Plowing

I'm with Dad in Ohio. The girls and I flew in on Sunday. We climbed the skies over Madison to look down at a white blanket across Wisconsin. We descended in Cleveland over a bleak, brown landscape. But last night and today the snow fell and brightened things up around here.

Even though Dad's doing well, re-entry into his world is always a bit of a shock. This whole situation still seems surreal. I can't help but think back 8 months when Dad and Linda came to Madison for Easter. Dad installed French doors in my office, we tooled around town, life was good. Then on May 2, I was at my computer doing some work. It was a Sunday. Scott had taken the kids to church and to run errands. He suddenly burst in on my peaceful moment and said, "Your dad had a stroke." Linda had called him. Of course the rest is history -- we learned it wasn't a stroke, it was brain cancer. Two brain surgeries, rounds of radiation and chemo, seizures, hospitals, Dad's move to Madison, tears, a long list of medications, doctors and nurses and therapists ... Did this all really happen?

It must have, because Dad has aged about 30 years since April.

Today Dad had a good day. His pain from the cracked rib was minimal, he was in a decent mood and his speech and comprehension were at about a 75 percent. I know, I should be glad. But, like I said, re-entry is tough. Instead, today I couldn't help but focus on how much things have changed. This morning we took the kids to Toys 'R Us to spend their gift cards from Linda. HUGE treat for the girls. They wanted Grandpa to come help them find their loot, but he didn't even want to join us. The pre-May Bill would always be up for any activity with his girls -- even shopping! I had to practically force him to ride along. Then we get in Linda's Prius and dumb me forgot how to turn it on without using a key. It's strange enough that I'm the driver with auto-man Bill as passenger, but Dad couldn't quite remember how to run this car either. Pre-May Bill lived for cars, took them apart and put them back together, tinkered with engines as if they were toys.

It's just little things like this that illustrate the big losses. But even among the wreckage, you can still see bright spots ...

We got about 5 inches of snow, so I offered to plow Dad's driveway, which is long and large. Pre-May Bill wouldn't have dreamed of having me invade his space and take over his chores. But Dad just said, "Sure, go ahead." So I put on Dad's Carhartts and Linda's work boots, tromped in the snow to the barn and found the plow. The tractor wouldn't start but I knew from Dad's (nagging) lessons that I had to use the choke. Got it running, brought it up to the garage, and Dad put air in the front left tire. Started plowing and got stuck. "Go get the chains. You need the chains," Dad said. So back to the barn to look for the chains, which I couldn't find. Dad found them and brought them up to the garage. I jacked up the back of the tractor as Dad tried to explain how to put chains on the wheels. Between the two of us, we did it. Mostly I did it, with Dad's direction.

Then I plowed the whole damn driveway. And I was proud of myself. Dad stood in the garage watching me for the longest time. When I finished he laughed and said, "Lisa, you did it! You did great!" That's what made me proud, my Dad telling me that I did something well. You're never too old to be patted on the back by a parent. The rest of the day he smiled at me and mentioned how neat it was to see me plowing. "Lisa, I am impressed."

What was once second nature to him is now impossible, yet he's still such a great man that he's able to applaud me for doing a half-ass job.

So while I mourned the loss of that pre-May Bill, I was also grateful to have any kind of Bill. He may not be plowing driveways or driving me around in the snow or doing all the many manly things he used to do, but he's still an amazing man to me, and I love him.

Message from Linda

Dad fell a few days ago and cracked a rib. As if he needed that. But I just talked to him this morning, and he seems -- somehow -- to be in good spirits. He's looking forward to our visit in a few days. The girls and I fly to Cleveland on the 27th to stay for a full week! So let's hope that means more frequent updates on the blog.

In the meantime, Merry Christmas to all. Here's hoping my dad sees some good days. Here's wishing my friends and family and those everywhere who are sad or suffering find some light in their lives.

And here's a note to all from Linda:

"I could not get to Christmas cards this year, but I want to thank everyone for all their encouragement, contact and well wishes to Bill and to me throughout these past months. Our hearts are constantly warmed by the thoughts of our families and friends who love Bill and reach out to us with thoughts, cards and visits. While I did not get the cards sent I certainly want everyone to know you are a real blessing in our lives and have made our difficult times much better and our good days really shine. We warmly wish everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year."

News from latest appointment

On December 8, Dad had his monthly appointment at Cleveland Clinic. Always tense waiting for results. But results are good! The tumor is stable! No signs of growth and in fact a diminished size in the area that they are following.

The docs explained that Dad's symptoms of slight confusion and speech/comprehension challenges are actually lingering affects of radiation, which killed both good and bad cells. So three months out from his last radiation treatment, he should not be getting any worse in those areas, and may get better. More good news!

Medication regime continues to be complicated, and docs are doing their best to make a chemical cocktail for Dad -- his anti-swelling meds, anti-seizure meds, etc. -- that is therapeutic yet doesn't adversely affect him. He's been experiencing mood swings and muscle pain. And he lapses in and out of a good realm of communication. Some days he speaks so clearly and understands everything you say. Sometimes his speech is garbled and he can barely have a conversation. It's so tough to know why this is happening. Docs are trying to wean him off the steroid (Decadron) because that definitely has long-term negative affects. But decreasing that dosage has given him a variety of problems. It's a constant struggle.

Docs also gave him additional PT, OT and speech therapy. This is more good news! Dad thrives when he's working to improve himself. It makes him feel good, and that alone is worth it. We've also hired a nurse -- Nurse Larry -- to stay with Dad three mornings a week and help him with various chores and errands. Dad was quite resistant to this at first -- no one likes to lose their independence -- but he's getting used to the idea and I think has enjoyed Larry's company.

So all of the above is a nice Christmas gift for us.

However, Dad was depressed after that appointment. It's been difficult to explain to him his prognosis, and we haven't really done so -- why would we? Nobody can know for sure where this will go. But on Tuesday, the doctors talked in detail to Dad about the fact that he still has a cancerous brain tumor that they cannot remove with surgery. Dad wasn't fully aware of this. He said to the doctors, "I know I have a grade 4 tumor, and isn't that bad?" They responded that yes, it's not the best scenario, but that Dad's responding so well to treatment -- better than they expected. Docs put the MRI scans on the computer to show Dad the 1-inch area that's affected in his brain. This is the first time he'd seen any scans. Linda said he was pretty shocked. Nothing like being hit in the head with the fact that you have the worst kind of brain cancer.

But I talked to him yesterday evening, and he seemed a bit better. Still talking about the dire situation, but was able to perk up when I told him that the girls and I would be spending a week with him after Christmas, then Heather and Charlotte will probably come out for a week in January.

At Thanksgiving, Heather and I dug out old slides from the 50s through 80s. Dad has hundreds of them. What a tremendous gift it was to sit with Dad and see so many images of our happy life together. Skiing, boating, vacations, all our old pets, school days, work days, extended family, building a house, making a home together. Dad expressed over and over how happy he was to see those slides. So I brought the whole load of them back to Madison, bought a slide scanner and am going to put them all in digital form for him. Hope to have a bunch printed out and in a photo book for Christmas. Heather is doing the same thing with old pictures. I think we really feel a great need to tell Dad just how much he means to us.

Act of love

Back in Madison, but thinking about what a lovely time we had with Dad and Linda. Bill was beside himself with happiness, having his 6 girls (and 3 guys!) around him. He seemed to have good energy, GREAT appetite and amazing ability to communicate. I thought it would be a struggle and frustrating for him. No. He had no problems hopping right in the middle of conversations, and cracking jokes left and right.

He did look kinda rough -- as you can see from some pictures, below. He's still got the black eye from his fall, and he's all puffed up. It's from the steroids. He's still on 6 mg and probably won't be kicked back on the dosage. Linda will hear more on that at his Dec. 8 appointment. But he looks worse than he feels!

A highlight for Heather and I (and Bill) was the opportunity to record almost three hours of interviews with Dad through the StoryCorps program. From the website: "Since 2003, over 50,000 people have shared life stories with family and friends through StoryCorps. Each conversation is recorded on a free CD to share, and is preserved at the Library of Congress. StoryCorps is one of the largest oral history projects of its kind, and millions listen to our broadcasts on public radio and the web."

The StoryCorps motto is: Listening is an Act of Love. And now I totally get that.

If you listen to NPR on Friday mornings, you'll hear StoryCorps snippets that will make you cry. I am a big fan of this project and was totally excited to be able to record Dad and his stories about boating, skiing, working, kids and wives, school, cars, his parents, life and death, so much more! I wasn't sure how it'd go, since Dad's had a hard time with his speech. But wow. He talked our ears off, made us laugh and cry and both at the same time. I should get the CDs in a few weeks and will try to share some stuff.

Another highlight was spending an evening with the Borns at Aunt Donna’s house on Saturday evening. It’s only about once a year that I get to be together with mom’s family. Heather and I grew up having about 10 aunts and uncles and 20+ cousins within a 10-mile radius of our house, so our extended family became our nuclear family. And they’ve embraced Dad and helped him through all this stuff. So, thanks Aunt D., thanks all you Borns. (Jason, I still don’t buy the LTD story…..)

Enjoy the pix!

Thanksgiving and beyond

Dad's napping after another long day capped off with turkey leftovers. Thanksgiving lived up to its name around here. Bill soaked up every moment with his family him. We all did.

I started the day with another run on the rails-to-trails path down the road from Dad's house, in the small town of Kipton. Tried to just clear my mind before returning home to a cooking frenzy. Heather, Linda and I then rolled up our sleeves and spent hours in the kitchen preparing the turkey, stuffing, cheesy potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green beans, salad and homemade cranberry sauce. Linda bought the desserts from her school's culinary program -- those are some talented young chefs!

As Heather said, Dad's great to cook for because he'll say he loves just about anything you put in front of him. But this truly was a scrumptious meal. We started off by tipping back some special whiskey that Dad and Linda brought back from Scotland. Smooooooth stuff. One of the many things I love about my Dad is his ability to truly enjoy things and talk about them as he's doing it. He really savored that shot and explained exactly why -- even through his somewhat limited speech.

After our big meal, we wobbled around for a few hours, watched football, played with the kids, then dug into dessert and more wine. And more wine. And laughing, sitting at the table with candles. Talking about how happy we were to be in this moment and all together.

Truly a day to give thanks.

Today brought some cold weather, but it didn't deter us from heading to Castalia for a visit to a place called Back to the Wild. It's a wildlife rehabilitation and nature education center. Dad and Linda had been there once before. Through bitter wind we walked around to see eagles, hawks, the most beautiful owls, pheasants, bobcats, kestrels, and a bunch of snakes and turtles. Dad was totally engaged -- he loves animals -- and asked our guide a bunch of questions.

Near one of the eagle areas, Dad started looking down at the brick pavers with names of donors engraved. "Look, Lisa, here it is." Turns out he donated to this place in his mom and my mom's names. He found his brick. So we took a picture and he said something like, "This is a really worthy place for animals." And it was. Dad's generosity never ceases to amaze me.

Well, must go. Linda's son (my step-bro!) just arrived, and we're going to watch some old slides tonight. Life continues to be good.

Ohio, day 2

Wish the weather were better, but it is November 25 in northern Ohio. At least I got to take a run on the Kipton path today, through some light drizzle.

Dad's doing well. He's been patient with three wild girls tearing around his house. So has Linda, who, by the way, is incredible. Her positive attitude is tempered with just enough realism to make Dad and the rest of us feel comfortable and so thankful for her presence in our lives. It's been relaxing just to sit at the kitchen table, drinking tea with Dad and watching the girls draw pictures. We talked about Christmas plans, lighthouse lamps, food, jobs, Elsa the cat. And we just laughed.

Had fun playing Pictionary with Bill. Dad's never been a game player -- that was always mom's role. But he sure enjoyed playing with me, Heather and Anna and MJ. He jumped right in to guess and even drew some pictures, one pretty good one illustrating the word "toupee." Afterward he looked at his drawing and said, "Geez, that doesn't look at all like a man's head!" I took some good pictures but of course don't have the right technology to upload them to the blog.

Also have to share pictures from a trip to Uncle Jim's. Heather and I took our girls to the farm today. They're definitely city kids! Didn't like the smell of manure! And Mary Jane was freaked out by the hay barn with all the holes in the floor. Anna and I climbed to the top of the stacks and talked about how Heather and I and all our cousins spent so much time in this barn, horsing around, riding bales from top to bottom. Surprised we didn't have more broken bones among us. The girls also got up on the big tractors. Charlotte was ready to drive them through the fields!

Tomorrow's the big day. We'll have a simple Thanksgiving dinner at Dad's. Heather and I did grocery shopping at IGA in Oberlin today (and saw our lovely cousin Erica!), so we're all set.

Part of me feels like I should be sad or depressed. But I'm not. I'm not thinking too far ahead, just enjoying these days. Thankful.

Back in Ohio

After an uneventful 8-hour drive, we made it to Henrietta Township late this afternoon. Things look unchanged here on Becker Road. Dad's yard is impeccable, the woods has settled in to fall mode, the cars and motorcycles and scooters and truck are tucked away in the barn.

I thought it might be an emotional reunion for me. The last time I saw Bill was when I escorted him to his seat on a small plane taking off from Madison, back in August. I had to get special access to accompany him all the way to his seat, and I so wanted to fly with him! I remember feeling like a parent sending her child away. The tears that day were heavy.

But Dad opened his front door with the biggest smile plastered on his face, and that just put me at ease. "Oh, here they are! Lisa!" The guy was elated to see us and gave me the first of many bear hugs dispensed throughout the evening, accompanied by, "It's just so great to have you here."

Dad's speech and comprehension are surprisingly good. I was prepared for stilted conversation, but Bill had no problem communicating. Missed a few words here and there, but what the hell! I probably did, too. I'd say his appearance is a bit disconcerting. Steroids and maybe some more water weight gain have puffed up his face again to proportions we saw during the summer at its peak. He's like a chipmunk with full cheeks. So hope we can figure out how to get the swelling down.

Otherwise, Bill seemed content, cheerful, healthy. His happiest moment was giving Linda her pair of diamond earrings to match the ones he gave to me and Heather. "Well, now I have three happy women." I think those were Linda's Xmas gift. But he just couldn't wait. Dad's always been about pleasing the ladies! And a perfect Bill moment was when he yelled at Scott for sitting an empty beer bottle on the kitchen shelf: "Whoever put this here, you need to know they go out in the recycling, not on the counter!" It's comforting to know some things never change.

Of course I can't go on without mentioning the joy in seeing my sister and Chuck, and the cousins reunited. Charlotte followed around Anna and MJ like a puppy, and they absolutely adore her every move. Those three were inseparable. And Linda looks great. She's a strong and wonderful woman.

It's only be a few hours with Bill so far. Hopefully much more to report in the coming days.

'Tis the season for ...

Car shows and corn dryers! Heard a few snips on the radio this morning that reminded me of Dad and his varied life and talents.

Car show season kicks off early next month in LA. By January and February, rust belt cities will host their odes to all things auto. I'll have to ask him, but I wonder if Dad's ever missed a car show in Cleveland, or maybe even Detroit? He's gone with me, Heather, Mom, Linda, Gene, Joe, Lee, uncles, cousins, friends. I think once he took my grandma! There's a long list of people who've suffered through... I mean enjoyed his company for the 8+ hours he spends inside a huge arena of engines, slick brochures, rockin' music, grease and scantily clad women. (Hhhhhmmmmm, come to think of it, maybe he's not there for the cars ....)

Dad loves to see his old favorites -- the models he's owned or wished to own. And he's just as excited to learn more about concept cars and hybrids. If you go with him, plan on taking a backpack of survival gear because he WILL stay all day and into the night. He will talk to half of the sales people and get his picture taken with half the ladies standing around in bikinis. I haven't been to a car show with Dad in a long time, but I have heard reports from each show, each year. Here's a few pix of Dad and his beloved Prowler, just to emphasize his auto love and as a wish that he makes it to Cleveland or Detroit this winter. When he does, I will join him.

It's also harvest season across the Midwest, which means farmers better be getting their corn dryers in working condition. For years and years, Dad had a company called Beecheler Electric. This could have started when he was a kid, fixing appliances in his Dad's shop, but I know he had this company throughout our childhood and adolescent years because Beecheler Electric always sponsored my softball teams.

Dad of course had a full-time, high-stress job in the telecommunications industry for 30+ years. As if that wasn't enough, he spent many weeknights and weekends through each fall as the lone employee of Beecheler Electric, venturing far and wide to fix corn dryers. This was a self-taught skill, as far as I know. I think he must have learned on Uncle Bill and Jim's farm. But I just know there were many days he'd get home from his 8 to 6 job, eat a quick dinner, and drive -- sometimes for hours -- to fix a corn dryer on-farm. He'd get home anywhere from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m., then wake up and put on a suit and tie to head for the office again.

Dad recently told me how much money he made fixing corn dryers. It was enough to buy a nice boat and then some. Corn dryers are not inside a barn. They're free-standing in the middle of the all the weather elements. So through snow, sleet, freezing cold wind, dark, Dad was out there for hours and hours with his toolbox. I wonder what he was thinking besides, "Damn, it's cold and I'm tired!" Knowing him, he just thought, "Hey, this is what I gotta to do get ahead. No problem. At least I have legs, arms and skills." My Dad makes me feel very, very lazy. And thankful, in this season of thanks, for all his hard, hard work. He's an inspiration to me.

This isn't a picture of Dad fixing a corn dryer, but it's him in one of his work jackets on a winter day in front of his barn.

Fortifying

Dad gave me a beautiful pair of diamond earrings for my birthday. Someone drove him to a jewelry store and he picked them out and sent them to Madison. "I wanted you to have something really nice, Lisa, because you are just so great." I think Heather got a similar gift/sentiment in October.

I'm torn up.

Linda sent us an e-mail a few days ago that laid out the plain truth -- dad's deteriorating and probably not going to get much better. He'll have good and bad days, but possibly never really good days. And lately the bad seem to outnumber the good. His nurse clinician at Cleveland Clinic told Linda this is common progression for brain cancer. Linda thinks it's time we start looking into hiring a nurse for Dad when she's not around -- to keep him safe. When he feels okay, he's doing things like getting up on a ladder ... not a good idea. And Linda's health will soon suffer, too, if she doesn't get some help.

I'm torn up because I am so far away, unable to help. I quit my job -- for a variety of reasons -- but that should give me more flexibility to go stay with Dad for weeks at a time during the next months. To think about leaving my girls and Scott for weeks at a time ... But in church this morning my mind drifted during the sermon and I just kept thinking, "Lisa, start fortifying yourself."

Listen, I'm not trying to say the end is near or there is absolutely no hope (although hope seems to be fleeting). But I've got to face reality and muster strength to face whatever may be ahead for our family. I know so many people going through similar struggles. And I know there are millions of others going through even grander struggles. It's not like we're the first humans to be challenged. But I'm feeling particularly weak at the moment. I'm angry and incredibly sad. And tired. I want to get together with my sister and her family and Dad over the holidays and just laugh and enjoy. I don't want to look cancer in the face. But ... no choice in the matter.

Nine years ago this fall we started fortifying ourselves to face Mom's death. I was 7 months pregnant with Anna. Heather was newly engaged. Fall's always been my favorite time of year. It was Mom's favorite time, too. I can still hear her humming around the house, making her list of fall duties. She loved raking leaves and gathering the Borns for the holidays. She loved waking up at 4 a.m. on Thanksgiving to make a turkey. When we faced that awful fall of 2000, I thought I'd never again be able to enjoy this season. I started seeing it as the time of year when everything starts dying.

But it actually didn't take long for me to see that fall is the beginning of harvest season when seeds are born, fields are fed compost and things in general are prepared for a short nap before that burst of life in spring. So the end is also the beginning.

Again, I'm not trying to predict what's going to happen to Dad. Damn, maybe he will be cured! Wouldn't that be something??? Only someone as unique and stubborn as Bill would beat this bitch-of-a-disease.

Some good days

Please put Linda in your prayers. Sounds like she's doing okay, but she was diagnosed with shingles -- just what she needed! It sounds like they are under control and she's much better now, able to go to work.

Linda also provided this update on Dad via e-mail:

Just a quick note to let you know I think your dad is doing better. The weekend was still difficult but since Monday I am seeing a real difference. Better speech and also better writing, thinking, recall and personality qualities like humor and joking and not the tearful or negative mood. It must be the medicine making a difference. Also less edema in ankles and just all around I see improvement. Some of these are subtle changes, but still when I look at all the things, it is better. Physical therapy said he did not need them -- speech comes today I believe, and that should help.

We start today on only 4 mg of Prednisone (Yeah!) so that could be a factor. He spent several hours on mail and from the looks he did okay with that. I am so relieved. I am eager to see what the doctor thinks. The tumor board was to review his tests this week.

I talked to Dad today and echo what Linda, Heather and Scott have said: He sounds better -- more cheerful, laughing, not as emotional and better with his speech. In fact, today he spoke more full sentences than I've heard in quite awhile, including use of two big vocab words!

First, I told him Mary Jane's been sick and he responded that he felt bad about that, but, "At least she is building antibodies in her system." Way to go, Bill. Regaining some words.

We also talked about me leaving my job, which has been a major source of stress for the past several months. He knew the background, but I finally opened up and shared the whole story with Dad. As he's always been, he was there for me:

"Lisa, don't let this guy demoralize you!" (Demoralize! Good one, Dad!)

Dad boosted my spirits and confidence with just a few simple words: "Lisa, you're my girl. You're a great lady."

So remember when I said a few blogs ago that my days of getting advice from Dad were over -- guess I was wrong.

Dad told me to stay strong, have confidence in my work. Stand up for myself and stand up for what's right. "That's what I've taught you."

And he has. We ended with a laugh when he added, "Don't be exactly like me, but just very close." (tee hee!)

So maybe it's the change in his medication regimen, maybe his brain is healing from the trauma of the last six months. Whatever it is, I'm grateful Dad is seeing some good days. After what he's been through, he deserves a boatload of them.

Home again

Bill's back on Becker Road! It's a beautiful time of year in my hometown, like many other places. So I'm glad he's out of the hospital, able to look out the window at his trees.

Linda said Dad's discharge papers did list him as having a seizure, which would explain his fall and black eye. But I guess the primary problem was a seizure medication that has been giving him an array of ugly side affects. So docs decided to wean him off Vimpat and replace that with another seizure medication. Dad will be on seizure meds for the rest of his life. Seizures are one of the worst side affects of this kind of cancer. You just have to learn to control them if possible, and live with it.

Talked to Dad this morning, and he was cheerful, cracking jokes. Aunt Donna was there with him because a physical therapist was scheduled to stop by and assess household risks, such as stairs. So Dad was on the phone with me making jokes about Donna. They've known each other for about 40 years, so ribbing back and forth is totally acceptable.

"Yeah, Donna's here. She's gotta take care of me. Make sure I'm alive."

(Donna laughing in the background.)

"She's wearing a short skirt and looks real sexy!"

"Oh, Bill!" (More laughing from Aunt D.)

I got to talk to Aunt D. on the phone, too. She was like a second mother to me growing up. I had a few second families since we lived within 10 miles of 10 aunts and uncles (and a haywagon load of cousins). Heather and I grew up crossing fields to get to relatives' houses for play or food or just to join my mom, who'd drink gallons of coffee with her family each week.

Aunt Donna, especially, was a mother hen and took good care of all us crazy cousins. She kept us fed and kept us in line. She also had some terrific Halloween parties. Donna and Bill (and their kids Jason and Molly) lived in an old farmhouse built in the 1860s. Aunt Donna and Uncle Bill still live there, and Uncle Bill farms with Uncle Jim. The farmhouse is beautiful. Aunt D. has spent years going over every corner with polish, adding antique furniture, re-doing floors, hanging old spoons and utensils on the kitchen walls. I love that house. But when we were kids, we were all infatuated with and fearful of the cellar. It was a cellar, not a basement. Low ceilings, dirt floor, stone walls -- and dark. So Aunt D. invited us for Halloween parties in that cellar, where we witches and ghosties bobbed for apples and scared ourselves silly, and Uncle Bill would take us for hayrides.

This time of year it's fun to think about those parties, about mom raking acres of leaves, about Dad doing the final grass mowing, about those vibrant reds and purples and yellows and oranges in the woods where we grew up. I'm glad Dad's there to keep enjoying it.

Small setback

Bill's back at Cleveland Clinic. On Friday, he fell in the middle of the night and gave himself a black eye. Linda rushed him to the ER, and they thought it might have been another seizure. But it looks like he's having side affects from one of his seizure medications -- Vimpat. He's doing well at the hospital and possibly going home today. Doctors will be weaning him off Vimpat, thank goodness. I know these drugs are life-saving, but at high levels, like Dad's taking, they can be toxic.

I've talked to Dad several times. He's trying to stay positive but can't help but be discouraged with setbacks.

I'll keep you posted...

Phone call on a rainy day

Home from work today. Not feeling too good. Going through a job transition, and thought I would give Dad a call. He's always provided me with advice when times get tough and has been especially helpful when it comes to career questions.

Dad worked for Lorain Products/Marconi/Emerson (a telecommunications company) for 30 years. He started on an assembly line and retired in middle management. So he's seen it all, and done it all! He's not shy about telling stories that reveal his faults and at the same time he's happy to regal you with his tales of victory over tyrannical bosses and his steps up the corporate ladder. He worked hard for his company.

Through my own working years, I've appreciated his advice.

Back to my phone call. It didn't turn out how I'd hoped. First, I think I woke the poor guy up from a nap, although he tried to tell me he was doing a puzzle:

"Oh, hi Lisa. I'm just exercising my exercise. It's good for your brains." From that I surmised he was talking about the puzzle.

"Dad, what kind of puzzle is it?"

"Oh, you just take all these numbers and they don't go through the gates. It's hard to do. 1,000 puckles!"

"That sounds hard. Is it a lighthouse puzzle?" (Linda or Heather told me this.)

"Oh, what do ya call it? What do ya call it? ..."

"I think it's a lighthouse, Dad."

After this exchange, I thought career issues would be too confusing. But he did end with a clear statement: "I counted and I have five more lighthouses. I'll be glad when I get it done!"

We then talked -- in chunks -- about Mary Jane's upcoming birthday, about him cutting back on a certain medication, about his visit with my Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary from Florida, and about how he feels okay and how glad he is to have Linda. He's good. He gets up every morning at 6 a.m. and still does his exercises.

But this conversation was another step in what I call "shifting reality." This is tough stuff. After 30+ years, I realize that my Dad will probably not be the person I'll go to for advice anymore. Maybe this will change! But for now, Dad and I will talk about other things. I'll dig in my mind's archives to use all the advice he's given me in the past. Mainly I'll just follow the example he's set.

At the end of our chat, I told Dad he sounded good and I was glad he was doing well.

"Oh, I think I should be better, but Linda says I'm doing really good."

Clear as a bell.

Guinea pigs

Heather was home with Dad for about a week. Dad couldn't hide his glee from having his littlest girl with him. They did some work. (Heather was going to mow the lawn for Dad, which is a big job. Dad probably has an acre of lawn. But he hopped on the mower to show her how he wanted it done and ended up doing it himself. This after not feeling well in the morning due to monthly chemo...) They chatted, took walks. Maybe Heather can provide a full blog/report?

It was Heather's b-day on the 6th, so Dad took her to a local jewelry/art store and let her pick out a beautiful necklace. Dad is constantly thinking of other people, how to make them happy. Seeing his ability to help people shine makes him feel good, as it should. Linda made a birthday cake for Heather and they celebrated. Dad's celebrated 34 birthdays with Heather, 37 with me. That's pretty incredible when you think about it. He was there in the beginning, and he's still here. Heather sent me some pictures from family albums that I thought I'd share to show a snapshot of happy life in the Beecheler family.

Thinking about my life goals lately -- career, family, etc. Tossing around the idea of getting a PhD, writing a book, travel. But once all that stuff swirled in my head awhile, I thought of Dad, looking back at his life. I bet he'd say his greatest accomplishment is Heather and me. And I realize that my only real goal is to grow a healthy, happy family, like he did.

These pictures really say a lot if you look closely. Heather and I often fought like cats and dogs (maybe it was more like kittens and pups), but we loved each other deeply. We had a very silly adoration that included code words, made-up songs and just goofiness. I look at my two girls with a "deja-vu" as they sing their own compositions, call everything "funky," and call me "momster."

You can look up in that second pic and see Heather's ghingham yellow sheets and flower wallpaper. Is that the funniest shot or what?! Anna and MJ have held on to this guinea pig shot like it was a signed picture of Zac Efron (for Anna) or Luke Sywalker (for MJ). Living on an acreage Heather and I had pets galore -- cats, dogs, rabbits, turtles (temporarily, until we released them in the neighbor's pond) sheep, goats, a few cows. Now my kids beg me for "Just one guinea pig!!!" We'll see...

Dad made sure we had happiness, whatever form that came in at the time, even it it squealed and ate carrots and lived in a cage.

Spiders

My friend Janel writes in her blog religiously. Sometimes she'll skip a Friday night, but otherwise she provides the many followers of her daughter Ally with constant news, anecdotes, prayer pleas, thank-yous, pictures and honest commentary on Ally's battle with leukemia. Like hundreds of others, I'm a loyal follower and read her blog daily. I'm saddened by it, but also inspired by her, Ally and their army of family and friends rallying around one little 7-year-old girl.

Why haven't I -- as a writer, without a sick child, with a need to address my family's battle, with a promise to many folks to share Dad's news -- been able to blog?

I've brooded over this for weeks now since my dad left. Tell myself I don't have time, too busy with work, kids, life. Tell myself there's nothing to say -- I only talk to Dad on the phone and he's not physically here for me to observe.

Truth is I have lots to say (those of you who know me well aren't surprised at that!). But I haven't had the courage to say it. Or, rather, I haven't summoned my courage.

I hereby summon my courage.

I did need some time off after the Summer of Cancer. When Dad left I went from feeling empty to depressed to angry and then started to pretend this nightmare never happened. Then I talk to Dad on the phone, hear his muddled speech and mourning of his old life. Hear doctor reports from Linda (everything is still okay), hear reports from Heather's visit ...

Guess what -- it hasn't gone away. Dad is still battling brain cancer.

And onward we all go. Heather from Maryland, me from Wisconsin and Dad and Linda back in Ohio. We are all trying to integrate our "normal" lives with the cold, hard truth that Dad's disease is still with us. That's difficult, but we have to blend everything together and experience the highs and lows together. Otherwise, life -- with all it's wrinkles and ugliness and joy -- walks on and you're left holding a bunch of empty hours.

I hope I haven't lost too many followers. But, I am going to do my best to continue to document our story since it's kind of like breathing for me. Can't hold my breath much longer.

This same thing happened to me when Mom was sick: By the end of the summer with Dad, I started wondering if I had health problems. Just felt tired and weak. I felt like I aged 10 years in three months. In September, a group of my dear Madison friends did a team triathlon. They rocked it! I was supposed to join the fun, but felt totally inadequate. But the day of the race was beautiful -- I decided to take a long bike ride in honor of my pals and as a promise to commit to exercising and feeling strong again. I rode out on the trail to Sauk City in the early morning. The air was a bit cool, colors popped on the landscape like an oil painting. The muscles in my legs cooperated with my need for speed. My mind cleared. I peddled out about 8 miles and turned around.

On the way back, I saw an illusion. Either an illusion or just a splendid gift. Rounding a corner, with a hillside on my right that faced the rising sun, I widened my eyes to hundreds and hundreds of spider webs, glowing. I doubt I can adequately describe the scene, but for a good 1/4 mile, I was met with these glittery, silver webs glued to grasses like banners. I imagined each web as an important person in my life, holding a sign: Go, Lisa! Go Heather and Linda! You can do it! Three cheers for Bill! We love you all! It was truly a spiritual experience. I keep thinking, "I wish I would have thought to take a picture with my phone." But, it was so surreal, it could have been a strange mirage and the picture would have shown an empty hillside.

This vision is all the more important and meaningful because I remember Dad's cancer at one time being described like spiders or webs or vines streaking through his brain. So to me, the hillside spiders represent a way to turn the cancer into something positive, and hopeful.

My hope is more frequent blogging, documenting happy and sad. My posts from here on out might be a bit different than those in the past. But they are what they are, and it's not required reading. :)

More to come soon on Bill.

Still chugging along

Another update from Linda:

We heard from the Bill's doctor's nurse tonight (Sept. 22), and Bill's lab work looks good. He has felt terrible for 5 days -- dizzy, double vision, weak, discouraged and grouchy...couldn't talk right and trouble understanding. Was it medicine, was it the decrease in Decadron? We don't know but the good news is Bill feels much better today. Nurse Mary said that is the way it is. There are ups and downs and hopefully this up will last.

Despite feeling like a truck ran over him, Bill wanted to get out, and we did. We rode the Cuyahoga Valley Railroad and had a lovely early fall day going to Peninsula for an afternoon. Bill rested under a tree and watched the river and I walked to some shops. Some photos of our day are below.

Did I tell you I work with great people at the JVS? They are the best co-workers, bosses and friends. When Bill had all his pills mixed up, I asked to leave and ran home mid morning from our busy clinic and straightened out the confusion and called our wonderful neighbors Pat and Bob Fraunfelder to make house calls on Bill. It all worked out fine. We are truly blessed and grateful for all the help and understanding.

Staying busy

Dad and Linda have enjoyed friends and family and even some "field trips" ... Some notes and pictures from Linda:

This first picture is Jerry's party. It was so good. The Born's have all been so wonderful -- many thanks to Jerry for hosting the great party. Also, their daily visits and support are helping Bill through many rough spots with great love and laughter. Bill has loved his visits to the farm and talking with the guys.


Joe Plezia organized a lunch for Bill with a great food (as always) and did all the cooking as well. Delicious, and a fun time celebrating Gene's birthday. We are so fortunate to have these great friends and it meant so much to Bill. We were going to go to Joe's, but Bill was not feeling real well so Joe packed everything up and we moved the gathering to Bill's deck and had a lovely afternoon.

This picture is from the Cushman (motor scooter) meeting with his great friend, buddy and the husband of his cousin Carol, Al Murphy -- or "Murph," as Bill calls him.

The next shots are from the zoo -- one of Bill pointing out his mother's name noted on a plaque from a donation he made for her and another of giraffes that Bill loves and has fed and petted many times. Over the years we have adopted many animals (gorillas, hippos, giraffes, wolves, tigers were some of his favorites) and love and support the zoo, especially enjoying all their educational programs.



It has not been easy for my Dad. The pictures tell one story; his daily experience tells another. He gets depressed and is mourning the loss of his prior life. He wants to do many things that he just cannot do right now. He's still incredibly frustrated with his communication difficulties. But in spite of all these challenges, he moves forward. He and Linda, as they always have, embrace life.

I have conversations with him on the phone and try to engage him in things to take his mind off the cancer -- the kids, cars, and just today: Ironman Wisconsin. Scott and I and the kids went downtown Madison yesterday evening to see uber-athletes compete in the 2.5-mile swim/112-mile bike/26-mile run that ended at the Capitol Square in downtown Madison. It was truly amazing to watch these Iron men and women cross the finish line. Dad was astounded as I told him about the race, and he kept saying, "Geez! Wow! No kidding!" He had a bunch of questions, and it felt like old times -- an easy conversation with my Pops. My Ironman.

Life goes on

Greetings from Wisconsin and apologies for the lag in blogging. I must admit that I needed a break. Having Dad back in Ohio, it took us cheeseheads awhile to get back into our routines. Now we have the kids in the school, cool weather and the return of another fall.

As for Dad, he's back to his routines on Becker Road, too. He's enjoyed re-connecting with family and friends and of course Linda. It sounds like his favorite activity has been making daily treks to the farm to see Bill and Jim and "roll the cob" with them. Dad feels best when he can be independent and people treat him like the old Bill. He's emphasized over and over that he doesn't want to be coddled. He's happy getting his own meals, tinkering with stuff around the house, reading, talking on the phone and making those trips to the farm.

This morning there was an incident during his farm walk -- he got dizzy and fell down. It sounds like my old bus driver picked him up in the school bus and brought him home. His neighbors and Uncle Bill have checked in on him, as have Heather and I via phone, and he seems to be okay. We'll continue to monitor him throughout the day, but sounds like it was just a weird glitch. Things like this discourage him, though. Bill wants to be Bill and just do his thing. Of course the disease may have other plans now and then. He'll keep fighting it. Ups and downs, ups and downs.

Heather and I have plans to see Dad each month at least through November. September, he'll be back in Madison for a week for follow-up MRI and appointments with his UW team. October, it sounds like Heather's planning a visit to Ohio. Then November, Thanksgiving with the Born family and a week at Dad's house.

I've had some time to reflect, but not enough time. I need to gather thoughts like ducklings and let them follow me around for awhile until I'm ready to lead them to the pond (blog). It's a lot to absorb. Four months ago, pre-brain tumor, things seemed pretty simple. Now, not so much.

Back to Dad -- Here's another plea to give him a call and/or visit. You would brighten his day, and there's not a man that shows his gratitude better than Dad. So you'd feel good, too.

Welcome Home

Hi, friends and family! It's Heather, your "surprise guest blogger." I am honored to be writing to you all about Dad's first weekend back on Becker Road. Chuck, Charlotte and I (oh, and our dog, Amelia too) decided to drive to Ohio to help Dad get settled in back home and to attend a welcome home party for Dad thrown by my Uncle Jerry. It was really a nice weekend. The best part was seeing how well Dad is doing and how happy he was to be home. Dad said when he first got home he "didn't know where anything was", but with in a day or so he was back to all his routines and giving all of us instructions on using the alarm, sorting trash (from recycling to burning to dumpster, there's a spot for each piece of trash!), and yard work. I was happy to take his instructions, for a change! Physically he is really strong. One morning we walked all the way to the farm and back (about a mile round trip). Dad said he plans to resume his morning walks, so be sure to watch for him on Becker Road and stop to say hi if you see him!

The Born family was very excited to have Dad back home. Everyone wanted to see him, so my Uncle Jerry offered to throw a welcome home party in Dad's honor on Sunday. Leading up to the party Dad was a little worried about being able to communicate with his family (due to his continued speech difficulties). We all assured him he'd do fine and that the family would certainly be patient with him. And of course we were right! Dad had a really great time at the party. So many of the Borns came to welcome him home. Dad enjoyed joking around with all of my uncles and hugging and kissing all my aunts and cousins. Anyone who knows Dad, knows that he loves to be "ribbed" or teased. In Dad's eyes, the more you tease him, the more you love him. Believe me there was a lot of love going around at the party! When we got home Dad said "I know they all love me because they were really riding me." Dad went on to say that he didn't want anyone to feel sorry for him, he wants to be treated as he always has been. So, when you see Dad don't go easy on him!

It was sad to leave Dad today. But I felt good knowing he's back home, where he belongs. The summer in Wisconsin was the right choice for Dad and all of us. He was close to the hospital for treatments and we got to spend a lot of time together as a family. But seeing him back home, sitting in his favorite chair, puttering around in the garage, walking down Becker Road, was great. As I sit and write this post in Maryland I know Dad and Linda are together, at home, and that makes me smile.

A hard goodbye

Bill's now en route to his home on Becker Road. Just got back from the airport, where with a note from his medical team, I was able to escort him to the gate and even on the plane to help stow his carry-ons. He didn't really need my help ... but it gave us extra time together and he didn't have to sit at the airport alone.

Man, was I emotional. Dad arrived in Madison on May 23. That was 96 days ago! Three months of living with someone and you get used to having him around. Sure, we had our moments, but for the most part we just enjoyed each other this summer. After three months, to have to hug Dad goodbye on a small plane with people around me jockeying for seats and storage ... that was tough. The cheesy, sad elevator music playing in the background at the airport didn't help. Nor did the fact that the last time I saw my mom was in an airport. I can still see her crooked smile and her waving at a big, pregnant me from afar. But somehow I managed to hold back tears and helped Dad get on his way. Then, I called Heather and cried, cried more at home, prayed, talked to my mom, wrote Dad a postcard, ate a yummy nectarine -- and now I feel okay.

Onward.

I can't reflect too much on the summer right now ... more to come.

A few notes on Dad's return: I think it will take some time for him to adjust. He IS the same person he was when he left months ago, but he's also changed. He's a bit slower and has difficulty communicating. This is the toughest part for him, and Bill's nervous about how well he'll be able to listen and talk to his friends and family. It got to the point here where we could almost read his thoughts, or at least extrapolate where they'd be going enough to have a conversation. We might be talking about our options as we look for a new car and he might say something like, "Did you see the safe?" which we would correctly interpret as Dad asking us about the safety ratings of a particular vehicle. It's totally possible to have a conversation with Bill; it just takes some patience. I know you will all help him feel comfortable. The best way to do this is to talk in short sentences, slowly. You don't have to speak any louder than normal. But he digests information best in small chunks.

Speaking of your communication with Bill, here's your official invitation to call him and visit him on Becker Road! You should know that starting Sunday, he'll be taking a second round of chemo. He'll only take it for five days, but it sounds like a pretty toxic medication that might leave him sick for awhile. So perhaps give him until that second weekend in September to recover. I know that he'll want to re-connect with friends and family, though. So he might just call you! Also, Bill's been real proficient at napping. So morning calls/visits might work out best, or even up until about 2 p.m., dinnertime or early evenings.

The blogging will continue ... look for a surprise guest blogger this weekend. Then Dad will be coming back to Madison for an MRI in mid-September, and I'll keep up with his trouble-making through phone calls with him and through Linda.

Phew ...

At the airport, Dad picked out an Automobile magazine to read on the plane and he wanted to treat me to some reading material, too. I picked a book called My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor. I heard Jill, a brain scientist, talk on NPR about how she had a stroke and lost her memory and ability to walk, talk, read and write in a matter of four hours. It took her eight years, but she made a FULL RECOVERY. Her stroke was on the left side of her brain, like Dad's tumor, surgery and treatments. In the book she talks about losing that logical, sequential left side of her brain and relying only on the intuitive and kinesthetic right side, similar to how Dad's operating. One review of the book says, "Transformative ... her experience will shatter your own perception of the world." I kinda feel that way about this past summer! But I'll still read the book.

Old World WI

On Saturday we took our last Wisconsin field trip with Dad for the summer. This time we headed south to the world's largest museum dedicated to the history of rural life. Old World Wisconsin is a site of more than 500 acres of land dotted with 60 historic structures from the 19th century. To create the museum, researchers traveled the state to find, rescue and relocate farm and village buildings. Not only can you tour the working farms and village center, but you can talk with people on each site dressed in era costume who are performing the daily chores and rituals from that time period -- milking cows, tending the garden, making bread, washing clothes. Old World is a special place.

Our kids love to go there. In fact one mention of the name "Old World," and MJ and Anna run upstairs do don their own prairie costumes so that can have the full pioneer experience!

It was Dad's first time at OWW, and his comment "This is an awesome place" pretty much sums up his feelings for the day. To get around Old World, you can walk and/or take a tram that travels gravel roads from farmstead to farmstead. Although we did ride the tram, we did quite a bit of walking. Only at the very end of the day did Bill make a small groan that his legs might be a bit sore. Otherwise, he held up well and enjoyed seeing the sights, taking pictures and having lunch under big oak trees.

Here are some shots from the day:

Three more days until Dad heads back to Ohio after three months in Madison. Stay tuned for more on visiting Bill on Becker Road...

Final week in Madison

Thank you and thanks again for continued card delivery! Cards from all over the country have included old pictures, long letters and even stickers for the kids (thanks, Tina!). Dad's always loved cards -- getting them and receiving them. So it's a special time of day when the mail comes and he sits down to open his letters. Reminiscing and laughing, he tucks each card away so he can look at it again later.

Yesterday Dad got a letter, card and pictures from his friend Laura. They were neighbors in Lorain on 2oth Street, where Dad was born and lived for about 20 years. The pictures showed Dad as a fat baby, tall adolescent on a bike and then a handsome young man taking Laura to the prom (and a few other dances!). He always wore his signature Bill smile. Laura, thanks for sending Dad some good memories.

Aside from opening mail, we've tried to keep things pretty low-key around here. No big field trips (although we're thinking of one for this weekend ...) Dad's been doing exercises that the docs gave him and practicing his speech. We take walks and he gets on his computer to check e-mail. He calls Linda and his friends and sometimes just sits outside on the Adirondacks, enjoying the nice weather we've been having. He watches the kids play and asks them 20 questions about the upcoming school year. We take our time during every meal. I got him a 500-piece puzzle that features a scene from Madison, so he's enjoyed working on that. Scott took yesterday and this afternoon off to help so I can do some school prep (we find out the kids' teachers today!). So Dad even spent time fixing a few things with Scott, and two nights ago they watched Gran Torino, featuring Clint Eastwood. Bill loves that movie and said, "That guy reminds me of me!"

I've spent time organizing and just thinking about logistics for Dad's departure on the 27th -- making sure he has enough prescriptions, figuring out plane logistics with Heather and Linda, taking him to get final labs in Madison and talking with docs before his final appointment here on the 25th.

I know Linda misses Bill, and I'm glad for both of them that he'll be home soon.

Quiet weekend

In the beginning of the summer, BC (before cancer), Scott and I planned to take the girls camping to Blue Mound State Park this weekend. I didn't want them to miss out on the fun, so I sent Scott with the girls to camp while I stayed home with Dad. He's still on the road to recovery, but it's slow-going.

Physically, he can walk and has good balance, but it seems like he's aged 15 years in terms of his coordination and capabilities. For Bill, a man who lives by the joys of physical labor and activities, this is frustrating. Dad and I had a lot of time to talk this weekend. We ordered sushi Friday night and I made a dish from farmers' market food Saturday night, and we ate our meals under the red bud tree on Adirondack chairs in the backyard. Now, I look out the window at these chairs and will always remember them as "our place." Dad really opened his heart during our meals. We laughed about the past, Dad expressed his gratitude to me, Heather, Linda, Scott and so many others, and he mourned about getting this disease and what it's doing to his body and mind.

I would think that Dad would be most upset by the snail-slow pace of physical recovery. But I think he feels that he can slowly build his strength, and he's okay with that. He's more hurt by his speech impediment. The right words just won't always take that path from his brain to his mouth. He can communicate, and I think he does a fine job! But often he'll used the wrong word or say something that doesn't make sense. Under the red bud tree, it became apparent that this really upsets him and he doesn't want, as he said, "People to think I'm dumb." I tried to tell him that none of his friends think he's dumb, and in fact most people are impressed at how far he's come. "I know, I know," he said, with me adding, "Dad, you're allowed to be sad about this. It's rough." He's spent so much time being positive, I was glad to see him share his fears and sadness.

Dad and I have had a lovely weekend. Went to the farmers' market together, took nice walks in the pleasant evenings, hugged and told each other how happy we were to be together. But it was also a time of grief and reflection as we finally sat down together and thought, "How the hell did we get here?" Brain cancer. Only three short months ago life was smooth and good.

On Friday I got a letter from Karen in Georgia, a dear from of Dad and Mom's from way back. She sent a heartfelt note that brought me strength. She also sent three old pictures. In the first, I am a new baby lying on my back in a cloth diaper, clenching a chubby fist, with a grand smile and fat cheeks. A second picture shows another baby Lisa with a more sober (and funny!) look, swinging in one of those rickety old wooden baby swings, wearing a bonnet and booties. In the third picture, Karen's 2-year-old son stands next to my Dad, who is sitting on the floor holding me. In a sky-blue shirt, Dad's giving a mustache smile with his healthy hair sweeping across his forehead. Looking at those photos, I was in awe at the changes that occur in almost 40 years, but when MJ saw the last picture she sweetly said, "Grandpa looks the same!" Gotta love kids.

Before the kids left to go camping, MJ came outside where Dad and I were sitting and cried that her pink Mary Jane Croc broke. She held up the dirty shoe, and I was about ready to say, "Those have seen their last days, MJ." But Dad said,"Let me try to fix it." I thought there was no way...the plastic strap was ripped from its hole. But Bill got out his knife and with shaky hands, cut a new hole then put the strap back together. During the Croc surgery, MJ and I were both crossing our fingers, quietly watching him. As minutes went by we saw that he would be able to fix it. Never underestimate Bill!

Funny stuff

You people are quick! Cards for Bill are slowly making their way from across the country to my mailbox. This means so much to him and makes him continue to feel connected.

Babs sent a sweet boating-themed card. A friend of my friend Janel -- this is someone I've never met, but she must be a special person! -- sent Dad a card from Dayton. Boating friends are coming through with good humor and fine penmanship, I might add. And long, lost friends from Lorain Products have jumped on the card wagon.

For example, Dick and Laura, colleagues from Dad's Lorain Products days, sent a long letter with several good Bill stories that really epitomized his (wacky) sense of humor, his entrepreneurial spirit and the way he wears his heart on his sleeve.

I hope you guys don't mind, but here's an excerpt from their letter:

I told Laura about the time probably in the late 1960s when (Bill) first grew a beard. For the benefit of Lisa, or anyone else who may read this note, in the 1960s the company was under the direction of the founder C.P. Stocker. To say the company dress code was conservative would probably be an understatement! All men were required to wear buttoned shirts with a tie, and the women had to wear a dress or a skirt -- no slacks. Although at that time in the 1960s facial hair was becoming quite stylish, no one working in the offices at Lorain Products wore a bear -- until Bill. In his usual "push the envelope" style, one day word spread among the young guys that, "Bill Beecheler is growing a beard!" While many guys were interested in growing a beard themselves, no one did immediately. We waited to see if Bill got reprimanded, or maybe even fired! After several weeks, during which Bill's beard could not have escaped the notice of the higher-ups, he shaved it off. I'm not sure if he was asked to, or if he felt he had made his point, but shortly afterward, others were growing beards. I'm curious, Bill, did anyone ever pressure you to shave that beard?

Funny. First because it's just hilarious to think that a beard was so risky ... I mean can you imagine all these young dudes whispering about Bill's beard? But also, I can't picture my Dad *without* a beard!

Anyway, thanks a bunch to Dick and Laura and so many others.

So I guess I should mention that Dad's back at my house! Hospital stay and rehab are behind him, and he's focusing on continued healing so he can make the trek back to Ohio at the end of August. More to come on that, because again I will enlist all of you wonderful friends and family to give him a warm welcome home. We are truly blessed to have you all in our lives.

Rehab

Bill continues to make a good rebound after his seizure on July 28 and hospitalization since then. He's been at the in-patient rehabilitation unit for five days now and is scheduled to be released on Wednesday. When he first went in to rehab, the nurses told me it could be up to three weeks in the hospital. But he's improved so quickly that they think a week of rehab it all that he needs. (Although they love his enthusiasm and high spirits and hate to see him go!) Doesn't mean the cards won't still be important, for those of you responding to my request for a card shower. Just means that he'll get to read some at my house versus in the hospital.

We've all spent time visiting Dad in rehab. Scott's been a loyal supporter and is the most popular visitor in Dad's book. Yesterday Scott didn't make a stop to see Dad (you'll see why below), and Dad kept asking about him. Almost every time I'm with Dad, he makes a comment like, "Lisa, you got a good man!" And darn, I can't help but agree with him. Of course Bill also welcomes visits from Anna and MJ, who like to snack on hospital food (!), watch Grandpa's TV, ask the nurses for bandaids, or climb on Gramps in his bed:


Another visitor is my sis! Heather arrived Saturday and will stay for a week to hang out with Dad and help plan the next phase of his care. Heather's a gem. It's tough for her to leave Charlotte and Chuck, but she's a trooper (and I hope she bring them next time!).

Last night, Sunday, we asked for a pass so Dad could leave his rehab unit and join us at home for dinner. I made a carrot cake and Scott grilled burgers. It was good to see Bill back at the head of the table, eating up a storm. After dessert we sat around and chatted about work and rehab, a neighbor stopped by, and Anna read Gramps some books. Then he started nodding off and Scott took him back to the hospital.


Today we have a meeting with people in the rehab unit to talk about their recommendations for Dad's care after he leaves the hospital. We'll talk about when he might be able to go back to Ohio. He's never complained about being in Madison and in fact has had a nice time. But we all know in his heart he longs to see his friends and family and be back at the house on Becker Road. I will miss him when he goes, but I hope he gets his wish soon.