Jordan's Journey

He crossed his arms and sulked, then threw back his head and exhaled a sigh brimming with contempt. I shot a look in the rearview mirror. Silence thickened the mood, adding drama to an already tense morning. Jordan ignored it and returned to her singing.

“Those blue eyes are going to get you in trouble. I fell in love with those eyes…”

She inflected her verse with a flavor of Billie Holiday, improvising the lyrics to Them There Eyes. She ignored her brother, choosing to scat while our car weaved along Interstate 5 en route to Children’s Hospital. A new chapter in the journey is about to unfold, but the leading characters are not who you think. (more…)

With each new day Jordan is getting stronger and more like her old self. Her sleep cycle hasn’t returned to normal, yet. She generally crawls into our bed around 4am and takes a long nap at around 10am. She’s a little less moody, and her wit is regaining its sharpness.

Wednesday we meet with the oncology team to discuss the new chemotherapy protocol. Jordan will return on Thursday to get started. The side effects of the new medicine are more onerous than the last. We’ll have to watch her closely for awhile. Thankfully, she has had no further seizures. She’ll be seeing her neurologist soon.

Jordan is doing well. She gets dizzy frequently, and whines constantly. We’ve decided time was up to feel sorry for herself, so we gently admonish her when she starts moping.

I am cross today. I’m not alone. The whole house is in a foul mood. We snap at one another over the most trivial matters. Patience is lacking.

Jordan and Jeanette have been napping all morning. Both seem pleased to reunite with real beds. Each tries to lie alone, but within a short time the other cuddles into the same bed. I have lots of energy, so I have been cleaning. More to come…

D.H. Lawrence advised that “it is no good casting out devils. They belong to us. We must accept them and be at peace with them.” Each of us harbors a demon. Jordan’s is a cancer. It will not be ignored and for the moment, she cannot cast it out. So tonight, she weeps. (more…)

Jordan was discharged this afternoon. She is resting comfortably at home. Getting her settled and sprucing up a house that has been home to two bachelors is a major undertaking. I’ll post more soon.

She’s bored and she wants to go home. Being awake is taking a toll. She doesn’t enjoy the hospital. Every time I move around the room she asks me where I’m going. Then she asks if she can come home with me. On the bright side, she’s giggling again. She’s back to recounting obscure comedic moments from her favorite films. Then her face sours and she laments being connected to wires and tubes. She is cross whenever she feels the port. It is not the device itself, but the tape holding it to her skin that she abhors. Though we are blessed by the return of her wit, it is accompanied by the return of sharp observations about her own condition. She told me flatly, “I don’t want to be sick anymore.” (more…)

Jordan’s surgery was a success. She handled it bravely, only complaining in pre-op that she was hungry. When I told her she couldn’t eat anything until after the surgery, she replied, “that stinks!” When we returned to her side about an hour later, the first words out of her mouth were, “I’m hungry.” She devoured a purple popsicle and asked for pancakes. We took that as a good sign. (more…)

Her eyes were open when I walked through the door. She fixed her gaze on me with one brow arched, the way she so often does when sizing me up. I glanced at Nettie to make sure what I was seeing was real.

“She’s awake … and she’s talking,” Jeanette advised.

“That’s great! How ya doin’, Jordan?”

“Gooood,” she replied while turning her attention to another corner of the room.

It was a better day today. Though heavily medicated and at only about 20% of her usual self, Jordan was alert, awake and communicative. It sometimes took her awhile to formulate a response to our ceaseless barrage of questions, but the spark of her will resurfaced. Jeanette asked her what channel she wanted on the television. A pause. She thought Jordan didn’t understand or hear the question, so she asked again. “I’m thinking!” Jordan reprimanded. And thus we saw the most important of the vital signs — the love of the fight. (more…)

You want to be wrong. You want everyone else to be right. For every negative thought that passes through your head, you want to believe that “thinking positive” will ward away what most you fear. Well-wishing friends instruct you to dispel skepticism, will against negativity, and imagine wellness. You try. You really try. But in the recesses of your mind, whispering just loud enough so that your rational stream of consciousness can hear, your inner voice gossips about what could really happen. And when fate agrees, and one of those pessimistic, back-biting ideas really does happen, the negative fringe incites rebellion. Every synapse in your brain attracts itself to the seemingly clairvoyant notion. Perception scrambles for a leader, and the logical point of view rescues sanity from the anarchy of positive thinking.

We were cold-cocked today. Jordan’s condition deteriorated. She’s having seizures now. Though we are told they are causing no damage, they are horrific to witness. Our little girl with the sun-kissed hair, the hair she modestly tells strangers costs some women a hundred dollars, convulses and jerks uncontrollably. There is nothing we can do but look on. And inside my head, my worst fears begin rallying support. “See,” they murmur, “I told you this would happen.” Then I feel bad for even thinking this, imagining that worrying about it in the past caused it today. And then I think I’m cracking up. I’m analyzing every thought while my daughter suffers. I keep kissing her and holding her hand and telling her I’m by her side, even though she shows no sign of hearing. Jeanette and I take turns breaking down. Then we sit. And wait. And hope. (more…)