And the world keeps on turning

Where have we been?

It’s been longer than I had hoped since my last post.  Good thing I didn’t say I’d be posting every day for my 11 days series, because I’m seriously behind!  We’ve had what is starting to feel like the “usual” drama around here.  Seriously, it’s truly comical at this point.  I tried writing a long, drawn out post about everything that’s happened since the beginning of January (has it really been two and a half weeks?!) and there’s just no way I can write it all out without it being really long and really boring!  So here, in list form and in no particular order, is a summary of life since the month began…

  • Evie got roseola
  • Evie got the flu (at the same time as roseola)
  • Evie got a yeast infection (also at the same time as the flu and roseola)
  • Kevin got the flu
  • Jude got the flu and maybe roseola
  • I got the flu, but not as bad as everyone else, and good thing, because I still had to take care of everyone else!
  • My brother and his family came for a visit for a week
  • I got a flat tire in my minivan
  • My parent’s house got broken into and burgrlarized
  • Jude potty trained (woot woot!)
  • Evie started standing on her own
  • Kevin started radiation on the 9th
  • My sister came and helped me clean my house, for which I am eternally grateful
  • My mom came and took care of me and the kids when I was finally too sick to take care of everyone


Kevin did start radiation last Monday, so that’s the biggest thing going on “cancer” related.  His first appointment was at 1:30PM on Monday the 9th, so I was able to go with him.  A huge thank you again to my amazing parents who have helped out so much so that we can make as many of these appointments together as possible.  It is always hard for me when we go over to the Winship Cancer Center.  It’s always a reminder that this cancer is real, not just “pretend” cancer, which is how it feels so much of the time.  Kevin’s not visibly sick (well other than the current flu situation, that is).  He never has been sick from this cancer, so these visits are always cold, hard reminders of what cancer is capable of.  You can judge it by the tools used to fight it.  One doesn’t spend $7,000 on a PET scan unless it’s serious.  Or on gigantic radiation machines.  Anyway, on Monday we headed down together to Winship and went through the now familiar tunnel to radiation.

They happened to be about an hour behind that day, so we had a bit of a wait, and again I was so glad to be with him.  We met many people in the waiting room and heard several of their stories.  One woman and her husband had over an hour drive each way, and she was on twice a day radiation therapy.  Another was a young girl, maybe 16 or 17 who was on her last day of radiation.  Another was a woman with her adult son.  She was fighting a recurrence of breast cancer which had settled in her bones.  Her son was starting school at GA Tech in the fall studying nuclear engineering.  He wants to do radiation cancer research because of what his mom has gone through.  To say the experience was overwhelming is such an understatement.  What do you say to someone who has cancer?  What do you say when someone tells you this is their THIRD round of radiation.  All so strange and awkward and surreal, and yet somehow it HAS become the new normal all at the same time.

Anyway, I got to go in and see the radiation machine that would be treating Kevin for the next six and a half weeks, and let’s just say I’m pretty sure we’ll be meeting our deductible again this year.  Man, that stuff puts the x-ray machine in your dentist’s office to shame.  It’s like the dental x-ray machine’s gigantic pro-linebacker brother who can kick a*s and take names, all while writing a doctoral dissertation on computer science.  And seeing it immediately made me so grateful again that we have access to such amazing medical care.  The doctors, the equipment, every experience we’ve had at Emory.  I am SO grateful and know that there are so many who do not have these options.  We do NOT take it for granted.

Our New Normal

After Kevin’s first treatment, he has been going in every morning at 6:15 so that he won’t have to miss any work.  It’s been hard for him because he’s not a morning person and of course it’s exhausting to add one more thing to an already long day. It’s been hard for me because I haven’t been able to go with him, so I don’t feel as connected to what he’s going through as I had been (up to this point, I’d been able to go to every appointment with him).  Please pray for us as we struggle through this time.  Having radiation treatment every weekday is tough enough.  Getting hit with the flu running through the whole house has brought us nearly to our breaking point.  But we are all on the upswing now (I hope) and so we pray that will be all the drama for a little while.  Would love to just have a little bit of time where things are a little calm.  Is that too much to ask?

Thank You

I have an ever growing list of people to write thank you cards to, and the way things are going these days, who knows if I’ll ever get them out.  I just want to at least begin by saying thank you here to all the family and friends who are surrounding us with prayer, for those of you who have sent us verses and quotes of encouragement and inspiration, for the meals that you have dropped by (and even sent from the other side of the country… how amazing is that?!), gift cards, and more.  Thank you.  Your help means more than you know.

3 thoughts on “And the world keeps on turning

  1. Thanks for keeping us updated. I know you’re in His hands — though that sometimes feels more helpless than comforting. You’re all in our prayers. Wish we were close enough to help.

  2. Dear Rachel: Please do not concern yourself about “thank you cards”. We know you
    appreciate what we send. And thank you for the up-date with the accont of your
    “ups and downs” of daily life. What matters now is that you take good care of yourself and your precious family. I am sorry to hear your parents had their
    home burglarized – a terribly invasive feeling. Hopefully the remainder of January will be less stressful. Maybe Tim can make all of you some of his “miraculous
    chicken soup”
    With love, Irene

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