So Grateful

I just finished a week long ski vacation with my family--husband Alan, daughter Amy and her husband Sean,  daughter Claire and adopted daughter Tammy--in Alta, Utah.  Two years ago at this time, I was in the midst of my chemo for my AL Amyloidosis and pre-admission testing for my stem cell transplant.  This year, I was skiing better and harder than I ever have.

According to my SkiTracks app, I skied almost 50 miles over the course of 5 days of skiing.  I hit a new ski speed record of 39.7 mph and I was able to ski a lot more expert (black diamond) runs than I ever have.  When I was on my ski vacation two years ago, I was afraid that I might never have an active (or perhaps any) vacation again with my family.

We had such a wonderful time with all of our adventures and misadventures.

Skiing at Snowbird Video <== Click the link to view the video
This is a video I filmed the third day.  Sean is in the white and grey coat and black pants, Amy is in the light green coat and black pants, Claire is in the dark galactic-looking coat and red pants, Alan is in the yellow Gorton's fisherman looking coat and black pants, and Tammy is in the red/fuschia jacket and white pants.

This video captures some of our misadventures with some footage in the middle of me skiing (since I'm usually the one behind the camera.)  Koontz Misadventures Video  <== Click the link to view the video

The third day there, we tried to follow a circuitous and icy trail to ski out to the slope--that's the beginning of the video.  On the next to the last day, we tried to ski down into one of the bowls that was a steep, icy, mogul-filled mess.  That's the end of the video.  Alan filmed some of this so you'll see me in my green coat and white pants.  Everyone else made it down on their skis, butt or a combination of both.  I was still at the top at the steep drop in point, afraid I was going go full scorpion ala the TV show "Ridiculousness".

I actually yelled from the top, "I can't get down."  My family was quite shocked because they are not used to hearing me say, "I can't".  But, I do have a higher level of caution after everything Ive been through.  It's not so much of a "my health is precious and I must protect it" mentality as it is a "I know how hard it is to recover from a set back and I don't want my foolishness to create one.  I'll leave that to my plasma cell clones."  So, I took off my skis and slid part way and walked the rest.  Yes, despite popular opinion to the contrary, I do know my limits.

But, I also like to push those limits.  I was able to reach a new ski speed level of 39.7 mph.  Here's the stats from that day.  Sure, it's not the 80mph that downhill skiers will reach but it's not bad for a 52-year old woman who's skied about 30 times in her entire life.


All in all, the week was a great reminder of how my life has returned to normal after my diagnosis and treatment.  And for that, I am so grateful.  I know many have not had a chance at life, much less a return to a normal one.  On Tuesday, while I was at the Park City Olympic Park enjoying a bobsled ride on the Olympic track, the funeral of my friend Susan who recently died of metastatic melanoma was being held back home.  I realized how fortunate I am as I thought about Susan and her family.

One of the best parts about a vacation with my family is the opportunity to spend extended periods of time with my two daughters--Amy age 29 and Claire age 17.  We joke and laugh and solve the problems of the world and the problems of each other.  As I said on Facebook, there's a hole in my heart when we can't all be together.  I took this selfie in the car on the way to take Claire to the airport.  She had to come home 3 days early because she had a lacrosse scrimmage.  Claire and Amy had just finished wrestling around and Claire had been choking Amy...all in sisterly fun.  Amy looks pretty good, considering.

Joining in on the fun was my friend Tammy who also happens to be the nurse practitioner for my oncologist.  We've developed a strong friendship over the last few years.  It was really fitting to have her with me on the first family ski trip since my diagnosis and treatment.  She supports me in my physical battle and I support her in her emotional ones.  It's an interesting symbiotic, yin-yang type of relationship.  I joke around that she's my third daughter but she would really be my fourth since Amy is 1, Jessie Biarnes (Amy's best friend since 4th grade) was named daughter 2 before Claire was born, Claire is 3 so that makes Tammy daughter number 4.

The best part of being together is that even when things were going sideways, literally and figuratively, there is always lots of love and laughter.  That's what's gotten us through many an adventure!

Claire, Sean, Amy, Tammy, Kathy, Alan

Lots more good pictures here-- Click to see awesome photos

Keep going, part II

Keep Going

Two years ago today, I was spending the day at The James Cancer hospital undergoing preadmission testing and counseling for my upcoming stem cell transplant. It looked like this. 

Today, I'm heading in to Salt Lake City in the midst of my ski vacation after skiing more than 30 miles over 3 days on intermediate and expert trails (blues and blacks) and taking a bobsled ride at the Park City Olympic track.

Here's what my last few days have looked like. 

And here's a link to a video I made of one  our mornings of skiing. 

https://vimeo.com/122426247

For anyone going through a tough time, whether it's physical or emotional, go with confidence and hope toward the future. As Winston Churchill said, "If you're going through hell, keep going."

What other choice do we have?

For whom do I cry....

I've had a really rough time the last few days.  A dear friend who was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma at the end of January has been in the ICU of The James since last Friday.  Her husband has been told that the cancer is really aggressive and she now has only hours or days to live.  Just last Thursday, she was planning on going with me to a talk by the CEO of The James but had to cancel at the last minute because she wasn't feeling well.

I visited her yesterday and today.  I watched her gentle, loving husband (who reminds me a lot of Al), stroke her hand and her hair, talking to her about a trip to Ireland they want to take and the ballroom dancing lessons they'll take when she's recovered.  I see him start to choke up and then recover so he can support her.  I watched her daughter sit by her bed holding her mom's hand and talk about memories and plans.

It was so heart and gut wrenching.  And when I see that, sometimes it's hard for me to really be honest about who I'm crying for.  My heart aches for my friend and her family...but it's also a quick jump to replace her and her family with me and my family.  It's such a bad place to be, at such a bad time to be there.

Please pray for both of us.

(Oh, and today is the second anniversary of my first chemo treatment.)