Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Those Damned Goats!

My wife thinks its funny when our goats break out of their pen. Is it funny that these vile creatures live to escape from the confinement I have poured hours upon hours of labor into building and repairing? Is it funny that they like to run from me when I try to grab them to drag them back into the pen? Is it funny that while I hold on to one, the other walks just out of arm's reach and casually goes about grazing from the lawn as if nothing out of the ordinary were taking place? Is it funny that when I repair the fence it is usually around 100 degrees outside and horseflies are divebombing me while itchweed and poison ivy and thornbushes grate across my flesh? Is it funny that every time I go outside to let the dogs out I see a goat standing in the driveway giving me that "What?" look? Is it funny that two 30# creatures cause me more grief that any man should have to endure?

Yeah, I guess it is.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

My Mom

My mother won't like it that I am writing about her. But since most of you know her and care about her and my family, I feel the need to share some news about her with you. Be advised: Donna Keller does not want any one's pity. But I think she would like to know that people care.

After several months of gradual weight loss, Mom suddenly dropped a lot of weight in just a few weeks. She became lethargic, lost her appetite, and couldn't keep down food or fluids. When Bethany, Alex, and I returned from vacation we invited Mom over for dinner on Sunday evening. When she arrived, she could barely get out of her car. I noticed her driver's side mirror hanging off the car. Mom had a disheveled look about her and she was so thin that I barely recognized her. I asked her if she felt okay and she said she was tired. She seemed to be in a trance. It was like she was a zombie. After unsuccessfully trying to eat dinner, we took her to the E.R. in Jeff City to get looked at. After drawing blood and getting a urine sample, the doctor said she was suffering from depression and that she needed to go to her doctor for a prescription. I thought it strange that they didn't give an obviously dehydrated person an I.V. or more tests to try to discover why she was so frail.

Bethany called a behavioral health clinic for a consultation and I took Mom to her appointment on Tuesday. The woman who met with us said she could see signs of depression, but also detected some physical problems as well. Mom was weak on her left side, could barely speak, and was slightly disoriented at times. The therapist said Mom was showing signs of having had a small stroke and advised us to go to the E.R. at the University Hospital. She faxed Mom's info to the E.R. and we headed across town.

When we arrived at the E.R., we were led straight back to a room. "Well," I said, "That's lucky. We didn't have to wait at all to be seen. Maybe that's a good sign." How wrong I was. The doctor had Mom undergo a CAT scan. She came back after a while and sat down beside Mom.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," the doctor began. "You have a large mass in your chest cavity and another in your brain." It was one of those moments when everything around you goes completely silent. Nothing else in the world exists or matters at that time. She explained that they would do an MRI to see the mass in her brain and then she would talk to us again. Then she said "I'm sorry" and left the room. I walked over to Mom and hugged her and cried on her shoulder. Then I realized that she wasn't crying or feeling sorry for herself, so I stopped. I decided that my job would be to keep her spirits up. So we spent the next few hours talking and laughing. In between tests and nurse visits, the reality tried to sneak up on me, but I held it together for Mom. She was handling it well. At one time she smiled in satisfied manner and exclaimed, "See, I told you I wasn't crazy."

After ten hours in the E.R., Mom was finally admitted and led to her room. She had been receiving I.V. fluids and a steroid that reduced the swelling on her brain. She was more coherent and was looking forward to getting some rest. I left her at 2:30 in the morning to go home to my wife and child and to get some rest of my own. Blake and Meredith came in from D.C. to be there for Mom. We all kept her company and listened to doctors as they came in to explain what was going on. It was nice to have the family together because we soon had the full-picture of what was happening.

Mom has stage-four lung cancer. A large tumor on her right lung has spread to her brain. She has two tumors in her brain. The large one is in her frontal lobe (which affects mood and personality- which explains why Mom was so emotionally flat and withdrawn lately). The small tumor is in the back of her brain and has not impaired her in any way. The steroids have shrunk the swelling enough that Mom's old personality is back and she is able to drive, eat, and function normally. She will begin radiation treatments next week and will do so for two and a half weeks. Then, she'll undergo chemotherapy for her lung. The doctor explained that with stage-four cancer, they aren't expecting to cure her. Their goal is to give her as much quality of life and time that they can. The doctor also said that he has been proven wrong before and that miracles happen. He said he hopes that Mom proves him wrong and that she will be cured. During a second opinion, another doctor explained time-lines and prognoses. He said the length of time she has will be determined by how well she responds to treatments. So we're hopeful that as quickly as she has already responded to the steroids, that her body is receptive to treatments and that the cancer will be cleared up. There is a chance that they can wipe out all the existing tumors and that she can be cancer-free. As long as there is a chance, there is hope.

Spiritually speaking, Mom is a perfect example of how we should all deal with a similar crisis. In her eyes, this is just a part of life. She doesn't feel sorry for herself. She isn't bitter. She has accepted what has happened and has decided to remain positive. She is going to go through a lot of discomfort when undergoing radiation and chemo, but she isn't whining about it. She will do what she has to do to get through this. She inspires me to be calm and accepting of the curve balls life throws at me. She has also helped me realize that life is precious. Buddha would be proud of the way she has dealt with all of this. He would commend her choice to live in the moment. Do not worry about the future or the past. Do not allow your spirit to suffer because your body fails you. Live each moment you have in this life to the very fullest. Make those around you feel loved and happy. Give up the idea of self and instead live for others. Strive to relieve their suffering and you will relieve your own in the process. My mom has inspired me to live my life. My advice to you: Don't be greedy. Don't live to attain material possessions. Live to make those around you happy. A person who can spend their time on earth living a life of doing good and making others feel better is the richest person alive. My mom donates blood every 56 days. She volunteers at the Senior Show-Me-State Games. She volunteers with the Police department. She donates items to Goodwill. She gives gifts to her family when she doesn't have enough money to pay her rent. She speaks out when people in power don't do enough to help others. She stands up to people who do wrong to those who are weak. She raised two boys who grew up with the ability to know right from wrong and to act accordingly (most of the time.) In short, my Mom has lived her life the way Buddha or Jesus would have us all do: she has lived her life for others- not for herself. She has made the world a better place in her own, special way. She is my hero.

I hope that those of you who know her, will have a chance to give my mom a big hug sometime soon. Maybe you can email her some words of encouragement. keller7734@mchsi.com Maybe you will live your life as she has done- for the sake of making the world a little better than it was when you arrived here. I know I will.

Friday, August 10, 2007