Lapse

Where has the time gone??


Charlotte is going to be two in a month, Bekah will be eight in April, and Kevin and I are having another baby in June.

Actually, small creepy factoid- this baby is due June 24th. Otherwise known as the day Charlotte was diagnosed with cancer.

What has happened the last six months or so besides all this?

I got a new job after taking the summer off to travel with my family. My parents got a new puppy, AND a new Harley. All of Charlotte’s scans have come back unchanged, and we have spent a lot of time playing with cousins and visiting family members with reckless abandon, seeing as how we don’t have to worry about blood counts and getting sick as much anymore.

And speaking of Charlotte, she has learned to talk. And not a few words here and there- complete sentences.

However, sometimes her manners leave something to be desired, and her father and I will go rounds with her just to get her to say please.

I was eating a bagel yesterday morning, and she sidled up to me, pointed, and declared, “Mom? I want some.”

“You need to say please, Charlie.”

“No.”

This went on for a good ten minutes or so until I was down to the last bite of bagel. Then, my phone rang in the kitchen, and in my haste I set the piece of bagel down on the end table and went to grab my phone.

When I came back, the bagel was gone.

“Where did my bagel go???” I asked the obviously guilty one with the cream cheese moustache.

“I dome mo!” She replied over the massive amount of food in her mouth.

Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt- I myself have some short term memory problems…

Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

Let's face it- September brings a lot of memories and emotions for everyone on this list.

And throughout Charlotte's journey, I have had the honor and privilege of getting to know a great many people fighting this battle. Heartfelt touching stories of survival, devastating stories of loss, amazing stories of hope and courage.

I sometimes feel that we have endured far less than many of you. Our journey was relatively short (albeit terrifying), only chemotherapy agents and GCSF shots, basic PIC and Hickman line care.

I have laughed with many of you, and, unfortunately, cried with many more.

At the end of our road, when we could choose to go on and "pretend" to go back to normal, my husband and I made the decision to press on. We aren't starting a non-profit, and we don't have as loud of a voice as some on the list (I commend you all!), but I DO feel like we have been able to give a many the chance to speak, and others still a reason to listen.

We committed to everyone in this battle in the hopes of repaying the kindness and compassion we were showed every step of the way.

Now that September is here, we wanted to go the extra step.

We don't have any head shaving marathons in our area, but that is the first thing that entered my mind.

Surprisingly, I was met with both a lot of support and also a lot of resistance. People asked me if I was crazy- didn't I care what other people would think?

I only hesitating a moment before I realized- no. Not at all. If it attracts attention, isn't that what I wanted anyway?? The opportunity to have people question me so I could explain?

So I didn't hesitate when I hopped in that chair, and I didn't flinch when I heard the clippers buzz.

I did it for my daughter, I did it for me, I did it for every child we have on Cure Charlotte.

I did it for the children who didn't get to choose to lose their hair. I did it for all of you, still suffering no matter the outcome of their childs battle.

You might think this is where the story ends- but something more amazing to me happened.
My seven year old daughter- who watched her baby sister go through it all with the understanding of an adult- sat down after me and demanded to be shaved as well.

I asked her if she was sure- what if the kids made fun of her?

And she said, "I will tell them I did it for childhood cancer. "

In all my years of being a mother- if I had ever doubted myself, it vanished in an instant. I have never been more proud than I was in that moment.

Off came the curls, replaced by bravery, courage, and most of all, love.

May God grant you all peace in the coming year, and may we continue on this journey together as a united front.

Celebrate ever day and remember- its only hair. It will grow back.

Besides- rather than a bad hair day, I am now having a no hair day.

With everlasting hope,

Kristi M. Rufener
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from U.S. Cellular

A Break in Routine

Because we have a lot to celebrate this year, (the latest being Charlotte's remission - declared on March 31st, 2010) we decided to extend our yearly hotel stay by an extra day. We had to dig deep in our pockets, but the weekend ended up being crappy outside, so it turned out beautiful.

And, it reminded me why big kids can be just as much fun as babies, and how husbands can be clumped into the big kid category.

Point in case- for those of you utterly enveloped in the Twilight Saga, New Moon was recently released, purchased, and played on Kevin's laptop in our hotel room. The following conversations ensued:

We are at the part where Jacob (the drool worthy werewolf) is speaking Quiliote to Bella Swan (the awkward, klumsy, not-that-pretty girl who never has anything intelligent to say, and where did she end up with ten smoking hot friends anyway??). After listening to Jacob mumbled his sweet nothings, my best friend Rachel turns to me and says, "I wonder what that means... Do they say in the book?"

And my husband, God love him, without missing a beat, looks at Rachel and translates for us:

"It means, 'He who farts will not have many friends.'"

Yes, we may have been tired, but no, none of us were drunk, especially not Kevin who has never so much as tasted anything alcoholic in his life except for Nyquil. Aren't you proud?

But wait! There is more!

Rebekah, my pride and joy on this planet, who is one of the most clever six year olds I know, biased or not, had a couple of great insights herself.

There was an instance when we were in the pool, dangerously close to the deep end, and Beks was bobbing around with a basketball near a group of kids close to her age.

"Why don't you see if they want to play ball with you, Bekah?"

She looks at me exasperated and says, "I can't mom! I am only four foot three!".

Lesson one- once they start reading numbers, including the depth meter on the pool, you can no longer convince them to do anything fun or dangerous.

Later on, on our way back up to our room, outside the elevators, she spotted a You Are Here sign with the arrow tacked on our location.

"MOM!" she squealed in shock. "How do they KNOW where we are???"

Lesson two- just because they are reading does NOT mean they are comprehending. And therein lies the humor of it.

Hope everyone had a great Easter, and is enjoying their family, much like we are every day!

Kristi M. Rufener

Tonight - A Poem

I rocked with you tonight
I breathed in the Johnson & Johnson smell of your soft hair
The peach fuzz that stubbornly returned
After chemo had claimed everything but your laughter
It moves as I exhale.

I wanted to snuggle
To pretend you were still brand new and vulnerable
When nothing could calm you except your pacifier and swaddle blanket
Before you were diagnosed
But you won't have it.

You would rather fight
And sit up and twist around and smile in my face
The wide toothless smile only an infant can master melts my heart
Begging me to put off your bed time
And get on the floor and play.

Common sense tells me you need to sleep
Your body needs to rest, to regenerate
The cells that were killed off, and the nutrients you lost
When you couldn't eat because of the nausea
That no amount of medicine would help.

When I look at your tiny cherub face
I wish I could still see the innocence of your youth
That has instead been replaced by the solemnity of facing your own mortality
Cancer has robbed you of your babyhood forever
Before you even realized you had one.

But my mothers intuition argues this
It says set her down and make her happy
Don't check the clock, don't replace the pacifier that fell out when she grinned
Make silly noises and tell secrets
Giggle until there is no room for worry.

She might be tired in the morning
And there are more exhausting days to come
But I refuse to let cancer take this away from us
When it has taken so much already
You can nap tomorrow, and we can have tonight.

Kristi M. Rufener

Bargaining

There are some things you give up when you go on a diet, and then there are some things you don't.

Hubbard Avenue Diner pie is one of the latter.

And today, in celebration of Bill McDonough's second year at Starion Financial, one of my co-workers showed up to work with said pie.

I know she didn't do it to spite ME, even though I have been wroking my butt off the past two weeks to get fit.

But there it sat...staring at me with it's creamy goodness... An Irish Cream pie with cute little green shamrock sprinkles...

I knew I was going to have some. It was inevitable.

So I compromised.

I spent my lunch as follows- one half hour was used for the car wash, which was ten people deep (always a guarantee in Wisconsin as soon as it hits fourty degrees), and the rest of my lunch was used for a one mile walk.

After making sure I was still in my calorie goal for the day, I rewarded myself with half a slice of heaven.

Worth it? Definitely.

And I know I can hit my fitness goal as long as I "Keep my eyes on the pies".

Kristi M. Rufener

On Subliminal Messages

Last night was my third night on the C25K program, and by the end of the 1.19 mile jog/walk, I was in agony.

And not the good kind of agony where your lungs burn a little, and your muscles are weak, but you feel accomplished; nope, the kind of agony where it feels like someone cut your leg open and ripped out your tendons and muscles from your feet to your knees.

Kevin briefly joked about running ahead and getting the truck to pick me up, and I choked out a laugh and muttered, "Don't be silly," even though in the back of my head I was ready to cop a squat and flag him on.

It took every ounce of strength I had to drag my sorry butt to bed, and even more so to get my feet close enough to me to take off my shoes.

I figured I would feel better after some rest, right? Wrong.

Woke up this morning and it feels like there are tiny people in my knee high boots stabbing me with razor blades.

Got filled in by one of my coworkers (who works out regularily, something I didn't even know EXISTED!) that I probably have shin splints, and need to take a week or so off until they feel better or I could cause a stress fracture.

Now, if this isn't my own body sending me a message, I don't know what is. I guess shin splints are your body's way of saying WOOOAH, slow down a little here or I'm going to cause you unnecessary pain. (Or, as I like to think it's telling me, "Maybe you just weren't cut out to be a runner. Why don't you try your hand at competetive sleeping?")

So for the next week I am going to try walking a mile in my shoes and see if that helps.

On a side note- I think it's time to go back a year and remember what Charlotte looked like before she was diagnosed, and where she is now. So without further ado:

And here she is now:

(We are working on our sharing...)

Got Milk?

So, now that I typed that excessively long post, do you think I can count that as my exercise for the day??

Kristi M. Rufener

Smarts- And I'm Not Talking About The Witty Kind

Because anybody with HALF a brain wouldn't have done the stupid, stupid thing I did two nights ago.

There I was, totally innocent, standing in the kitchen, microwaving dinner (hamburger helper, really healthy, just trust me).

My parents microwave is stationed above their stove, and I usually set whatever thing I am heating and eating right on the stove after it is warmed. However, this particular night, my dad was making Sweet Baby Mark's (long story about barbeque sauce that would probably encroach on some kind of trademark infringement), and Carla was making a grilled cheese and tomato soup, so most of the kitchen was being used.

Carla had finished making her food, and I had taken over the area, so before I set anything on the stove I wanted to make sure it wasn't so hot that it was going to melt the rubbermaid containers that I was cooking in.

Before I continue this story, I want to say that in MY defense, most people that use a stove leave the pan on the hot burner until everything cools down. It's sort of a signal that says, "Hey, I used this part of the stove, so it's probably still hot." At least, I like to think that most people do that. And since my parents have a GLASS top stove, it is only that much harder to figure out if it is still heated up or not.

Anyway, continuing on with my story, (and destroying almost all of the credibility that I ever had), I lowered my hand over the heating element on the right- it was warm, but not HOT- so I deduced that the left side was probably the same, and laid the back of my entire right hand on it.

Big mistake.

Because apparently, Carla had JUST finished making her grilled cheese on that burner, and moved her pan to the back of the stove leaving the burner uncovered.

Needless to say, I will never be a professional chef, because even I am pretty sure that no one in America goes for charred fingers with a side of bonehead.

I also found out that it is very hard to count money and type with a bandaged hand. Luckily, I am down to three band aides and a bruised ego, both of which are healing little by little.

So, if you were wondering why I haven't written anything lately, I plead temporary insanity.

Because only someone who has totally lost their marbles would put their hand on a hot stove.

Kristi M. Rufener