A Whipple Reflection

Life got a little crazy for my family two months ago.  In some ways it seems so much longer than that considering what has been happening. On February 14, my father had something called the Whipple procedure. Don't worry if you are not in the know. I hadn't heard of it either.

This particular procedure is used to remove tumors from the pancreas. It is a complicated surgery with too many details, which I won't bore you with, but basically after having the Whipple, you wake up with less than what you started with, and I am not just talking about the tumor. (If you Google it, you can get all the amazing details and you can even watch the surgery if you are up for that.)

Once the tumor was analyzed we learned it was cancer, but dad's doctor is confident that it was caught early and all the bad stuff is gone. The chemotherapy has begun, which is just a precaution, in case there are any lingering cancer cells, and in five months, my dad will be able to get back to normal.

I have learned so much since February. I have learned that the pancreas has three parts: the head, neck and tail. I have learned there are quite a few body parts people can live without. I have also learned that angels are around disguised as people, especially in hospitals.

A stranger hugged me when I was alone and needed a shoulder to cry on. A stranger made an elevator full of people, including my mom, laugh when we needed some comic relief. And nurses, don't get me started on nurses, we had a few who certainly have invisible wings. They treated my dad like he was part of their own family. Their care and concern made a not so good situation bearable.

My dad's five hour surgery happened on Valentine's Day and his first chemotherapy was on his 45th wedding anniversary. Those special days have even more significance now that we are on this journey. There was some wiggle room on the chemo start date, but my dad didn't want to wait. The sooner you start, the sooner you are done and that finish line will only get closer with each week.

So many families have their own stories about cancer and the aftermath. No two stories are exactly the same but it is comforting to know that we are not alone. A lot of helpful advice has been passed along and words of encouragement. It is like a warm blanket you can take with you. The cancer/chemo club is not one you choose to be a part of, but once you are in you find yourself in some pretty amazing company.

When my dad was serving our country in Vietnam, he made a sign that said U.S.A. Each day he was there, he would color a section of each letter in as a countdown to when he would be back home. Nolan and Nick made him a chemo sign to mark off each treatment as he moves closer to the goal of being cancer free and capable of enjoying all the blessings life can bring.

Let It Go!

I know I am not alone when I say I have a sad little patch of daffodils that just gave up. They are hanging their festive yellow heads down to the ground like they have had it. I know guys. I get it.

Photo by Nolan Keleschenyi

I normally look forward to the daffodils coming up each spring. I inherited them from the lady who we bought our house from 13 years ago this month.  Their vibrant green stems usually pop up underneath a blanket of last year's faded mulch, ushering in the newness of the season.

But this year was different.  When I would walk past them I would say, "Not yet, guys. Hang in there." Our spring weather has been so wacky, I didn't want their beauty to be wasted on a winter that refuses to leave. But they didn't listen. They bloomed right on schedule and have been covered with more snow than they probably ever have in the years we have lived here.

Like the flowers, I am trying to shake the cold weather blues. Right now, as I am writing, I am wearing a coat and scarf. I don't want to do that anymore. Not that my pasty white skin is a great alternative, but my pores want to breathe. We get an 80 degree day, like over the weekend and then bam a coating of snow.  I don't want winter pinching me every couple days. This April Fools joke has been the worst and no one is laughing.

What can we do about this? Absolutely nothing. We are Mother Nature's hostages and are waiting for someone, anyone to rescue us. And the kicker is that since the time change we have more hours of daylight to enjoy the gloom. At least before, we could nod off early and call it a day. "What it's only 5:30 p.m.? Well, it is dark outside so I am going to bed." Now it is light until about 8 p.m. and I cannot go to bed with any brightness coming through my curtains and a view of sad foliage trying to survive in unfavorable conditions.

Of course if it wasn't snowing in April we would find something else to complain about, but Tuesday's gripe of the day was the white stuff I had to clear off my windshield. My little guy and I were out with our Steelers' ice scraper taking that layer of frozen precipitation off of our vehicle. All of this done in the shadow of our little daffodils, completely drooped over from the weight of the icy slush.

Then I have what I think is a cherry tree in my backyard. Its lovely pink blossoms are in full splendor, despite the winter that will not quit. I love when the tree blooms yet I know the beauty is temporary. The gale force winds from Sunday night blew quite a few of those blooms off the tree which made our car, parked in the driveway, look like it was decorated for a wedding, like the kind Elsa from Disney's Frozen would have. Pink buds and a blanket so snow - I'm sorry but I'm ready to Let It Go!

I'm not sure what to make of this horrible spring. I think we all just want some consistency with extended warm weather, which we are desperately in need of, to boost our spirits. Have you heard anyone say, "Oh, great, more snow," and mean it? Or, "Yay, another coating! This is the best spring ever!" If you have please let me know. I would like to meet this unique individual and find out what makes them tick.

Maybe like me you have turned to sweets to overcome this weather confusion. Between this week's pint of Ben and Jerry's and the double donuts at work on Tuesday, this technique is keeping me going by adding some extra insulation to my weary bones. If I still have to wear a winter coat then another helping of dessert please. I'm drowning my sorrows in sugary goodness.

So where does it end? Who knows. According to the National Weather Service, the latest snowfall on record here in Pittsburgh was on May 31, 1893. It was only a trace of snow 125 years ago, but 0.5 inches of snow fell on May 25, 1925 and three inches were measured on May 9, 1966. It looks like we might have to wait until June to call it officially over for winter. But that is ok. From there we will have three months before it starts all over again. The earliest snow was recorded on September 23, 1989.