What A Journey It Has Been

“None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward. Because we trust. Because we have Faith.” — Paulo Coelho

On May 25th, 2021, Mary made her flight into heaven—the final stamp in her precious passport. She now joins her best friend and husband, Lance, in watching Eli, Mila, and Tyus, along with the rest of her friends and family, from above.

As you may know, Mary was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer five years ago at the age of 36. In true Mary fashion, she set out to exceed her initial prognosis and overachieved by living three years longer than her doctors originally thought possible. 

She packed the last chapter of her life with adventure, love, and joy—doing more in these last five years than some people dream of doing in an entire lifetime.

Mary was able to live life to the fullest and inspired everyone around her to do the same; she was a beacon that stoked the flames of adventure. Over the years, she rallied friends and family (including her 3 young travel-savvy children) to explore the world with her across 6 continents and 31 countries.

Someone who didn’t know about her condition would probably never guess she was sick. She managed to visit all 30 MLB stadiums, conquered Machu Picchu, chased the northern lights in Iceland, sang to her heart’s content in Cuba, rang in a new year in Vietnam, strengthened her connection to her family’s Japanese and Filipino heritages, and SO SO much more. While she enjoyed every single one of her trips, she held Boston closest to her heart. She described it as a weekend-long organic love fest with over 50 of her closest friends and family members—making for some of all of our favorite memories! Read about all the madness here but know that what she “cherished most from the trip is the irreplaceable feeling of being loved so deep that it brought both comfort and healing.” (Funaoka)

Though to be honest, she didn’t necessarily need a trip to enjoy herself because there was always something going on at the “FUN” house! Wine nights, impromptu dance and karaoke sessions, pool parties, paint nights, and who could forget her legendary New Years Eve parties?! Many of you reading this might even have been present for one of those crazy nights…and we love to think that you’ll hold on to those memories for years to come.

There are many things we’ll all remember about Mary—though her unbridled confidence (most evident in her firm belief that she was an amazing singer, even going so far as to professionally record a cover of Elvis’ “Can’t Help Falling in Love”), her perfect hair, the passion she brought to everything she did, and of course, her signature cackle, will forever reverberate in our minds and in our hearts.

While we mourn Mary’s passing, we are grateful for the time we were all able to spend with her and the impact she made on everyone fortunate enough to know her. The outpouring of support and love felt by Mary and our family throughout this entire time has meant so much to us— thank you for joining on this journey.

Though Mary is gone, let us continue to honor her by living each moment fully, laughing loudly, and most importantly, loving deeply each day.

We’ll come together on Friday, June 18 to remember and celebrate her life. If you would like to join us, all details can be found here.

Our family respectfully requests that in lieu of flowers you may instead donate to her three children: Eli, Mila and Tyus, or to the Lungetivity Cancer Foundation.

Mary, if you’re reading this, we hope our grammar is up to your standards. We miss you every day but we’re glad you are finally at peace. You’ve got a whole village down here helping out with Eli, Mila, and Tyus. We all promise to be there for them and to keep showing them the world. We love you!!

You will forever be our reminder to continue moving forward, always forward. 

Until we meet again…

What a journey it has been.

Five and Alive (barely) – A Tale of a Fearless Fight

“What’s the world’s greatest lie?… It’s this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate.”― Paulo Coelho

For some, five years ago (2016) seems like a lifetime, but for me, it’s felt like an arduous mud run that I must unwillingly participate in every single day. It was five years ago when Lance, my siblings and I crammed into a room at USC’s Norris Cancer Center and met my oncologist, Dr. Nieva, who would give me more than the hope I needed to survive the 10% chance I had as a Stage IV 36-year old lung cancer patient. In fact, he thankfully educated, compassionately supported, and believed in me as much as I believed in myself.

This month I took a battery of tests: brain MRI, CT scan, chest x-ray, cardio-echogram, EKG, bloodwork, and physical. The outcome was disappointing. I have seven new tumors in my neck, all lung nodules have grown, and my brain is inflamed. Up until today, I was anticipating participating in a Phase 1B clinical trail, but an amendment was released this week stating that anyone who has had two lines of treatment would be ineligible for the trial. Since early April I’ve had neck pain, headaches, and nausea – I attributed it to pilates because I have no core and overcompensated with my neck. It was so much more than that! On Monday, I will have a spinal tap and then a consultation for radiation and we will consider a different chemo cocktail, but one where I will lose my hair, again. The last two words Dr. Nieva said from this morning’s conversation was, “I’m sorry.” And I just broke down. I’ve always said that although I’m not ready to die, I am prepared. Holding onto this unhinged hope is real and because I’m still trying to “live,” gravitational defeat is also very real. I’m entering my fifth line of treatment and cancer as we all know, is relentless.

Many have asked me how I think I’ve made it this far and while the easy answer is modern science paired with effective medical care, I believe that my mindset and system of support have helped deflect my deep-seated fears. First off, I’ve always believed in embracing, not negotiating, all the roles I have not just as a mom, but also a friend, family member, educator, etc. If I want to travel for a girl’s trip, I have no regrets in leaving the kids. Traveling in the age of COVID didn’t make sense for many people, but for me, not going wasn’t an option. And if I need to respond to students right before the kids’ bedtime because college students procrastinate and become anxious about an upcoming project, I will do so unapologetically. For me, living means not limiting myself and answers to “Do you think you should…?” are retorted with “Why shouldn’t I?”

The fight to live was onset five years ago. I challenged my insurance, fought with in-network doctors and demanded authorizations to be seen by a research hospital with a team of doctors working on my case. In between those years and especially now, I’ve had to ward off physical pain: bruises, aches, needle pokes, sores, insomnia, surgeries, biopsies, etc. I’ve contemplated just shouting, “That’s enough” with strong tears flowing down. Some days, it really is. That alone is enough to make me want to scream in the middle of the night. Elias asked me the other day why I never complain. Honestly, I told him that I could either complain or do something about it. Additionally, I told him that since they complain so much, no one would even hear me!

Traveling and filling bucket lists have also been a staple on this journey. Stepping foot onto ten new countries and revisiting five others has fueled my thirst to learn about the rest of the world. When people ask about my favorite trip, it would have to be Boston for my 30th and final MLB stadium. My 13 cousins/siblings and I inked on our first tattoo and 54 friends and family in total enjoyed a lobster bake on a private island and took over an entire section at Fenway Park the following day.

When people say that their family is their rock, I’d have to elaborate and characterize my family as a bulldozer rock – large, strong, and forceful. They are my core of encouragement, help, and uncontrollable cackling. I couldn’t imagine walking down this dark road without each of them guiding me with their lights, although some need a battery change! Friends and colleagues have also continued to remind me that I have layers of support filled with light and prayers.

Fear and anxiety consume me almost every day, but then again, there are 24 hours and some of that time has to be redistributed to release those emotions. What I truly fear the most is leaving behind the most beautiful, sharp-tongued three children. I despise that feeling of missing them already even though I’m still here, knowing that I’m depriving them of things because I’m not 100%. For me, that’s real fear. I’ve never asked God, “Why me?” But instead honestly asked, “Why them?” They’re so innocent, already absent of a father, and have a mother who is always tired, in and out of appointments, and at the mercy of anyone who is available to help with our busy karate, gymnastics, and baseball schedule. But they also hilariously provide genuine laughs when I need it the most. On Monday, Mila announced, “Mommy has her period.” Elias questioned, “How could you, Mom? I thought you were spayed, like Aries.” Ummm…I’m human and Aries is a dog; it automatically became a biology lesson. As a constant act of love, I try to hide the pain to not scare them and constantly remind each of them that they will always have one another and the rest of our family. Assigning the word hard to this part of the journey is an understatement. Each day is a confluence of truth, aspiration, and fear. The motivational conversations I have in my head are endless. They all end with two words, “Kayo ko” which translated from Tagalog is “I can.” It’s like the Spanish, “Si, se puede.” Cheers to five and alive. My train roars on!

3 Months Shy of My 5-Year Cancer-versary

“There are moments throughout our days when there are no words. Not because there’s nothing more to say, but because there’s so much right here with us that there are not words enough.” Brian Andreas

It’s 2021 and I’ve wasted no time bringing in the new year with productivity and purpose. The key word for me this year is balance instead of my usual juggling, which implies more of a coping mechanism rather than intentional equilibrium. Legal things have been checked off my list: amending our family trust (oh, the irony) and changing Mila’s middle name. Don’t ask. Lance and I had talked about changing it years ago, but never got around to it. She’s happy that we now share the same middle name…Grace.

Our adopted 1.5 year old German Shepherd mix is acclimating well into our family. She is the calmest and sweetest member of our unit and the kids are building both empathy and responsibility as they learn to care for her. Aries, is now the “A” in TEAM (Fun) and was abandoned by her owner after she gave birth to her litter of puppies. She also had burnt fur as she was left outside in sunny Central California. Mila is the official trainer and protector (not from other dogs, but from Tyus). I’m constantly reminding them that as a dog, she doesn’t want to play dress-up, wear sunglasses, or be caped with a fleece blanket at night. Aries’ presence has brought about more frequent walks, cleaning, and Google searches galore. We were hoping for a guard dog, but there are too many people in and out of our home – she welcomes all without a bark, lick, or jump, thankfully!

As I continue to think about balance, I’ve introduced the kids to a variety of meditation routines. From the Peloton meditation app, chakra stones and music to setting intentions and international musical instruments (Tibetan sound bowls, African wave drum, Hawaiian finger piano, Chilean rain stick, and Japanese chimes). The kids pick the method for each evening and we’ve enjoyed the purposeful time together and opportunity to practice mindfulness, even if it’s just ten minutes. I thought it would help with Tyus’ attention and behavior during online instruction, but I think I’m in need of an entirely different method, like a taser; I think that would work best. I’m kidding. Mostly.

In the fall, I began each kid’s investment portfolio and allowed them to select one to two stocks while I picked safer ETFs and mutual funds. They’ve been intrigued by the ups and downs of the market and are observing trends. It’s practical math that they’re curious about and a great way for them to think about financial fitness. On a recent stop to Mitsuwa/Daiso, I gave each kid a $6 budget and Tyus chose a green bunny which he named Bunny Apple (sounds like a stripper name!). Mila and Elias were encouraging him to get something that they could all play with, but he ultimately refused. Upon looking into my basket, they questioned, “Do you want that or do you need that?” It’s the same question I ask them when they want to make any type of purchase (like the bunny, but I refrained). I laughed so hard when they wondered if I really needed a $20 tray of uni for spaghetti. Yes, absolutely! For food, I “need” it! We didn’t grow up with money so this is my way of educating them on the balance between working hard, playing hard, and saving wisely in between.

Sabbatical for spring officially started and I’m enjoying the time to become a student and researcher again. I’ve enrolled in online courses at both Harvard University and MIT. I keep trying to work ahead on the modules in the courses, but am unable to do so to ensure that I participate with the rest of class. In addition to the courses, I will be writing case studies as a form of assessment for my pre-service classes and possibly creating a best practices article/manual for homeschooling. Having this time to reset has been a blessing and I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would, but then again, it’s only February. Hopefully the kids will be back in school for at least two days by the end of March and I can finally be surrounded by the most beautiful sound for a mom: silence.

Exercising my mind isn’t the only thing I crave, it’s also physical. We take Aries on at least two walks a day, but definitely need more physical activity. I’ve been watching Peloton exercise videos on my phone while lying down. I know, it’s both counterproductive and perhaps my way of motivating myself to get up despite my exhaustion, but I can’t help it. I’m just on my back imagining doing the squats and lifting weights, while sometimes eating a cookie! I did run three miles from my house to my sister’s this week and fortunately she wasn’t home, otherwise I would asked for a ride back!

Cleaning is a hobby for me, but cleaning out Lance’s side of the closet was something I wasn’t ready to do until recently. Each kid received a memory box that they used to keep photos, pictures, articles of clothing, and mementos. They fought over his credit cards, wanting to use it to buy iTunes. I had to remind them that they were inactive because I closed the accounts, but the thought of a credit card was so appealing so they kept it anyway. It was a great opportunity to talk about how they felt given that it’s been eight months and we reminisced on our memories, in which ever way they remembered it. “How did he die again?” Mila asked. I decided to read the cause straight from his death certificate, “acute and chronic alcoholism with cirrhosis, suspected esophageal varices and GI hemorrhage” (public record) for two reasons. One, denying or distorting the truth will only confuse them as adults and complicate their realities and relationships. While some embrace denial or attribute blame extrinsically versus intrinsically, I can’t treat this as a secret because we’re ashamed or it’s taboo. Rather, I must choose the hard and raw conversations couched in language and explanations that attempt to demystify our truths and to show that our choices have consequences as do the effects of addiction and mental health. No one can take that away from us. And second, but more importantly, I don’t dismiss what we experienced together and continue to entertain all their stories, both good and bad. It’s “compartmentalized grief” as my therapist of over 14 months explained to me; embracing both sides of the coin allows us to remember to unconditionally and unapologetically love Lance for exactly who he was. As adolescents and adults, this will help them make choices about alcohol, how to parent, and what relationships can sometimes look like. Truly loving my kids means being honest, even when it hurts.

Finally, my health. Today, I had a check-in for my scan results and another round of chemo. No news is good news. I’m continuing on maintenance therapy and am feeling mostly well. The tumor marker count has dropped from the 60s in August to a mere 6 today. I’m even scheduled for a second dose of the Moderna vaccine in two weeks. While there seems to be a lot of controversy around it, I’ve eaten at McDonald’s and canned Spam without hesitation so I’m not about to question how modern medicine has used advanced science to protect me from my compromised health. Plus, I’ll feel better about our upcoming travel plans. I’ve used points and recycled airline credit to book our trips in April and May and have saved for our June and July trips. When people ask how I’m really doing, the answer changes day by day. Sometimes I feel like I’m finally approaching peace while other days I’m drifting and just barely hanging on. The possibility of travel definitely inspires me as well as this quiet time to write, something that has been therapeutic for me. I’ve printed a 55-page book of my poetry – short sentences and phrases that capture the depth of my transitioning life emotions. It’s titled Pieces and here is a sampling:

Whole: Pieces of Love

• We never needed any words, just a handful of silent glimpses to know our love was already written 
  
• Our bodies moved together like ocean waves until they drifted into the sunset where no separation could be traced 
  
• You have closed every empty space in my heart to make me whole again 
  
• The secrets my heart would tell if only she had the words 

Missing: Pieces of Heartbreak & Grief

• Losing you meant losing a part of me that I wasn’t ready to let go of
  
• We were a love story whose ending we couldn’t finish the way we had dreamed of in chapter one 
  
• She sat in her silence until it deafened her 
  
• You left me when I needed you the most. The most. 

Broken: Pieces of Addiction

• You waved your red flags so high I was blinded by the shadows it cast
  
• Wrapped in your love I found myself choked with intensity, obscurity, and an inability to unravel my own reality
  
• You chose her over me, over us. Every single time. Addiction was no mistress in our bed. 
  
• You don’t know me, he admitted. Even I am a stranger to myself.

Unexpected: Pieces of Motherhood

• I wanted the career. The house. The husband. The kids. I wanted it all so much that I sometimes forgot I wanted me, too. 
  
• She scooped her children’s love from the bottom of the well, unafraid to drown in the depths of their innocence. 
  
• She fed her children from the buffet of life and smiled as they returned for seconds and thirds. 

Unbreakable: Pieces of Resilience

• She refused to hit pause when her heart told her to play on 
  
• Let the canvas of my life be repainted with strokes of hope and healing 
  
• Tear down the walls of my life so that I might finally be free to live 
  
• She took the crumbles of her broken pieces to put herself back together only to realize that the masterpiece was underneath all along

May will mark my 5-year journey with Stage IV lung cancer and I’m looking forward to documenting and celebrating with the visible and invisible groups of people who have made each day worth fighting for. And while my road has been a juggling of conventional and unconventional, I promised myself that I’m going to continue to do it “My Way” (Aloe Blacc), with direction from my amazing oncologist, of course!

4.5+ Year Update

“I don’t worry about what could go wrong, she said. I worry about whether I’m in a place yet where I could handle it if everything goes right.” -Brian Andreas

I’m sure I share everyone’s enjoyment that 2020 is nearly over as I sit here in the hospital getting my last round of chemo for the year.   The last 365 days has presented humanity with challenges both unexpected and unparalleled to our status quo.  I was by no means excluded from wonderment for when the number line counting our victories and losses might finally slide on the positive or even neutral side.   Since September I’ve been receiving a three-drug chemo cocktail every three weeks for five hours.  A port was installed in my left chest to prevent my veins from collapsing – not something I initially wanted, but it’s utility and ease makes it worth the tiny bump the size of gum ball protruding from my chest. Additionally, I had another brain surgery to remove six more tumors and a three-week break in which I recovered from a second degree burn from a pot of boiling water.   Forget about the two weeks of hotel living for a home repair needed for a busted shower in the master bathroom that drained itself onto the first floor dining room.  And not to mention homeschooling.  Ughh!  You would think that I might have some skill or potential in teaching my own children, but like people say, it’s harder when it’s your own.  Actually, it’s mostly just Tyus, my five-year old.  Virtual learning is developmentally inappropriate using the same face-to-face time parameters and structures.  It’s my primary reason for praying for herd immunity…so I could drop Tyus off at a real school where he could experience the traditional classroom and I could stop feeling bad about his learning conditions.  His “exceeding” and “meeting standards” in all academic areas tell a different story that I’ll save for a later day.  Still counting losses, until last week when I finally hit zero, or neutral, on the number line.

My CT scan showed stable disease (no growth) and I can move into maintenance therapy which means only one drug instead of three, but still every three weeks. I was so concerned with when I could eat raw oysters again! My seven cousins/sisters devoured 96 oysters in front of me and I was terribly jealous as they slurped each one with such satisfaction. It’s the small things.  Dr. Nieva said that my white blood cell counts and tumor markers are good and that I’m not neutropenic the way I was in February during my hospitalization. I can begin mixing in fresh salads, fruits, and even high grade sushi.  Of course I asked for permission on future travel as COVID-19 vaccines are ready for administration. My oncologist reminds me that everyone will get the virus, but now is just not my time.  I’ve contemplated just wrapping myself in all the bubble wrap from our Amazon packages as I step out into public each time.  But even under my condition, I’m not fearful as I’m reminded to “live my life.”

As for the plusses, I would be remiss not to celebrate all the experiences and blessings I enjoyed amidst the pandemic.  If you feel compelled to judge, don’t read on.  Over the summer, my friend Anna and I took the kids on different excursions each week.  From the beach and boating to the farm and swimming.  We braved up to 10 kids in our two Highlanders, optimistic that there would be no meltdowns or lost children.  Additionally, we travelled to Mammoth and camped in true Javier Nation style, with joyful cackles that could be heard miles away.  My aunts and uncles did a beautiful makeover in my backyard, my kids made me smile by wearing my favorite chore (laundry), I celebrated a dear friend’s wedding, and best friend’s 40th birthday.  I also can’t forget that my friends surprised me with an early birthday celebration and I excitedly got to fly with the kids up and down the coast in a private plane.  Tyus, Elias, and Mila and are healthy, safe, and surrounded by the people who love them most.  They help me put “love on top” (Beyonce) over and over again. My 8-month sabbatical officially started on Monday and I plan to to write, research, relax, retreat, and revive myself.  December has always been my least favorite month and it will especially emptier (but more predictable) this year.  Merry early Christmas and birthday to me for the countless blessing that can’t be counted.

Happy 5th birthday, Tyus!

“Certain things in life simply have to be experienced – and never explained. Love (and Tyus) is such a thing.” -Paulo Coelho

Dear Tyus,

Five years have come and gone…and just like that you’re the second man of the house, readily willing to defend yourself and speak your truth at all costs. Most people might not see beyond your fierce facade, but you’re the silliest and biggest risk-taker amongst your siblings. The rule at night is that only one child can sleep in the bed with me and it’s on a rotation. However, you convince both Mila and Elias that it has to be you every night because I’m your “cuddle doll.” You use your words – all of them – so powerfully and timely. It cracks us all up when I tell you it’s time to shower and you claim that I’ve hurt your feelings. It’s really not that complicated!

At your core, you’re a raging Sagittarius: wild-spirited, adventurous, and always ready to go. One of my favorite things we’ve done this year is completing a 5-mile hike around Vasquez Rocks. You were the only one motivated to get up early for the trek. And you were only four! I’m sure it’s not easy being the youngest grandchild on both sides of the family, but you sure find your way…especially into our hearts. Besides being a noodle and hat guy, you’re also my personal reminder for everything as if you’ve etched out the perfect spot in your brain to alert me of ALL the tasks I need not forget. While lying in bed one night, you asked if it was hard since daddy passed away. And when I asked you the same question, you innocently and honestly answered with, “I’m healing” and explained yourself. I thought it was the work of therapy, but truly it’s the work of your gentle soul reminding us all that we will need a lot more time to repair our mental health and hearts. And thankfully, we have the four of us, Javier nation, my friends, colleagues, and even invisible supporters to root us on.

As you began transitional kindergarten this year, I was reminded of the challenging student that showed up to class every. single. day. when I used to teach high school. You wear your headphones over your nose instead of ears and when I give the “teacher look” you stare back at me like I’m the crazy one. I then give you the “mom point” with my index finger and even fiercer look, but you just smile back, point your own index finger and thumb and pretend to shoot. Why, Tyus, why?

So this is five, my sweet boy. Happy 5th birthday. I’ll need a helmet, seatbelt, and a double shot of patience to get me through this next year. But guess what? We’re already buckled up for the adventures you’ll take us on the next 365 days. I love you so much.

Your cuddle doll,

Mommy

4 Year, 4 Month Update – On to Plan E

“If you hold on to the handle, it’s easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it’s more fun if you just let the wind carry you.” -Brian Andreas

Last Friday I had a double D feeling (clearly, not my bra size).  It was my 3-month post brain surgery brain MRI and 6-month post tumor infusion CT scan. Neither looked good. I left feeling defeated and depressed. It was just one more knock down when I still haven’t gotten up from the series of events I’ve endured this year.  Before my first round of chemotherapy that begins this Friday, I will have a port installed in my chest, eliminating the need for a 5-hour chemo cocktail IV every three weeks, indefinitely.  And while this first phase takes place, USC will work on getting authorization for another gamma knife brain surgery.  In sum, two new brain tumors have emerged and the existing lung tumors have grown.  Hearing my results is always nerve-racking, but this time it was just heartbreaking. How much more can I really take?

On top of all of this, the kids and I are staying in a hotel because there is a water leak from the master bathroom filtering down to the dining room area.  There is a 6×8 foot hole in our ceiling/wall and we can’t turn on the air conditioner.  Therefore, we will all start our first day of school tomorrow virtually in an unfamiliar space under unexpected circumstances. But nothing has been normal lately so I don’t know why I expected something different. Tyus is excited to start TK, Mila can’t wait to meet her 2nd grade friends, and Elias is enthusiastic about learning new science and math.  Me, on the other hand?  I am determined (ooh, a third one) to prioritize that which is most important to me, my children and my health.

This summer we’ve basked in the summer sun baked in emotions that can’t readily be served or understood. Sometimes the silence within is deafening, but together, we are being intentional about unlocking the keys to our continued grief and healing.  The volumes in our emotional library are still on reserve…for now.

Praying for God and all of your prayers to “bring me a higher love.” (Whitney Houston, Kygo).

Happy 9th birthday, Elias!

“…he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke-the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love.” -Paulo Coelho

Dear Elias,

It’s hard to believe that nine years ago, I gave birth to you on July 23, the same day three of daddy’s close friends were born (Kenny, CJ, and Mark). We were alarmed by your cone-shaped head and hair that wrapped from ear to ear with a straight line through your eyebrows. Fast forward 3,285 days later and you’ve grown into a peaceful intellectual who challenges us every day with your thought-provoking questions and “did you know” facts.  In a recent rap battle with your cousins, you spit out these lines,

With that vocabulary you need to go to the library

Look in the dictionary because your life is fictionary

What 9-year old says that?  You’re probably also the only person whom I know loves quarantine because you can stay home in your happy place all day long.  You are simple and yet complex in your own way.  As Mila and Tyus’ big brother, you are always so thoughtful, making sure they complete their summer workbooks, eat the breakfast you prepared, and help you voluntarily clean up the house.  As our resident cook and baker, you’ve perfected french toast with brioche bread, cinnamon, vanilla extract, and eggs…our favorite.  You even clean up afterwards.  That part I really like!

As you enter the next 365 days of your life around the sun, my hope is that you continue learning, growing, and loving to the same depth and breadth as you have been.  I can’t deny your passion for experimenting every day, often requesting ingredients to put together random trials and turning every Amazon box into some kind of weapon.  In a recent therapy session, you were asked if people die because they are bad. You replied with, “No, they die because of their bad choices.”  You are profoundly deep and a wise thinker beyond your years.  Thank you for reminding us that living with kindness, love, and simplicity makes the world a better place.

I love you beyond your rhyming words can express,

Mommy

Happy (1)7th birthday, Mila!

“There has never been a day when I have not been proud of you, I said to my daughter, though some days I’m louder about other stuff so it’s easy to miss that.”  -Brian Andreas

Dear Mila,

Happy birthday, my beautiful daughter! The last 365 days have really forced you to grow up both willingly and unwillingly.  My hope is that it has built a strength and resilience within you that will carry you through the next year and onward.  In addition to all ways in which you’ve grown, we’ve noticed your emerging skill to teach, like Mommy and Daddy.   You proudly taught Tyus how to ride a 2-wheel bike just weeks ago and constantly model for Elias the right way to fold clothes with a quick tutorial.

I hope you look back on all the TikTok videos you’ve created, paintings you’ve drawn, and text messages you’ve sent this year and cry in hysterical laughter at the dichotomy between the beauty and beast of your talents.  You have a beautiful soul – often displaying your kindness to family, friends, and even strangers (but stop doing that).  Remember to be kind to yourself and manage your demanding expectations. It’s okay to not have your iPad charged to 100% all the time, keep a spotless room, and have borrowed clothes returned the same day.

Your hard work and work ethic are something to be commended.  Finishing homework days before it’s due is never a competition anyone wants to engage in, but you always win.  You voluntarily practice your gymnastic skills and karate moves for hours on end and in your competitions, it has paid off.  When a bug needs to be removed, the boys force you to do it.  And when we can’t remember someone’s birthday, we ask you because you’ve memorized 80 different people’s birthdays.  Thank you for being a source of our laughter and strength and a reminder that kindness can never be underestimated.

My love for you cannot be contained, only expanded.  You are my light that shines.  Happy (1)7th birthday, my dolly doll.

Love,

Mommy

Painful Goodbye

“I carry you with me into the world, into the smell of rain & the words that dance between people & for me, it will always be this way, walking in the light, remembering being alive together” -Brian Andreas

This is my 64th post and the most difficult to write.  There are so many things I want to say, unsay, do, and undo.  I’ve been aimlessly circling through the first two stages of grief, pausing only to take a deep breath to avoid the angst of heartache.  On Saturday, June 13, Lance passed away by himself in our home.  God’s tests of strength this year have pulled me further into my heart’s abyss.  I am choosing to remember the Lance that I once knew: genuinely kind, thoughtfully loving, and deeply intellectual. No signed piece of paper can negate the reciprocated love shared in our family of five.  The tough love I exercised in the end was difficult and painful, but it was a boundary that I had to set as a mother.  Even in the last week he was alive, Lance reminded me that he still loved me and I was still his best friend.  The three kids and I are layered in shock, disappointment, and uncontainable sadness.   I’ve struggled to give myself permission to not be okay, to recognize there are no winners, and to negotiate within myself that I did everything I could for a man I couldn’t help but fall in love with.

Everyday since his passing, I’ve shared with my kids that although our hearts are empty, we are surrounded by people who loved their dad and us and that each day our hearts will slowly be refilled with hope and memories that will remind them of who he was. As a mother, I am grieving not only the loss of Lance, but more deeply, my children’s loss of a father at their tender ages.  There isn’t a bandaid, ice pack, or soft kiss that could extinguish their pain.  No more trivia with dad, baseball games, bike rides, traveling, birthday celebrations, school activities, or even a father-daughter dance for Mila.  There will always be an empty space for them.  Elias, Mila, and Tyus can’t get back their dad – they have only their memories to guide and strengthen them as they grow older, forever knowing that Lance had no greater love and pride than his own three children. He had nicknames and comparisons for each kid: Eli, the good guy, who is just like daddy; Mila, the princess, who is just like mommy; and Tyus, Lego helmet hair kid/Spock, who is a scary combination of mommy and daddy.  Elias is Lance’s physical and intellectual copycat – sharp and witty.  Mila is Lance’s gentle and helpful copycat – patient and kind. And Tyus is Lance’s musical sidekick and wild spirit.  Our nights since his passing have been circled by an emotion train, often filled with tears of devastation, unanswered questions, and a search for peace, solace, and light amidst the darkness.

Anyone who knew Lance could attest to how genuinely kind he was.  He had a true talent for listening, empathizing, and making people feel like they mattered. His patience and generosity is unparalleled. Lance’s high school/college students and colleagues were everyday witnesses to these special traits. You could unconditionally feel his love and willingness to go above and beyond his duties.  For him, relationships mattered most.  Family, friends, sports and music were his equal loves.  Through these things, our three kids could grow up piecing together the human puzzle of their father’s captivating spirit.

In our home, Lance was the rationale one, frequently trying to balance my impulsivity. He’d often ask, “Does that need to be done right this minute? Do we need to decide in this moment?” As two left-handed Sagittarians with an English degree from UCLA, we were constantly in a debate about politics, education, religion, family, sports, our next vacation, etc.  Often I’d lose because of his more effective and convincing rhetoric.  As my protector, he asked that I not walk on the outside of a curb and frequently reminded me to be careful anywhere I went, cautioning me always due to my clumsiness.  He’d also keep a snack in case I got “hangry,” give me the best parts of a steak, and let me order for him when I debated between two dishes at restaurants.  Lance was truly grateful just to be alive. We carpooled everyday when we both worked in Los Angeles, and he would methodically play Randy Newman’s, “I Love L.A.” with a big smile on his face.  On the weekends he’d wake up, see a beautiful sunny day, and say, “It’s a MLT (mornings like this), let’s go outside and do something.”  He modeled for us happiness through his own simplicity.  And as life reminds us, things don’t always go as planned.  Although not ready, I was prepared to die first.  Our feet haven’t even met the ground on this long journey of healing.

The only peace I have is knowing that Lance has finally escaped his demons, that his spiritual presence in spite of his physical absence will always be felt in our hearts. He is now resting alongside his father, best friend, and Kobe Bryant (as Tyus said). And the for the time we were given to learn from him, grow with him, and love him, we we will be forever grateful.

“There are more with a spark like the one you carry in your loving heart, so I know we will never be lost.” -Brian Andreas

4-Year Update: Addition by Subtraction

“No matter how you feel today, get up, dress up & show up.” -Paulo Coelho

My 12-week check up brought forth both good and bad news.  The good news (subtraction) is that the since the 6-week check-up, all of the tumors inside my body have continued to shrink. In fact, the biotech company emails my oncologist every other week to receive updates from their “poster child” and demands that the database be updated to reflect such successful findings.  They were hoping for a strong immune response and that’s exactly what they got. BUT, of course God has a Plan D for me (addition).  Eleven new tumors have emerged in my brain and I will have to undergo a gamma knife surgery in May.  I had a consultation with the radiologist yesterday and the procedure will begin with a neurosurgeon placing pins in my head before the precise high-tech radiation is administered.  I’ll be able to return home the same day, but will need lots of rest following the procedure.  It’s very common for lung cancer to metastasize to the brain and the infusion had no direct impact on this part of my body.  I’ve been experiencing more frequent headaches, but that could be a combination of stress and watching an obscene amount of Netflix.

Addition by subtraction is also weighing heavily on my home and heart. I once heard a quote that said the red flags in the beginning of a relationship are the same ones that will end the relationship. After ten years, I cannot choose to hide behind those flags and have petitioned for a divorce from a person I no longer know: a belligerent alcoholic with emotionally abusive and destructive tendencies. It’s either the kids and me or him. I’ll defer to his family and friends for “saving” him because a restraining order and call to the sheriffs is clearly not enough.  The truth is, I’m already at the bottom of a dark place and both my heart and soul feel empty. I guess the only thing I can do from here is “rise up” (song by Andra Day).

3 Year, 10 Month Update

Today is six weeks post transplant and four weeks since returning home from my hospitalization.  I’ve contemplated writing an update in prior weeks, but I think I experienced PTSD from being confined in the hospital and needed the energy to write about my experience.

Five days before my transplant, I underwent my second chemo cocktail for three days before my white blood cell count plummeted to zero. On the day of the transplant, I had a neck IV inserted before three bags of my TIL (tumor infiltrated lymphocyte) stem cells were transfused back into my body. It tasted and smelled like corn, which I haven’t eaten since. Following the transplant that went well, I spent the next two days undergoing more chemo treatment.  It wasn’t until that next Wednesday when I began to feel completely awful (major flu-like symptoms and nausea) and began to also lose my hair.  Lance ended up shaving it all off, to my relief.  The following Saturday I was discharged, but developed a fever that night at home.  We called USC and they asked me to come back in, but because my insurance company admission line was down, I couldn’t get an approval and therefore stayed at home, thankfully.  Recovery has been slow and symptoms change every 3-5 days.  The two things that have been constant are heavy fatigue and full body soreness.

While in the hospital my family held it down by creating a Google doc containing meal, school drop off/pick up and activity sign-ups to ensure the kids’ schedules remained as normal as possible. While at home, my mom and aunt from the Philippines have been more than helpful by preparing the kids’ lunches, doing laundry, getting the kids ready for school, cleaning, cooking, and relieving me with soothing massages.  They all continue to be a blessing as Lance has been too deep in his addiction to be trusted or relied upon.

Two weeks ago I returned to work with my same schedule: Tuesday and Thursday from 9:20am-11:45am.  Amidst the Coronavirus pandemic, I’m definitely feeling a little vulnerable as someone with an “underlying condition,”  but find so much relief in getting up (which has become a concerted effort each morning) and teaching.  On my first day back, I bravely wore my wig for the first time and stood under an A/C vent. I warned my students to let me know if the wig began to shift out of place.  Since leaving the hospital, I’ve had scheduled immunotherapy treatments every three weeks for one hour.  The effects have been frustrating: continued full body arthritic soreness as if I was 70-years old and mild rashes. I tell people that I could see why people give up. It’s not so much about fighting cancer – it’s about fighting against the desire to give up when the pain is some days too much to manage.  I’ve balled up and cried in frustration on many days hoping that all the pain would just subside.

Before I had my follow-up appointment today with my oncologist, I had my blood drawn, brain MRI, and CT scan. As soon as Dr. Nieva walked into the room, I saw his large grin. He must have said, “I’m so happy” at least four times as he is the principal investigator of the whole trial.  All of my tumors have shrunk and some have even disappeared completely.  It was absolutely the best news I could have heard despite the fact that it’s contrary to how I’m actually feeling.  He also mentioned that the biotech company is also very pleased with my results.  While some of my labs are still too high to continue immunotherapy, the overall results are promising in its early stages.

Every day is for sure a blessing and I’m thankful for everyone’s prayers, positive thoughts, visits, messages, and of course love. Day by day, I will continue to fight knowing what’s at the center of the battle, one more quality minute with each of my three beautiful children!

Clinical Trial-Phase 2B: And So The Journey Begins…

“This is a story of how one plus one equals something bigger than you can imagine as long as you don’t give up to soon because you didn’t understand the math.”          -Brian Andreas

T-1: The day before I began my admission, I was encouraged by the hematologist to cut my hair and so I sadly did.  I think I lost 5-pounds and proudly yielded four ponytails that probably equaled four whole heads of hair.

I also tried various wigs in preparation for my complete hair loss and it was a great reminder that Instagram versus reality is no joke.

Day 1: My morning began with a simple draw of 10 viles of blood and a physical exam before being admitted. Sophie, Anthony, and I set up shop organizing my top drawer with all my work and craft activities, plugging in the diffuser (that we were told we couldn’t use) and a digital frame loaded with all the kids pictures, and unpacking my toiletries and handful of somewhat healthy snacks. Immediately, I scheduled for my complimentary oncology massage for Tuesday and hair wash/blow out on Wednesday. Great perks of a private hospital! I met with the oncology team, hematology team and occupational therapist before getting my PICC line inserted in my right arm (more freedom for me as a left-hander).  This was followed by a chest x-ray, a heavy dose of oxycontin for my chest/back pain and four hours of hydration  My dad, stepmom, and three kids visited, threatening the peace on the fourth floor of the tower, but the kids were nonetheless excited for the excellent variety of movies offered.  Before leaving, Tyus wanted an extra hug as his eyes filled with tears as did mine as he walked toward the elevator before heading to Spoon House, the Javier’s favorite restaurant in Gardena.  I finally began my 2-hour chemo drip at 9pm and fell in and out sleep and told everyone I was floating up to the ceiling and back and that I might actually breakthrough. Semi-hallucination?

Day 2: Today began with heavy nausea and an injection of Lasix which is intended to treat body fluid retention. In 24-hours, I had gained over 17 pounds because of the hydration IVs and the medication forced me to urinate 15-ounces every 10 minutes. Fun!  I told the physical therapist that I felt super bloated and she claimed that I didn’t look like it because I didn’t have a double chin! Haha! Since I didn’t require any of her services, Sophie and I just probed her for Chinese restaurant recommendations.  For dinner, I am anxiously awaiting to try my twin-tail lobster with drawn butter (yes, lobster!) before my second chemo drip at 9pm. I’m feeling 99%, but only for about a couple more days until my white blood cell count drops and then I’ll feel weak and terrible.  Next Friday, I’ll begin the infusion of the stem cells.  I’m grateful to have finished grading some papers, finished all my spring syllabi, and some other work-related items. Maybe in the next couple days I’ll be able to binge on some Netflix and start my estimated 20-hours of personal projects (invASIAN 2020 photo book, birthday thank you cards, letters for the kids, more blogs etc).  One treatment plus another treatment really does equal something bigger…it’s the hope and healing I long for on this EMazing journey.

invASIAN 2020: Korea, Thailand, Vietnam

“We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.” -Paulo Coelho

Every once in a while we come up with great ideas…like travelling to three Asian countries with 30 people (12 of whom are 13 and under) in between seven flights ranging from one to 13 hours.  This idea was brought to fruition this past December and while it might sound chaotic and stressful, it was at the center, the greatest time of our lives. Time to step out of our comfort zones and into cities, cultures, and activities that remind us all we are blessed to be alive.

For the first leg of the trip, 20 of us boarded a double-decker Asiana plane headed to Korea. Mila and Elias had the 24-hour stomach bug on the 24th, and naturally, Tyus would also get it in perfect time to vomit all over his clothes and seat just before the plane landed. Our group split up into two while on the 13-hour layover and left the airport on a free tour to a local temple.  Before leaving, we tried beef bone broth noodle soup and kimchi noodle soup to warm up from the freezing 29 degree temperature. While at the temple, we bought a ceramic plate where we wrote offerings and blessing for the new year and placed it on the “tree of wisdom.” Afterwards, we took an Uber to a mini Myeongdong shopping area sprinkled with restaurants, shops, and street vendors.  We wandered aimlessly through small streets deciphering what to try. We settled on a Korean chicken restaurant and tried their soy sauce chicken and octopus in between bites of fresh kimchi and sips of sochu. Before returning, we found a small truck filled with fresh fruit and took a chance on the expensive strawberries (12 pieces for $9). It was devoured in minutes as the kids claimed it tasted just like the Hi-Chew tasting strawberries from Japan. Given only a small bite, I’ll take their word for it.  After returning to Incheon, we relaxed at one of the airport lounges (thanks to our Priority Pass access – a perk from the Chase Reserve credit card).

Next up, Thailand! We arrived in Bangkok late evening and feasted our eyes on all the street food as we were driven to our hotel.  The streets on this Saturday night were filled with party goers, locals, and tourists. After checking into our six rooms, we ventured out into the streets and settled on an open restaurant populated by locals. Along the way, we tried grilled gizzards and hearts from vendors with small crowds of people waiting for a taste of authentic Thai bbq. It’s all a gamble, really, and we took everyone of them…to the benefit of our taste buds. After eating grilled crab, shrimp, fish, and noodles, we took over the hotel lounge area and laughed into oblivion, or 6am. 

Our tour for the following day was to the floating market “two hours” away (we realized that we had to manage our expectations by multiplying 1.5 x expected time).  As with all our trips, the kids just wanted to swim at the pool and splashed around before boarding the bus. Upon stepping into our long-tail boats, we were immediately immersed in a completely different water community – a place where their livelihoods are predicated upon tourism. We stopped for a quick lunch and then haggled our way through the markets buying “kalat” (junk in Tagalog). The kids sampled fruit, bought wooden instruments, and kept an eye out for oversized iguanas.  

After returning and before calling it a night, we walked across the street from our hotel and got much needed massages.  Mine was called “four hands” because one therapist massaged my legs and feet while the other massaged my head and shoulders – what a treat!  While everyone started falling asleep, Ramy and I returned to a noodle cart blocks from our hotel and people watched the busy streets.

The next morning, we packed into three large vans and headed to the elephant sanctuary. With traffic and pit stops, we arrive four hours later and began with a tasty buffet of traditional Thai food. In between feeding and posing with the elephants, we watched videos, sang elephant songs, painted, and made banana mush for their meals.  Dressed in our bathing suits, we first stepped into a small pond where we took handfuls of mud and “massaged” the elephants. It was messy and smelly…right up the kids’ alley. Shortly after, we picked up a bucket and brush and followed the elephants into the river where we scrubbed and bathed them. When an elephant pooped, one of the workers simply cupped it and chucked it into the river flow. We all screamed and tried to scurry away. On the bus ride home, everyone recharged before hopping in a tuk tuk to the night market for dinner and shopping. The girls then ventured on our own to a ping pong show. The end of my comments.

On day four, we were headed to Nha Trang, which has been labeled as the Miami Beach of Vietnam.  Hotel and restaurant-lined streets along the beach made for beautiful views along the sidewalks and from our hotel rooms.  We enjoyed New Year’s Eve on a rooftop restaurant/bar, Skylight, and were given first-class treatment by its owner, TK Nguyen, thanks to Limzer, who grew up with him in San Diego. It was a wild night for everyone but me; I was TKO. 

Great planning called for a relaxing a New Year’s Day at a local Vietnamese restaurant for lunch followed by the iResort – a genius property that entertains kids with water activities and slides and adults with spas and treatments.  The adults, however, decided to join the kids and screamed like 10-year olds going down scary, mostly unsafe waterslides. It was a moment to be reminded that we were all alive. The next day, we boarded a boat for island hopping around the Nha Trang area. Before stopping for lunch, we all jumped in the water for some snorkeling and swimming.  Following a fun day in the sun, we retreated to another glorious $8 massage. On that evening, we were ready for any food that didn’t look, smell, or taste like pho so we tried a Texas style bbq restaurant that was incredibly delicious. How are they making bbq better than some places here in the states? But before leaving the following morning, we had to try pho prepared with handmade noodles and served in a cast iron boiling bowl. Amazing! 

For our last leg of the trip, we boarded another short flight to Hanoi. Our hotel was located in the Old Quarters that hosts night markets on the weekends. Because we arrived after 6pm, we were dropped off a few blocks from our hotel and employees trekked our luggage into the hotel and our rooms.  That night, we had a walking food tour scheduled – seven places to be exact. Everything from banh mi sandwiches and lemongrass noodle soup to ban cha, egg coffee and mango with sticky rice. It served as a historical and cultural tour bundled into one. At this point of the trip, the flu began to quickly creep up on the kids. First a fever, and then a cough, and then achy bodies. I don’t know if the flu played “eenie, meenie, minie, mo” but the adults who drank were somehow scotch free the ailments, according to Auntie Mimi.

L-R (top row): Tyson, Jesse, Monay, Makaio, Jasmine, Krystal, Limzer, Joe, Mario; (middle row): Mimi, Mary, Tricia, Theresa, Grace, Maile, Lana, Sophia, Ramy, Dave, Haruka; (bottom row): Tyus, Kyle, Mila, Evan, Levi, Anna, Elias, Zack, Zayn, Liam

The whole reason I wanted to go to Vietnam was to see Halong Bay, which is one of the UNESCO World Heritage sites. It was surreal. Calmness met beauty mixed in with caves, hikes, gondola rides, and kayaking.  We soaked it all in with our straw hat photo shoots and private junk boat cruise.  

For our last tour, we hiked the Mua Cave, a dark stoned looking castle that has been characterized as a small-scale Great Wall of Vietnam. On this day, I was truly proud of all three of my kids who hiked every single step to make it to the top amidst the pouring rain.  Every ten steps, Tyus would mention his need for a snack, but we all just ignored him, knowing that lunch was awaiting upon our descent. After eating, we took advantage of the optional bike ride in the rain to a local temple. Elias rode his own bike and while making a u-turn, Sophie crashed into him, knocking the chains off his bike as well as Eli. It was irreparable on the spot so Elias had to be towed back to the restaurant by the tour guide. There was so much laughing that could not be contained. It was my favorite day of the trip. 

On our last day in Vietnam, we took advantage of all the shopping and eating offered along the streets of our hotel.  We tried another pho spot that had a “special” broth and walked along the riverfront before getting yet another massage.  The kids learned that they could purchase knockoff name brand items so Mila bought herself a Gucci bag and Elias and Tyus bought a Supreme men’s bag.  None of the three even know those brands, but wanted to copy everyone else.  Each kid was well under their souvenir budget, mostly because the dollar went a long way along with my bargaining efforts.   

Before heading back to Los Angeles, we had another long layover in Korea and decided to leave the airport again for some traditional Korean bbq.  We were not disappointed! It was a hole in the wall that we saw locals coming out of at 10am and figured it would be tasty. So fresh and delicious and a good change from the Vietnamese cuisine. 

Stressful? Yes. Chaotic? Yes. But all this is in exchange for the greatest time with family and friends. It was also an eventful way to start our new 2020 adventures. I’m grateful for my Auntie Monay and Anna who stepped up to do all the planning when my energy and efforts failed.  Organization, flexibility, and an open mind are all key to traveling in general, but especially with a large group. Thankful and blessed for the quality time spent and bountiful memories made.    

   

Happy 40th Birthday…to Me!

“Tears are words that need to be written.” -Paulo Coelho

A reflection on growing with (Mary)grace…

What I Know Now

Nelson Mandela once said that “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” As an immigrant to this country and first-generation community college transfer student, I hold this quote deep in my heart as I have experienced firsthand how I’ve used my own education to shape and transform my world not only for myself and family, but also for those whom reap the benefits of my passion for teaching.  Today my children too are benefitting from the immigrant mentality of hard work that my parents and grandparents instilled while growing up.

Every dollar counts. Managing money and having a budget for everything is not always easy, but always necessary.  From some of the adults in my life, I’ve learned what not to do when it comes to money.  Saving and planning are true skills that require compromise, sacrifice, and delayed gratification.  When my kids tried splitting a $10 bill by literally cutting it in half, I don’t go ballistic. Rather, I used it as a “money doesn’t grow on trees” learning opportunity and added it to the miscellaneous funds for things and events that cannot be controlled.  I can spare fashionable clothes and trendy restaurants in exchange for my travel budget that continues to grow each year.

Traveling sets you free. After my upcoming trip to Korea, Thailand, and Vietnam (departing December 26), I will have travelled to my 29th, 30th, and 31st country. And as often as I say I want to return to a country I’ve visited, another part of my heart lingers for more as there are 195 countries and I have only travelled to a modest 15% of these amazing places filled with hidden treasures of culture, food, and people. And there is still one continent, Antarctica, that I haven’t step foot on. Tyus learned about all seven continents in school and now constantly asks if we can fly to Antarctica, but after researching the $3500 price tag during low season, it don’t find it to be viable option. Sorry, kids!

What I Wish I Had Known

Marriage is hard and it takes work every. single. day.  In the naive promise of “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health,” I’ve grappled with the reality that love can be so raw it can crack your heart wide open and entangle you in emotions to the depths of your soul.   This love can get repeatedly tested and it is only through these sometimes silent battles that I’ve learned the true importance of learning to FLY (first love yourself).

Hard work doesn’t always pay off. It just doesn’t. It builds grit, resilience, and gets you far, but really, it also becomes an expectation that constantly needs to be fulfilled and/or gets taken advantage of. When people know you’re a hard worker, they can sometimes become over-reliant on you thereby inhibiting their own opportunity for growth and change. I’m admittedly the student that never wanted to do group projects because I would end up doing everything and not because others didn’t contribute, but because I wanted to exercise control from beginning to end.  Would I ever tell my kids not to work hard? Never. Yet I also know there are skills of delegating, trust-building, and relinquishing of control that balance the power of hard work.

What I Still Want to Know

Did God know I had three children when He chose to give me terminal cancer? The rhetorical answer is yes, but deep in my heart I want to know how I might ever embrace the idea of having to leave three beautiful souls without a mother prematurely to battle through the most formative decades of their lives.  Some nights I dream that there was a reset button I could push to give me extra time because while I rehearse every kind of message, I somehow can’t get myself to dance around empty spaces and invisible hands to lead their way when they might need me most. But then I wake up realizing that it’s my reality and while I have my village of support and people praying for me, it is ultimately up to me to take control of every 24 hours.  Some parents wish that their kids wouldn’t grow up so fast or could stay little forever. In unfortunate that way, I guess I will only know my children as innocent littles ready to conquer the world.

What has been my impact on this world? A colleague once asked what I wanted to be known for when I leave education and for many years, I’ve pondered what my answer to that question might be.  My wing span in my current role as a pre-service teacher college instructor has by far been the most expansive and while I might not yet know my true impact, I wake up each day fulfilled knowing that just maybe I’ve made a difference in the lives of future generations.

I feel great and am genuinely blessed to be celebrating today given that I didn’t think 3.5 years ago that I’d even be here.  This is forty.

P.S. My surgery on December 3 went well, hence the approval for the upcoming trip. On January 17 I’ll begin my first round of chemo and on January 24 I’ll be admitted for a two-week hospitalization where the extracted tumor will be infused back in to take over the cancerous cells.  I’ll be looking for wigs in Thailand. Haha!

42-Month Update: Hello, Clinical Trial!

“And one has to understand that braveness is not the absence of fear but rather the strength to keep on going forward despite the fear.” -Paulo Coehlo

I knew this time would eventually arrive, but there is truly nothing that could have prepared me  for the current update: disease progression. All of my existing tumors have grown and new ones have emerged in my pelvis. I was given three options: 1. Continue with current chemo pill and see how much the tumors grow over the next six months; 2. Begin standard chemo; or 3. Start a clinical trial. I chose #3, but it will not be an easy journey. The trial will start with a surgery the first week of December to remove one of my existing lung tumors. A biotech company will then conduct stem cell reproduction that will attack the bad cells. In January, I will begin a combo of chemo, immunotherapy, radiation, and an infusion of the tumor back into my body. This will require a two-week hospitalization followed by hair loss and all the goodies that come with treatment.  All this to give me an extra 6-12 months.

#thisishope

Meanwhile, I emailed the team of doctors my work schedule to try to plan around the semester and upcoming trips. EVERYTHING is currently TBD, including our Thailand/Vietnam/Korea vacation with 30 family members and friends on December 26. Not to mention, my family is planning a huge 40th celebration for me on December 20. My oncologist suggested that since I’m still “young” I can get beat up a little bit to give me another option before standard chemo. I’ll be the first lung cancer patient in America to go on the trial and only the 7th overall (pancreatic and lymphoma are the other diagnosis).

#thisiscontrol

Here’s the good news: I checked and USC Keck Hospital has WiFi so I’m able to continue my online classes. Bad news and what scares me most: I have to finally tell my kids that I have the “C” word. It weighs on my heart heavily as they’ve already experienced grief and loss from the deaths of their great-grandmother in June and grandfather in October. There has also been absence for things I couldn’t explain to their young minds.  They take turns crying, begging me not the leave (even for work sometimes) and hastily ask questions about who will drop them off, pick them up, and what exact time I’ll be home. Lance and I are setting them up to begin counseling and before the surgery, I’ll give them the worst Christmas present by sharing the truth. It’s just plain sad thinking about inflicting emotional pain and even more hurtful knowing that the fear of losing their mom is something I can’t simply repair with a bandaid, gentle kiss, or reminder that “everything will be okay.”

#thisisstrong

#iamstrong

#iamstrong

They say that God only gives us what we can handle and I’m flattered that He thinks that I’m superwoman, but today I’m just feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, and mentally unprepared for all of it.  This week, I’ll continue my series of diagnostic testing: brain MRI, cardioechogram, EKG, spirometry test, labwork, and physical.  Because the clinical trial is spending over $1 million dollars on each patient, every I must be dotted and every T crossed. But through it all, I’m smiling, laughing, and even taking a short side trip Panama with Lance to remind myself that I can and will do this because the the weight of my love for life has to be carried with strength, resilience, and hope.