It's official: satire is dead

I am going to post about Cheryl's celebration of life (promise, I'll get to it soon), but this was sent to me, and...I know Cheryl would have gotten a kick (or the palm-to-the-forehead) out of this:

Jesus People Pray That False Idol Will Save God’s Economy

Now, Cheryl and I both fell into the spiritual-but-not-religious category (and we're evil socialists, too), but we both know enough of the Bible to know that this is a really stupid idea. Seriously, with all apologies to our right-leaning readers, if this is the best the Republican Party of today can come up with, they are definitely headed the way of the Whigs, Free Soilers and Know-Nothings.

All that's missing is Edward G. Robinson lamenting, "Where's your messiah now?"

Our mailing address

More than a few people at Cheryl's memorial (and I'll blog more about that later, but it was wonderful to see the many friends, family and coworkers who came) asked for our mailing address to send cards. It's:

1215 S. Mountain View Rd. #201B
Moscow, ID 83843

And, of course, if you need any more info, you can contact me via the blog.

No recriminations

Spent most of yesterday going through old papers and boxing up our CD collections - I have a bad habit of putting my CDs back into any open case, while Cheryl was horrible about proper storage and keeping the jewel cases, keeping most of her discs in travel envelopes; end result, it took me a couple of hours to property recategorize and box up CDs, and I have several discs without cases and cases without discs.

Different thoughts go through my head on different days. What's been eating at me lately is the feeling that this was all might have been avoidable. I don't know for sure how long Cheryl had that original melanoma on her back, but it was at least a year before she finally got it taken care of at WSU. Then, going through old medical records, I discovered that she never went back to the doctor for followups. Not until she started having tummy problems last summer did she get a primary care provider, four years later.

I can't help but think if: If she had gotten that mole checked and taken care of earlier. If she had gone in for yearly checkups. If I had nagged her more about seeing a doctor...maybe she'd still be alive.

But Cheryl had a number of horrible habits, among them, she was stubborn as a proverbial mule, and he surest way to get her to not do something was to pester her about it. I think she also felt that she was too young to get cancer, this couldn't happen to her, and so on.

I also know, deep down, I can't beat myself up over this. How many people get nasty purple moles that just sit there forever and do nothing? And there's no guarantee that this cancer came from that mole; it could have been lurking there unseen for several years. And even if we'd caught it before it had metastasized, even as a single tumor, once melanoma is in your innards, it's bad news, period. The odds might have improved to 35% over 15%, but we'd still have had a long road ahead of us, going through the same treatments.

It's certainly possible that nothing we could have done would have changed the final outcome.

But that's cold comfort right now.

Hooray for in-laws

Cheryl's folks came up for a few days this week and we packed up a lot of stuff - it's a good think they brought Paul's pickup truck, as we filled it up with Cheryl's clothes and such. I gave Bill and Rosemary the glass hutch they'd given to Cheryl and I as a present some years ago; one less thing to pack up and move for me, and they'd always liked it.

We also came across a box of photographs that Cheryl had taken over the past fifteen years that I, sadly, had never seen before. We also found a box full of mementos and school things that, too, Cheryl had never shown me. It was in one of those boxes we'd meant to get around to unpacking but never did. There were some wonderful images and pictures in those boxes, and it was very enjoyable for the three of us to go through them. We will have a lot of them available at Cheryl's celebration next week.

I just wish she'd had the chance to go through them with me.

Directions to Cheryl's memorial

Courtesy of Kristine and Mapquest:

From the north:
http://www.mapquest.com/maps?1c=Portland&1s=OR&2c=Eugene&2s=OR&2a=1630+Columbia

From the south:
http://www.mapquest.com/maps?1c=Medford&1s=OR&2c=Eugene&2s=OR&2a=1630+Columbia

From the east:
http://www.mapquest.com/maps?1c=Bend&1s=OR&2c=Eugene&2s=OR&2a=1630+Columbia

Work is good

Back at work today. Keeping busy keeps my mind occupied, which is good.

Cheryl's folks will be staying with me for a few days. We'll do some packing, maybe some golf, weather permitting.

How long will I be staying at work? Still figuring that out. Probably going to be returning to central Oregon sooner than later, though. Of course, finding jobs in central Oregon, even in the best of times, is an adventure, and we're in a massive recession. At least the folks will put up with me for a while.

Tough going

Been spending the week at my parent's house. Mornings have been pretty rough for me. I wake up after dreaming and expect Cheryl to be there. By the evening, however, I'm usually feeling better. Having my Mom to talk to all day has been a big help; we lean on each other.

I'll write more when I feel up to it.

Cheryl's memorial is set for October 25th

All friends and acquaintances of Cheryl's are welcomed to attend. The event will be from 11-2. It will be at the Many Nations Longhouse on the University of Oregon campus. Map on the link below:

http://uoregon.edu/maps/

Feel free to contact me if you need additional information.

Doing kind of okay

Friday night, kind of spur of the moment, I decided to come down to Bend to spend some time with my folks and friends. Vanessa, bless her, is happily watching over the beasties. I hope they'll adjust to living down here when we move. They've moved from Eugene to New Mexico to Pullman before, they should be fine. I hope. Me, I still feel pretty hollow inside, and very sad.

The move will hopefully be sooner than later. I just hope I can find someone to pack up my stuff for me. Right now, I'm just not in he mood to pack up all my garbage and drive it down here by myself.

I think I'm doing okay. I'm forcing myself to eat at much as possible, and I got some good Ambien-aided sleep last night. I'm still having problems with my internal thermostat being out of whack - I'll get chills, then start sweating, then get chilled again within five minutes - but I hope that's just stress.

Right now, I'm hoping to be down in Bend by early November - the sooner I can get out of Pullman, the better. Virtually nothing but bad memories there now.

Today's a hard day

I was going to try to drop off Cheryl's research today, but didn't sleep too well and am feeling so-so. I'm just feeling tremendously lonely right now. Thank goodness for Samantha; she's never far away and helps me go right to sleep.

I think Vanessa and I will go out for something to eat today, or just crash on the couch. God bless you, Vanessa, you've been wonderful this past week

I might take some more Ambien and perhaps try to hibernate through the weekend. I am planning to return to work on Monday, simply for no other reason than I need to get out of the house and around people again.

I should be packing stuff up but am just highly unmotivated right now when here by myself.

On the bright side, it looks like the plans for Cheryl's memorial are now set, Saturday, October 25th, from 11-2 (or thereabouts) at the Many Nations Longhouse adjacent to the UO Natural History Museum. If you need help finding the place or making travel arrangements, please let me know.

Today's update

I'm still on something of a rollercoaster, only the emotions seem to hit me on an hourly basis - I'll be feeling pretty good for a while, then getting weepy right afterwards. Thank God for Ambien; I am at least getting some good sleep, but I've been staying on the couch, the TV does a good job of helping me to nod off (that, and I haven't gotten around to folding all the clothing on the bed yet, either).

Unless you hear otherwise on this blog, we're still a go to use the longhouse next to the Natural History Museum at the University of Oregon on Saturday, October 25th. For those who wish to attend the memorial, you can contact me via phone or email for directions, especially if you are coming from some distance away

Possibly intriguing news of day: I will most likely be leaving this area as soon as I humanly can, as there is nothing here for me besides a low-paying job I really don't like. Central Oregon has always been home to me (as my Mom says, I've always kept one foot there, no matter where I was), and my folks will be more than happy to put me up for a time while I find a place of my own. Now, my sister has been looking to purchase a potential retirement property in Bend, and made the following suggestion: find her a foreclosed or other home to buy in the area, and I could rent it from her.

Man, I couldn't ask for a better scenario there.

Also, I spoke briefly to Dr. Andrefsky, one of Cheryl's committee members, to see if the Anthropology department would like Cheryl's several binders of research from her thesis - sound like yes - and we also discussed the possibility of granting Cheryl her M.A. posthumously. Since I had made a formal request, and since Cheryl had had an article published based on her research, Dr. Andrefsky thought it was possible and likely and he would forward my request, with the backing of the faculty, to the Graduate Student department (and, I mean, come on, how could they say no?)

I'll be talking a bit with Dr. Andrefsky tomorrow, and see what the weekend brings - probably a lot more sleeping and hanging out with Vanessa.

Cheryl's memorial service (tentative)

It's weird, I'm a logofascist, but one of the two words that have always given me trouble is "tentative." I have always pronounced it without the second "t", so it's "tenative." Weird, huh? Oh, the other word? "Basilisk." That one doesn't come up in casual conversation very much, though.

Anywho, bless you Kristine and Joe, as they've helped me find a wonderful place for the memorial service for Cheryl. At present, it's going to be at the Many Nations Longhouse next to the Natural History Museum at the University of Oregon on Saturday, October 25th. I cannot think of a more perfect place to remember Cheryl's life, since she worked at the Museum for a few years before and after graduation, and, of course, loved the University of Oregon. After the service, we'll probably have a big room reserved at one of the local pubs Cheryl frequented as a student, graduate and wage monkey, get soused, and hopefully watch her Ducks put the boots to Arizona State.

This isn't writ in stone as yet but it's looking very, very likely at this point. When plans are finalized, they'll of course be here in the blog, so keep watching this space.

Cheryl's final days

I guess I can go ahead and get this written.

After the "we're down to chemo" diagnosis, Cheryl was pretty down. We spent the night with our friend Beth, and she cried herself to sleep with me beside her.

I don't think she ever called the oncologist in Lewiston who would have dispensed her drugs. Probably that old bugaboo of procrastination and guilt. Cheryl did feel very guilty about her cancer, and was very aware that her putting off getting that mole removed may very well have ended up killing her.

Still, she improved quite a bit physically over the last couple of weeks. She was able to get up and down off the couch and up into bed without assistance, and her diet started to bounce back to normal. Wednesday night, in fact, we went out to the new Shari's restaurant and she ate half a hamburger and fries.

Thursday night, when my Beavers whupped on USC, she was on the couch, half asleep, I didn't think anything of it at the time. She was just tired, I thought, and she had her "button" (the BAD CADD that gave her her atavan and benadryl cocktail), so when she dedicded to sleep on the couch, I thought it a little unusual, but not that much.

Great, as I type, there's a commercial for The Amazing Race. Cheryl loved that show. We were going to send in an application tape once she got better.

She hadn't moved Friday morning, and I went to work anyway, again, thinking she was just tired. She never picked up her phone during the day, and that worried me, since she usually at least picks it up to say "I'm sleepy, call me back later."

When I got home I was apparent that she'd never gotten off the couch all day, and she was dehydrated and incoherent. She couldn't form complete sentences or finish a thought. I called 911 and we got Cheryl to Gritman hospital.

Again, this wasn't too different from previous incidents when she's spiked a fever; they'd blast her with antibiotics and fluids and she'd be back in a few days.

They wheeled Cheryl away for a CAT scan and shortly thereafter the doctor came back with the bad news: the tumors had moved to Cheryl's liver and brain and she was badly septic. They could do everything they could for her, but she wasn't leaving the hospital.

In retrospect, I perhaps should have seen this coming; there were a few times in the previous week where Cheryl would have trouble finding a word to finish a sentence, or she'd wake up from a dream spouting gibberish. The tumors were probably starting to move into her brain back then.

I called our families and told them to get up here as soon as possible and I stayed with Cheryl through the night. Vanessa, dear sweet Vanessa, came over to spend much of the night with me. Cheryl kept fighting her oxygen mask in her disorientation, and eventually had to go on a BiPAP machine to force air into her lungs. She would still say "I love you" when told her that I loved her, and some of her last coherent words to me were, when we had the Oregon/Washington State game on, I leaned over to her and said "Honey, your Ducks are up by 21," and she weakly said, but a hint of the humor I loved, "Oh, boy."

Shortly after the last of Cheryl's family arrived, they disconnected Cheryl from the BiPAP and resumed a regular oxygen line, and she slowly faded away. Her brother-in-law noted her pretty pink toes, the one girly thing she loved to do, and that she was still fighting to the end.

That's our Cheryl, tough and stubborn to the end.

We stroked her hair and held her hands and told her it was okay, that we loved her very, very much and we were so happy to have had her in our lives for even this brief time, that she was the most special person we had ever met. She was pretty drugged-up at this point but I hope she was able to absorb some of this.

And then she was gone.