Friday, July 12, 2019

Labs. Stabs.

* Post drafted Thursday-

More and more lately we hear stories of new diagnosis'.  Cancer rearing its ugly head out-n-about in the pastures of this Earth. Friends of friends reaching out to us for advice.  Or the sweet request to "get in touch" with so-and-so because their nephew, or son/daughter just newly diagnosed in need of words of comfort.  

And so we (me, more than Kris or Bill OR Kali...) will reach out with kindness.  Comforting words, or at least trying to comfort another human, stranger, friend, or whomever needs that blanket of kindness during the most f'd up chapter of their life.  

Deep deep down, I know their lives are changed forever.  And ever.



When you are in remission, healed, or in the fight, you hear encouraging words. Lots of them. And then you hear discouraging words.  A minor bump can turn into a major landmine.  It's a lifelong lifestyle change.  And there is not a damn thing you can do about it.  It's just the new way of life. 

Get therapy they say.
Good luck with that.
Pray harder and hand it to God.
Good luck with that.
Stay strong and keep keeping on.
Good luck with that.

Sorry not sorry, just being super truthful here.
I do pray.
I pray all gosh darn day.
And most nights...all night.

This new life.

The ol' sayin'...."It is what it is".....

Kris is thee most courageous and positive person I know on this subject.  Maybe it's because I've watched first hand, the pain. The shock.  The torture he's endured is indescribable..

Three and half years after stem cells filtered into his body and we still have side effects.  Yes, I say we.  

Moms are the warriors (well at least I am) forever

I will fight beside him for as long as I am here.

July 2019- You guys doesn't he look so good!?!


He has a pretty big bump that turned up on his nose a couple months ago.  He mentioned it to me, Kali mentioned it to me.  We've all stared at it.  Trying to avoid the obvious.  Until a couple weeks ago, he asked I make an appointment. (Transplant patients are at high risk from all the radiation to develop gunk *cancer on their bodies, noses and faces to be specific)

Folks that have been in the ring of any sort of fight, NEVER ever like to go to the doctors.  It just relives shit-storms. 

After getting to his regular doctor for a referral to dermatology, we'd have to wait a week and a half.  This is after Lisa being Lisa called rockin' some boats. 

Monday night Kris expressed he wanted labs done.

Then Tuesday morning he really was anxious about this scabby, larger bump.   (Skipper jumped up last week and ripped half of it off)

"Mom, can you call and see if I can get in, and can you also see about getting my labs in, I haven't really been feeling that great"

------------>  This is where your friend Lisa, the mom, literally gets s.i.d.e.w.a.y.s  Poop fest.
Gurgle belly. Dry mouth. Get.Out.Of.Her.Way - Mode. 
She walks around in a haze. Starts calling oncology.  Calls Dermatology.  Calls Bone Marrow team.
She becomes a zombie and there isn't a thing on this Earth that can settle her.
Something I am not proud of, please know this.

Texting my best friends, and hugging Bill the minute I see him.  Because deep down in my fucked up overthinking brain, I just know it's back. I go places in my mind that no human deserves to be in.  I walk into my office explaining to my work family that I am not right in my mind. To please bear with me.  I cut stupid questions short.  I filter rude, manner-less humans that call very short.  

I hate this part of the ride. 

I want off.

I don't want my son to feel bad.

I don't want the bump to show anything.

The text as he arrives at labs.
Because I know within hours I will be staring at my computer reading them out loud.
Logging in with sweaty arms, and shaky typing fingers.

I check labs before the doctors. 

Kris waits. 

For me.

We both know the drill. 

We both chat through the phone with positive love, and yet we know, it all just sucks.

He went to get the biopsy on Tuesday.  

He did labs yesterday. (Wed)

And within an hour of labs, they post.  He actually was the one that texted me.  "Mom, labs are in, they look fine"

I log in, frantically scrolling through them all.  

Of course, I am shaking and begin to cry.

Here's the thing.....

I HATE IT.

I am embarrassed. 

I apologize to my employees.  To those that literally deal with my anxiety.

We're waiting on the biopsy, and the last of the labs that filter through Kaiser over to City Of Hope
(His chromosome testing)-

I send the results to Carmen, and to Shelley. Both medical humans.  Both give me huge hugs through the phone.

They both understand.

They both love me back no matter what.

We'll know the game plan for Kris' nose. What they'll decide once the results come in.

He's wearing a band-aid for now.  A shining spirit as always. His two dogs with him for comfort 24/7.  

He's an example of "you never know what one is going through" until you actually know.

Keep praying.  Keep your faith.  And don't give up.  Even when you're stabbed with labs.

It's this life.

It's our life.

Somehow we were handed this book to write.

I am most lucky to sit next to him some days and laugh through the what-if's and lab day shit-storms.

Some folks don't get the chance.

ps. Please send good juju for this nose-bump biopsy to offer the better news over the bad!

My love to you,



14 year old Kali.


Finally got a chance to get caught up with Miss.Kali last night as I walked the salty-air beach, hearing about her week.  It was a good one. She achieved some big goals, and went beyond some others.  Getting rewarded by the big bosses, and loved on by her colleagues.   

Is there anything better than to hear happiness in your kids' voice?

Is there anything better than to stare at good labs or decent ones at least?

Is there anything better than a Friday?  

Well, maybe Happy Hour..

I hope you guys finish this day off however, and whatever makes you feel good. 

We're workin hard, and lovin' harder!


This Mama Lisa


10 years ago.  And Bill never changes.  I swear.  And my nose looks big.

k bye.

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