Jordan's Journey

Standing four foot ten inches tall, she is in the 75th percentile for height in her age range–a tall, leggy beauty. She scored 60 out of 60 on an English and vocabulary test–a verbose, dizzyingly articulate, and an often downright sassy debater. And she is 108 days away from an end to chemotherapy–a testament to a will so powerful, cancer runs for the hills.

Jordan finished the week putting numbers on the board like LeBron James. An MRI on Tuesday revealed stable progress in her battle against the brain tumor. She handled the procedure with easy maturity. Her doctor was impressed with her height and her perfect weight. She is doing so well healthwise. I sigh every time I see the numbers. They give me hope. The medical team has set a date–September 14th. If all continues going well, that is the date on which they will stop administering chemotherapy. And even though surgery is looking inevitable, I know my daughter can handle it and make the rest of us look silly for dithering over a sniffle. I often say I am proud of my midwest heritage. Well, that pride beams through my daughter’s resilience. She embodies the strength and countenance of Irish America.

She took all the news in stride, more proud of her standardized test results at school than her body’s accomplishments. Tonight, I found her lounging in our bedroom, a tray on her lap riddled with magazines. She wore her brand new pajamas. A TLC reality show played on the television, but she paid it little attention. She highlighted photographs and passages she admired. When I walked in the room, she barely acknowledged me; then told me she was looking at pictures for her magazine. Her eyes never broke from the pages. She talked to me while looking down, absorbed in her quest.

While I was traveling this week, Jeanette told me that Jordan wanted to wait up for me so that she could give me a hug. Now that she was awake and I was home, I asked if I could get that hug. She stopped what she was doing, stood up, and squeezed me energetically. We talked for a moment. She told me that she thought the show she was watching was interesting — a show about little people.

– Dad, look! They are little people. They’re little. Can you believe it? Sometimes they look tall, but they are small. Isn’t that interesting.

I stifled a giggle and told her I thought it was, indeed, interesting. She went back to her work, but not without telling me how much she enjoyed the thimble full of red wine I poured for her.

– That wine is beautiful, beautiful like a cherry blossom.

And as quickly as I caught her attention I lost it. She hopscotched into a world of words she couldn’t understand and images she revered: bright colored fashions, three column layouts, and beautiful people. I said something to her about Harry Potter, but she was lost in the booklets.

I cheer her for her passions, and her strength, and her sometimes apathy toward the world that surrounds the fascinating universe in her head.

Pink and purple refract from her body in kaleidoscopic patterns–a spring skirt, a bright top, a jaunty hat. She has erupted from her room, petals showing, ready to pollinate. Her latest seed ground: publishing. She informs me that she plans to edit a fashion magazine.

– I have to talk about fashion, Dad. Because people need their fashion.

I can’t help noticing that she has found her glasses. She wears them selectively. Her vision is decent, but the specs are a matter of style. I think of Edith Head as I lock onto her cerulean eyes through smudged lenses set in purple tortoise shell frames. Judging by her demanding schedule — she needs to get the spring magazine out “before spring is over!” — perhaps an analogy to Anna Wintour is more appropriate. (more…)

We talked to the orthopedic surgeon today. And, Jordan will need surgery. Two surgeries. They want to move tendons, sculpt muscle and chip bone–on each foot. It sounds dreadful. She wants to have the feet done at the same time, but the surgeon advised against it. He told her she would be in a cast for a month and not able to stand on her foot. She said that was okay. Jeanette made a deal with her. Try sitting for four hours. If she is fine just sitting, we can talk about doing both feet at the same time. Good God! I can hardly blame her. She wants one step in her journey to be expedient. But this one won’t be.

She rubs the underside of her fingers across the top of her hand. Her hands are in constant motion. They move nervously around themselves, tapping and scratching, grasping it seems for comforting reassurance. Her eyes are drawn off and focused elsewhere in the room. She is unaware of her fidgeting fingers.

Her nervous energy transfers to a quest for food. She plunders the pantry and browses the contents of the refrigerator. Nothing satisfies her taste, so she shuffles around the kitchen with her animated hands and heavy sighs. I ask if I can fix her breakfast, but she is uncertain. She craves tea. I brew her a cup. While we wait for it to steep, she blurts the ghost of her anxiety.

– I don’t want to go to chemo

I tell her I understand. I remind her that it is not for very much longer. I rest my hand on her hands and they settle for a moment. She doesn’t look me in the eyes. Instead, she furrows her brow and begins to whine.

– My tummy hurts just thinking about it. I don’t want to think about it. It hurts so bad.

I comfort her with the best words I can, careful not to over-promise. She calms herself and sips her tea. Then she excuses herself from the table and trudges to her room to prepare for the trip to the hospital. (more…)

Jordan Goes to Portland

Jordan set off for Portland, Oregon today … by herself. This is the long-awaited trip. The one she’s been pining about for months. The one that weather forestalled in December. And she couldn’t have been more excited.

She just called me from my sister Lisa’s house, a buoyant descant in her voice. She had a full day and she wanted to share all of it with me.

Everything went according to plan today. My loyalty to Alaska Airlines is only that much stronger. We checked in with ease. She enjoyed gabbing with the attendant who escorted her to the gate in the wheelchair. And, everyone treated her like she was royalty (and she is in my mind). When Jordan is 100% recovered, I hope she remembers the generosity and kindness of people like those at Alaska Airlines.

She is also perfectly comfortable cavorting with celebrities. Yes. Jordan has a knack. She engages the beautiful crowd. The last time we went to the airport, it was an NBA All-Star. Today, it was a well-known actress. Jordan met her in the ladies room. When they emerged, they were chatting casually. I recognized the stunning, red-haired woman immediately. She stood next to me and complimented my daughter. “We had a lovely chat,” she said. Then she asked how Jordan was doing. Apparently, Jordan had self-disclosed too much again. But she had also won the friendship of an award-winning thespian. We walked together to the gate. Jordan later told me that they ran into one another in the first class cabin of the flight.

– Oh, she was such a nice lady, she said.