Dog Nurse

 

Most every day, Lainey takes me for a drag. I hold the leash and she pulls me wherever she wants me to go. 

Sarah is proud of me because I'm exercising when I'm actually holding on for dear life! 

It's nice to get outside though and see the sights, mostly surrounding our dog's butt, but I love Lainey dragging me down the street, through the woods to the lagoons teeming with turtles.  

Deep blue skies, cotton Candy clouds, sub-Tropical foliage brightly punctuate the forest of Evergreens and I'm overwhelmed by the LIFE exploding everywhere around me. 

Over the past 2 years since I've been sick, I've learned how Lainey takes care of me, just like everyone else in our house. 

On the days I can barely put one step in front of the other, she drags me to the football practice field bleachers not very far away so I can rest. 

When I'm ready she drags me to the baseball diamond on the other side of the school where there are more bleachers.

After gaining my wind, she drags me to soccer fields where there are more bleachers. If I'm lost in thought, or extremely high, and keep walking Lainey jerks backwards knowing I'll never make it without resting first.  

Conversely, if I sit to long, she jerks me up and drags me to the next designated rest area.

The dog has obviously been eavesdropping when Sarah's talking online Nursing classes and gives me the utmost care when she's in charge. 

Unless there's a squirrel. 

All bets are off if a squirrel darts across our path as Lainey gives chase, mindlessly dragging me along bumping trees, through underbrush and ditches. 

She drug me under a car once but seemingly realized what she'd done and immediately stopped to jump up on my chest and lick my face. 

Afterwards she drug me home.  

Once there she switches all of her love, adoration, locality and allegiance to Sarah and Che which is fine because it takes me an hour to recover our walks. 

 But I love this dog. 

She loves me too. 

After Sarah and Che. 

Just higher than squirrels. 

Catching Holy as it happens

Laying in the dark, staring at the soft, red numbers reading 4:02, I wonder if I should "try" to fall asleep again but my stomach's gurgling and I should be up anyway before I wake Sarah. 

A tiny silhouette carrying a blanket and a baby doll enters the room. 

"Get in with us," her Mom mumbles but I jump up, whisking Che out of the room. 

Unintelligible instructions follow us out as Sarah falls back asleep. 

Our daughter settles on the sofa telling me of scary dreams she can't recall. 

She tells me to wake her up "when it's time", whatever that means.  

"I miss Ethan," she says, laying her head in my lap. "When's he coming back?"

"Soon," I answer, rubbing her hair, having no idea when she'll she her nephew again. 

"I lub you Da," she grins, turning her attention to YouTube. 

Sometime, if you're lucky, you recognize holiness as it's happening. You hide such moments in your heart just like Mary did after the Magi inexplicably arrive bearing gifts because, one day, you're going to need them again. 

So my heart is full of holiness right now. 

It's a good thing I never wear shoes because I don't have to take them off because "this is Holy ground" and I whisper out loud, "Thank you Lord."

Che grins at me with pure love light in her eyes. 

"Let's take a morning selfie," I say, and we do.

Then we snuggle and laugh as we "kick the darkness till it bleeds light."

Home Health and me

Che and Ethan rush to check on me. 

Our daughter is dressed as a doctor carrying a plastic bag full of bandaids. Che introduces herself as the Doctor and her nephew as her Nurse. 

"How do you feel?" he asked. 

Freezing under an electric blanket on Memorial Day is not what we had planned but, here I am, chilled, sweating and shivering.

"Tired," I smile because it's impossible to not acknowledge joy when it slaps you in the face, regardless of how you feel.

Ethan writes this down while Che unwraps bandaids. 

Our grandson crawls beside me and asks if I'm tired. 

"Yep."

He writes it down as Che sticks a bandaid on my arm.

"Are you cold?" he asks, counting the number of blankets Sarah's thrown on top of me. 

Ethan has mastered a firm grasp of the obvious and I can't be prouder.  

When the examinations over, I'm covered in bandaids but, miraculously, feel better somehow.

The doorbell rings.

Aiden lives two doors down and can't get enough of Che and Ethan. 

He's all but moved in though Sarah and I keep throwing him out. 

They rush off to play in the backyard. 

Sarah sings softly, cooking dinner in the kitchen while I shiver under the blanket. 

Life is good!

Even when you feel bad. 

Writing LITE

Maddie, fresh from graduating the University of Georgia, Cum Lauda, in 3 years time, told me to "lighten up" when I write.

"Fine," I tell her. "You go ahead and send me the next 3 subjects and I will write about them."

Unless Maddie is ordering something off the menu and can't make a decision so she sends Sarah and I a text asking our thoughts, I'm unaccustomed to "writing on demand," but she's so smart and all, so I had to "man up" and challenge someone far smarter than I ever was.

So before Mad tells me what to write about, I'm beating her to the punch.

She's driving her fiancée Henry through Atlanta so she's busy being accosted by people pretending to be homeless violently panhandling as I write. 

"Da, are boys stronger than girls?"

"No," I snap at Che, who's playing with Aiden, the boy 2 doors down,"who told you that?"

"The boys at school," she coos, sucking on a blue Paw Patrol ice cream.

"Boys are idiots Che," I sigh, hugging her tightly.

The doorbell rings.

Dropping me like an atomic bomb, she opens the door and leaves to play with the boy.

So, let's see, oh yeah, back to writing "Lite" for Maddie!

I don't know.

Writing.

It's hard to know what ends up being written once I get started. 

I get into a place. 

It's a big part of who I am.

I love words.

"In the beginning was the word," crazy ass Apostle John, the self-proclaimed greatest of them all, starts his story, exiled by the Church, Government and every friend he ever had 

But I love stories more!

And I think Jesus did too.

He didn't write 'em but he told a slew so, I love Jesus too!

Fiction's the best stories because you write the truth with made up names, places and events.

Everything's deadly "real" except the details.

But the love of my life is a " facts only" kind-a-girl where I'm a "never-let-the-truth-stand-in-the-way-of-a-go0d-story"guy.

I learned everything I know about fiction at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, but I digress. 

Anyway, here's my story and I'm sticking to it. And it's pure fact because I know what my wife likes and how she likes it. 

I have a Chemo shot next week and I'm already wondering what to wear.

The End. 

-- 

Micheal Elliott

Chasing Life!

She has the ability to eloquently respond to a question without ever answering it.

By the time you figure out that she never told you want you wanted to know the conversations already moved past.

Or her friends, Laurel rarely visits home alone, takes the dialogue somewhere else and it's hours later before you realize you haven't leaned anything about the child's life.

Or she's already left, Laurel very rarely stays anywhere for too long, especially home, before we have a chance to ask her anything. 

Once I finally figured out Laurel's diversionary approach to communication, I began interrupting her responses with immediate questions redirecting her back to the question asked and not what she's talking about.  

Laurel's dancing eyes catch mine for a second, she grins and keeps talking.

Everyone hangs on her every word.  

I laugh.

She laughs but keeps talking about everything expect what you really want to know.

"Of all the kids, I'm the one actually doing it,"
she delightfully shares in the kitchen just before she leaves.

And she is.

"See the world now! Don't wait until later to do things. When High School's over, take a year or so, see things, figure out what you want to do and learn.

Go to College later if you want.

And I'll be dammed if this Wonder of an old-enough-to-be-killed-for-your-country but can't-drink-until-you're-21, young woman with the guts to want-it-all-now hasn't done it!

And she has a plan!

If it goes anywhere near as perfectly as her launch then in a couple of years she'll be living and working outside of the US and retiring before she's 30!

She's her Mom's daughter with a Gypsy heart, bright blue sparkling eyes that see further than most, thirsts to experience E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. and determination that always finds a way.

Whew Laurel!

I'm too excited to miss you, relishing in each detail of your new life's shared, newest friends, job, house and horses.

Oh yeah! 

And we're so damn proud!

Love and Frogs

 

"So I told him I don't eat frogs,"  Che concludes.

After a long pause, during which she drinks juice in the exact same fashion as her Mother, I ask, "Do you think it's over?"

"I think we will still play together," she sighs, "but it won't be the same."

Still making stories

I pull the cake out of the oven at 5:45, lay it to the side to cool, stare at lit candles in the darkness and wonder why Che's not up yet!

It's Sarah's birthday and we have plans to have the cake ready for breakfast! 

I've never, ever seen a 5 year old absolutely delighted it's her Mother's birthday but Che is bananas about it!

As the wonder of a woman I'm husband to secretly suggested, I'd taken Che to "The Dollar Tree", on a Daddy/Daughter date, gave her $20 telling her to buy whatever gifts she wants for her Mom.

Sarah really is simply brilliant.

Jus' saying.

The first things Che picks out are birthday napkins, plates and candles for the cake which she's so excited to make which is why it's crazy she's not up.

I'm always up!

Trust me, you don't want to know all the reasons why.

Every morning, Che hears me rumbling around and she gets up to be with me.

OH MY GOD you want to talk about love personified through intense cuddling by candlelight? Even though I wished she slept longer, I delight in the high Holy moments.

Appearing in the darkness, clutching her "blankey", blond hair askew in every direction from her pillow and holding "Baby", she softly says, "Da."

Everything else happening in my life is irrelevant at that precise moment as I pick her up, she tightly hugs me and we fall of the sofa together!

"For unto us a child is born ..."

Fully awake a nano-second later, we decorate the cake and Che places all 48 candles on it even though that's not Sarah's age.

Who cares when you're having fun?

Maybe Che will remember it years from now.

And she'll bring me back to life by telling the story.

Perhaps Sarah will tell her version of what happened on her birthday the years we baked birthday cake for breakfast.

And they'll laugh and love the memory and, this is where faith comes in, somehow, I don't know how, I'll be there too!

So long as there's the story to tell.

"In the beginning was the Word," the Bible says and words comprise the greatest story ever told, which is our story of course, and we live as long as our story's told.

Obviously stories have to be made before they can be told and to make stories you have to do stuff with someone else!

You have to make a memory to make a story!

There's no other way.

A story requires activity, the more outrageous the better!

Besides, that's how you know you're really living!

If you do something, remember it later and it makes a good story later, well, life goes on regardless of who's present.

If you keep memories to yourself and never share them then stories aren't born.

In ancient Hebrew, it's believed the moment you speak a word, you give it its own life and there's no taking it back no matter how hard you try.

Isn't that the truth!

Somehow, again I have no idea how, doing things together that make memories which become stories to share are tied together with living!

So with as many ailments as we may have in life,  and some of us have lots, I spend a lot of my energy doing things with Sarah, Che and the kids to do some things worth remembering.

Some may turn into stories and our Love Child might say one day, "Hey Mom! Remember when Dad and I made the birthday cake with all the candles and sprinkles?"

They'll catch each other's eye, as grins are shared turning them into smiles and then they laugh.

Don't get me wrong, I'm in no hurry to go anywhere but I determined that memories are really the only thing worth making in life but that doesn't mean a thing if they they're not turned into stories. 

It doesn't matter if it's a good story or a bad one, the more it's told, the fonder it becomes. Be it a late night invitation to Ashford Castle in Ireland where Sarah played a grand piano while drinking 100 year old Jameson to a crowd's applause or baking a birthday cake with Che, ours is a life full of great stories.

I would tell you some more but it's time to make some new ones first!

It's getting old again

 

Che's playing with a friend in the front yard, Sarah's seeing clients before picking up Cassidy from somewhere and I'm holding onto the sofa for support, watching the kids and listening to "Blue Lights" on Spotify.

The days have been difficult lately so it's nice to see Che being "normal."

Suddenly Che shouts something to her friend and storms inside.

"Da," she says breathing heavily, "Red Juice?"

I retrieve it from the fridge and the sweaty mess of all girl jumps on the sofa, pulls me down and lays her head against my belly.

I smile, soaking up everything about the moment.

Abruptly tossing her cup aside,  she crawls in my lap, looks me straight in the eyes and asks, ""Do we die when we get old?"

Stunned, I turn the music off and stare into the largest deep blue moon eyes before holding her to me and chocking back tears.

"Honey, everybody dies," I say as fatherly as I know how while not having to look at her.

"But are you old Daddy?" she asks sitting up again in my lap.

"Well, why are you asking Clare-Bear?"

The deep blue moons draw me in again as I see her tiny fingers grab my hair and twirls the long grey strings.

"Your hair," she says softly.

"WHAT?" I mock laugh. "I have great hair young lady!"

She continues staring at my long strings of hair twirling on her finger.

"It's grey," she says as soft as a Christmas night whisper.

Unexpectedly she drives her head into my chest, her arms around my stomach, Che hugs me tightly and quietly sobs.

"Mom will protect us from dying," she confidently says, snapping up to reveal the conviction of her beliefs.

"It's just part of life Che-Bay," I say as a matter of fact, "everybody dies."

"Well," Che sighs drawing the matter to a close, "I'm not for it."

Cuddling on the sofa, we surf YouTube.

"What time's Mom gonna be home?" she asks laying her head in my lap.

"Late," I answer.

"Awe," she sighs before noisily slurping the Red Juice.

"Can I have Mac-n-cheese Da?"

"You can have any damn thing you want Che," I grin, getting up and stumbling into the kitchen.

Game On Cancer!

Again I'm already preparing what to wear for my next Chemo shot and I'm upping my game!

Last month I wore a tee-shirt reading, "Pot's Bad! Burn it!" and do you know not a single patient in the Mayo Clinic waiting room even noticed!

Sometimes I wonder if they can even read!

Beside the great shirt, I wore my customary dress kaki shorts, flip-flops and my designer ankle bracket.

I designed it myself!

Sarah humors me by storing extra leather in case I run out and disturb the intriguing elements that make up my "Vibe."

My wife has a closet full of Angel wings.  

So here it is!

Game on fellow Chemo shot recipients!

Tanning Cancer

I'm sitting in the front yard catching some rays on a glorious deep, blue, sunny sky day. 

I prefer my cancer tanned.

I think it just looks better and Sarah Elliott and I always enjoy it when the people at the Mayo Clinic admirably say to us, "Nice tan."

Come to think of it, we haven't seen a lot of people with tans at Mayo.

Perhaps that's why I never see anyone wearing flip-flops in the Chemo shot waiting room except for us.

Anyway, I'm sitting there, high on life, when a car passes, slows, stops, backs up, parks and a friend I haven't seen in a year climbs out and sits beside me for a visit.

"You look good," he starts.

I roll my eyes.

"But man I gotta tell you something!"

"Oh yeah?"

"I don't know what it is about you and cancer but your hair is even thicker and longer than last time I saw you."

It's hard not to feel good when you hear things like this regardless of how you really feel.

"Awe, thanks Marty!"

He leaves and I continue basking in the holy glow of sunbeams baptizing me, humming an old song from when I was a kid.

Oh say can you see my eyes

if you can

well, then, my hairs too short

Christmas Again?

What's left of my stomach's finally surrendered after another epic late night battle with what's left of my intestines and I'm now sipping coffee, listening to "Chuck Prophet" music through earbuds by candlelight.

I also have a buzz going.

Lainey, our Dalmatian, has her head resting in my lap.

"Da," I hear out of the corner of my eye.

Che stumbles into the flickering light and falls in my lap, filling the room with a loving glow.

"Why don't you have your Grinch pajamas on?" her muffled voice asks from my lap.

Before going to sleep, our 5 yr old asks Sarah and I wear the matching pajamas we had worn on Christmas morning.

"I forgot," I confess.

"Is Mom wearing hers?"

"I don't know," I lie.

The golden glow of the candle dances in Che's pillow mussed hair still laying on one leg while Lainey's head remains on the other.

"I wanna be with you Da," she says crawling on the sofa beside me.

This is her now, letting me know, in no uncertain terms, how loved I am.

It's Christmas morning all over again at our house.

Worn out at the Marathon

What do you do when you're absolutely worn out, utterly exhausted handling things, plagued by plans that never work, feel awful physically and wrestle with God demanding answers that won't come?

Sarah and I go to Che's "Marathon Day" at her Pre-K.

Dragging ourselves to the bleachers at the football stadium, we watch our daughter perfectly execute her plan.

"I'm going to get a side stitch,"'she explained to her Mom the day before.

As soon as the kids are lined up, a whistle blows, music blares and Che shoots down the track like a bullet!

A quarter of the course later she holds up her arm, slows to a walk and looks towards her teacher who immediately rushes over.

The two of them hold hands and slowly make their way on the asphalt lane.

Che waves at us.

"Just like she said," Sarah muffles a laugh, shaking her head.

"Yep," I marvel.

Another girl, one of Che's besties, develops a side stitch too and joins her.

The teacher leaves and the two girls laugh as they stroll.

Two boys suddenly stop running to talk with our daughter.

"She really is owning this day," I say out loud.

"Yep," Sarah agrees.

A little boy starts crying so Che stops everything to make certain he's alright.

She walks beside him as they're shepherded back to the school, giving us a quick wave as she reaches for his hand.

Sarah holds me up as we make our way home to continue with the powers and principalities of our world.

How I do Cancer

 "How are you?" Leah, my former "LIVE STRONG" instructor, asks, taking a break from pushing Saylor, her 3 year old in the stroller.

The truth is I'm higher than a kite and her question brings me to the realization I've walked way farther than I meant.

I can't tell her that.

"Can I have one?" Saylor asks, saving me with her giggling as I unwrap a green Jolly Rancher with my teeth with one hand while the other holds Lainey's leash.

"Oh course you can," I answer, handing her a red one, completely bypassing asking Leah.

"May I pet your dog?" my new friend asks, and as she does so it comes to me that Lainey must have dragged me this far.

"Well how are you?" Leah repeats with a concerned smile.

I don't know what to say.

I'm here.

I still in awe of being here!

We're still making plans for our future but it's Sarah doing the work!

Che suddenly has 4 boyfriends and her mother and I personally observed one doting all over her while painting and another gives her elaborate love notes!

Maddie's engaged!  Laurel's moving to another state! Cassidy has emerging clues! Chelsea's giving us a new grandchild!

All this means that when I'm lucid and mobile, about 1/2 the month, I 'm delighting in the incredible joy all of this brings!

The rest of the month I resemble a washed up, over drugged, Zombie trying to convince myself I'm doing alright.

I gauge how I'm really doing by Sarah's reactions to me.

Whenever she tells me to leave her alone because she's behind in work, school and has to do something for all 4 girls at the same time which, of course, she accomplishes while still speaking to me, then I know I'm doing okay. 

She can look the other way for a second. 

The days I know what's going on in my wife's life is when I'm doing pretty good!

Most of the time it's a struggle to remain engaged, which I eventually comprehend by the look of concern in Sarah's loving, analytical, calculating most lovely aqua-blue-green eyes.

That seems like too much to say to answer the still hanging question.

I'm tired anyway and Lainey has to drag me home or I'll have to call my wife and interrupt her, again.

"I'm good," I smile.

Honestly I have no idea how good I really am.

I can't do as many things this month as I could last month and it's driving me crazy because Che and I have established lots of games that bring us joy and we're missing them.

Just a month ago I was playing them just fine but I just can't right now.

Sarah's eyes are perpetually filled with concern and calculations.

Lainey drags me home where I smoke a bowl, collapse on the sofa and lose myself in music streaming through earbuds.

~ I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but didn't finish it because I didn't have it in me.

Now I've just finished smoking a bowl, laying on the sofa, streaming music through ear buds while the girls sleep because it's 1:59 in the morning.

I'm navigating the treacherous waters of this month's Chemo side effects and, as I'm learning how my body will work this month, still struggling to answer Leah's question.

How am I?

I'm okay.

Obviously I could be better but I think I'm doing alright.

I delight in the crazy chaos of a life not going as planned!

But boy is it going!

Hold on, I have a text.

It's from daughter Laurel who's celebrating her birthday which is just another reason to continue the never ending party that is her life!

She wants me to come hang out with her at 4:42 am.

I don't know how other people who have cancer live with it but this is how I do it.

Laurel informs me she's going to bed.

I light some candles, peek at Sarah sleeping, then at Che, then Lainey crawls under the blanket with me on the sofa.