Wednesday, August 18, 2010

I'm Walking!

Dallas-Ft. Worth Brain Tumor Walk:

As part of my HIGH FIVE year, I am forming a team to raise at least $5,555 for the National Brain Tumor Society. They have done good things for me and for my doctor, and we are both setting up teams this year!

My team's name is "Krista's High Five," and we are looking for team members. If you can be in Ft. Worth on November 6, we'd love to have you there with us. If you'd rather support us from afar (or from a couch) you can be a "virtual" team member. Or you can make a one-time donation to the team or any individual member.

My kids are so excited about this, they set up an impromptu drink stand in our front yard this evening to raise money for our team! Many of our good neighbors stopped by and couldn't resist the charming little fundraisers with their cooler full of ice-cold bottled water and soda!

Please consider joining our team or making a donation by using the link at the top of this post. Once again, the support of my family and friends will accomplish great things!

Thursday, August 12, 2010


This post is just because I think it's time to have one without a number in the title!

Another Twelfth!

Fifty-six months of survival! Only four more until I reach the five-year mark! (And then I start working toward my next milestone.)

Last year in school my son learned about "possible/impossible," "plausible/implausible," and "certain." During our many car-versations during Tuesday's travels around the medical community, we were discussing how good it has been for us. He would interject these words into the conversation:

"When you were first diagnosed it seemed IMPLAUSIBLE that you would still be around today." ("But Jake, it wasn't IMPOSSIBLE, as I am now demonstrating!")

"They felt CERTAIN that you could not survive five years." ("Maybe, based on statistics, but it is POSSIBLE that I could...and if it is God's will that I should, it's CERTAIN that I would!")

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Today I was given six months

SIX MONTHS until my next MRI! Today's was the best scan yet. The perfusion report was so good, my doctor felt comfortable letting me go longer than ever before between scans! Considering that this is a cancer aggressive enough to double in size in three weeks, six months is an amazing interval!

My son accompanied me today. I considered him my lucky charm, and he beamed at the idea.

My elation over this news, combined with my typical sick humor, tempted me to tell my family and friends that "the doctor gave me six months to live..." ("...until I have to come back for my next MRI!") I considered how nice it will be to come back next February, after I have passed the five-year survival mark, and how nice to finish out this year without having to think about MRI results again.

And then the folly of my thinking caught up with me. This is certainly good news, but it is not a guarantee of life for six months. (None of us has that.) The MRI doesn't decide whether I live or die; it just shows us whether there is anything interesting going on in (what's left of) my mind. Life is still precious and should never be taken for granted. If I really do have a reprieve for the next six months, I feel a greater sense of responsibility for what I choose to do with it.

Today our family chose to spend it celebrating and thanking our God -- and the many people who cushioned me with their prayers to Him on my behalf.

Sunday, August 01, 2010


On Thursday I had a revision to my original tympanoplasty, which means a lot of things:

1. Lots of bedrest.
2. No bending down to pick up anything.
3. No lifting, vacuuming, or climbing stairs.
4. No driving.
5. No loading/unloading the dishwasher.
6. I must subject myself to endless pampering by my well-trained family.

(I know -- poor me!!)

All went well with the procedure, and my surgeon is hopeful that this time my new eardrum will have a better chance of grafting more successfully. He described a lot of what had to be done to overcome the amount of radiation damage inside my ear. (I'm glad I was asleep!)

Most of all, I relish once again the opportunity to deal with long-term side effects of treatment. As I talked with the doctors and nurses at the hospital, I often had to confirm that, yes, my craniotomy was in 2005. Yes, my radiation treatment was in early 2006. Yes, it was for glioblastoma. Yes, I'm aware that I am very blessed!