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.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, September 25, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, September 14, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
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.
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