From the Ashes

The Phoenix. Born from fire only to die and rise again from its own ashes. It's a mythological symbol of rebirth and renewal, and a personal one as well. How so? I'm glad you asked! But let's start at the beginning.

The image above is a tattoo I designed for Krissy about six years ago. It's the first tattoo I've ever drawn, and after she was brave enough to have it inked on her lower back, was the first of two tattoos I drew to make their permanent home on Krissy's body. This history of how this particular tattoo came to be is a bit funny, but perfectly fitting if you know anything about Kris and I.

I suppose I should backtrack a bit. This was actually the second tattoo that Kris asked me to design, but the first one that we both decided was good enough for ink. Long before we started dating, she asked me to design something circular to go around her belly button, to hide an old piercing scar. I came up with something that looked like a ring entangled with vines with leaves radiating out from the center. She liked it, but decided it would hurt too damn much with all the detail I put in, so we scrapped it. Fast forward to about six months after we started dating and Kris decides she wants to me to design something for her lower back. Being the comic book geek I am, I had been reading X-Men and she happened to catch a panel of Jean Grey as the Dark Phoenix. The character has a stylized phoenix symbol on her chest and is usually drawn in dramatic fashion, surrounded by flames that also appear to be in the form of a phoenix behind her. Something about it grabbed Kris and she asked me to come up with a design based on this character. I, of course, was ecstatic she was appreciating my beloved art form so I jumped on it. It took me about three months, and probably six drafts, but I finally came up with the design above. She and I walked to Holy Rollers one evening after work to make it permanent. I was still amazed that she liked my artwork enough to actually tattoo it on her, and was totally in love with her fearlessness. Even after several years of seeing the phoenix on her body, I would shake my head and smile, still a little in disbelief that she could really want something I drew on her body forever. The chick had to be crazy!

Krissy always had a way of adding importance to things in life and this was the same for her tattoos. Her lion came to symbolize her ferocity and protection of our children, and after Cori was born became a sigil of her baby girl as well. Her zodiac, while obviously displaying her astrological sign, was a permanent connection to her sister and a reminder of how close they would always be. The phoenix also took on new meaning, but unfortunately it wasn't until after she was diagnosed with cancer that we looked to its symbolism to provide some hope and understanding of her new existence. While asking the whys and hows this could possibly be happening, we fought to find hope and faith to see her through the difficult healing period after her surgery so we could begin cancer treatments. In a moment of despair, while reaching for hope, we started talking about the things she could find strength in. She touched her back and that moment the tattoo took on new meaning, and she decided that she had it tattooed for another reason and that was to show she would not give up and would rise again after having fallen so low emotionally. She would be the phoenix and I believe it gave her a shot of strength when we were looking for anything to lift the darkness. I really latched onto that thinking and would remind her of it many times as we journeyed through her treatments together.

After Krissy passed away and I gathered around me the things that reminded me of her, I came back to this drawing several times. At first with anger, that she didn't rise and prevail, that she only smoldered and faded away, and it pissed me off that it didn't make a difference in the end. Then I'd alternate between sadness and happiness as I conjured up the memories of drawing it for her and the tattooing and all the times I'd seen it on her in the past. And now, for the past few weeks, I'd just look at it, set it aside, take it out and look at it again. The symbolism was still not lost on me. Despite being born from the panel of a comic book and rising from my love and desire to create something special for Krissy, I felt like it just wasn't ready to die amongst the cold ashes just yet.


So this Friday I took the phoenix out of my sketchbook for the last time and went back to Holy Rollers to complete the cycle. Sorry about the crappy pic, those self-taken shots in the mirror never turn out well. It is my first tattoo, and really didn't hurt at all. It seems to be healing nicely and I'm looking forward to taking off this surgical bandage covering it up. I had no doubts about getting this tattoo. It will be my personal memorial to Krissy and a constant reminder of her love and trust. I will carry it with me forever, a permanent symbol now with more meanings than I could have ever foreseen when I first put pencil to paper.

Krissy may have fallen, but I will carry her spirit on with me, up from the fire and born again in me. She will always be my phoenix.

State of Me

Hello! Welcome to Brain of F, my little corner of the blogosphere and home to the random thoughts that will occasionally spill from my head. I'm a 33 year old father of two wonderful girls, self-proclaimed geek and recent widower. Yeah, still getting used to that last part. Never in my wildest imaginings did I picture this to be my life, but here we are, so I suppose I should honestly state what and who I am from this day forward even though it's truly painful to accept.

Wow, that was a downer right? So how exactly am I doing? I've been asked this quite a bit lately. This week will mark the second month since Krissy passed away (on a side note, I still can't bring myself to say she died. Bugs die, plants die, but my Kris faded away from me) and I honestly think I'm doing "ok". What that truly means is a bit more complicated, but as I see it I've done ok with my day-to-day life since she's been gone. I've squared away our finances and feel pretty comfortable that we can pay our bills and still goof around once in a while. I've wrapped up much of the estate and medical chores that needed to be handled and really just have a few loose ends left. I'm back to work and probably 90% functional and I recognize that I still can't fully focus on my job even if I totally avoid the aisle she sat in for so long. But I feel I'll be full speed again relatively soon. I don't feel completely depressed about what has happened. At any given time I'm still very sad, angry, confused or guilt ridden, but it's not consuming me. As unlikely as I thought it would be at this point in time, I have a lot of happiness and fulfillment, mainly about what the future may hold and that I have such beautiful daughters to spend it with. They truly keep me going every day and things might be much darker if it weren't for their amazing spirits. Ironically I'm kinda balling as I write this but I guess that's how therapy works.

One thing I see, feel and try to cope with every day is the vast void the lack of her presence has left in my life. It's tangible and physical, I literally feel the emptiness in the wake of her loss. The house is quieter. The car rides are longer. The bed is colder. She was such a vivacious presence in my life and now there are gaping holes where she used to stand, laugh, kiss and breathe. This what is hardest to accept right now, that those holes will never be filled again. When I was asked if I would be alright living in the house we shared for five years, I immediately knew I would. Obviously, this home is a constant reminder of the time we shared but I wouldn't let that go for anything. I need the reminder when I wake up each morning and when I talk to my kids about who she was. It's good to have this home and know we created it together, and even though she is gone it will continue to be a good place for us to live.

However, I have noticed one negative change in myself. Maybe negative is to harsh, but I don't like this feeling. I feel like the creativity has been sucked out of me. This is one reason why I haven't written here in so long, I just couldn't find the words. I've decided that I want to design her headstone. As difficult as it has been, I feel that it's just something I have to do. The clipart they offer through the memorial shops just isn't going to cut it for my wife, I don't feel that I'd be honoring her by slapping on the same border and floral pattern that I see on every other headstone at the cemetary. I have the idea for it in my head but I'm having a hell of a time getting it onto paper. I put the pencil down and it's not moving the way it used to. I never thought of it before but I suppose Kris really was my muse. Pretty much everything creative I've done in the past decade has come from her or been for her. Without her voice and encourage I feel a bit lost. I think it will come back to me in time and I suppose it will have to if I'm to feel good about designing this memorial. Hopefully in the coming weeks I can preview what I've been working on for you.

So now life goes on. As I get my legs back I'm slowly catching up on the things I've been neglecting around me. Like housework. It sucks but someone's gotta clean those toilets. I have a gigantic pile of thank you cards that need to go out and I think I'm finally ready to start on them. I've started working on some systems to keep me organized as I take on all of the things that Kris used to do for me. Organization has always been a dirty word and she was so amazing at it. But I'm getting a handle on stuff like our budget, Cori's schooling, doctors appointments and keeping track of our busy lives. Being a single parent is a ton of work but I have so much help that I'm not worrying if I can do it any more. To be cliche, I'm taking things one day at a time. I really can't plan more than five days out anyway so it works for me.

I am so very thankful to everyone that has supported me these past eight months, from family to friends to people I have never met, you have all been so incredible to me and my family. I know I don't have to, but I'll get around to thanking every one of you.

I think this post means I'm back to blogging. Probably not as frequently as I'd like but I'll keep writing if you want to keep reading. I think the site is ready for a redesign. Change, as I'm finding, is about renewal and there are many things in my life that are ready to change and grow with new purpose. I'll have more to say about this soon.

G'night!

Krissy's Eulogy

I've been told many times since Krissy's funeral how impressed people were with our cousin Elly's reading of the eulogy. Personally, I felt that Elly was the perfect person to read for Krissy. Not only does she have an excellent sense of humor, she displayed such poise and confidence that she gave every word the reverence Krissy deserved. Krissy always had such a deep love and respect for Elly, I'm certain she would have loved her reading as well. So here it is, one last time, for those of you who either couldn't attend the funeral or would like to cherish her memory one more time. Thank you to Elly and Cesa for allowing me to post the eulogy in it's entirety.

Kristen Sanchez-Lanza

Sunrise: September 20, 1974 Sunset: May 14, 2010

Family and friends, it’s an honor for me to share this tribute and celebration of Kristen Sanchez-Lanza.

Krissy, or Kristen Antonia, as she was called when she was in trouble, used to say she got her height from the Sanchez side. Now, to some this would seem a paradox given she was small in stature; but, on the contrary, what she meant was she was proud of her heritage, and of course, to be associated with other wonderful short people in the family.

When Krissy was born, Uncle Bennie and Aunt Debi knew they would have their hands full. Krissy wasn’t just adorable, she was also very determined and independent. At four years old, with the longest eyelashes covering her little glasses like tiny windshield wipers, Krissy would sit and watch her favorite T.V. show, Mr. Rogers. One day while watching an episode, Aunt Debi came downstairs to check on her. She saw Krissy sitting quietly but knew something was out of place. She looked closer and noticed Krissy’s new hairdo. “Kristen Antonia!” Aunt Debi exclaimed. “Why did you cut your bangs so short?” In a matter of fact way, Krissy replied, “’Cause I couldn’t see Mr. Rogers.”

And, as things go, more antics would follow. Over the years, there were many times Krissy spent with cousins and friends laughing ‘til the wee hours of the morning, taking trips to San Acacio to stay with her Nana and Papa during spring break and summer, dancing it up anytime she had a chance; and THEN, there were BOYS. Just what Uncle Bennie was looking forward to—barring up the windows and late night surveillance missions. I’m sure Krissy wasn’t the only one that left a lasting impression!

As we all know, life has its ups and downs and regardless of the challenges, Krissy moved through life with purpose. Not too long ago she told me that had it not been for all her experiences, she would have missed out on the best things in her life—her husband Frank, and precious girls, Cori and Camryn. Fiercely loyal and devoted to her family, Krissy always protected those close to her. She always looked after Cesa and her cousins in a thoughtful, caring, and protective manner; and, if Krissy befriended you, you knew you had someone who would always have your back. You could also bet that if she was going to do something, Krissy always put her heart and soul in it. Cesa says it was almost as if Krissy knew all along she needed to make each and every moment count.

Recently, her Aunt Connie reminded Krissy she had been struck by lightning. She said, one evening during a rainstorm, Krissy sat on the floor in Uncle Bennie and Aunt Debi’s bedroom watching T.V. In an instant, a bolt of lightning struck the house and traveled right through the T.V. stand, between the cherished Michael Bolton and Billie Ocean albums right to Krissy. Frank recalled the story and added that when he ran into Krissy at work the next morning, he casually greeted her and said, “Hey there Krispy.”

It is difficult to imagine our lives without Krissy. She was kind, compassionate, sincere, and brave. In spite of her illness, Krissy maintained a fearless spirit and take charge attitude. Not only did she shoot from the hip as one of her friend’s described, but she was also forthright and, as Cesa might put it, a little bossy from time to time.

On a recent trip to Springs, shortly after her surgery, I had the pleasure of embarking on another adventure with my little cousin. As soon as I arrived at the house, Krissy and I were off to the ER. She wasn’t feeling very well so I decided I would take extra precautions to drive as carefully as possible along the way. As we zigzagged across town, we were chatting and then all of a sudden Krissy looked over at me and asked me how fast I was driving. I took notice of my speed and quickly replied, “Is something wrong? Are you ok?” Without hesitation, she responded, “Well, I will be once you start driving the speed limit. It’s 55 and we’re only going 40!”

It’s been moments like these and all the other good times we’ve had that console me. No matter what the circumstances, Krissy embodied all that is good in life. She was a wonderful daughter, loving wife and mother, devoted sister, loyal family member and true friend.

In Cesa’s words…

“To say my sister was incredible would be an understatement, she was extraordinary and for 31 wonderful years of my life, she was my mentor, my protector, but most of all, my best friend. Her laugh, her smile, and the way she lit up a room, those were just a fraction of the qualities I admired and envied so dearly. Our lives were brought together for a reason and for that I am so grateful.

There was never a time that I had to worry about her looking out for me. I’ll never forget this time when we were on the swing set at school and a classmate of hers decided to push me off the swings. I ran crying to her and she went over there, pushed him off, and graciously helped me back on. She showed him who not to mess with and, for the rest of her life, she would have knocked down anyone else who hurt her little sis. There was a time or two that I got knocked down by her as well, but I always figured that was payback for being so mean to her when I was little. For as rambunctious and mischievous as I was, she had the patience of a saint.

A dear friend of ours sent a quote by Hubert Van Zeller that sums up her absence:

"It is not that we feel cut off from the bigger spiritual relationship which survives death, but from the hundred and one lesser links which bind people together; incidental things which when looked back on seem of enduring significance, but which were taken so much for granted at the time.
The other person's sense of humor, prejudices, moods, all that has gone. For the rest of our lives we shall have to do without her mannerisms, her shyness, and her ways of pronouncing things.
The voice is silent - we had expected it would be - but that the yawns and bursts of laughter will never be repeated is almost more than we can bear...
These moments were not passing moments at all. They had something in them of eternity..."

She will eternally be the angel by my side and I am so blessed to have had her as my sister. Until we meet again…. Your little sis “Cheeza” loves you!”

I would also like to share with you special words from Krissy’s husband, Frank:

“I don't believe you can sum up a life that was so brilliant, even one as short as Krissy's, simply with words. She burned so bright and radiated such warmth that you only had to be near her to know she was beyond words. Krissy was everything to me and vice versa. To paraphrase something I once read, “We were to each the other's world entire.” She was my dawn and my twilight, my spring and my winter. I lived nearly every minute of the past ten years in her presence. Whether it was at work, at home or celebrating with friends and family, there was hardly a time when we weren't together.”

“My life was obviously not the only one that Krissy touched. Everyone that met her knew she was special. She was magnetic and beautiful, and completely unafraid of anything life set before her. If Krissy cared for you, there was no one more honest and loyal at your side. If you crossed Krissy's line you learned that she held nothing back to defend those she loved. She never backed down or left a friend that was in need. I know I will never meet another soul that is as kind, generous and honest as she was.”

“Earlier this week I was asked what was my favorite memory of Krissy. It's impossible to choose as every single day was a memory of her I cherished. I still remember how she wore her hair the first day we met, over ten years ago. It was short and blond by the way. I remember removing the partition between our desks at work so we could talk to each other between phone calls. I remember how angry she was at me when a Jared's bill arrived in the mail, and how embarrassed she was when my explanation came as I knelt down and asked her to marry me. I also remember how happy she was to be a mother to our two children and how fiercely she protected them.”

“I suppose if I have a best memory of Krissy, it was during our first real date. She held my hand as we looked up at a black mountain sky strewn with stars and told me that now nothing would ever be the same between us; our lives would be changed forever. In that moment, a meteor streaked across the sky and my life has never been the same since.”

“I'm so thankful to God for bringing Krissy into my life, and into so many of your lives as well, even if it was only for a brief time. Heaven has a new angel and I feel that she'll continue to defend and love us just as she did in life.”

Frank, Cesa, and I would like to share a quote which was dedicated to Krissy by her very dear friend, Lori, titled “The Broken Chain.”

"We little knew that afternoon that God was going to call your name. In life we loved you dearly; in death we do the same. It broke our hearts to lose you; you did not go alone; for part of us went with you, the day God called you home. You left us peaceful memories, your love is still our guide; and though we cannot see you, you are always at our side. Our family and friend chain is broken, and nothing seems the same; but as God calls us one by one, the chain will link again.”

We are forever grateful to God for Krissy being in our lives. She will be with us always as a reminder of what we are capable of and can endure. And, Krissy’s name in Latin, ‘Following in Christ,’ will always be a symbol of her will and path here on earth and in Heaven.

We will love you forever Krissy.

For You

Oh Krissy, you really are gone aren't you? I still can't comprehend it. It seems like I'll turn the corner and you'll be there watching TV, or talking on the phone, but I have to stop looking for you and begin to get used to the fact I'm here on this earth without you now. I know you're still watching me, and with me every day, but it feels very lonely right now.

We didn't really get to speak much this last week but I hope you're listening now. I'm sure there is a pretty sweet broadband connection where you are so I'll continue to write with the hopes you'll be reading. I know it took every last bit of strength you had just to speak at the end, but I was so happy we were able to share a few last kisses, and that your last conversation was with me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to repeat what you said, but your words will forever be with me. Even now, they shine before my eyes, they resonate in my ears, and they echo in my heart. I'll never hear anything as bittersweet as the three sentences you spoke in those last moments, and I'll forever be thankful for them.

Watching you leave and ascend to Heaven was the hardest thing I have ever done. I was grateful that at the end you let me hold your hand until God took you away from your pain. I hope it was beautiful and that your Papa was waiting to usher you through the gates. I imagine the celebration and dancing is still carrying on up there. You always could cut a rug.

I've spent the last day with your mom, dad and Cesa making arrangements for the funeral. I think you'd be very happy with what we chose. Everything is beautiful and touched with class, just like you were in life. I picked out two plots for us at the cemetary, right next to a tree and with an amazing view of the mountains. It's a place the girls and I can come to see you and feel immediately at peace. Someday I will join you there, but I promise it won't be until I'm old and gray and have raised our girls to be wonderful, strong, amazing women like their mother.

Not a single instant of these past few days have been easy for me. I think I'm always just a picture, or a song, or a memory away from crying. But just as I have done these past ten years, everything I do is for you, and will continue to be. I promise to live out the rest of my life in a way that will make you proud of me. I'll even balance the checkbook just the way you used to. Our girls will remain the honest, sweet, loving people we have taught them to be and hopefully they won't find it too much of a burden to take care of their good ol' dad when he needs it.

I have to go now, I still have so many things to do before we have your funeral this week. I will write to you again sometime, not too often since I know you'll be watching anyway, but just so I can get the words out. You always knew I could type things better than I could say them anyway.

I love you,
Frank

Praying for Peace

Time seems to have slowed to a crawl now. Krissy is back into a deep sleep, much as she has been for most of the day today, and now we just pray for God to take her peacefully in her sleep.

There's not much new to say about her medical condition that I haven't said already. Her kidneys have completely failed and she's retaining large quantities of fluid. Her liver functions are very compromised and soon it will fail also. Next will be the lungs as they fill with the fluid her body can't expel. My hope is that God calls her before this happens, as she will go more peacefully this way.

After a very restless night of sleep, Kris was again very alert this morning and wanting to talk. It wasn't exactly a talk I wanted to have, as we discussed the accounts and bills that need to be taken care of, and access to her personal email and social network accounts so I can manage them. Morbid stuff but it's got to be done. She also spoke with the doctors and we have decided on a DNR. Should she pass away she does not want to be brought back through chest compressions or intubation. She made the right decision, this suffering is not something she should be forced to endure any longer. We didn't talk for much longer afterwards, she quickly tired and fell back to sleep. I haven't had a chance to have another conversation with her since. I fear that I may have had my last real exchange with her and it's far from the last words I wish I could speak to her.

Despite the constant sadness and worry of today, there were still opportunities for smiling, reflecting and even laughter. Krissy told me something I will never forget this afternoon. I've been asking her some pretty metaphysical questions about her journey towards Heaven, and she's been brave enough to answer me. Today I was quietly talking to her as she slept and she suddenly awakened. When Kris is awake her eyes are unfocused and she does not seem to see you, even if she acknowledges your presence. It's almost as if she is seeing past this world of hurt and through to a place of peace. I wanted to know if this is what she was experiencing and asked her to tell me what she could see. After a pause, she said "I see the ceiling." I had to laugh, not just at her response but at my expectations as well. She smiled slightly and then drifted back off to sleep.

This was the last I saw of my old Krissy today. I think it may be the last I ever see of her and it hurts. Yesterday I said I was not ready to let her go. After seeing this slow process of her body shutting down and the toll it's taken on her, I am at peace with her leaving this world and ascending to Heaven. She deserves it and should not have to suffer any more. I feel awful about wishing my wife could pass away but this is not an existence anyone should have to endure.

Tonight will be a long night. I'm exhausted in every way imaginable and don't think I'll be able to sleep as I watch my wife slowly slip away from me with every minute that passes. My heart has ached, physically, all day and I don't know if it will ever stop. I miss her already and she's not even gone so I don't know how it will feel when she has truly left me. I know I will find out soon.

Acceptance

Six months ago, I don't think I ever thought there would be a day like today. But here we are, facing a grim reality, and today really happened. Krissy is very close to kidney failure and we've all had to come to grips with the fact that, barring an absolute miracle, she will not be with us much longer. Her kidneys have not responded to the treatment at all today, so the doctors have been playing with a varied combination of drugs to keep her body fluids in balance and keep her heart rate and blood pressure under control. It's taken too much of a toll on Krissy's poor little body and I fear I'll be sending my wife to God at the much too young age of 35.

The day started off well enough. Niether of us slept last night, but I was catching a few winks when Kris woke me up at 6:00am. I heard "Frank, wake up" and nearly fell out of my chair for fear there was something wrong. I blurted out, "What is the matter, what can I do?" and she calmly looked at me and said "Nothing. I'm bored, come talk to me." This brought a smile to my face and I gladly pulled up a chair and talked with her for a while. Nothing serious, just waking ourselves up, but she was so alert it was like talking to my old Kris again. We kept it up for about an hour before the nurses resumed their routine of poking and prodding, and at this point her pain had built back up and it was time for more fentynal. Since then she's been slowly deteriorating and has had to keep her pain meds going all throughout the day. But I enjoyed our talk and she made me smile as she has done so often for the past 10 years.

There's been a haze hanging over me today. So much of what I've experienced today feels surreal. After standing with Krissy while she received the bad news about her kidneys and future prognosis, I heard the words I never thought I'd hear until we were both old and gray. She looked into my eyes and told me "I'm ready to go, I've made my peace with God. I don't want to suffer anymore." Selfishly, I admitted that I'm not ready to let her go, but it hurts to see her in so much pain. I can't bear to see her go through any more of this hell, but I still can't believe she may be leaving me soon. To add to this air of disbelief, there have been discussions of where she would like to be buried, where to hold the funeral, what music to play. I had to stop and shake my head at one point, how can we really be talking about this now?

The only thing more heartwrenching than this was when I brought our daughters to see Kris. My Cori, at eleven years old, understands nearly everything that we have been going through, and her talk with Kris was brutal. My heart still hurts from the reality she is having to face at such a young age. Camryn is too young to understand, and may not even remember this when she is older, but it still isn't easy. I see Cori's tears and pray I have the strength to raise these two little girls on my own and instill in them the strong love and memory of their mother.

There has been a steady steam of family and friends to see her today. I know this is but a trickle compared to the flood of support she truly has out there. Between Facebook and email, I've received so many lovely messages of love and support, and I'm thankful for every bit of it. I haven't had time to respond to many of your wall posts or messages, but know that I appreciate every sentiment left for Krissy and I. Krissy's not able to check her posts or text messages but I've been passing them along to her.

I'm finally alone with Kris now, hoping for some rest for us both. There's no need to say goodbye to each other yet as we don't know how long she'll hang on for, but it feels like an unspoken certainty between us. She kissed me sweetly tonight, perhaps for the last time, but I will never know an end to the love I have for her. No matter the outcome of all this, or the when or the why, I love her. This is all I can say for certain and all I can hold onto as I watch her before me. She is ready for God and has put her whole being in his hands as she waits for his grace. All I can do now is follow her example and love her during every minute we have left.

Where We Stand

I've been debating whether or not I should write this post for about a half an hour, but I can't sleep so I might as well get this all out. Krissy is in rough shape right now. After being in the hospital for two days and battling ascites, blocked bile ducts, jaundice and of course cancer, Krissy is now fighting another critical battle against her kidneys. They've slowly been deteriorating under the pressure of ascites and a tumor that is blocking her right ureter and are now close to failure. The doctors are trying a cocktail of drugs to jump-start her kidneys back into action and get her renal system working again. If they are successful then we can go back to getting the stent and moving Krissy to the next step. If the kidneys fail, we risk losing our girl.

Right now I'm sitting in ICU with her and watching stuff drip into her veins via almost a dozen tubes. They put a central line into her artery to deliver some of the heavy duty drugs and she's still pretty sedated and sleepy. It's been a long, difficult day, and I hope it will end with some rest and good news about her kidneys. I won't know one way or the other for several more hours, so it's going to be a long night. I'm exhausted and seeing Kris in this much pain is breaking my heart. I just want her to get some relief from all of this. I'm going to be praying very hard that her kidneys will start functioning again and she can get her strength back.

This is about all I can say for now, and I apologize this is such a short and jumbled post. My brain feels like scambled eggs and I should probably try to sleep. I know I won't, but I should try. I will try to post more tomorrow once I have an update on her condition. Thank you to everyone for your kind thoughts and prayers for my wife, I'm so thankful for you all.

Six of One, Half Dozen of Another...

It's been several weeks since my last update but it feels like forever. I suppose it's been a mixed bag of events. On one hand not a whole lot has happened and on another quite a bit has been going on for Krissy. And now here we are in the ER again, so I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you all what is going on.

A few quick highlights before I dive right in. We visited a fancy pants oncologist at the University of Colorado and had our hopes dashed, and were told that the Oasis treatments weren't working at all. Not exactly Hope, Love and Faith huh? Since then we've found a new oncologist here in the Springs at Rocky Mountain Cancer Center that actually supports Kris in her fight and has been a great help to us so far. She's also seeing a naturopath and acupuncturist in Denver that have been very positive forces as well. Our kids have had birthdays, I just hit my 10 year anniversary at work and there's a volcano in Iceland that I can't pronounce but looks pretty awesome in pictures, I suggest you Google it. Ok, that pretty much catches you up on the small stuff!

To start off, since Krissy's last trip to Oasis she's had a few minor complications that I can best describe as setbacks to her treatment plan and have now ballooned into serious issues. During her last trip to Mexico, she was at the very onset of developing ascites, or build up of fluid in her abdomen. The doctors there weren't sure if it was inflammation from the tumors or actual fluid, so it was a watch and wait situation until a few weeks later it was obvious it was fluid. Since ascites will continue to build up until it's drained or processed by the body, it causes some serious discomfort. Basically, Kris felt like she was pregnant again. So last month she had a procedure to drain it where they pulled just over two liters from her body.

Just after this we had new CT scans done and the results were good and semi-bad. The good, very good in fact, is that her tumors have only shown slight growth since her initial scans from last October. This is amazing news for what was supposed to be a fast growing, aggressive cancer. The downside is that this marginal growth has blocked her bile duct and has given her a nice orange tint. The jaundice has caused her liver functions to elevate and this isn't a good thing, so they need to stent her bile duct open and get those juices flowing again. Here's where we have run into complications.

This takes us back to the ascites. After the initial draining she felt better for about a week until the fluid came back. There was even more fluid build up this time and she was very uncomfortable, so her doctors decided to place a catheter in her abdominal wall so she could drain herself, in the hopes of making the stent surgery easier.

Did I mention we've had a few complications? So in a normal person, a stent can be placed in the bile duct during an endoscopy, they just go down into your stomach and slide the stent in. However, our girl Krissy has had the equivalent of gastric bypass surgery so the pathway from the stomach straight to the bile duct has been cut off. In order to access it now they'll have to go in through her side with a needle, just above the liver, and insert the stent into the bile duct this way. It's trickier, and involves leaving a drain tube in her side until it heals. Unfortunately, her ascites is holding this procedure up, as the constant filling/draining of her abdomen can cause the stent to leak and lead to some serious infections and pain. During all of this mess, Kris has felt like crap and has dropped to about 80 pounds. Complicated, right?

This convoluted mess leads us to the ER tonight. She's been self draining the fluid and last week pulled three liters out. I'm amazed that any person, especially someone as small as Krissy, can be carrying around that much excess fluid. I can't imagine what that feels like for her. Well, just after draining she started to experience some excruciating pain in her stomach that radiated all the way up to her shoulders. After a few reluctant pain killers, she was able to sleep. We called the doctors and they wanted to see what was going on, so we spent last Thursday at Memorial while they observed a drain and determined that when the fluid level in her abdomen gets low the catheter is suctioning up against her intestines and causing all that horrible pain. They gave her some new guidelines to follow while draining and sent us on our merry way. Tonight she drained off two more liters, trying to go slowly as they recommended, and she felt fine until about ten minutes after she was done. Then the pain kicked back in, even worse this time, and was so intense painkillers weren't getting through. She could barely breathe, so with Krissy's folks at the house I called 911. This is probably the scariest situation we've faced yet.

And here we are, Kris and I, in the ER waiting to be admitted to the hospital. I have some frustrations with the doctors as I sit here and play Dr. Google, but I'll have to write those up in another post. For tonight, all I ask is that they give my baby some relief and help us sort this situation out so she can get back to kicking ass. Keep the prayers and good vibes coming our way, every bit you send is hugely appreciated.