for me when my husband died. That's a lifelong kind of friend.

But it's also here where I feel like I'm moving through mud. Where I keep thinking Mike might walk through the door around 8 o'clock for dinner. Where I sometimes look over my shoulder at work thinking I might see him at his desk. It's where Mike was sick and where he died.

I'm not foolish enough to think that moving to a different house in a different town is going to magically make me feel better. But I think it will help for me to be surrounded by people who loved me and Mike and who can make sure Julia knows what a good man her dad was.

I don't have a job there. And that's ok. For now. I'm going to stay home with Julia for a little while so we can adjust to our new surroundings and routine. We've had a rough couple of years, and I'm looking forward to taking a break.

But it's so scary making such a major decision without Mike. And part of me feels like I'm betraying him by trying to move on. I sure hope I'm doing the right thing.

I keep turning to the Bible verse that our friend Monty read at Mike's memorial service. He told me his pastor called it the West Virginia Psalm because it talks about the mountains, so he chose it because he knows how much that means to me.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains -- where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip -- he who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you -- the Lord is the shade at your right hand.
The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all harm -- he will watch over your life.
The Lord will watch over your coming and going, both now and forever more.

Psalm 121

Six months

2010-12-07T14:23:00.002-05:00

I can't believe it has been six months. It's the longest I've gone in eight years without seeing Mike's face or hearing his laugh. And I know this is the season when we're supposed to be reflecting on all those things that we're thankful for, but quite honestly, I'm feeling robbed. And pissed off.

I'm mad that my daughter has to ask questions like the one she brought up at breakfast the other day: I haven't seen dada in a while. Where did he go?

I'm mad that I have to make major life decisions on my own when I can barely decide what to eat for lunch each day.

I'm mad that I have to sleep in a king size bed all by myself, worrying about burglars and ax murderers and house fires at night.

I'm mad that I have to be a single mother.

I'm mad that I have to deal with broken appliances and lawn care.

I'm mad that I've lost my best friend.

I'm mad that I don't get my happily ever after.

I'm mad that I have to take anti-depressants to get through the day.

I'm mad that people tell me I'm holding up well and if this happened to them, they wouldn't get out of bed. Because frankly, I wish I had the luxury of staying in bed all day.

I'm mad when I see happy couples or dads with their young daughters.

I'm just mad.

The closet

2010-11-23T21:03:00.007-05:00

I wasn't ready to do it. But I had to. My house is for sale and I'm hoping to be moving soon. It doesn't make sense to pack up all of Mike's belongings and move them across the country, right? If I were staying, these clothes would probably stay right where they are forever, so I could keep sneaking away to the closet and burying my face in the shirt sleeves, trying to breathe him in.

Marina and Lisa came in for the weekend to help me tackle the unpleasant task of cleaning out the closet and drawers, sorting through Mike's possessions, including his beloved music collection. Without them, I don't think I would have gotten through.

We picked out some CDs and albums to keep. I made a box for Julia with his tennis trophy and newspaper articles. I kept the tennis racket and his glasses. I kept a shirt of his that I loved, the one he bought one time in Savannah when we ran into a Banana Republic to get out of the rain. It's probably the only time we ever went clothes shopping together.

As we were folding and sorting and putting things into boxes for Goodwill, I couldn't help but feel like I was erasing the evidence of Mike's existence. It really broke my heart. I have to keep telling myself that Mike was not his clothes. Mike was not his possessions. I have evidence of his existence right here...

One foot in front of the other

2010-11-09T22:32:00.003-05:00

I'm feeling quite proud of myself. It's pretty silly actually, but I booked a weekend trip for me and Julia. All by myself. Mike was the more experienced traveler of the two of us. It was his passion. He knew how to get the best airfares and where to stay, no matter where we went. He used to be so proud of his frequent flyer miles and hotel points. We flew first class to our honeymoon in St. Thomas for free. So whenever we needed to go somewhere, he made all the arrangements.

But I wanted to go to West Virginia this weekend. I have some things to take care of and wanted to see some friends. I booked two plane tickets, rented a car AND reserved a hotel room for one night. We're getting out of town! (And I'm going to fly alone with a small person....)

And the other night, I made dinner... I know. These are things normal people do on a regular basis but I've been in such a funk and feeling so paralyzed lately. I love to cook. I used to make family dinners at least three times a week. Julia would stand on a chair in the kitchen and keep me company. But since Mike died, I just haven't cared much about making meals. I don't think about food until I'm starving. Then I eat whatever is easy. The effort required to make a grocery list has been too much for me. And whenever I do summon up the energy, I end up throwing the ingredients away because they've gone bad. I can't tell you how many packages of chicken breasts I've had to toss. I just never get around to it.

This summer, I had this grand plan that I would make dinner for some friends each week, to get me back to cooking, to give me something to do. It lasted two weeks. I've made a few things here and there, but nothing major. I live on sandwiches, soup from a can, frozen meals and take out.

But last night I had my mom over for rosemary pork tenderloin, sauteed green beans with blue cheese and bacon and red-skinned mashed potatoes. Yum-O.

Go me!

Hopeless romantic?

2010-10-28T00:36:00.003-04:00

These days, something as simple as a phone call to AAA to renew my membership can trigger a tidal wave of emotion.

Yes, it was another one of those calls where I had to remove Mike's name from an account, explain that he died, endure cursory statements of sympathy. But this time it was more than that. This time it was a reminder of Mike, of what kind of person he was, about how good I had it, and how large his loss looms.

Back when we were dating, Mike added me to his AAA account after I had some trouble with my car. He was worried about me breaking down somewhere when he was out of town, which he was a lot in those days. A co-worker couldn't stop gushing when I told her. "Carrie, do you know what this means? This means he loves you. This is more romantic than flowers or candy or jewelry." I guess I didn't think that way at the time. But I see it now.

You might not think Mike was a hopeless romantic, but in his own way, he was. Sometimes he would just show up with a single flower. Once he brought over "Casablanca." Other times, his gestures were more grand.

The first Christmas we spent together, he got me a framed photo of a beach scene that we had seen in Cape Cod back in August of that year. He snagged a business card on the way out of the little shop in Provincetown, called the owner a few months later and tried to describe the photo. She hooked him up with the local photographer and he ordered the print. It's called "Journey's End." It still hangs in our bedroom.

Another time he got me a pale yellow wooden rocking chair. He had to pick it up from the furniture store, in the winter, in his 2-seater convertible. It was apparently wedged in the passenger seat while he drove to my apartment with the top down in the freezing cold. He attached a note -- it said "To Carrie, From Mike. You rock my world."

Even earlier this year, just days after being released from a nearly three-week stay at the hospital, Mike couldn't let Valentine's Day go without getting me something. He had my mom watch Julia while I was at work one night so he could go to Target. He was barely able to walk. But I had been talking about how excited I was that my favorite Food Network chef, Giada de Laurentiis, had a new line of cookware there. And on Valentine's morning, I woke up to a bright red bag full of Giada goodies.

Oh, I hope he knew how much he swept me off my feet, from those very early days when we couldn't get enough of each other, to most recently when we were in the midst of the everyday, of work and childcare, of house repairs and housework, and even sickness. He still swept me off my feet.

She's FOUR

2010-10-16T00:01:00.008-04:00

My baby girl is four years old today. She is sweet and smart and funny and beautiful. She loves to color and dance and read and eat Oreos. She's incredibly tall and has big brown eyes that will break your heart. She adores Ella and her cousins, her aunties and her nana. She laughs hysterically and can throw a fit like nobody's business.

But she also carries a sadness around with her. She's changed this year. She misses her dada. She still calls him that. She doesn't understand why he's gone or where he went. But I think she knows he's not coming back. Her whole little world has been turned upside down. And she doesn't know what to do about it. She's started biting her lip, so much that she has a scab on her face. And she grinds her teeth. She's nervous. These are her nervous habits. Her doctor said she is grieving.

Even her relationship with me is different. Sometimes I am so wrapped up in my own grieving that I can't bring myself to get up and play with her. I don't feel like being silly. Or baking cookies. Or many of the things we used to do. I don't have the patience for tantrums either. I'm failing miserably at this single-mom thing. It's so much harder than I ever imagined.

My sweet girl, I am praying for a better year for you. I am praying that we can get it together soon. I am praying that I can be a better mama to you, that we can find our own groove together and find our happy again soon. You deserve that and so much more.

Still here

2010-09-15T22:06:00.004-04:00

We really haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I'm just not sure I have much to say. Actually, that's not true. I have lots to say. But I don't want every post to be sad and weepy.

So yes, it sucks a whole lot without Mike. More three months out than in the beginning. I think even Julia feels it. She tells me sometimes that she misses her dada. She has started crying hysterically when I drop her off at preschool because she thinks I might not come back, just like Mike isn't coming back.

As for me, I am irritable, cranky, sad, lonely, tired and utterly incapable of making a decision. Some days I can barely summon the energy to care for my daughter. Often, I waste an entire evening staring out the window.

But we're still here.

For Sale

2010-08-04T22:17:00.002-04:00

Anyone want to buy a house in Florida? Close to the beach? With a pool?

I finally took the plunge and put my house on the market. It really wasn't a hard decision for me. I have been wanting to move back to Charleston pretty much since the day we got here. Mike did too. We had something really special there. I always thought I wanted to live near the ocean, but it's really the mountains that have my heart. And I want that for Julia too.

I have some really good friends here, but it's been hard trying to go on about our normal routine without Mike, as if nothing ever happened. Being alone in our house and walking into the office past Mike's old desk makes his absence loom even larger. I feel like this is what we need right now. A happy place. A healing place.

It's probably going to take a while to get my house sold, so in the meantime, I'm trying to occupy my mind with thoughts of what life back in Charleston will be like: kidnapping Baby Felix so his parents can go out on a date, rocking out to Journey with GDirty, slumber parties with Tara, Marshall games, snowy weekends at Canaan with the Stadelmans, a quick road trip to Marina, Julia getting to see the leaves change color. She'll get to play with a ton of little girls her age -- Eva, Claire, Lily, Kate, Maggie and Grace.

And we'll get to be surrounded by the people who knew and loved Mike best, who can help keep his memory and spirit alive for us.

Random thoughts

2010-07-28T22:40:00.003-04:00

For the past eight years, I've shared with Mike every single thought that has popped into my head. Many, he probably wished I had kept to myself. Others made him laugh. Most made him roll his eyes at me.

Everything from the price of paper towels at Publix to speculating whether that anchor on the Weather Channel was pregnant again. Most recently it was me calling him at work to tell him what I was making for dinner or the funny thing that Julia said. Sometimes it was me spouting political opinions that he didn't necessarily agree with but listened to nonetheless. Just random meaningless things. Whatever I was thinking.

Now that he's gone, I'm not sure what to do with all these thoughts. Over the past two months, I have wanted to tell him that I've started eating hummus, that I had bought him the new Stone Temple Pilots CD for Father's Day, that I was happy Nadal won Wimbledon because Mike knows I don't like it that Federer wins everything. I wanted to tell him how it's ironic that I've wanted to not work on Saturday nights for so long and now that I don't, I don't know what to do with myself and that there's not even anything good on TV. I wanted to tell him I was really ticked off about that birthday gift that arrived at the office for him.

And then there's the big things. I wanted to tell him that I was terrified TERRIFIED to speak at his celebration of life, but that I got through it by trying to summon up just an ounce of the enormous amount of courage that he showed every single day for the past two years. I wanted to pick his brain about how I really want to move back to Charleston and what I need to do to make that happen. I wanted to tell him that Julia is obsessed with the moon, particularly when it's out during the daytime. And that she peed her pants on her first day of preschool, but that her teacher said she's the smartest girl in the class. Of course she is!

And here she is on the first day.

And the second.

Ode to a car

2010-07-12T21:42:00.005-04:00

The first time I ever got a glimpse of Mike Cherry was two weeks after I started my internship at the Daily Mail back in May of 2000. I was standing out front with Todd Frankel (probably smoking a cigarette, though both of us are now reformed...) when a shiny silver sports car passed by. I will never forget what Todd said to me: That's Mike Cherry. He covers WVU for us. He just bought that car. But he lives in an attic apartment without a stove.

Two years later, after having become good friends with Mike, I got a coveted invite to one of the infamous Hatteras trips. Problem was, he was going down on Saturday with a group of friends, but Deanna and I couldn't go until Tuesday. And Mike really wanted that car at the beach.... So he decided to let us girls drive it from West Virginia to the Outer Banks. Eight hours. Alone. Everyone, and I mean, everyone, thought he had lost his mind.

In the weeks leading up to the big day, Mike gave me lessons. I mean, the S2000 was his baby, after all. He made me go to a baseball game he was covering in Logan. Yes, Logan. So I could practice on windy roads. It was during these little trips that I started thinking I might like Mike Cherry a little more than a friend. And it was on that beach trip, that he figured it out too. He and I drove back together in that car. The picture above I took of him on that drive, drumming on the steering wheel, top down, happy. I remember the song that was playing when we pulled into Charleston: If I Ever Lose My Faith by Sting. And I remember that even after eight hours in the car, I hadn't had enough of him, so I invited him over for pizza.

Later that summer, that car would take us to Newport, Rhode Island, and Cape Cod, and on our first of many trips to Savannah. Later, we went to Charleston, South Carolina, and to Detroit and Baltimore for concerts. I drove to Florida in it one New Year's Eve to meet up with Mike who was covering the Gator Bowl. We drove home together and on the way, he proposed to me in Savannah.

It wasn't much longer before Mike had to lift me out of that thing when I was pregnant with Julia.

I hadn't really been in it much in recent years. It's not exactly equipped with room for a car seat. And I sometimes thought it was too loud. But Mike still drove it every day, logging more than 200,000 miles.

He loved that car. And so did I. It's so much a part of our story.

And now it belongs to Mike's nephew, my nephew, Nick. It will probably be hard for a while for me not seeing it sitting in the driveway. But it makes my heart happy that it's with Nick. Mike adored Nick. He would want Nick to have it, to have as much fun in it as he did...

(A stop on the way to the Outer Banks, 2000. Rick Gano, Jody Jividen, Todd Frankel, Marina Hendricks, Jeff D'Alessio and Mike)

(At our townhouse in Fort Hill, 2004)

(Mike and Nick, Easter 2010)

Stuck

2010-07-02T13:33:00.003-04:00

It's been nearly a month since Mike died and the world seems to have moved on, but I am stuck. Frozen in time.

Last week at work, they posted Mike's old job on the office bulletin board. Obviously, they'll need to hire someone. Obviously. Football starts next month. But when I saw that hanging there, I literally felt like I had been punched in the chest. I was unable to breathe. I still gasp when I walk past it. (I'm pretty sure I won't be able to work here anymore once there's someone else sitting in Mike's old desk, but that's another story.)

But there it is. The world is moving on.

At my house, it took me two weeks to pick up the pair of jeans that Mike left laying on the floor next to the bed. I did finally throw away the gazillion bottles of pills, but I still can't bring myself to do his dirty laundry. It was the last clothes he wore. If I wash it, there will be no traces of him, nothing that he touched. His toothbrush is still next to mine. All the coins he had lined up on his dresser are there collecting dust. I could barely bring myself to flip the calendar over to July because when it was June, Mike had been here.

I just don't like the idea of moving forward without him.

Julia and I did have a nice day at the beach a couple weeks ago. My friend Andrew got some great pictures.

Thank you

2010-06-29T17:31:00.002-04:00

Thank you to everyone who came to Mike's celebration Sunday -- many who came from far away to be there with us. I was so happy to see everyone and be around friends and family.

I feel so bad I didn't get to spend more time with some of you. I wish we could have had the space longer. I could have sat all night with you all talking about Mike and drinking wine.

Seeing my old friends in Charleston has made me so homesick. I'll have to make some major decisions regarding that at some point... I hope you'll all still have me if I can figure out a way to come home.

And I hope Mike's cousins, many I'm just really getting to know and many I wish I knew better, will still keep in touch.

A special thank you to everyone who participated. I know speaking in public is terrifying, but it was so wonderful to hear your stories and know how much Mike was loved.

I'm a little worried now that I don't have the planning of that event to keep me occupied that the coming days could be a little difficult. Things are already so different. I had to enroll Julia in day care today (sniff, sniff). So keep us in your thoughts please. Call or email anytime. Love to all of you.

Dress code

2010-06-22T20:25:00.005-04:00

I'm getting lots of questions about the attire for the Celebration of Life. It's at a sports bar, so I would say you can be as casual as you want. Mike was a khaki-and-polo kind of guy anyway. Though he did look dashing in a suit. Don't you think?

P.S. Send me an email at ccherry@floridatoday.com if you're coming. Just trying to get a rough count for food, wine and beer.

Head count

2010-06-21T19:14:00.002-04:00

We're trying to get an idea of how many of you we might see at Mike's service in Charleston on Sunday. Just trying to make sure we have enough food and drink for everyone.

So a huge favor -- can you leave a comment here or shoot me an email at ccherry@floridatoday.com and let me know?

Thanks.

See you all soon.

Video

2010-06-19T22:35:00.002-04:00

Just wanted to share the link to a video from the Florida Today news show, Today in Brevard. The video is called Remembering Mike Cherry. It's done by Lee Nessel, the sports editor, and Brian McCallum, Mike's friend and fellow preps writer. There are clips of Mike when he appeared on the show as well.

It was hard to watch but good to hear his voice.

I can stop calling his cell phone voicemail now.

This sucks

2010-06-16T22:08:00.007-04:00

When I pictured in my mind how this grieving thing would go, it involved me in a sobbing heap on the floor. But it's more like being lost in a fog. I can't seem to figure out what I'm doing. Or supposed to do. I pace. A lot. I walk from room to room not sure why I left one or entered the other. I reached into the freezer to get a waffle for Julia and found myself standing in the kitchen with a handful of ice, no clue how it got there.

I make to-do lists, then forget I have them. I am starving, but the thought of food makes me sick. Two bites of anything and I'm so stuffed I feel sick. I don't want to go back to work, but I don't want to stay home. I don't want company, but I don't want to be alone. I just don't want to be.

I'm keeping busy with planning the celebration of life service and dealing with a bunch of paperwork. I have friends around me and my mom is here. And of course, Julia, who is completely oblivious about what is going on. It's been nice looking through photos for the service and finding random things around the house, like all the shoes to Julia's princess dolls in his dresser drawer. Not sure the explanation on that one.

It's also been nice to go out to the mailbox or check my email and find an outpouring of love for Mike and for me. I'm reading all your comments and kind words and they really do help me get through the day.

I'm so looking forward to seeing everyone in Charleston, so we can share the good memories and funny stories.

I think I mentioned the prayer of St. Therese before. I said it a lot these past two years, but it's especially helpful now. I say it every morning.

May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

MIMA

2010-06-12T14:09:00.002-04:00

A few people have asked me about the MIMA Foundation, which is where we suggested people who want to do something to honor Mike make donations. I guess I should probably explain since our out-of-town family and friends probably haven't heard of it.

MIMA is the name of the medical practive where Dr. Neel (who many of you tell me you feel like you know) practices. It is also home to the MIMA Cancer Center where Mike had chemotherapy. We spent a lot of time there over the past two years. The doctors and nurses are top-notch and we always felt like Mike was receiving the best possible care.

The MIMA Foundation is their charitable organization which serves cancer patients here in Brevard County. After talking to Dr. Neel, I chose them because they have the greatest impact on real people in our community, people who probably sat next to Mike in one of the recliners during treatment. The donations fund grants for non-medical needs of cancer patients, including transportation, child care and housekeeping.

Their address is MIMA Foundation of Brevard, 1130 Hickory St., Building B, Melbourne, FL 32901.

Sunday, June 27

2010-06-11T08:33:00.003-04:00

We've set a date and reserved a space for a celebration of Mike's life. We hope everyone can join us.

It will be Sunday, June 27th from 5 to 7 p.m. at the clubhouse at the Appalachian Power ballpark in Charleston, W.Va. I realize this isn't a traditional setting for a memorial service but it somehow seemed fitting for Mike, especially when compared to our other options for space -- like a country club or a Marriott ballroom.

Mike did not want a traditional funeral service. His only wishes were to be cremated and have his ashes scattered at the Outer Banks. So this will be an informal gathering, with appetizers and drinks and lots of stories and memories about Mike.

I chose Charleston because that is where Mike spent most of his life, it's where we shared our lives and is the place we still call home. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone.

In the works

2010-06-08T20:02:00.003-04:00

I just wanted to let everyone know that we're working on a sort of "celebration of life" for Mike. He did not want a funeral, so I thought I would just try to gather everyone and we can share our memories.

Thus far, I know it will be in Charleston, WV, the weekend of June 26. Still trying to nail down whether it will be Friday night, Saturday or Sunday and still trying to find a place. I will update here when I have more details.

I also wanted to share a couple links to the stories and tributes that have been written about Mike. These have been so nice to read. It warms my heart knowing how many people love him and regard him so highly as a writer. One of Mike's friends said to me that it was no surprise that so many people claim Mike as a best friend. I have found that to be true. And I know that I am not grieving alone. This is a loss for so many people.

You can read the Daily Mail story here.
This one was written by Mike's friend and co-worker Brian McCallum at Florida Today.
This is the obit that I wrote.
Florida Today also did a news story.

Thank you so much for all the messages and calls. I do not exagerate when I say that your thoughts and words are getting me through the day.

And last, one of my favorite pictures.

At peace

2010-06-07T09:38:00.002-04:00

Mike is gone. He died last night around 2 a.m. It was very peaceful and he was not in pain.

I envision him having a beer right about now with his good buddy Jody.

Thank you for all your prayers and support and love. I am sure that I will continue to need them for some time.

Praying for peace

2010-06-06T14:33:00.002-04:00

Mike's battle with cancer is coming to an end. He took a turn for the worse yesterday, struggling to breathe, and was moved to the ICU overnight. He has been asleep for the past 24 hours and is being kept comfortable with morphine. There's little else the doctors can do for him.

A few times this morning, he smiled at me.

Please pray for his comfort and peace.

So much for that

2010-06-02T12:51:00.002-04:00

Mike is back in the hospital. His body does not seem to like that other chemo. He had been doing fairly well for the first few days, just long enough for us to think everything was going to be ok. Then sure enough on Monday, he started feeling really tired and got a bloody nose. By Tuesday, he was extremely weak so we went straight to the ER.

The doctor there said it was a good thing we brought him in. His blood counts were totally depleted. He immediatly got some platelets and a blood transfusion and was, of course, admitted. We're back on the cancer floor, where we were back in January. I hate that place.

He's also started having some stomach issues and isn't eating. Oh, and a fever. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

Here we go...

2010-05-25T20:05:00.002-04:00

We're going forward with the second chemo drug tomorrow. I say we, but it's Mike who will be sitting in the chair with an IV in his port, toxic drugs coursing through his veins...

It was not a decision made lightly but one we feel is necessary. We know this drug has reduced the tumors before so we need to at least give it a second try because we're at such a critical point. Of course, it was this drug that was partly responsible for sending Mike to the hospital for almost three weeks earlier this year. So we have to be on alert, and at the first sign of dehydration or stomach trouble, he has to call the doctor and start getting fluids and medications. This will hopefully ward off the conditions that landed him in the hospital because Dr. Neel said Mike wouldn't survive another setback like that.

What an ugly decision to have to make. Do we try the drug that has been known to shrink Mike's tumors but might kill him? Or do we stick with just the one drug that may or may not work on its own and send Mike into liver failure if it's the latter? I hope and pray we made the right choice.

At this moment, I am torn between being scared to death and determined more than ever that we are ready for this fight.

'A critical juncture'

2010-05-18T20:05:00.003-04:00

That's where we are, what it's come to. A critical juncture. Those are Dr. Neel's words. We knew that the cancer had progressed. We didn't know how much, until today.

The entire liver is now involved. It's gone from one spot, to tumors throughout and they are starting to affect liver function. So getting them to shrink is critical. If the chemo doesn't work or Mike can't handle it, his liver will fail.

The news was a bit much to take. We have a couple options to consider. Mike went ahead and went to chemo today, just getting one drug. We'll have to decide in a couple days if we want to add back the drug he had last year -- the one that had much success in shrinking the tumors, but ended up making him sick enough in January to spend 18 days in the hospital.

The decisions will be made with the knowledge that Mike hasn't really been able to handle chemo this year. Each time he's had a cycle, he ended up in the hospital.

I can't tell you how Mike is feeling because right after chemo he went to work. But I will tell you that I feel like I am trying to breathe with a concrete block laying on my chest. Every inhale hurts. But I'm trying to picture in my mind what needs to happen. Mike needs to be strong enough to handle the chemo. Dr. Neel said he had to push through to get some in his system. And the chemo has to shrink the tumors. Has. to.

What's new?

2010-05-14T13:38:00.004-04:00

Here's what we've been up to the past few days:

My mom and I took Julia to the zoo. She got to feed a giraffe. I was nearly pecked to death by a bird.

We went to the beach for our first chance to try out this season's hot new swimwear. I heart Target.

We had our favorite lunch: The lobster roll (with real Maine lobster, not this Florida crap...) at Suntree Cafe in Satellite Beach. YUM!

We also got the results of Mike's scans -- the cancer has shown some progression, which we expected because it's been quite a while since he's had any kind of treatment. He also got a shiny new port put in so he can start back on chemo next week. We're saying prayers and keeping fingers and toes crossed that he can handle the drugs so they can do their thing and shrink these stupid tumors.

Mother's Day

2010-05-08T22:46:00.002-04:00

Despite the crying, the yelling, the time-outs, the snot, the refusal to wear pants, the refusal to eat vegetables, the smudges on the glass, the messy room, the constant "No's" and the drawing on the furniture....

I love every second of this.

Happy Mother's Day, to all you mommies out there.

Where we're at

2010-04-27T20:29:00.004-04:00

Got an update with Dr. Neel today. Mike's breathing is a lot better and things are looking good. He kind of feels like we're at the beginning again with the chemo situation since it's been a month since he's had treatment and two months since he had scans. So he ordered some new scans for sometime in the next couple weeks and we'll go from there.

Mike will also be getting a new port in a couple weeks. Turns out the one they removed in the hospital wasn't even infected after all... grrr. But better safe than sorry, I guess.

I think it's good that Mike will be getting a longer break from chemo so he can get some of his strength back. Although this is a picture from the day after he got out of the hospital, so I'd say he's doing OK.

(Hi Marina! We miss you!)

Dear Michael

2010-04-22T00:35:00.003-04:00

Please stop apologizing to me. You say you are sorry that you are putting me through this. You say I shouldn't have married an older man. You say I am too young to have to deal with cancer. You say my 30s should be carefree.

I say that's hogwash.

That whole sickness and health thing was no joke. I even wore a white dress. I meant business. I wish with all my might that we didn't have the sickness part, but not for one single solitary second have I wished I had done things differently. (Well maybe that one time after you dumped the bowl of cereal on the freshly washed dishes . . .)

You are the best part of me. You are the calm to my chaos, the laid-back to my high-strung, the funny to my serious. I still carry in my purse the printout of an email you sent me in 2002. It says: cas, here's the deal, i love you more than 100 butterfinger blizzards... mwc.

If not for you, old man, I would never have left my comfort zone, like when you handed me a plane ticket and said "Here, we're going to Florida," even though I was terrified to fly. I would never have visited beautiful places like the cliff walks in Newport and that beach in Cape Cod. Remember? I would never have had the nerve to take a career risk like moving to South Carolina. You said, go for it. Climb. Seize the opportunity. Even at the risk of your own career. I wouldn't have gone back to school, because it was you who convinced me that you really need to love what you do. Otherwise, it's not worth it, right? I would never have learned how to eat peel and eat shrimp or crack crab legs if not for your crustacean camp. I would never have developed an appreciation for old movies, Pearl Jam or Bailey's on the rocks. I would still be eating at chain restaurants, for goodness sakes. And most of all, if not for you, I wouldn't have this tiny little person, this Stooge-loving bundle of bliss who has my attitude and your sense of humor.

So, are we clear?

Love, C

Home at last

2010-04-19T00:19:00.003-04:00

Just a quick note to say Mike is home. He was set free late Friday night. The conclusion is that all this was a result of the chemo. We're not sure how much more of that he can take. Or maybe he just needs a break. We'll be talking to his doctors in a week or so to see where they want to go from here.

Anyway, he's feeling better now and I'm so happy to have him home.

Still there

2010-04-16T14:12:00.002-04:00

Mike is still in the hospital, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed he'll be home tonight or tomorrow.

He had to have his port removed yesterday because he's had a fever, which meant an infection, and they couldn't find out where it was coming from. They suspected the port so they took the sucker out. He'll have to get another one put in on another day. His fever has gone down, so maybe they were right.

Now back to the reason he went to the hospital in the first place. He had to have his lungs drained this morning. They removed a pint of fluid. What is happening, the doctors tell us, is that the chemo he is on causes protein to build up in the kidneys and when there's too much, it spills out into the body, including into the lungs. They're giving him medicine to reduce the fluid and hopefully the draining will help.

Poor Marina, who is here visiting, is stuck running back and forth to the hospital and babysitting Julia instead of laying on the beach.

Hospital, Take 2

2010-04-14T18:44:00.003-04:00

Mike is back in the hospital. He was having trouble breathing yesterday, yet was insisting on going to work. That's Mike for ya. I talked him into calling the doctor and sure enough, he was admitted later that afternoon.

Basically, they want to run a lot of tests to rule out such things as, oh, a heart attack. They say that's highly unlikely. They also want to make sure it's not a blood clot. He's actually in the hospital's heart center instead of on the cancer floor, which is a good thing because I'm not sure I could take another moment there after the 18 days earlier this year.

Some tests were done last night. Another one this morning. We're waiting around a lot and seeing a bunch of different doctors -- the oncologist, an internist, a nephrologist and a cardiologist. One doctor thinks he has pneumonia. So they're giving him antibiotics. Dr. Neel thinks he should be able to come home tomorrow. We'll see....

One thing I was worried about, because Mike hadn't been feeling good for several days and because the doctor was concerned about his liver enzymes, was that the cancer had spread and was starting to affect organ function in his lungs and liver. Dr. Neel tells me that's unlikely. I'm going to take his word for it.

Two years later

2010-04-12T12:28:00.000-04:00

This month marks two years since cancer came into our lives. And for the first time in a long time, we are really feeling the presence of this nasty disease. We had a really good year last year. The tumors were shrinking, Mike was relatively symptom free and even able to go off chemo for several months.

The new year brought a harsh reminder that cancer catches up to you. Mike spent 18 days in the hospital and has never fully bounced back. Yes, he's working and moving around and eating and gaining weight and getting back to a routine. But he's not himself. He doesn't feel good a lot of the time. Two years of pumping toxic chemicals into the body takes its toll. His blood pressure is out of whack, his nose runs all the time, he gets headaches and backaches, he can't sleep.

In the same breath I have to say that Mike is still very strong. He puts in a good 50 hours at the office each week. He takes care of Julia. He makes me laugh. I'm not sure how he does it. The prognosis for carcinoma of unknown primary is in months. And here we are, two years later.

I am grateful for every second.

But is it selfish for me to want more?

Easter!

2010-04-09T11:16:00.004-04:00

The Casales spent Easter weekend with us.
We colored eggs.

We went on an Easter egg hunt.

We got baskets.

And we snuggled on the couch.

Good times.

Down from the mountains

2010-03-26T14:47:00.002-04:00

Meet Julia's friends, Chris and Kelly. They used to be our friends from back home. But now they are hers. I think she likes Kelly best. But don't tell Chris.

We were so excited to have the Stadelmans in our neck of the woods. They came down from their mountain to our flat little part of the planet and it was so good to see them. We are so homesick for our Charleston friends. For a few moments, I could pretend while we were sitting around having drinks that we were back in the window seat at Mulligan's. Except for the 3-year-old running around in a tutu. And that Mulligan's isn't even Mulligan's anymore....

And even more excitement from the Charleston front. Marina is coming in a few weeks. And Todd and Stephanie and Baby Eli after that. They're coming from St. Louis, but technically they're still Charleston peeps. This all makes us very happy.

Who's next?

Another week, another transfusion

2010-03-24T16:55:00.003-04:00

Poor Mike. He went to chemo today and ended up getting rejected. His platelets were too low. So guess what he's doing tomorrow? Getting another transfusion. His favorite thing.

Sense the sarcasm here?

So the second dose of the first round of chemo is being delayed a week. But there is some good news in all this crap. He saw Dr. Neel this morning and he looked at the lump in Mike's neck and said "excellent, excellent." He seems to think it's going down with just the one chemo drug. So he's going to start the second round with just the one drug as well. The one he held off on was one that caused a lot of side effects that landed Mike in the hospital in the first place.

And some more good news? He weighs 158. I think it was the ribs, Marina.

I'll leave you with another photo (taken by Andrew, of course) of Julia. Who could believe that moments after this was taken, this sweet, sweet, innocent-looking girl turned into a little monster, nearly ruining another toddler's birthday party with her drama?

My hero

2010-03-17T16:54:00.003-04:00

Mike started back to chemo today. The cancer center has moved to a fancy new building with more space and high-tech stuff like a blanket warmer. So that's nice, I guess. For a cancer center.

But of course, it just sucks in general being in a place like that. And something always goes wrong. Today, it was his blood pressure. It's pretty high, most likely because his blood counts are low and he needs a transfusion. And we learned that as of Jan. 1, our insurance no longer covers transfusions at the cancer center. Instead, Mike has to be at a different facility in Palm Bay at 7:30 tomorrow morning, a good 40-minute drive from our home (and no, my liberal friends, this does not mean I would not trade our private health insurance for government-run nonsense that couldn't/wouldn't afford a single one of his treatments... but that's another story).

The whole cancer thing sucks, really. Mike hates every bit of it. He hates having to get up early for chemo and get ready, have me scramble around to get Julia ready, take her to my mom's, sit in the waiting room forever, waste a whole afternoon sitting in a chair. He hates the smell of the place. He hates having a port in his chest. He hates feeling like crud. Hates it all.

But I was looking at him today, and I snapped this picture, because it reminded me that as much as it sucks and as much as he hates it, he does it. He fights on. He sits in the chair because he wants to be around to take his baby girl to preschool. He sits in the chair because he wants to take her to the Jersey Shore someday to eat at Mack & Manco's pizza. He sits in the chair because he wants to get back to that little place on St. John where we snorkled on our honeymoon. He sits in the chair because he wants to be well enough to float in the pool and drink Yuengling. He sits in the chair because there are more stories he wants to write, because he wants to eat more of my creme brulee French toast, because he wants to see his niece and nephew graduate from high school. He sits in the chair because there's a whole lot worth fighting for.

Back to chemo

2010-03-10T16:49:00.004-05:00

We saw Dr. Neel this morning and he thinks Mike is ready to get back on chemo. He's put on a few pounds and is looking healthier. For the first round, which starts next week, he's going to just have one drug, instead of two, to sort of ease him back into things.

So, here we go again. Please keep your fingers crossed that he handles it well, because we really have to get back to the business of fighting this stupid cancer.

And on a really sad note, sweet Layla Grace, who I wrote about last week, died Tuesday. Her mom announced it like this: Layla went to play with the angels early this morning. Rest in peace precious Layla. 11/26/2007 - 3/9/2010

My heart is breaking as if this little girl I don't even know is part of my family. I will continue to pray for her and her parents and sisters. This stupid disease sucks, really bad.

I'll leave you with a picture of Julia from the Strawberry Festival, where she refused to eat a single strawberry, even though they are her favorite things. She also has learned that they are called strawberries and not strawbabies. This makes me very sad. She's so grown up. We signed her up for preschool this week. She starts in August. Sniff.. sniff..

(photo by Andrew Knapp)

Spring?

2010-03-08T23:09:00.002-05:00

Could it be? It's been the longest, coldest winter we've had since moving here. I'm talking weeks in the 30s. This is Florida, people! The freeze killed a bunch of plants in our yard and with it being too cold to be outside, the landscaping has just gone to crap.

So we're on a mission to spruce things up, so we can get outside and enjoy it. We've been pulling weeds, putting down mulch, and planting stuff. Even Mike, who was just in the hospital last month, fertilized the lawn this weekend. He rocks, doesn't he?

We're having some trees removed this week and I'm totally redoing our atrium, a little courtyard thing in our house that has become such an eyesore. We're ripping everything out and planting new, pretty flowers. I've even invested in a power washer, and I have to admit, I love wielding that thing! I'll post some pics when we get done. One of these days.

Layla Grace

2010-03-04T22:22:00.008-05:00

(photo from Praying for Layla Grace Facebook group)

This beautiful baby is Layla Grace. She is 2 years old and she has cancer. I stumbled across her story last week and I haven't been able to let go. She's been fighting neuroblastoma, a horrible childhood cancer, for almost a year. Last month, her family learned her cancer was worse and there was little else doctors could do. They brought her home to die.

Her parents have a blog where they've been writing about Layla's journey and they have 45,000 people on the Facebook group "Praying for Layla Grace" and 35,000 people following their story on Twitter. I am one of them. I can't get this little girl out of my mind. I constantly check for updates to see how she's doing.

This sweet girl, who I don't even know, has really affected me. Her story has brought me closer to God -- I find myself praying for her as hard as I pray for Mike, and I thank God for my own sweet girl and her health. Layla's story has made me stop and just reflect on how blessed I am and to get some perspective on what is really important. There were times this week when Julia was under my feet, making messes everywhere. I was getting so frustrated because I had a million things to do. And then I just stopped and thought about how Layla's mom would give anything to have her daughter under her feet, making messes everywhere. I just stopped and got down on the floor and played with Julia and held her so tight. So I'm posting this to remind me that this is what matters. The dishes can wait.

Fattening up

2010-02-26T15:56:00.002-05:00

We got some GOOD news today. Mike had his CT scans this week and saw Dr. Neel today. The lump in his neck has reduced. His chest is stable. The liver, they aren't really sure. If there was growth, it was minimal. So those two chemos he had a month and a half ago that started this whole ordeal were working.

But Mike's weight has dropped a lot this past month. He's down to 150. A skinny minnie. Dr. Neel wants him to gain some back before he returns to chemo. So in the next couple weeks, he's going to be eating A LOT. He's already started. On the way home from the doctor, he stopped and got a foot-long meatball sub and a Shamrock shake. Lord, I hope the efforts to fatten him up don't rub off on me...

So within the next three weeks, he should be returning to chemo. They will probably try to tweak the dosages to avoid a repeat of last time. But in the meantime, we are feeling incredibly blessed.

Chugging along

2010-02-23T16:25:00.003-05:00

That's what we're doing, chugging along. Mike is feeling much better these days and is ready to return to work on March 1. Can you believe he's been out a month and a half? Crazy.

I'm ready for him to get back to work too, so I can have the remote back. (kidding...)

Last week, there were a few setbacks with his walking. His feet and knees were swollen and for a few days he was in a lot of pain. He saw some doctors, got some meds, and is back on his merry way.

He had to postpone his CT scan though because of the feet/knee thing, so that takes place tomorrow and we see Dr. Neel at the end of the week.

And as you can see, a certain someone still isn't leaving Mike's side:

Quick update

2010-02-10T17:13:00.002-05:00

We are so happy having Mike home. He continues to feel better every day and is making progress. He's eating more and moving around better. Julia and I even dragged him out to lunch the other day.

We saw Dr. Neel on Tuesday, just for a follow-up. He says Mike is still way too weak to get back on chemo right now. He wants to him to spend the next two weeks or so recovering. He'll get a CT scan next Friday and then we'll decide what to do next.

He did remark that the lump in Mike's neck feels like it has shrunk, A LOT. We're not going to get our hopes up, because we thought for five months that everything was OK and it turned out the cancer was growing. But you can barely see that thing.

So if there's a miracle to be worked, it will be that the tumors have shrunk enough from this one round of chemo that he won't have to go back on it for a while. Fingers crossed.

One happy girl

2010-02-05T12:22:00.000-05:00

She hasn't left his side for a second.

He's home

2010-02-04T22:15:00.000-05:00

Fingers crossed

2010-02-03T16:26:00.001-05:00

It's rumored Mike's coming home tomorrow....

At first I didn't really think much of it when he told me Dr. Neel said it to him this morning. But when I was at the hospital this afternoon, both the nurse and the physical therapist mentioned it. It's written in his chart. So I am keeping my fingers crossed that nothing goes wrong or flares up overnight.

He had his knees drained Monday to ease the problem from gout. So he's been moving more. He's eating more and talking more. All of which are good things.

It will be so nice to get him home. It's been a long 17 days.

Slow going

2010-01-31T22:18:00.003-05:00

I had my hopes up that Mike might be getting home Monday, but of course, something else has come up. Dr. Neel said if he spent Saturday and Sunday out of bed and moving around and eating, he would be ready to go home.

Well, he's getting better on the eating part. But now he has gout in his left knee and he can't move. He's in a lot of pain from it. They are giving him some steroids and pain medication. If it's not better tomorrow, they'll bring in a rheumatologist to see what they can do. They think it's a result of all the fluids and medications he's had over the past two weeks building up around his joints.

But aside from that, he's really doing well. His blood counts are normal, the kidney doctor has stopped coming by because that's all normal now, and they stopped the nutrition in the IV. He's also talking now, which is nice.

As soon as the knee is taken care of and he can get back on his feet, he'll be coming home. It really is always something, isn't it?

What day is this?

2010-01-28T22:18:00.004-05:00

Seriously, I'm losing track. Mike has been in the hospital for 11 days now. It seems like a year. He has reached that stage where he just wants to get the hell out of there. And I can't blame him. Since he's been there, he's not had more than two hours of sleep at a time. Nurses and doctors are constantly in his room, checking his blood pressure, changing IVs, bringing pills or making him try to sit up. He just wants to come home so he can get some rest.

So he is on a feeding tube, which is really just an IV. Nothing down his nose, so that's good. In the meantime, he's slowly starting to eat actual food: yogurt, Jell-O and grapes. I don't even want to think about how much he weighs.

He's also getting some physical therapy to help him regain his strength. They've been doing leg and arm exercises and getting him to walk a little around his room. He's still weak and very tired.

But I'm hoping that we are getting closer to getting him home. I'm going to ask Dr. Neel in the morning what he needs to see happen before Mike can be released. Maybe that will give us something to work with as well as a time frame.

I hope it's soon. I forget what our normal life looks like. I'm missing so much with my daughter. The other night I got home just as it was time for bed, and I wanted to tuck her in and she said "No, mama. Nana tuck me in." When I'm at the hospital with Mike, I'm feeling so guilty about not being with her. And when I'm with her, I'm worrying myself sick about what is going on wih Mike. I'm ready for this to be over.

I'm so grateful that Sue is here now. And I'm grateful for my mom doing my laundry yesterday. And I'm grateful for a good friend bringing us some yummy white bean chicken chili. And I'm grateful for Starbucks for keeping me fueled.

Road to recovery?

2010-01-26T22:10:00.002-05:00

That's what Dr. Neel said this morning about Mike. Still having a hard time believing it. He's talking a little more and starting to sit up some, but is still very weak.

There has been some talk about bringing in a physical therapist to help Mike start to regain his strength so he can come home. I can't believe he's been there nine days now. It's all starting to blur together.

I took Julia to see him Tuesday evening. He was very happy to see her. And she was very happy to see him.

But the big issue for me right now is Mike's lack of eating. The doctors and nurses told him he needed to drink three Ensures a day and three of these icky-tasting protein shots since he won't eat. This was after the threat last week from the dietician of a feeding tube.

Well, here it is five days later and he's barely drinking two Ensures a day. It is a constant struggle all day long to get him to drink them. He's so mad at me for pushing but I don't care. I don't know what it's like to be as sick as he is, but I do know that he will never get better or regain his strength if he doesn't eat.

I'm beginning to think they should have given him the feeding tube. I'm going to see what Dr. Neel thinks about it. I just want him to come home.

Good numbers

2010-01-25T10:13:00.002-05:00

I wanted to do an early post today because I left things last night pretty sour. While Mike still feels like crud and is still weak, his white cell counts are back to normal and some of the other things like the kidneys, etc. are improved as well.

Dr. Neel was very happy this morning. He said the light at the end of tunnel is near. Things should start to pick up.

Although I'm still having a hard time reconciling what the doctor is saying with how Mike looks. I'm a very impatient person.

However, he is reading the newspaper as I type and they want him to try to sit in a chair sometime today. I think I may bring Julia in this afternoon.

Up and down

2010-01-24T20:48:00.002-05:00

It's starting to seem like as soon as I write Mike's making some progress, the next day he's feeling like crap again. And so it is with today. This morning, he was a little more alert and active, reading the newspaper again.

I went home to give my mom a break and see Julia for a bit and when I came back he was again barely speaking or able to move. A nurse described him as "profoundly weak."

I was really hoping today he would start feeling better. His white blood cells are up to 2.9. They were .20 just two days ago. So that is good.

I just want him to feel better. I am nearly losing my mind so I can only imagine how he must be doing. I mean, how long can this go on? I just want our normal little life back.

Baby steps

2010-01-23T22:07:00.004-05:00

Mike is still weak and unable to get out of bed, but I'm seeing small signs of improvement. And the best thing of all -- he got to see Julia today.

First the medical update: There were a ton of doctors in this morning. My sister-in-law Lisa was there so I could spend some time with Julia. Basically, they are monitoring his kidneys and his stomach, where they figure the infection is. They're fighting it off with antibiotics, but say it will ultimately get better when his white cells go up. They're starting to go up now.

One doctor said it was expected that Mike would be feeling like he is. He said once the white cells start to increase slowly, as Mike's are, the body can react by essentially getting worse before it gets better. He will probably feel like this for a few more days, then all of a sudden start to feel better. Again, the whole waiting game thing.

Mike was ordered to drink three Ensure "milkshakes" over the course of the day to get some calories and nutrition in him and to try to start getting his strength up. He didn't want to, but he did it. I wanted to jump for joy every time he finished one.

I had been going back and forth all week on whether to bring Julia to the hospital. She can't possibly understand what is going on and I was worried about her seeing Mike like he is. But yesterday, I really felt like he needed to see her in the flesh to remember why he's got to fight so hard. And the doctor agreed.

It went really well. Julia was not at all phased by the surroundings. She was just happy to see her dada. She wanted to get in bed with him so bad. But we sat her in a chair next to him and she drank her juice while he had an Ensure. She also tried to feed him Goldfish. Mike was beaming when he saw her and he made every effort to talk while she was there.

My mom took her home and I stayed and hung out with Mike. He was awake and alert the whole time while we watched a movie, and he even read the newspaper. This sounds like nothing but it was a big deal to me. He hasn't had the energy or desire to do any reading or watching TV this week.

So I'm really praying this means he's starting to turn the corner.

(Also today, we eagerly awaited text messages from Philip updating us about Kris, who was in labor. FINALLY Baby Felix arrived. 7 pounds 5 ounces, to be exact. He is so stinkin' cute already. We are over the moon.)

It never ends

2010-01-22T13:51:00.003-05:00

I left the hospital feeling somewhat positive last night. Mike had been eating and a little more alert. When I got there this morning at 7:45, he was too weak to get out of bed.

The doctor thinks the lack of nutrition is taking its toll. So the goal for the day was supposed to be getting Mike to drink some protein shakes and eat something like applesauce.

But there are a million things going on. They can't figure out what's causing him to have a fever. They think it's an infection and they've been treating with antibiotics. But today they brought in an infectious disease specialist, who ordered some CT scans to see if there's infection growing somewhere it's not supposed to be. And to get a CT scan, he has to drink a ton of this chalky fluid. So much for getting him to eat to help him regain his strength.

His red blood cells are back to normal. The white ones are creeping up. I think they are supposed to be 3.9. His earlier this week were 0.16. Today they are 0.29.

I'm starting to lose track of all that is going on. There's a kidney doctor who sees him, an endocrinologist, a nutritionist, and now this other doctor. I feel so bad for him. He never gets a moment's rest.

The only good thing is that before Dr. Neel left this morning, he told him that while it doesn't seem like it, he will start to feel better.

More waiting

2010-01-21T22:44:00.002-05:00

Mike is still weak today, still struggling to talk, sit up and eat. I asked the doctor WHEN he is going to start feeling better. The answer: It will take some time. They say that because he's been on chemo for a year and a half, it has a cumulative effect and it takes a while to bounce back from something like this.

He did sit up for a bit today and after threat of a feeding tube, he finally drank a protein shake, had some juice and ate applesauce. It's the first he's eaten since Sunday morning. The dietician said he wouldn't get any better if he wasn't getting some nutrition. They're counting his calories tonight to see what he can get in him. I guess if he doesn't meet a certain level, he'll be getting a tube down his nose. I am really really really praying that won't happen. Hopefully they will see he is making some effort.

He also actually watched some TV, sports of course. And I read some of the newspaper to him. I was happy to report to him that Maria Sharapova is out of the Australian Open.

Lisa decided to stay a couple more days and I'm actually going to go into work for a few hours tomorrow, so I don't use up all my sick time this week. If anyone wants to email me, it's ccherry@floridatoday.com

Day three

2010-01-20T22:07:00.002-05:00

Much of the same for Mike again today. Though there have been some teeny improvements, which we'll gladly take.

He ate a couple of popsicles and drank half a soda. He hasn't had a bite of food since Sunday morning. Also the doctor wanted him to sit up today, so he sat in the chair in his room for about half an hour.

He's still just so tired and so weak. The hardest thing for me is that he's not talking, except for a word here and there. He just doesn't have the strength or energy to make the words. I miss hearing his voice.

The blood tests showed his kidneys were normal, so that is good. But his blood counts are still low. He's having another blood transfusion tonight, and he had an infusion of platelets this afternoon. He gets a shot every day of some drug that is supposed to boost his white blood cells. They just haven't gone up yet. A nurse told me today that often they will stay low and then jump up quickly.

I get the sense that this is really just a waiting game. The doctor and the nurses keep saying his counts will go up and he'll start feeling better. I just want it to happen right now.

Lisa is leaving tomorrow. She has been such a help. She went to the hospital early this morning, so I could spend some time with Julia. I hadn't seen her for days. And my mom has been watching her and helping around the house. My friend Sara is going to watch Julia on Friday so I can go into work for a little while and she made me some lasagna. Sue is coming down next week. I am so grateful to have such a good support system.

I will update everyone tomorrow.

More of the same

2010-01-19T22:35:00.002-05:00

Today was pretty much a repeat of yesterday. Mike is still weak, not able to talk very much and is sleeping a lot. His white blood cells are still pretty low. They are giving him medication to get it back up. He got a blood transfusion this afternoon and that brought his red cells back up, so we're hoping that will give him some strength back.

I just wish it would happen soon.

He's still running a fever and is receiving antibiotics to help him fight whatever the infection might be.

We're doing a lot of waiting and hoping all the fluids and meds will kick in and he'll start feeling better.

My sister-in-law Lisa is here and my mom has been taking care of Julia. Thank you for all the phone calls and messages. I will try to keep everyone posted on this site.

Please keep praying.

Please pray

2010-01-18T21:58:00.002-05:00

Mike is in the hospital. He's been having a lot of side effects from chemo, which culminated in him getting dehydrated and having low blood pressure and low blood counts, in addition to a really bad bloody nose.

This morning, he was so weak, he couldn't walk. We went to the emergency room and they admitted him. They've been giving him fluids and various medications and platelets to get his counts back up. The bleeding finally stopped and he's been resting all day.

Dr. Neel stopped in this afternoon and said he thought Mike should be feeling better in a couple days. Part of the problem is that Mike is so stubborn, he didn't get help earlier in the week and let it go so long. I think he's learned his lesson on that.

But later tonight, Mike developed a fever and the nurses fear he's got an infection, which he won't be able to fight because he has no white blood cells. They're trying to pinpoint what it is, and are giving him antibiotics in the meantime.

Please keep us in your prayers. This is a really scary time.

We're ok

2010-01-15T13:07:00.003-05:00

So many of you have sent notes asking how we're doing after this most recent setback. So I thought I would address that. Yes, the news really really really sucks. But we're getting through.

For the first three days or so I think we walked around in a stunned sort of numbness. I couldn't really think about anything else. I was clinging to Mike, not really letting him out of my sight. I sat outside the bathroom while he showered.

It's Mike who's lifting me up. We had this conversation last week:
Me: What are we supposed to do here?
Him: What do you mean?
Me: I mean, are we just supposed to walk around like nothing is wrong?
Him: What do you want to do?
Me: I want to lay in bed and not move.
Him: What good would that do? We have to keep living our lives.

Mike is right. I would say a relative normal has set back in and we're focusing on thinking positive about chemo and keeping up the fight. We have this beautiful girl who needs us and who makes it very hard to be in a bad mood. Mike is still working, covering games in the freezing cold. School started back up this week for me. Julia still demands to be tickled every half hour or so, and one of us will always oblige. We are OK.

It helps that you all are thinking of us too.

An update

2010-01-13T21:35:00.005-05:00

Just back from Dr. Neel's and an afternoon in the treatment center. Mike's now had two treatments. He'll be off next week, then go back for two more.

Here's some of what the doctor said: It was a little bit shocking to see the progression Mike's cancer had made. He called it "dramatically worse." There are numerous areas in the liver, with the one spot that was 1 cm now close to 5 cm. Some of the lymph nodes in his chest have grown to the point that if they get much bigger could keep his lungs from fully expanding.

So that really sucks. But there was some hope. For one, he said the liver is a pretty remarkable organ in that the tumors really have to be massive for there to be trouble. And right now, Mike's not having any problem breathing.

I asked this question: Are we at a point where this is life threatening? Dr. Neel said no. Right now, all of Mike's organs are functioning and he's not having any cancer-related symptoms. What the situation is though is a warning and an alert telling us we have to get back on chemo. If growth continues unchecked and can't be brought under control, then it becomes life threatening. And the chemo that Mike's on has a proven track record with him and we just have to be hopeful it works again.

So that's what we're doing. Hoping and praying.

And we're also trying to stay warm. It's been FREEZING -- in Florida. Julia has the right idea -- flannel pajamas, a blanket and a favorite book. (Just had to throw in a picture of her for good measure.)

Not good

2010-01-05T16:46:00.002-05:00

So, we got Mike's scan results, and well, it's not exactly the way we wish we were starting the new year...

We're going back to chemo tomorrow (Wednesday) because the tumors have grown. In the neck, chest and liver. Mike didn't get specific numbers on the phone with Dr. Neel, but he said the growth was "not subtle." We see Dr. Neel on the 13th and we'll get more specifics.

It seems there's a sense of urgency though, so the plan is to go back on the chemo that he'd been on last year, the one that had worked for him before. He'll do two cycles and then have scans again, which works out to be about mid-February. If it's not working, we'll have to move on to something else. Dr. Greco gave us two options when we visited him in Nashville. We haven't had to use the second one yet, so we do have a backup.

So yeah, it felt like a punch in the stomach yesterday, since we'd had such good news just a month ago. Thus the nature of cancer. A roller coaster. We just started noticing his neck looking a little bigger in the past two weeks. Not sure if the cancer had been growing all the time Mike wasn't on chemo or just came on all of a sudden.

But today, we're trying to be more positive. This chemo has worked before, so why can't it again? Right?

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T12:09:00.001-05:00

Dec. 31, 2006

A very Merry Christmas!

2009-12-30T20:46:00.007-05:00

We had one. Hope you did too. We got to go to Naples to visit the Casales for a few days and Sue was there too. It was the first time all of us were together for Christmas and we had a great time. Julia loves being with her cousins, and her aunties, and of course, Uncle Frank. And Bailey the dog.

Santa brought Julia the Minnie Mouse pajamas she asked for and a dollhouse too. I think I may have more fun playing with that than she will.

But now it's scan week, so of course we're on edge. We probably won't hear anything until Monday at the earliest because of the holiday. We're sort of preparing ourselves for the fact that Mike might have to go back on chemo. But of course, we're hoping and praying for the best.

Please don't let me forget

2009-12-27T21:12:00.003-05:00

I want to etch these little things in my memory forever. The little moments of our lives I cherish so much.

Like how every Monday is grocery day in the Cherry house and Julia and I head to Walmart where we always make a stop at the fish tank. I pick out a random goldfish and tell her it's Dorothy (she of Elmo's World fame) and we say hello to her before going on our merry way.

Not too long ago, I happened to be home when Mike was on bath duty, and I saw him brushing Julia's hair while she sat on his lap. I just stood there watching through the door, their backs to me, thinking it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Every night when I tuck Julia into bed, I tell all her animals goodnight -- Olivia (the famed pig), Minnie (the famed mouse) and Ella (the most famous of all) -- and then I tell Julia "I love you right up to the moon." And she finishes -- "and back" -- from one of our favorite books, "Guess How Much I Love You." Also every night, she says this little prayer: Dear God, thank you for mama, dada, nana, Aunt Lisa, Uncle Frank, Madison and Nick, Aunt Soup, Uncle John and Johnny. Please watch over us through the night and keep us safe. Amen.

Julia's version of helping me in the kitchen is her standing on a dining room chair and rifling through the utensil drawer. She's pretty good at naming all of them -- even the hard ones like the potato masher and the turkey baster. Sometimes she waves a wooden spoon at me and makes a wizard-like swooshing sound and puts me to sleep. Then she squeals with delight, saying "wake up, mama" and I pretend to wake up. It's not much help with dinner, but the company is nice.

She's got a funny way of asking for things. I think it's because she hears us ask her. Whatever it is, it's funny. For example, the other day she said "Mama, do I want some Ritz crackers?" I don't know, baby. Do you? And she says Yes. My favorite is, "Mama, do I want you to tickle me?"

I just taught Julia a whole bunch of Christmas songs, but she really only wanted to sing them in the bath tub. She's an odd little bird. So every night, we would sing Rudolph, Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Winter Wonderland. In that order.

Scary Santa

2009-12-11T10:36:00.003-05:00

Remember this classic Christmas picture? Well, it didn't get much better two years later. Hahaha. In fact, Santa's not even in the picture this time around. He's waaaay off to the left. In Julia's defense, she did march right up to him and tell him she wanted some Minnie Mouse pajamas and wished him a Merry Christmas, but the tears came at the mere mention of sitting on his lap. And really, he was just some employee at Florida Today, so who could blame her.

November

2009-12-10T23:09:00.002-05:00

I probably shouldn't have included the pictures of all us wearing our Marshall shirts, considering how the Herd came to Central Florida and made fools of themselves and cost me a bottle of wine in a bet. And of course, the only picture of Thanksgiving is the one of me cooking. Didn't take a single shot of my pretty table or our friends and family. Grrr....

Even more to be thankful for

2009-12-02T09:48:00.002-05:00

We saw Dr. Neel yesterday, for the first time in two months, and he used words like "excellent" and "miracles" and "I think you look great." The lump in Mike's neck appears to be stable and it's a good marker for what's going on in the rest of the body. "There's no sign of worsening," were his exact words.

We'll find out for sure after the holidays when Mike goes in for some more scans. He hasn't had one since August. In the meantime, he'll continue with Avastin every other week.

I think Dr. Neel is impressed by the fact that Mike maintains a normal energy level, goes to work every day and chases a 3-year-old. Mike asked him if it was unexpected, that at this point, things are going well. And I guess considering the statistics with this kind of cancer, it is. He told us that we can call it "the grace of God, luck or whatever we want" but he sees miracles in his practice all the time.

I choose to call it the grace of God because so many of you have been praying for Mike and we honestly feel that and are so grateful. I pray all the time too. I pray that Mike stays strong and gets to see his girl grow up.

Obviously, this doesn't mean we are out of the woods. Our miracle isn't that Mike will be cured. Our miracle is that he is here and he is well. There's always the thought hanging over our heads that we won't be able to keep this cancer at bay forever, but right now we are trying to enjoy the blessing that we have been given.

(Like the pics? I LOVE them. Thanks to our friend Andrew and his fancy camera... )

So thankful

2009-11-23T22:30:00.003-05:00

I have so much to be thankful for this year -- family, friends, the opportunity to go back to school, having a job in this tough economy, a roof over our heads, food on our table and of course my sweet, beautiful, smart, healthy baby girl.

But most of all this year, I'm thankful for Mike. He is so strong, and there are days when his strength amazes and humbles me. He has an incurable cancer and he is living with it better than I live with a cold. He goes to work every day, even when he doesn't feel like it. He's determined to live his life normally and provide for his family. He's determined to be here for me and for Julia. He's determined for us to have a normal life.

One of the first things that went through my mind when I heard his diagnosis last April and learned that the survival rate for this cancer was in months, was that he wouldn't be here for the holidays. I don't know why my mind went to that, but it did. And here it is a year and a half later, and we're celebrating holidays No. 2. I can't begin to describe how blessed and grateful I feel for that.

Only two more!

2009-11-17T23:09:00.002-05:00

I can't believe I've kept up with my little collages. I rarely stick to anything. But I thought it would be fun at the end of the year to put them all together to see what we did and how much Julia has changed.

October is a great month around here. We've got Julia's birthday, pumpkin patches and Halloween. I think it might be my favorite.

My mini Minnie

2009-11-13T22:01:00.004-05:00

My sweet Minnie. This is the first year she was actually into Halloween. Last year, she got pulled around in a wagon and refused to go to any houses. This year, she said "Trick or Treat" and "thank you" and collected her candy (which she refuses to eat... )

We went to Boo at the Zoo with her sweetie, Landon, a mailman.

And she went Trick or Treating with her sweetie Jake, also known as Mickey. We had to use Tony to try to get these two mice to stand next to each other for one picture.

And Hannah Montana was there too.

It was a fun fun time. So cute to see Julia all dressed up and into the holiday. I think the fact we watched the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown 40 times beforehand helped.

September

2009-11-06T23:59:00.004-05:00

Dang! September was a busy and exciting month! We got serious about potty training, Aunt Soup came to visit, Julia started eating chocolate chip cookies and she got a pink big girl room! A lot going on!

Coming soon: Halloween pics! I promise to get them up before Thanksgiving. My girl was THE cutest Minnie Mouse ever...

Happy birthday ... to me!

2009-11-05T22:42:00.005-05:00

Our sweet girl turned three, so of course, a Minnie Mouse party was in order...
And our friend Andrew, who is an awesome photographer in his spare time, brought his camera and gave me a CD full of fabulous pictures capturing our day. I LOVE THEM! They make my heart so happy.

So here some are, for you to enjoy too!

Despite many practices in the days leading up to the party, Julia was not thrilled with us singing Happy Birthday to her. Here, you can see the look of apprehension on her face.

And here, you can see the tears. Maybe she didn't like our singing...

Opening presents. This girl was spoiled rotten!

Kristen

Love this pic of Julia and Mad. She's giving her a kiss on the cheek, but it looks like she's telling her a secret.

Julia and Kristen. Note the big girl bed. Yep, we finally got rid of the crib. Sigh...

Cara and Anja

I love this funny silly little person.

Jake, and the Minnie balloon.

Thanks Andrew!

She...

2009-10-16T08:00:00.002-04:00

*makes us laugh until our cheeks hurt.

*loves Olivia books, Charlie Brown and duckies.

*is partial to the purple crayon.

*just recently started eating chocolate chip cookies.

*says please, thank you, bless you and excuse me -- most of the time.

*fills our home with sheer joy.

*can make a ton of animal noises, including roosters, turkeys, snakes and bees.

*loves to jump on the bed.

*is incredibly smart.

*still takes a nap every day.

*couldn't live without her Ella.

*knows her noodles (and will only eat Barilla-plus rotini).

*makes me want to be a better person.

*is THREE years old today!

I still pinch myself every day that she is really mine, that God blessed us with this most perfect little human and has given us so much love and joy. I really don't know what we did to deserve it, but I pray every night that God will help me to do right by her, to be a good mother and raise her to be a good person. My heart bursts every time I look at this sweet little girl.

Some pics of her very first week on earth:

Mike update

2009-10-03T22:27:00.002-04:00

In all the excitement of Julia's new room, I forgot to mention that we saw Dr. Neel this week. It was the first time in two months. The good news is, we don't have to see him again until December.
He seemed really pleased with the way things are going.

The lump in Mike's neck appears stable. I think his exact words were "it looks really good." So the plan is just to continue with what we're doing, which is Avastin every other week. Mike's blood counts are back up too, so he won't have to get a shot for that every other week anymore.

So, all of this is good, we think.

PINK!

2009-09-30T21:20:00.012-04:00

Before...

So this is what Julia's room looked like for the first three years of her life: Yellow, green and blue moons and stars. Why? Because someone in this family -- I won't mention names -- didn't want to find out if we were having a boy or girl. So the room is cute, but certainly not girly.

Until NOW:

It's a pink explosion for sure, but Julia has a room to match her fun silly little personality. Pink and green with birds and cupcakes and tissue paper pompoms and a space for a tea party! Very girly, indeed.

Maybe too much so... I'm beginning to worry it's too Pepto-Bismolish. What do you think? We'll be moving her to a toddler bed next week, and the quilt has lots of green in it, so maybe that will tone things down a bit...

Anyway, while it was fun to create a girly space for her, it also broke my heart. No more baby. I put away the mobile and the crib bumpers and all the "nursery" stuff and just wanted to cry because I won't ever have that again. And because I still remember like yesterday putting all that stuff up, getting ready to meet the new little person who would join our family, wondering what he/she would be like. Of course, I got more with Julia than I could ever imagine. But I wish she could just stay little forever.

Check it out!

2009-09-17T22:12:00.003-04:00

I've fallen behind on my blogging. But for good reason. In addition to work and now school, we've been busy with this:

YES! Potty training! And as you can see, it's going well ... for the most part. It cracks me up because we've had this chart since February. And you might notice a lone sticker on the bottom row. It's been there since March 6. The others were just added this week.

Really, Julia's doing well. I think the problem has been us. We haven't really been consistent. We'd try her in underwear for one day, then she'd pee on the floor, and we'd throw up our hands and say she wasn't ready. We weren't ready. But I really didn't want to change the diaper of a 3-year-old. So hopefully, in the next month, we'll really get the hang of things.

And don't worry, we'll be getting the carpets cleaned here in just a few weeks!

Photo frenzy

2009-08-29T00:12:00.002-04:00

I'm playing catch up with my photos before things really start getting hectic around here. Why, you ask. Because I'm going to grad school, people. (See the cute pens and notebooks? I LOVE school supplies!) I decided I didn't have enough on my plate with a full-time job, a toddler and a husband, who happens to have cancer...

Seriously though, I'm taking a full graduate course load in elementary education at the University of Central Florida. Two of them are online, so I only have to go to campus once a week. And man, on the first day of class, being surrounded by all those young co-eds sure made me feel like a granny.

I had to rearrange my work schedule a bit, and give up my Sundays off -- my only day off with my family -- to make it work. That is going to kill me, I know. But hopefully at the end of the semester, I can switch back. I was hoping to cut my hours at work, but it doesn't look like that is going to happen.

But this is something I really have to do. I've been miserable in my job for the past four years. It's starting to get to the point where I don't even recognize myself anymore. I kick myself for letting it go on so long, but sometimes, life is just happening all around you and there's no time to stop and think about it. It's not that I don't still love journalism, it's that I don't like the environment I'm in right now, and I especially don't like working nights, weekends and holidays. It's really hard to do that and be a mom.

So I decided to stop complaining and start doing. And here we are. Hopefully, I can wrap up my degree in two or two-and-a-half years, so that when I can be on the same schedule as Julia when she goes off to school. Wish us luck!

More good news

2009-08-27T11:45:00.002-04:00

Mike had scans last week and after an excruciating wait, we finally got the phone call from the doctor. Things look good!! The lump in his neck shrunk from 3.2 cm to 2 cm and the largest spot in his chest shrunk from 3.2 cm to 2.7 cm. I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds significant to me.

There's a spot on Mike's liver that his doctor has been monitoring. He says it's tiny. But it grew 3 mm. Dr. Neel says it's not a major concern in the grand scheme of things. In fact, the liver was not scanned back in June when Mike started back to treatment. He only has April scans for comparison and in that time, things got worse, then got better. So it may have actually been bigger. If that makes any sense.

We're not too crazy to hear about any spots getting bigger, but overall, the picture looks good. Mike is continuing with a half-hour treatment of Avastin every other week, and is handling it pretty well. We see Dr. Neel at the end of September and plan to talk to him more about the situation in the liver. But the way it was explained before is that the primary cancer (as close as they can tell) is that in the neck and chest and that would have to grow before it grows in other places.

Anyway, I've been saying thank you to God for whatever bit of good news we can get. And thank you for all of your prayers.

Baby bumps

2009-08-23T22:27:00.005-04:00

My friend KrisWiseMaramba (all one word, just like that) has gone and gotten herself knocked up. Finally. I couldn't be happier for her and Philip. Or for me, because it meant getting rid of those old maternity clothes once and for all!

So Philip posted a super cute picture of Kris' tiny baby bump, while she was wearing one of the dresses I sent.

That was my favorite maternity outfit, and toward the end, the only one that would fit me. I wore it every other day. But as my due date approached, I could no longer wear cute strappy heels with it because my feet and ankles had tripled in size. I wore ballet slippers. To work.

Anyway, Kris and I have been friends for years. We are so much alike it is scary. We are both only children, which we think make us superior beings. And we are also serious smart asses. Neither of us really like people. Which is why we like each other. So it cracked me up when I found this photo Mike took of me, wearing the same dress, standing in the same pose. Only I was much much much further along than she.

So rest assured KrisWiseMaramba, that dress has plenty of stretch!!!

Giving props to preps

2009-08-18T17:49:00.003-04:00

(Photo by Craig Rubadoux, FLORIDA TODAY)

Check out my super cute sportswriter husband! And his co-worker Brian (who isn't too bad himself). Mike may kill me for posting this but the editor of our newspaper wrote a column about this super preps duo on the eve of the super-busy football season. Check it out here.

Happy, happy

2009-08-06T11:16:00.006-04:00

These pictures make my heart happy. How cute is my girl?
I just want to eat her up.

These pictures were taken by my co-worker and friend Andrew, who happens to be a really good photographer. Check him out. He mostly shoots cool storm photos and shuttle launches and Florida wildlife and the like. I tried to convince him that if he really wants street cred, he needed to shoot a toddler. And he took me up on it! The plan was to get photos outside, but of course, it was gray and stormy. I think Julia charmed him though, because he's going to come back on a sunny day and take some more pics...

(I'm choosing not to publish the photo of Julia with her finger up her nose, but it does exist, and I will keep it for blackmail purposes in the teen years.)

Oh yeah, cancer

2009-07-30T10:15:00.003-04:00

It seems like a long time since I've written about Mike. I guess that's because things have just gotten kind of normal for us. A new normal where we spend hours every week in a chemo room...

Yesterday, we saw Dr. Neel, and Mike started his fourth round of chemo. This is one more round than he had the first time he did this chemo (before the big break, that lasted a couple weeks...) He's able to go this fourth round because his blood pressure is now under control. So he's been feeling pretty good, a few stomach issues here and there and some fatigue, but OK for the most part. He still takes walks with Julia, still comes to work every day, even chemo days.

So, he'll have new scans in three weeks to see where things stand. It's pretty obvious the lump in his neck is smaller. Then the plan is to continue with just one of the drugs, Avastin. I think I've written about this one before. It's the one that's not really a chemo, but it can halt tumor growth by blocking the growth of new blood vessels. I think of it sort of as a maintenance drug. He will have this every two weeks, and the good thing is that it only takes about half an hour. Which is a plus for me, since I want to spend as little time in the chemo room as possible after one of the nurses yesterday saw a picture of Julia and asked if she was my grandbaby!

June

2009-07-24T23:03:00.001-04:00

2-year blogiversary!

2009-07-15T22:58:00.004-04:00

I think I made that word up, but whatever. It was two years ago Thursday that I started this little blog so Julia's aunts and our friends back home could see pictures of our sweet girl. Now, it's mostly a way to keep everyone up-to-date on Mike (with lots of pictures of our sweet girl thrown in...).

But check this out. Here is the first picture I posted of Julia back on July 16, 2007. It was taken the month before, when she was 7 months old. Look at those chubby little cheeks and chubby little arms! Her eyes were still blue, for goodness sakes! She had just started crawling and I think the only word she was saying was dada.

And here she is this week, a walking, tallking little person, whose likes to say the word "boobies" and can spell her name and read a host of Dr. Suess books.

Where did my baby go? How did this happen? And can someone tell me how to make it stop?
(A side note about this photo. We took Julia to the fountains in Cocoa Village this week to play with two of her little friends. From the photo, you would never know that she screamed and cried and wouldn't get anywhere near the water...)

And one last picture, this one for the aunties. Julia and her cousins Nick and Madison this weekend at UCF. And no, Julia didn't give Nick the black eye! It was a basketball injury. By the way, Lisa, how can it be that your baby is turning 17 next week? You must be feeling just like I am!

Like a fish

2009-07-13T23:06:00.003-04:00

That phrase could be used to describe how Julia swims now that she's graduated from McLarty Swim School or how Mama drinks after suffering through those two weeks...

Actually it wasn't too bad.

Except for when Julia had to go under water. Man, she did not care for that. The best thing was that Julia would whine and fuss after the daily dunking, and then later would act like she had the best time in the world. Once, as soon as she got out of the pool after having thrown a fit, she declared "That was fun!" Aye yi yi...

Clearly, she had a fabulous time in the baby pool. The class would start out there for a few minutes before moving on the big pool...

She was the star kicker in the class!

But this was about as close as she got to floating on her back. She wouldn't get her head anywhere near the water. She probably didn't want to mess up her hair!