We have made it to 12/31/2019. The end of a decade. Whew what a roller coaster of a year. 2019 definitely had its ups and downs… actually started off on the up and I think we have been steadily flowing downhill at a rapid pace ever since. April was amazing, got engaged to Matt. Were working on our house, looking forward to our happily ever after.

Then May. It has always been one of my favorite months, its finally warm and sunny and the days are long again. Mother’s day, mom’s birthday, summer looming, baseball season in full force. May took a real hard left real early in the month when my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. We also found out that Ellison has a very rare, but very treatable, form of Von Willebrand’s disease. But, we were moving in our house, dad was starting treatment, still rolling right along with the good.

June, July, August for the most part went pretty smoothly. Other than, you know, Matt not having a job for three months. So that was fun. Get the kiddos settled in to a new school year. Matt and I had a bump in the road- I made him leave because he wouldn’t work. Three days later, he has a job and comes home. So- you can’t get a job for three months but find one in three days? Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. But it is what it is.

September we were told that my dad’s chemo had not helped at all, and they could not do anything further for him. His cancer had now spread to his brain. They were giving him less than a year. We made the decision to seek treatment at Vanderbilt- i fully believe that is the best decision we could have made for him. Spent a week up there with my parents getting everything set up and seeing all the doctors, getting a treatment plan going.

October- thats when shit really hits the fan. Matt decides to pull some bullshit on taking pills he got for a broken hand. Nope. No sir, not me. He pretty much OD’s on my couch on a Wednesday night. I thought he was having a stroke or something. I pack his bags that night. We end things immediately. Done. Find out more bad news about my dad. over and over, every week. More treatment. More radiation. The cancer has spread, and spread again. They are giving him less than six months at this point, and no type of treatment is working.

November and December have kind of passed in a blur. November is super hard for me anyway, and December was a close second. The days are short and the nights seem endless, and there is never enough sun in the sky. We buy presents begrudgingly, knowing full well this is the last Christmas with my daddy. I don’t know that he really even realizes… which breaks my heart even more. He had an episode on Christmas Eve. Thank you Jesus is was just me and my mom there to see it, the kids were at their dads this year. He starts coughing, and can’t get a breath in. This goes on for a full thirty seconds probably, and I am picking up my phone to call an ambulance. His body starts curling up and it looks like he is about to go in to a full seizure. Finally he gets a breath in. It was the scariest thing i have ever seen.

Here we are now… December 31, 2019. This year has taught me a whole lot. About who I am as a person, who I am as a daughter. I am praying for an easier 2020… although what is coming looms above the horizon of really having an amazing year like a huge black cloud. I dread and look forward to the New Year at the same time. New opportunities, a new important person in my life. Just learning how to hold my breath, not overthink, and hang on for the ride.

These days when someone asks how I am doing, all I can really manage to mutter, without being completely untruthful, is “We making it.” “day to day.” I don’t mean to sound dreary- but its the absolute truth. Some days I am barely making it. The last week has been better, mentally, for me that it has been for quite a few. Seems like a good week, or even day, will come, and then suddenly it all comes slamming back down.

Yesterday- yesterday started out as a good day. It got progressively more chaotic as the day went on, but chaos I can handle. My mom called as I was getting the kids in to bed, they are at Vanderbilt this week. My dad had a bone scan yesterday, then they saw the doctor this morning. I was quite surprised when she had called to tell me that Dr. Iams had called, and given them the results.

We had been afraid for a few weeks that his cancer has spread in to his bones, as that apparently is the natural course that it follows- lungs. liver. bones. We already knew about the liver and of course lungs… but when he started having pains in his ribs and hips, it was quite concerning. So it was really not surprising when she called with the news that the cancer, has in fact spread into his bones.

Now what? That is the question that we really haven’t been given the answer to. Originally, he was not to get any treatment next week, and then start again the week after Thanksgiving. Now, after those scan results, they will be in Vanderbilt Wednesday for treatment and an appointment with Dr. Iams. They will be spending the night and come home on Thanksgiving day. He then has a lot more scans the week of the 12. Seeing all the doctors again… making new plans with this new information.

Our question now seems to be… what is the end game in all this? We know the ultimate end unfortunately… that has been expressed, that no matter how we try to control this monster, it will take him- more than likely sooner than later. It’s only been seven months since his diagnosis. What good is more chemo going to do at this point? What are we looking for- prolonging a miserable life of being sick the entire time? Is that what he wants? So many questions. So please- if you pray, pray for peace. For making the decisions in the right way to live his best life. That’s all I can do.

November is not a happy time of the year for me. Our birthdays have wound down for the year, Christmas is looming, which always brings a lot of extra stress for me. November also is a time of loss for my family.

My grandad passed away November 9, 2010. This was the first time in my life I had ever experienced loss firsthand. I wasn’t young. I was 25, with two kids of my own. But my grandad was seriously LIFE. He was my everything good in the world, bigger than life in my opinion. I had been his caretaker since he had stopped driving about two or three years prior. He was in assisted living, and my grandma had accompanied him there so they could be together. Out of the blue, completely unexpected, I got a phone call one morning about 7 am. He had a pulmonary embolism and I needed to get to the hospital ASAP. We made the decision not to give any more treatment- he had been without oxygen for over seven minutes. At 81 years old, there isn’t really any more to do. The next months are literally a fog that couldn’t be lifted. I don’t remember the funeral. Its completely gone. Not who I spoke to, not who was there. Nothing. Driving home from work around midnight, I would just feel like I couldn’t breathe all of sudden. Apparently I was having panic attacks.

Eventually the fog does lift, and though nothing ever goes back to normal, you kind of go to a “new” normal of sorts. I did have a few breakdowns, the most memorable is when the older man in the same aisle i was in at Walmart was wearing the same cologne. Yea I sobbed like a baby right there in that aisle. But that extreme ache begins to fade, and now when I smell that scent it just brings back wonderful memories.

November 14, 2017 was the day my grandmother left us. It was a bittersweet day. We had known it was coming for a long time, and it was honestly sort of a relief. Alzheimer’s had wrecked her mind and her body, and she was a shell of the grandmother I had known my whole life. My grandmother, the one I had spent the night with every Saturday, stayed up way too late, and played rummy with all the time, had really been gone for a long time. I realized, that night as we were calling the funeral home- she had died the second tuesday in November. Same as my grandad. We buried them both on a Thursday.

My ex-husband’s granddad also passed away, November of 2018. It was not the magnitude of losing my grandparents, but my children felt it immensely, and that made me hurt as well. They have felt quite a bit of loss in the last two years.

So as we once again are in November, with Christmas decor going up, and plans being made for the season, there is a sense of loss and darkness that envelopes me. I struggle to break free of it. I try to take the sun in daily, feel it on my face. I hate the darkness, the cold. All I can do is hold on to the rollercoaster for dear life and pray. Pray for Christmas, then the New Year, and soon spring- when the warmth and sun and good days return.

It never fails to amaze me how God is ALWAYS ON TIME. He always does what you need, whether you realize it or not, when the time is right. I woke up yesterday morning with praise and worship music in my head. More specifically- Peace Be Still by Lauren Daigle. This song has been my go to during the trials of my life since the first time I heard it.

God knew where my heart and mind needed to start their day- on Him. I always daydream that I will wake up, and fix my nice warm mug of coffee, and curl up in an armchair with my Bible, and get in the word every morning before my day begins. But I will go ahead and admit- I fail MISERABLY at that. For one, I don’t even own the armchair that I tend to picture in this cozy little scenario. In reality, my mornings are messy, screamy, and normally we are running late. None of us are morning people. 😉

Yesterday morning though… it was different. I had the music on, the kids woke up in a generally good mood, we all managed to get dressed and out the door without any cross words or drama. On a MONDAY at that. Had a praise and worship in the car on my way to work. Everything was going so good.

Back in August, after my dad had finished chemo, they told us that chemo had not helped. We made the decision to go to Vanderbilt. Once we got there, it was determined that the cancer had metastasized, and was not not only in his lung, but also his brain, liver, adrenal glands and lymph nodes. At Vanderbilt, they immediately decided the two most critical areas were the lung, where the initial tumor had started, and the brain. They radiated those areas, which seemed to help tremendously, and started the immunotherapy. Two weeks ago, he had been downgraded from the “critical” stage, and his life expectancy had grown to 1-2 years.

My mom called me around 10:30. She had been waiting on a call from Dr. Iams, who is the clinical director at Vanderbilt, and is over my dad’s case. He had a scan last week when they were there for his immunotherapy. Dr. Iams told mom that even though the radiation had helped the places that it needed to- there was now a bigger spot on his liver that is continuing to grow. Also new spots have appeared in his lower abdomen that had not previously been there. We haven’t made this public knowledge yet. We are still processing it honestly. The immunotherapy is not working, as the chemo did not either. We are kind of at a loss as to what direction to go now. Is there a direction to go? Do we just accept that cancer is going to take him and enjoy the time we have left? We have gotten the second opinion, but essentially now they are all saying the same thing. The time frame waxes and wanes, but essentially they all say the same thing.

My brain kind of goes in to a panic mode at this point. Trying to plan for the future. A future that could be in three months. It could be six, or nine, or even a year away. What will my mom do? I don’t want her to be alone. Should I move back in with her? Should we buy a different house that fits us better? I don’t really want to be alone at this point either. It just makes more sense.

I’m just a big jumble of “what if’s” at this point. I feel the need to make a list of things that need to be done, questions that I need to ask the doctor. I think it is just my way of trying to have some sort of control over a completely uncontrollable situation. We are just trying to take a break. And breathe.

Guess we can start with the obvious here- I am Jennifer Powell. 34 years old, leo, mom to three- 2 girls, 14 and 6, and one boy, 12. From Florence, AL. I’m very, very terrible at introducing myself.