Pink Door House

143 trips. 28,600 miles. 572 hours spent in the car. It's about a hundred miles...a two hour drive...from the Pink Door House in Moses Lake to Spokane. Give or take, depending on what part of town you're landing at. And in the last three and a half years, this little family has made approximately 143 of those trips for Inflammatory Breast Cancer. How did it add up to so many? For the first eight months after my diagnosis...during chemo...the kids and I lived with my folks. Th

Does this angle make my wounds look open to you? I'm looking in the bathroom mirror after my shower. The eucalyptus scented vapors are dissipating. Eucalyptus, because the jury is still out on the relationship between lavender and estrogen and hormone positive breast cancers.... The adhesive used on my port site last week caused a reaction. And instead of going away, it's creeping across my sternum. An area that was scraped to bone during my 9 hour mastectomy. A tender area t

I read recently that parenting is simultaneously celebrating accomplishments and milestones, while grieving each stage that is left behind. In the fall, London and Quinn will start kindergarten. May brought with it preschool graduation...one step closer to those long days where their giggles fill classroom walls instead of the Pink Door House. Bittersweet. When I was first diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer, I read that the average life expectancy was 33 months. The gi

While I was in Spokane nursing my disappointment over the news from my last Echo (more on that here), I got a text from my friend Annie... Are you interested in having a yard sale at our house next Saturday? Our neighborhood is having one... Sure, why not? It sounded like either a great distraction or a terrible idea. And we have plenty of stuff. Plenty of stuff. I visited the cardiologist Monday morning and drove home with the kids that afternoon. Leaving four days to prepar

Life provides plenty of irony when you are in your mid-30's and have Stage 4 cancer. Take my favorite example...faithfully applying anti-aging eye cream each night. Or this.... After receiving an article from my dad about how melatonin suppresses breast cancer growth, I spent several late nights plugged into my iPad screen, reading up on the topic. Ishouldhavebeensleeping.......... The study was from Michigan State University, where researchers found that melatonin, when appl

Tonight I intended to sit and look through photos for my next fun post about what to wear after your mastectomy...culling, as the real photographers call it. (Look at me...learning new words!) But my mind resembles my early attempts at egg poaching. The waters are spinning and bits are breaking off, clouding the pot. Most of my nails are bitten off. Projects started, but not finished. I'm drinking too much coffee, losing my temper too fast. London--bless her--looked through t

It was girls' night out...I had finished chemotherapy and was taking a break at home in Moses Lake. I went out for sushi and wine with the wonderful women--other young moms--who had buoyed my little family through prayers and meals. I never felt more anchored to this community than I did that night. One friend fessed up that she made "soup" for dinner for her husband and Littles, combining a few different leftovers and a healthy dose of broth. Yum? We'll give her a pass...she

Picture this: Our first summer in Moses Lake. Temperatures often in triple digits. Pregnant. So pregnant....Eli, due mid August, is 11 days late (11 days!) and a whoppin' 9.5 pounds. Our little rental...technically a 2 bedroom...with one window AC unit in the living room. Jason and I made our room in a (poorly insulated) converted shop on the opposite side of the house. During the last month or so of my pregnancy, I started sleeping on the air mattress in front of that AC uni

The day had come to fly back to Houston and begin radiation. I woke London and Quinn to say goodbye. The picture of sweetness...side by side in the bed they share at Grammy and Grandpapa's house. They fell asleep playing "sock puppets"...a current favorite...and both still had their socks on their hands. As small children often do, they continued their play as soon as their eyes opened. My suitcase, waiting by the door, became Sock Stage, Hiding Place, Playground. Which is wh

My double mastectomy at MDAnderson was scheduled to be six hours long. It took eight and a half. After I said goodbye to Jason and was rolled into the operating room, it got terribly real. Through the haze of medication I was aware that the room was cold. Bright. Very large. And very busy. All of these people here for me? I hear words of comfort. The sound of the voice mattered more than the words. I couldn't stop crying. I very much wanted this to be someone else's story. I