Cancer Conversation

After teaching the same novels year after year, I grow attached to lines in them—phrases which speak volumes in just a few words. I often randomly quote authors and make meaning of situations through comparisons. I know I’m quirky…I’ll admit that much.:)  Last night I couldn’t find in my brain the phrase I was looking for…but I knew it would surface sooner or later… what I needed was written somewhere. Which book was it?

Unfortunately this mind search came from being caught off guard by a cancer conversation I didn’t ask for.  Many times people will approach our family with their ‘cancer story.’ Often Jace will be with me, and the topic turns to who recently died from cancer. He’ll grab my hand silently and squeeze it. Together we look for a way to bolt—to just sprint away--  but many times we hear the worst before we can escape. I’m not sure what people are thinking when they spit out the words death, dying, died, in front of Jace. Come on people, right?

Luckily when I was accosted last night I was alone.  Basically a total stranger who knows nothing about me or my Jace told me I was a bad mom for allowing Jace to have chemotherapy. She said, “When you really want to do the right thing, educate yourself and find out what really kills cancer- because it’s not chemo. His cancer will come back. You can count on that.”  She said more, but I’ll spare you the details…

I stood there in shock, and felt like someone had just repeatedly hit me in the stomach.  After realizing she wasn’t letting up I mumbled something (no idea what), and walked away.  I managed to make it to my car before the sobs came…and a few hours later I realized maybe I just needed a good cry.  Why did I allow someone I didn’t know make me feel so horrible?  Especially when Matt and I have done everything we can to do the right things for Jace.

Then I found the fitting phrase in my brain.  It was about crying. “...Cry about the simple hell people give other people—without even thinking.” It comes from To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.  In the context of the book, a child is crying, and an adult explains why.  I actually think it’s ‘mindless hell’ that people give—because mostly, people just don’t think about what they are saying… they can’t be thinking, correct? …Because nobody in their right mind would purposely infer to a 9 year old (or his mom) that his cancer won’t go away…    

(Jace on Crazy Socks day at school)

By the way, thanks again for the nice comments lately, ha ha. I appreciate them. You'd think it would get easier to get through this with time, but I'm still so weak.  I really do love knowing you are out there.

Love you all.

Thank You

Thank you for your honest, sincere thoughts. If you are really reading then I'll continue writing publicly, and with your permission I'll vent once in a while too.  My heart is full with the kind things you said-- so in a few months I may need you to mass comment just to buoy me again.:)  Although in most situations I've appreciated the lack of conversation when it comes to Jace,  once in a while it's nice when someone acknowledges that he's still in treatment. Hands down the most common comment I hear about Jace is, "He looks so good! He's not still having chemo is he? I thought he was over that."

We did leave his February treatment counting on TWO HANDS the treatments he has left: 9 months; 3 LPs and 9 total IV Vincristine treatments....woo hoo!  The talk lately with the doctors is that of removing his Port-a-Cath.  Jace wants to play Grid Kid Football this fall, but he has that dang Port sticking up and off his ribs. I have really been campaigning steadily against football- but what do moms know?  I also thought BOTH docs would be on my side, but when I gingerly asked them (in front of Jace) if..."Tennis isn't a better option? or Golf?..." every man (including Hayden, Matt, the Docs, and Jace) in the room acted like the traitors they are and said football will be fine!

Jace's awesome nurses have also been talking to him about making a "WISH."  We were told in the beginning of treatments that Jace would be a candidate for "Make-A-Wish," but we really have been so consumed with treatments and life-- that we haven't given it much thought. Even now, Jace is having a really hard time concentrating on it.  His very first response to...If you could have anything in the world, what would it be??? was: "I wish there was no cancer."


There was a cute toddler finishing his last chemo treatment at the doctor's office the last time we were there. The nurses brought the boy into Jace's room and introduced them.  I watched as Jace sat up to talk to the two-year-old, and I cried a little when Jace talked in a soft, cute voice looking directly into the little guy's eyes.  Then Jace reached his fist out and pounded knuckles with his cancer brother.   Talk about powerful.

Thank you again for staying with us. I quit Facebook, but if you don't comment here, I'd love to hear from you via email:  mattnamyleigh@msn.com

Love you all.

Going Private?

(Jace during February chemo treatment)

So, I opened the laptop just now with every intention of making this blog private immediately. Matt and I have discussed doing this lately for many reasons. We aren't sure anyone reads it anymore anyway.:) We don't get many comments, and I don't really even know who I'm writing for. Also, sometimes I have something to say, but feel it's negative or it might come off ungrateful- so then I don't write at all- and I really DO want to record the whole journey. Making the blog private seemed like a good way to preserve it, and continue to write without worrying...


Then, I noticed there was actually a new comment on the last post. (Thank you Nicole. You said just the right things.:)) Does this blog bless others? It's an interesting concept. The truth is we are entirely finished with being in the spotlight...the attention we received in the beginning saved us...but we are SO ok with NOT being known as the family enduring cancer.  But if somehow this blogs makes a difference, then maybe it's worth something. Does anyone have any thoughts for me?

Jace just crawled into my lap.  He barely fits now...curled up into a ball, his long skinny legs touch his chin. I wrapped my arms entirely around him and kissed his head.  I love him so much.  He's getting so big...and old...would you believe he wears a size 7.5 in men's shoes despite having poison pumped into his body for the last 2.5 years??

He's been sick for a week from his February chemo. Every day we wake up hoping it will be the day he feels entirely better, but this month took a little longer. He missed 6 days of school.  I really do see so many good things about his treatments, but three years of chemo is a long run- and we've never really been runners. It makes us tired, and it hurts. Is this coming off as ungrateful?