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Getting scans near your birthday is a bit risky, but I scheduled Steven's for today without thinking.  Thankfully, they looked good, and we are thrilled.  Each one he passes, I just feel a bit more secure that the cancer is gone for good.  It's true and it's not true--I watched cancer sneak up on my little sister just when she was done with scans and done with worry.   But still, even if we are biding time, at the very least we have six more glorious months without cancer fear. That is, cancer fear for Steven.  All week I've been a nervous wreck.   Alisa  had scans also this week and learned that her cancer is growing despite the treatment she has been taking.  It is a devastating blow and the combination of scanxiety for both of them and bad news for her has been rough.  But nothing compared to what she is going through. Yikes.  Cancer, I hate it.  For me it inspires fear like almost nothing else can.  And sometimes the fear i...

Christmas and the start of a new year always leave me reflecting on the old year.  I wonder if we really progressed.  Did we meet any goals?  Are we better off now than a year ago?   I haven't been updating to this blog much and so I decided to share some thoughts and things from the past year here. We started off this year with a mini disaster.  It was our first Sunday with 9am church.  I was teaching that day and was distracted.  I put a pot of dry beans on the stove to pre-boil and soak them.  I never turned it off and went to church for three hours.  Longer, actually, because Steven had an interview with our bishop to get the Aaronic priesthood.  We came home to a house full of smoke.  Luckily, there was no fire, but he smoke damage gave us a run for our money.  It was months until the smell finally left (if it even has).  Overwhelming! After devoting weekends to smoke remedy, I begged Rob to redo our basement bathroom...

My Aunt Kathy is kind of a marvel.  One of her many talents is that she always seems to know just what to say to lift you up. A while back, she pointed me to a scripture that I hadn't noticed before.   Job 23:8-10, 17 : 8 Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him: 9 On the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him:he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him: 10 But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me,I shall come forth as gold. 17 Because I was not cut off before the darkness, neither hath he covered the darkness from my face. I read chapter 23 in Job over and over a few months after I lost Daniel.  I know that I cannot compare myself to Job--for one, my trials are few compared to his, nor is my character so good as his.  But still, I found quite a bit of comfort in the book. Six months or so following his death, I found myself kind of spiritually dead.  Right after he died, I...

At the aquarium--a shot of the back of his leg The bridge at the aquarium again At Lake Mary Bear Lake ?

Sometimes I wonder if I should even update the blog with news of good scans.  You know I would if they were bad, right?  I often think about when Steven was first diagnosed with cancer.  I searched the internet for everything I could find about osteosarcoma, including blogs.  The only blogs I found were about kids who had lost their battle.  It was unnerving.  I promised myself that I would keep blogging, especially if Steven did well and survived. It is hard to keep up a blog, and in the years since he finished treatment, I have gotten less and less faithful.  I've said before that in some ways, I just want to move on.   But I think about people searching the web, looking for hope after a recent diagnosis and that is why I keep it going, even if it is sporadic. Having said that, Steven's scans looked good this week.  This was the first 6 month interval and it has been so nice to not have to worry so often.  This week Steven and Rob went...

On Saturday, Steven, Andrew and I participated in the Huntsman 140, a bike ride to fund raise for the Huntsman Center.   We tagged along with my sister, Alisa , and her husband's awesome parents who have given so passionately to this cause.    Alisa's father-in-law has been riding with a handful of people from Reno, Nevada, to the Huntsman center in Salt Lake--over 660 miles.  His dedication made me feel like a bit of a poser.  We did the final mile of the ride.  Yes, only a mile!  In fact, we were the only people who did only a mile--the other 700 riders did at least 25, 50, 75, 140  and even 660 miles.   But even so, this was  a big thing for us, and here is why. You must know that Steven has been riding bikes from a very young age.  He practically taught himself.  Our first home had a large unfinished basement and he rode bikes down there whenever he could.   Enter cancer--no more biking.  He had to lie low before ...

We were headed to California.  Steven had just had a biopsy of his leg and a confirmed diagnosis of osteosarcoma.  I had never felt such acute anxiety.  I practically hadn't slept or eaten in two days. What a difference the years have made.  It is weird to look back at that experience and feel like a bit of an outsider, when it shaped us so much into who we are today.  I feel like I have forgotten so much, maybe on purpose. Today I found out that my cousin's boy has leukemia.  I can't get him out of my mind.  When I told Steven, his face went white, he was horrified.   I may have mentioned that just as school was starting, a boy at Steven's school, in his grade, was diagnosed with osteosarcoma.  These instances are hitting too close to home, and while I should be some sort of big help, I feel like my hands are tied by the very thing that should make me the most helpful. It's weird.  There is a reason I don't write much anymore--it's part...