Our family is not what you'd consider "traditional" in any sense of the word. Our parents, like nearly 50% of "kids" in the U.S. also can claim, are divorced. They have been for nearly two decades. We've adapted. So should you.
Take a journey with us now... We've got a story to tell.
Our parents were born in the mid 1950s. In the grand scheme of things, that really wasn't all that long ago. Dad was born on a little island in the Pacific Ocean called Guam. Mom was born in Spokane, Washington State. We can't possibly give you vivid insights into their early years, because as their children, we weren't yet even that twinkle in their eyes. Though geographically far apart at birth, their paths would eventually cross and their lives be forever intertwined.
In the mid 1970s, they were married and that began a lifelong relationship between two families. It would have it's own fair share of arguments, happiness, celebration, life, death, calm seas, tumultuous mountains, and raging thunderstorms. (sidebar here - I (TJ) have been told, multiple times, that we were very poor at times while we were growing up.. I can honestly say that I just don't remember it that way. Maybe being rich in spirit, compassion and understanding is what will forever sit at the forefront of my childhood memories.)
Stephen, the oldest of their three children, was born in 1975. Three years later, Jill made her grand entrance and would forever be "caught in the middle". And in '82, after another three and a half years, Timothy (that's me!) rounded out their three musketeers.
We were a family of five, usually with at least one or two fur babies added into the mix. However, we're (thankfully) not a made-for-tv after school special. Things aren't always sunshine, roses and sugar sweetness. Like all families we'd have our royal rumbles right along side our prolific parties and copious celebrations.
In the late 90s the known structure of our party of five would change. Mom and Dad would go their separate ways. It was like being a deck of cards put into the automatic shuffler and then scattered in a surprise game of 52 card pickup. Although history has value and importance, this isn't the storyline of this tale...
Coming closer to Y2K... Steve and Jill would start their own branches of our family tree. Though it's hard to believe it, even as I write it.. Y2K was also the year I graduated from high school. I chuckle a bit as the phrase "teenage uncle" flashes in my mind. From this point forward, our lives continue to change and evolve. We face challenges and obstacles, but still find ways to advance and celebrate success. There are many individuals who come into our lives throughout, and though it's not possible to name or thank them all in a Facebook post... Many of them are in these groups still fighting and supporting, and existing with us today.
The branches of our family tree, are their own storylines. Sometimes they intersect. Sometimes they run parallel, and other times they seem to move in total opposition to each other. The one constant, from the tree, is the roots. It doesn't matter if you're the energetic branch stretching for the sky at full force with the wind at your back, or if you're the branch on the far side, hidden from sunlight, sagging towards the ground in a downward slump. Both branches are secured, fed, and draw from the roots. We can't always understand and don't always realize or recognize the awesome power of the roots of our trees (the centrifugal force of families). As branches, sometimes we rebel and hold animosity towards the anchoring roots. It is an exercise in futility, although not always discernable by the determined branches.
Again, like the tree, as the branches age and mature, they long to put down their own roots. The cycle is never ending. Their roots may grow big and strong, but even when their own branches reach that rebellious phase, their movement and advancement will forever be sourced from other roots. A piece of THEM will always be with YOU.
So, in relation to all our tree references (and I'm sure more will find their way into this text..) we did branch out and there were times, especially early in the first decade of this 21st century we're all now living in, that we ran in opposition to each other. Many connections were made, and some valuable allies came into the saga that is our existence. Our parents had both remarried and, at the very least, lines of communication between our original five were open. Sometimes there were long periods of dead air, but the calls were never dropped (hopefully you all get the early cell phone reference, because early in the 2000s was when they started becoming popular...)
By the end of the first decade in the 21st century we had all returned to Washington State. And within a few more years, we'd all be living within about a five mile radius of each other. Steve and Jill now had a total of 5 of their own kids between them (Micah wasn't with us quite yet!), Mom had returned sans hundreds of pounds (multiple meanings here!), even Grandma and Grandpa - her parents - were local, and Dad and Pilar added an entire infantry division to our extended family with my step sisters and their little saplings (see, found another tree reference)... (Liam hadn't joined us yet, either!). Nana and Papa (dad's parents) had been steadfast and maybe the only ones with an address and phone number we'll all always remember! (T! You're rambling...) Right! So, the point is that our original five had grown to something like 5,000 when you add in all the aunts and uncles, cousins, and adopted / puedo relatives who are / were friends that became family.
I know, and feel comfortable speaking for every single one of us when I say that without the extended gaggle of guys and gals we consider family, many of us would literally be in A VERY different place today. (physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally...)
All this (sometimes long winded or rambling history) brings us to current events. The year is 2017. The world is in flux. From religion, to politics, to economy, to world events, and domestic and local tragedies, the only constant in the adventure called life is - change. And change can be difficult for many. Unwanted, invasive, and relentlessly altering the state of things. Change CAN bring about good, if we learn to focus it and with the understanding that human nature encompasses free will. The funny thing about change is, that in so many cases, it is INACTION that causes it. And for every action or inaction there is an equal and opposite reaction (hopefully that occurs sooner but no less than 4 years from the original... Sorry... Couldn't help myself). Change and flux exist and are driven by action or inaction and the reciprocal reactions.
For my Dad, what seemed to start as arthritis pain or a hip pointer would cause action. Despite the stubborn prideful streak that runs from the seed and through the roots (yes! Another tree reference!) and has carried through to every branch, blossom, and sprout, Dad went to the doctor, something wasn't right. He learned that his PSA was high. Normal numbers should be between 1-4. He had an 88. Any result outside the norm automatically calls for additional testing. In his case, the retest provided the same - a result outside of normal. From there, the task is to determine the extent and confirm via biopsy. He would go through a bone density scan (which is sensitive to discovering small lesions.) and a CT scan (sensitive to large lesions) that, along with the biopsy results would aid the doctor in deeming that Dad has stage 4 metastatic (meaning it has spread from the point of origin) prostate cancer. Many hear stage 4 and automatically jump to conclusions. Here's where I have another sidebar before we return to regularly scheduled programming.
Primarily - I want to take a moment to acknowledge and recognize that in and of itself, the word CANCER is malicious. It's frightening, and while the diagnosis is often seen as one of the worst, it actually can bring about good. Now before my last statement causes an uproar - what I mean is.. CANCER the disease isn't good. It has widespread and lasting implications and influences. But, the strength, character, unity, and fighting prowess and spirit that are ignited are genuinely awe-inspiring.
From there, if you add in the "staging" of cancer, a stage 4 diagnosis is... In a word... Shattering. (I'll also interject that I'm truly not of the personality type where I must find a silver lining, nor will I ever be considered an optimist.. So the words I have next are more true because I'm not a sugar coater. Definitely not my forte.) Stage 4 Metastatic Prostate Cancer. IT MAY sound like a judge's sentence. Or something from a fairy tale that you only hear about in story books. Maybe even the prompt from a director in a movie set or TV show.
Don't jump to conclusions. There is good reason for why what doctors do is called "practice". The answer isn't always finite. There are factors in play, again, in human nature that are beyond research and thinking and experience and intuition. The human equation cannot, by a human, be solved or proven. There exist forces that are independent of human creation (they aren't man made, can't be man made, and aren't technological.. And for the record... No. I'm not talking about aliens...) Love. Spirit. Faith. Hope. Free will. Altruism. These are words man has created, but they reference that which is beyond mankind's ability to create. Even the most proficient, highly skilled, extremely experienced physician cannot account for the human factor and the power of such things.
The diagnosis and classification as stage 4 is simply the scientific qualification due to progression and it's discovery of existence outside of the point of origin within the body. Scientific. Meaning it's what the doctor's "practice" and understanding of medicine teaches him to call it that. It's the widely accepted terminology. It's standardization. As human beings, and individuals, I'm not really keen on the idea of being standardized, but I recognize that uniformity within the system of medicine has its value.
For my mom, it was an unintentional action that would cause the series of events that lead us to today. My mom has not won the luck of the draw for medical status. We do try to keep things light and are in general a sarcastic bunch. The strong sense of humor trait runs throughout (I'm hilarious...) as does humility (and sarcasm). We often quip that it's not a normal weekend unless we visit someone at a medical facility. Now, don't get your feathers ruffled. That's not funny in real life experience, but, it's an outlet and expression for us as we really do spend an inordinate amount of time at doctor's appointments and hospitals. Mom has taken far more than should ever be considered her fair share. From gastric bypass and the resulting complications, surgeries, testing, and rehabilitation to detached retinas, chronic pain, a broken back, broken bones, brittle bones, injuries from domestic violence (which would lead to the loss of hundreds of pounds.. AKA her second ex husband.. And result in her ultimate return to Washington State) and most recently to a seemingly impossible fall in July of 2016.
We take for granted the everyday conveniences and abilities the vast majority of us possess. In Mom's case.. It was simply going about daily business, answering the call of nature. (you're welcome! Love ya!) The seemingly impossible result is what came from tripping on a bathroom rug. For most of us, that's a slight stumble or maybe a subbed toe. For my mom, it was far more involved. When she tripped, she fell forward, essentially coming to her knees. She would suffer bone breaks in BOTH legs and be immobilized. With no access to a phone, the only option was to scream for help and hope that someone would hear her. It was heart breaking to learn that nearly half a day passed before she was able to get the attention of a neighbor and finally get help. I distinctly remember that morning. I slept through the first phone call. When realization sinks in.. Your senses are immediately focused and adrenaline rules. When I woke up and listened to the voicemail, this was definitely the case.
Although it was not the only time, sadly, I'm sure that there was a sonic boom that followed my car as a broke the sound barrier and who knows how many laws in getting from my house to my mom.
Mom would undergo surgery to have steel rods placed in both legs from knee to foot. The pain was immense, the results would prove astonishing. After several days recovering in the hospital she would be transferred to a rehabilitation facility. There are parts of the story at the rehab facility I must leave out. Jill really was the point sibling in aiding my mom throughout this months' long process. I abstain from too much commenting or detail on things that occurred during Mom's stay because my blood pressure can't handle revisiting those days. I will simply say that... I know the message I needed to deliver to the staff and nursing manager was heard loud and clear, but it's upsetting that I had to deliver the message to begin with. One situation at the place that shall not be named or discussed was also another experience in which I set a new land speed record having made it from my work location to the rehab facility in less than 11 minutes (my work location was/is north Everett, and the rehab facility is Bothell which is about 17 miles and on a good day in light traffic on the 405 is about a half hour drive.)
We'd celebrate her 60th birthday at the facility (I mean the 31st anniversary of her 29th birthday) which from my perspective was probably one of the only positive experiences. Not too long after that she'd finally get to return home. She'd be armed with a life alert button (which we've threatened multiple times to have implanted under her skin or stapled to her person.) and would have in home physical therapy and caregivers.
Coming into the middle of 2017... A full six months after returning home and nearly a year after the original fall and surgery, her left leg had not progressed or healed as it should. She had regained mobility, but needed the aid of a cane of walker to get around and often found it necessary to use a wheelchair for safety and in an effort to alleviate continued pain from standing on it.
When my dad was diagnosed with Cancer, we proved that in spite of all our family has been through, we would not sit idly by. This includes and extends from my mom's side of the family through to my Dad and from my dad's side of the family and extended step-family through to my mom.
The road took some heavy, unpredictable, hold on to the seat of your pants while driving on the Audubon of life turns from learning that my Dad had prostate cancer. Then, it was as though no "oh sh*t bar" or "oh eff handle" in any vehicle in existence could keep us on the road smooth and steady when my mom found out she too has cancer.
Dad's diagnosis was confirmed following a biopsy on January 4th, 2018. My mom received a phone call from the pathologist who was part of the orthopedic doctor's office (that performed a third surgery on her leg in January '18 when it STILL hadn't healed and we needed answers) on January 22nd, 2018. A mere 18 days between diagnoses.
You think that one immediate family member being diagnosed with cancer is life altering, and it is. In a matter of seconds, listening to the words come out of a doctors mouth and all of it falling away when the "C" word passes his lips. Then, without any real adjustment period, 18 days later, another immediate family member with the same news. Change is the only constant.
I started my dad's Facebook support group page to tell his story. We wanted to raise awareness and involve our extended network of family and friends to band together. The speed and convenience of being able to share the information in this technology age has been a phenomenal blessing. Being able to share our experiences and gather wisdom and strength from yours is divinely inspirational.
When my mom was diagnosed, we had already assembled an army, fitted our armor, and began building an indestructible, unending circular wall of support around him. It made sense and was seamless to extend the wall and increase our armored allies as we joined around her. Again.. Cancer is not a singular affliction. You may only know my dad or only know my mom. The simple, albeit brutal fact is, their situations have affected and impacted and influenced every one they have touched.
Today, we add our many voices and experiences to the prolific fight against the international pandemic that is cancer. We hold hope and belief that some day soon we will find a cure and this horrific affliction will become an extinct beast, vanquished and doomed to exist only in the past and in the memories of all the warriors who engaged in the fight. To my Mom, and Dad... WE can. And YOU can.
The unknown is the darkest place to be. It plays tricks and deceives even the keenest of senses. You are not there alone in the dark, no matter the perception. You do not fight alone, no matter how weary you may get. Whether it be your loved ones and support system, the growing community of cancer survivors, or our angels in heaven who fought on this same battlefield before us.. Our light is bright and powerful and will guide your way through the pitch black night.
He doesn't fight alone. She doesn't fight alone. They'll NEVER fight alone. These are my words, and this is our story. We stand in a moment of silence for all those we have lost - you are gone, but not forgotten, your presence and spirit are with us now more than ever. We hold for another moment in honor of all the survivors and the lessons we've learned which will guide us and strengthen our resolve every day. And in the next moment we are not silent. We rally and build intensity to let loose in one great voice our battle hymn for all those who fight today.
This is our story... But it does not end here. The chapters are still being written.. You've read the prologue and are in the body of the book. This is not an epilogue.
~Timothy J L Polzin
Text Published On World Cancer Day
February 4th, 2018