Busy month at our house

It's been an entire month since I've posted anything on the blog. The reason is that things have been very busy around here! Highlights include a new bike for Phil and scooter for Fiona, a major car accident (other party was at fault and we all seem to be ok), and an evening in the ER for Fiona after falling and splitting open her gum which then detached from the roof of her mouth.

The next week is going to be very busy as well and I don't anticipate having time to update the blog for another 10 days or so, but at that point I hope to get back to more frequent entries.

10:30 AM at our house--A Miniature Musketeer

Today Philip was a Musketeer. He informed me that he needed a sword and it must be made out of a balloon. How logical, I thought. Then I realized there was a similar plot line on the Backyardigans this morning.

I pumped up a balloon for him and another for his sister. Here we have him posing with the sword. My favorite part is the sticker across his face, which is supposed to be his mask. That would be the sticker I removed from my new shirt (the one I went back and bought after Fiona's tantrum the other day).

#1 Cancer FAQ answered (sort of)

First off we answer the #1 post-cancer question that my faraway friends and family ask: "How much hair do you have?" See above photo.

The most frequently asked question I got throughout this whole experience, however, was something along the lines of "How did you know you had cancer? What were your symptoms?"

I'll finally give a little background on this. The doctor said they have no way of knowing exactly how long I had cancer, but Hodgkin's Lymphoma is slow-growing, so their best guess was that I had it for a couple of years before being diagnosed. I have freaked out many times over the likelihood that I carried, birthed and nursed Fiona while cancer cells multiplied throughout my body, but the medical people continually strive to reassure me that there is no way I passed it on to her.

When I turned 29, I spent the better part of a year convincing myself that 30 was no big deal and still very young. Then I laughed as right around the time I turned 30 I got my first gray hair, allergies and back trouble.

In fact, the gray hair and the allergies started exactly 2 years prior to my diagnosis of lymphoma, with the back trouble following just days after my 30th birthday. My current philosophy is to blame cancer for anything and everything bad that has happened health-wise since March 2007.

By the time I went in to the doctor I'd had a slew of odd or at least unusual symptoms, most of which I was told could have something to do with the cancer but not necessarily. My theory is that cancer weakened my immune system and so a lot of these things happened because of that. Here is the rest of the list:

Strange rash down my shoulder and left breast when Fiona was only 10 days old...I thought it was shingles because I'd had that in college and it looked similar. It was Sat. of course, so I went to Urgent Care and the doctor had no idea what he was talking about. He told me I was probably right and that I had to pump and dump all my milk from that side, which was totally stressful. My amazing friends made sure that the meals kept coming throughout the ordeal. They also referred me to doctors and lactation consultants who informed me that the baby had antibodies which would prevent her from being affected so I should go ahead and nurse. I was also encouraged to finally see a dermatologist, who told me that he didn't know what it was but it definitely was not shingles. Life went back to normal and the rash went away.

Nail problems...I would not describe this as a fungus because that type of thing usually requires some kind of treatment. I had four fingernails that were a little discolored and grew in a weird wavy shape, but then they immediately grew back in healthy.

Fatigue...I just didn't bounce back after having Fiona, but I thought that maybe that was just how it was once you got to your third.

Post-partum depression...In connection with the extreme tiredness and a loss of appetite, I decided about eight months after the baby's birth that I was going through a mild post-partum depression. It took a while for me to decide that was what it was because it was nothing like the extreme depression I experienced during Miles' pregnancy (a story for another day). I could function, but I felt overwhelmed. I had several weeks where I dreaded getting up in the morning. I remember being at Disneyland and thinking I should be having a lot more fun. I still suspect a lot of that was my hormones shifting, but I also think it affected me more than usual because my body was so run down. It cleared up a couple of weeks before diagnosis.

A cold that I just couldn't seem to kick...It took forever. I did two rounds of antibiotics and the cough still lingered. Again, I think my body was having a hard time fighting it.

This weird patchy tongue thing...My dentist has a name for it. It would look like parts of my tongue had been scraped off and it would move around. Sometimes the sides of my tongue would swell up.

Rapid heart palpitations in the middle of the night...This was really disconcerting. I would wake up several times a night with my heart racing as if I were having a panic attack, only I wasn't feeling panicked. I am known for waking up frightened and disoriented (Sadly I do it more nights than not) but this was different because I didn't have any kind of fear other than wondering why in the world my heart wouldn't stop pounding for several minutes.

Night sweats...I would often wake up in a sweat.

Headaches.

Body aches.

*Leg problems...This is the one thing the doctor tells me is definitely related to Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It is what ultimately made Tom force me to go to the doctor. A few months after Fiona's birth, I started having leg cramps similar to what women often get during pregnancy. They were sometimes so painful I couldn't sleep, and oddly I would have them in one leg and then they would switch to the other. I went in and saw a doctor who basically told me I needed to exercise more. I decided I was through with that doctor who is so totally ready to retire and doesn't really listen. I switched to a doctor who I regularly saw during pregnancy and he helped me during the time I had all the trouble with the cold. I had the leg cramping on and off, and then it started getting weird. I had a strip down the front of my left leg that was bright red like a sunburn and warm to the touch. Sometimes it would tingle. After a while it turned darker in color like a bruise. At night I would get edema, the ankles very swollen like they had been when I was days from giving birth. I would also get strange knots and indentations all over my leg and knee. It was all bizarre, but the cramping was bearable with painkillers, so I wasn't that uncomfortable, and I didn't want to be one of those annoying patients who goes to the doctor for every little thing. I had already seen a doctor about the cramping, after all. Finally, Tom convinced me that this was not normal, and my doctor confirmed that it wasn't, especially in connection with all of the other strange things that had been happening.

I feel really grateful for this doctor and that he was thorough in checking to see what I had. The leg condition is officially called erythema nodosum, and it is often a sign of heart trouble, kidney trouble, or other things. There was blood work done (heart and kidneys declared fine) and I saw a dermatologist who took a biopsy of my leg (another lovely scar from the chunk taken out there) which confirmed the condition. I saw a rheumatologist and also had X-rays done, saw what they thought was a large mass in my chest, followed by the CT scan which revealed it was actually several enlarged lymph nodes, signaling lymphoma.

When I pressed my doctor about all of these symptoms, she insisted that we just get through treatment and "see what happens." I don't know how many of these things were related to the cancer, but I do know that every single symptom, allergies and all, has gone away...including that one stubborn gray hair! (That one will probably crop back up. Right now all of my hair is several shades lighter than before, but it is expected to eventually return to its normal color.)

I think people ask me about this because they want to know what to look for. I say be aware of your body and recognize when it is behaving in a way different from your norm. Then go pester your doctor about it and if you are not satisfied with the answer, pester some more. I am a lot more confident about my own observations and my ability to ask questions after having been through this experience.

That's the long answer!

The little rascal at our house

Good thing she's so cute! Fiona has reached that inevitable phase that all parents know about. She is into everything and fond of making a mess! She likes to pull sandwich bags out of the kitchen drawers, spill office supplies all over the floor, and remove the books from their shelves.

She also has the most wonderful vocabulary. She reminds me of Buckwheat from the Little Rascals because she always says, "O-tay" instead of "Okay." Here is some more of my favorite Fio-ese:

Deet-dah--"Thank you," and also "Here you go, you should say thank you."
Deese--"These" which actually means Crispix cereal. It's because she was always reaching for it at breakfast (It's my favorite) and I would say, "Do you want these?"
Hap-up or Heb-up--Philip
Hannah--Fiona (She doesn't do the F sound very well)
Moo--This is what cows say and also toy giraffes, loudly during Sunday School
Nems--M & M's
Read it--It's a command and she won't take no for an answer as she backs into your lap
To eat--"I'm hungry and I need something to eat."
Ou pease--"Out please," which we taught her to say early on when she's done eating
Geckle--freckle
Buddy bun--belly button
Crocs on--I want my Crocs on
Piddy!--Pretty, which she says when we put hair clips in her hair, after which she pitter-patters over to the mirror to admire herself
Yeah, yeah, yeah--She says this while her head nods and she reaches out her hand and turns it. It means "I want that."
I love you-- Self-explanatory. My favorite.

My maternal grandma

Today would have been my grandmother's 87th birthday. She died a little over ten years ago, just months after Tom and I were married. She was a great lady.

Here is a picture of me and my grandparents taken the year before she passed away. She was known for her red hair, which she kept coloring her whole life in order to not go gray. She relished a good party. I love that she and Grandpa are buried close to one of her best friends. She was a determined woman and an exceptionally talented pianist who played the organ as well.

She was so beautiful in her day. When a cousin and I first came across a picture of her in her twenties, we were absolutely mesmerized. She was fashionable and old-fashioned her whole life. I remember how shocked we all were during my teen-age years when she finally purchased a very formal, billowy pair of pants. We don't think she'd ever worn anything but skirts and dresses prior to that time.

She was a CHOCOHOLIC. A couple I know house-sat for her when they were first married and always relate how tickled they were to find bags of Hershey's kisses in all the pots and pans and in the freezer. This has got to be genetic because she passed her love of chocolate on to her daughters and several of her grandchildren. (Shockingly, while I certainly have a sweet tooth and I do like chocolate, I would not describe myself as having inherited the gene. I can actually go days without chocolate, and I assure you that there are those in my family who can not.)

She would take us granddaughters to lunch and Nordstrom or Neiman Marcus for our birthdays to buy us clothes. The sales people all knew her by name and had things put aside for her.

Best of all, she had this wonderful way of sounding so pleasantly surprised every time I answered the phone or when she saw me in person. I can just imagine her saying my name that same way when we meet again in heaven some day!

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Progress at our house

Here we see Miles' backpack hanging on its hook...WHERE IT BELONGS!!! He hung it there all by himself after only one week of me reminding him every single day to do so. This is what I call progress.

We are all experiencing some progress here at our house. While there are still many nights when getting them to clean up before bedtime is agony, they are slowly becoming more agreeable. Not only is Miles remembering to hang up his backpack, but he has this new ritual of vacuuming after he showers. It's strange but helpful, so I will not complain.

Philip is 98% toilet trained. What I mean is that he is completely capable and now rarely has any accidents, which is a big improvement from where he was a month ago. Seeing as how he starts preschool next week, it is an important accomplishment.

The case Tom is working on goes to trial next week, so I guess that is progress.

Fiona spoke her first entire sentence this week. It was, "No, I don't like it." She repeats this frequently. (Ex: "Let's go change your diaper," No, I don't like it. "Time for your nap." No, I don't like it. "Here's your lunch." No, I don't like it.) She is also getting two new teeth after months and months of only having six. I had no idea what made her so cranky this morning; I was shopping for clothing because weight gain due to food intake is different from weight gain due to pregnancy, thus I don't own much clothing that fits my body properly. I keep wearing the same handful of outfits over and over. When I was about to leave the dressing room, Fiona tried to escape and when I pulled her back she got so angry she threw my cell phone on the floor and then threw herself on the floor and proceeded to have a massive tantrum. As I put her back in the cart it became apparent that purchasing my clothing was not an option, so we walked out of the store while many people stared. Some of them were glancing up in curiosity, while others were shaking their heads. Who are these people who look at a crying toddler and shake their heads? Are they idiots or have they never had children or both? It was 11 A.M. so obviously I hadn't been dragging her around all day forcing her to watch me shop. When children cry in public places, I make a nice comment if I am standing directly next to them (such as, "I was in your position last week") and otherwise I completely ignore it as if I don't hear it at all. The last thing I want to do is add to that mother's stress! I was relieved to see the teeth poke through so that her outburst had an explanation.

As for me, I am gaining more hair by the day. I could almost put barrettes in it now if I wanted to. I am also making progress in the love-the-animals department. I am fearing for the life of Mr. Sammy the Caterpillar. Philip is so NOT GENTLE with his new pet. I find myself constantly telling him to be more careful. When left alone, it is doing a lot of squirming on its back. I can't tell if that is normal or if it's writhing in pain. It is odd realizing I essentially feel compassion toward a worm.

Thus we are all feeling pretty good about ourselves here at our house.

The caterpillar at our house

We have a new pet. I am hoping the acquisition of this new pet will appease my children for some time, as I may never be ready to house anything with hair.

On the walk home from school, I spied a caterpillar and pointed it out. The boys excitedly picked it up and decided we should keep it. At first, Progeny Numero Dos (this is what I call him when I am talking about him in front of him) suggested we name it Philip. You've gotta love the fact that he loves himself.

Ultimately, the boys decided on "Sam" or "Sammy." (Either will do.) I think the name readily popped to mind because they have three relatives and a close friend named Sam.

They put Mr. Sam the Caterpillar (the long version of his name) in a Tupperware container and gave him twigs, leaves and dirt so he would feel at home. We gave him lettuce to dine on and we occasionally put a couple of drops of water in there so that he can stay hydrated. I honestly don't know if this is the best way to keep a caterpillar alive; I am just guessing here. I have my doubts as to whether he will last until next week, let alone to spin his cocoon and emerge as a butterfly. In any event, it is providing some great entertainment for the children.

wiggin' out at our house

Well, there it is--practically the only picture in existence with me wearing my wig! It looks fine but I think one of the reasons I don't love it is that I haven't had bangs since I was in high school and I just can't get used to that. Especially since they are fake and therefore don't seem to fall very naturally. However, as hairpieces go, I'd say it isn't bad.

As noted previously, I usually walk around without anything on my head. Yes, I really will post a photo of that too one of these days. I wear the wig for special occasions though, and today it was because a bunch of us went up to the Oakland Temple to be with a friend of ours who was going for the first time. (This is a significant milestone in the LDS faith.)

It was a great experience today not only for all of the regular reasons, but because I made two startling but pleasant realizations. First, I could tell that I really am healthier and stronger than I was a few months ago. I came to this conclusion because there is a staircase that we climb to get up to the room for the session at the temple. It consists of over fifty stairs and even though the stairs are not very high, they have winded me in the recent past. We were at the temple in June and when Tom suggested I take the elevator I refused, thinking I had taken these stairs many times and it would be no problem. That time I was really heaving and my legs were sore for days. Then I went back a couple of times in August and again today, and with each visit I was less affected.

The second epiphany came to me as I was sitting in the session and reflecting on everything our family has been through this year and I caught myself thinking, "I'm glad it happened." I've often thought to myself that despite how difficult the illness was and the toll it took on me and my family, I had learned a lot and that I would try to make the most of it; but I never thought I'd be one of those cheesy people who said they were grateful for their trials. Grateful for the growth and the friendships and the perspective perhaps, but not grateful enough that I would actually choose those experiences if I could. Today, completely without forcing myself, I very naturally decided that I am truly glad it happened.

I came home and really thought about that as I had delicious homemade bread from a friend who has promised to teach me how to bake it, covered in delicious homemade jam that had magically appeared in my refrigerator while my sister-in-law was baby-sitting my kids. I would never have wanted to learn to bake homemade bread or make homemade jam. Those are just two things I have been inspired to want to learn.

I took off my wig and placed it back in its little spot on the corner of our dresser. If I planned to wear it more often I would take better care of it, putting it on its little stand. Instead it sits there like a lifeless animal and apparently it kind of freaks out my husband when he wakes up every morning. He's wonderful, so he didn't mention that it frightens him until after I was done with treatment, and he hasn't complained that I haven't figured out a better place to keep it yet.

Perhaps I will put it back in its box and tuck it away, as I won't be needing it much longer.

A friend lost to cancer

Heather, a friend of ours from college, died last night. She had been battling breast cancer for 2 1/2 years. We were all friends our Freshman year and she was just one of those immensely likable people. Pictured above are her during the first month of school holding up a sign for some guy she had a crush on at the time; posing with me before one of our many jogs; and smiling with my young future husband (whose unique Etch-a-sketch watch I had forgotten about until I went to pull out that photo).

Heather had THE BIGGEST smile of anyone I've ever met. I am not just saying that because it is one of those things you say about people who've gone on to the other side. She was so smiley, and as I reread parts of her blog today, I saw evidence that she hadn't changed. That beautiful face was smiling back at me--along with her husband and two children, same ages as mine.

We haven't really kept in contact with her since college, but a mutual friend has kept us updated on her situation, and I looked at her blog from time to time. Reading through it was pretty surreal. At one point she had thought the cancer was gone only to find out it had come back in her lung, which was very serious. She talked of how she'd be starting chemotherapy all over again, and started listing side effects she'd soon be experiencing. Side effects I'm so familiar with, like tingling fingers, nausea, and horrible bone pain.

But I got a side effect she didn't. I'm cured.

It really isn't fair. I see her husband and those little children whom I've never met, and I weep. I don't have to imagine what it's like to find out you have cancer, because I've been there. I know what it's like to find out you're going to lose a family member to cancer, because I've been there too--three times. But I can't imagine what it's like to find out you're going to actually succumb to the disease.

One thing is clear from reading her blog, from talking to others who are battling cancer or who have survived it, and from reflecting upon having been through it myself: Whether you are ultimately lost to cancer or not, you can be "found" to it if you allow yourself. Acquiring a major disease is just one of life's opportunities that can be a gift. Not a gift that you take and say, "Hooray, it's just what I've always wanted!" It's more like a gift that you look at and say, "No thanks, I'd like to return this," or "Oh, this doesn't really fit me," or "Huh?"

But if you let it, it can teach you a few things, such as patience, humility, and compassion. From all appearances, Heather learned these things just as I did. I don't know why she got to go and I get to stay. I'm grateful we'll both get to see the big picture some day and then we'll understand.

The piano tuner's adventures at our house

Today the piano tuner came to our house, and Philip was very interested in what was going on. As Philip is not known for being shy, he wanted to stand by and ask questions while the piano was being tuned and cleaned. I told him not to bother the tuner, to which he responded that he wanted to watch and would just be very very quiet. He then proceeded to sneak back and forth from the front room to the office multiple times, whispering to me that he was "so quiet they didn't even notice me!" Well, except for the time he came in with his own box of toy tools, cleared his throat and said in the deepest, gruffest voice he could muster, "Got my tools here!" Or the time he put on his tie and stood very tall, walking in a sophisticated manner to his bedroom. And the three or so times he flexed his muscles and showed off his karate moves. (He is a karate master this week.) The piano tuner, who thankfully has four children including a three-and-a-half-year-old son, asked how in the world Phil got so strong. Phil told him it was from drinking lots of milk. "That'll do it," said the piano tuner.

Phil presides; Phil resides...at our house

Above are some of our favorite Phil & Phil pics. Our son Philip is named after his Uncle Phil, Tom's brother. (Their middle names are the only difference.) We still occasionally use the nickname "Philby" to differentiate between them--it's short for "Phil the Baby," while his uncle gets the designation "Phil the Man."

Two weeks ago Uncle Phil was put in as our new stake president. In the LDS faith, a bishop presides over a congregation; a stake is a group of congregations (our stake has 7). A stake president is in charge of the whole stake, and is in that position for roughly ten years. So it's kind of a big deal. (I might mention that in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the clergy are not paid, so they all have regular jobs in addition to their church positions, which they do not "sign up" for but are rather invited to accept.)

Here are some questions people will ask you if you happen to be related to the new stake president:

How do you feel about being related to the stake president? (We feel great. He's a terrific person so we can easily give him our support.)

How are you guys related to the stake president again? (He is Tom's OLDER brother. And to answer the inevitable follow-up question, Tom is 14 years younger. And to answer your next follow-up question, no there are two brothers older than that and only one sister between them. Yes, Tom was a "bonus baby.")

Did you know they were going to put him in as the new stake president? (While we had a hunch, not even he knew until the day before, because that's how it works. We heard his name read for the first time at stake conference like everyone else. But we figured it out that morning when our sister-in-law called to ask when we'd be arriving at church so that we could sit with them. I told her we'd do our best to get there early and she said, "Okay, we'll see you when you get here." Get here? You're already at the church at 7:40 a.m. and the meeting starts at 9? Hmmm....)

Your kid is named after the stake president, right? (This one only applies to people who happen to name their kid after the future stake president...)

As we left the meeting where we all voted to sustain the new stake president, his namesake had ballpoint pen all over his face and back. That would be our son's actual back, not his white shirt. I still don't know how I missed that this was happening. On our way out it was mentioned once that he looked like Zorro (so when we got home he wanted to know who Zorro was and he decided that he was Zorro for the rest of the week) and several times that he is named after our new church leader. All I can do is smile and explain that our rather imaginative, rambunctious, humorous child is quite a bit like his uncle was as a kid. That must mean there's hope that he will turn out pretty well.

4:00 p.m. at our house--building a paper cup castle

I took out the paper products because we are taking them to a BBQ with friends this evening. (Yes, that is my kid who insisted on wearing his new long-sleeved shirt despite the fact that it is currently 100 degrees outside.) Several of the paper cups are apparently better used as building materials. My children's creativity frequently inspires, amuses, and exasperates me all at the same time.

2:00 p.m. at our house--working together

I have this new family motto of sorts that I am inflicting upon my children, which they have now basically memorized and repeat on demand when asked the question, "What do we do in our family?" The correct response is "We love each other, we help each other, and we work together to be an eternal family." It is sometimes stated joyfully, sometimes with a hint (or more) of a sigh. However, the terms "work together" and "I'm helping" seem to be creeping into their vocabulary more--even Fiona's. They are more cooperative as well.

Today the younger two said they wanted to work together when they were taken with a sudden desire to wash windows. This is not a normal occurance. Thus I had to capture it for proof and for posterity's sake.

1:00 p.m. at our house--secret mission in the hamper

Bare-chested boy conducted a secret mission among the laundry. I wasn't given many details, but I believe it was a success.

9:30 a.m. at our house--peek-a-boo piggies

Lovin' those squished noses against the window.

8:00 a.m. at our house--first day of school

Miles began first grade today. He seems to have enjoyed it in general. However, just like last year when he was surprised that he didn't learn to read on the first day of kindergarten, he was disappointed that it wasn't a "big learning day." He said he didn't learn anything new and he didn't make any friends in his new class yet. I told him these things take time.

Bandanna Baby (not Mama!) at our house

Is she not completely adorable?

She is forever finding my bandannas and putting them on her head. Many people have pointed out lately that she has graduated from babyhood and looks so grown up. But she is still my baby!

I, the mother of said baby, have decided to give up bandannas (for the most part) and start walking around with my head uncovered. This may be shocking to some strangers who will wonder what the cause of my excessively short hair is, but if that is the case, so be it--it is the fault of my friends, near and far, who have seen me in person or in picture form and have remarked that I look "great," or "so stylish" or "beautiful." These are just the ones I hear most frequently. If every one of you is being insincere, I'm glad I don't know it because A) That would be a sad world to live in where all of the people you love and admire are not honest with you and B) I am just plain tired of covering up my head and I actually agree that I look better without the scarves now that there's a little more there. I still wear the wig for special occasions like weddings and singing in front of a bunch of people at church for your relative's mission farewell (just did that one last week for the second time because I love my family so very much) but otherwise I think I will be sticking with the oh-so-hip ultra-short do.

Another intriguing fact is that my hair appears to be coming in lighter than before. Apparently this is common in the beginning, along with curliness (too early to tell) and then eventually it should go back to the way it was. Anyway, I'm just glad it is growing even though it is growing at a snail's pace!

7:00 p.m. at our house--Tie-dye Toga

When Miles was younger, a friend of his tie-dyed this shirt and gave it to him for his birthday. By the time he outgrew it, it was well-worn and it became a night shirt for Philip. Because it is a little large and worn out, Philip has decided to wear it as a toga. Actually, he calls it his "katoga." Fiona has learned the word "toga" as well.

7:30 p.m. at our house--bare-chested boy

As mentioned in yesterday's post, Philip has been spending his days wearing the Batman suit this week until he gets hot, at which point he decides to wear only shorts. He calls himself a bare-chested boy, and clearly thinks this has something to do with bears. Here he is climbing up the bookcase and shouting, "Jet pack activated!" while Fiona is calmly picking up the blocks and saying, "away, away, away."

Just before these photos were taken, we had the following interchange.

Philip: Mom, do you know what a disaster is?
Mandy: Yes.
Philip: No you don't.
Mandy: Yes I do.
Philip: No you don't.
Mandy: Okay, what is a disaster, Philip?
Philip: It means the girl on Backyardigans is a bad guy.

3:00 p.m. at our house--Popsicle Time

During my first major trip to the grocery store in months, I bought Dreyer's fruit bar popsicles. Mmmmmm. They are the best and they are healthier than regular popsicles too. Summer vacation simply must include them. Here we have Miles and Fiona each enjoying theirs. Phil, who is currently alternating between being Batman and "Bare chested please," actually pretended to be a popsicle, standing very still, which was cute, but of course he doesn't like having his picture taken. This is why he appears to be rather grumpy above, although seconds before he was having a grand old time.

Today was our nanny's very last day, which kind of gave me a feeling of (mostly positive) closure. We will miss her. However, it is nice to feel like the cancer chapter of life is closing.