11 March, 2008
10 March, 2008
The Last Bag Ranneth Out...
So today marks a milestone... actually two milestones really.
One being that it's Emmah's 12th birthday... the last pre-teen birthday. For those of you who still know how to get around our little web-house here, sign her guest book please... it's still there and still functional.
The other being that it was on this date last year (actually the morning of this date last year) that the last bag of chemo ran dry marking an end to the chemo part of her treatment (the 7th chemo treatment in all) and ending a grueling 96 hour chemo infusion marathon. The night nurses decorated her room as we slept and she was treated to a rousing rendition of happy birthday from the nursing staff and the doctor on call for that weekend. They gave her what was either a giant cupcake, or a mini cake from the hospital cafe... it was still a touch frozen. No matter, it's not like Emmah was going to eat any of it... nor did I... for the record.
Emmah seemed rather unmoved... she was kind of fresh off sleeping as they entered the room in addition to being a little more than hung over from the toxic juice pumped into her.
It's hard to believe that we are one year removed from the end of her chemo and it's even harder to imagine being as far along as we are when I look back and remember how I felt on the day we got the official news. They were talking about 9 months when she's done with chemo... 9 months? Those that are familiar with our somewhat expansive brood, know that we are plenty familiar with the time frame of 9 months, but to me, they may as well have said 90 months.
When they sat us down and gave the news and then threw out the 30% survival rate and then said 9 months, I have to admit that a thought flashed into my head... will we even make it 9 months? It's well documented that plenty of people succumb to the rigors of chemo itself. Then, as we had the chance afterwards, after the diagnosis was given, to research neuroblastoma... that 30% looked small indeed... smaller still after reading story after story of other children's experiences. A lot of them having an unfavorable ending.
So, we stopped reading the stories... and redirected our focus and research to strengthening Emmah as best we could... emotionally, mentally and physically. I mean after all, someone had to make up the 30% statistic, why not us? You can't have a 30% demographic without anyone being in there making up the 30%... right? 30 out of 100 is better than 10 out of 100 and if this was baseball and we were a hitter... 30% puts you in a lofty class... it's a matter of perspective. But this sadly was not baseball and when the chemo started, it was like having one of your worst nightmares come to life. Sitting there as they administer toxin after toxin after toxin in what amounts to a grasping attempt of beating back the cancer. Essentially sitting there watching the beginning of the fighting for your child's life... all the while unsure of the outcome. Minutes felt like hours and hours were seemingly endless.
Those hours eventually gave way to days, days to weeks and so on and I would spend a lot of time reflecting and talking to anyone, trying to find out all that I could while picking their respective brains to find any shred of hope to raise our spirits. As one session of chemo passes after another, you keep picking their brains and you have conversation after conversation when possible... they are busy after all as we are not their only patient... but you hang on their every word. Waiting for any (and all) test results as if you were on shards of glass with a stack of weights in your lap. You rely on the doctors with their results to either lighten your load or to toss another weight in your lap. I remember when we had our first CT after chemo had started and they came back with that there was some initial signs of internal necrosis... that's how the tumors (when they die) die, from the inside out. Lemme say this... they do a pretty good job of keeping you grounded and don't let you get too high... which is a good thing since no one wants to fall from that elevation. We'd rather play it down and keep it low key anyway. Even so there was some small internal fist pumping going on.
I wasn't trying to be standoffish or rude, but I tried to keep myself from befriending any other parents for fear that something might happen to their kid and it would send me into a spiral.
Side note here: I can remember hearing a couple of code blues on our floor when we were at Children's. Very, very upsetting... all too much.
Anyway... we knew where we stood with Emmah. That in conjunction with the other kids spread us pretty thin in the emotionality department. It's not that I didn't care about any other kid on that floor, but I had enough with me right there in my lap to keep me busy. It's a terrible thing knowing that all the rooms on that floor have a patient in 'em and that patient happens to be a kid. What's depressing is that as I type this out there are thousands of kids facing the same kind of challenge... the challenge of beating cancer.
I remember a particular conversation with the head oncology nurse at Hope where we were talking about things. Somehow the conversation turned to talking about survival chances and the percentages that are attached to them. I want to add that prior to this conversation, I had adopted the attitude that 30% was just a number and the reality of it was this; either you make it or you don't... plain and simple. What she said during this part of the conversation further strengthened my newly adopted philosophy. She said that there were kids that had much higher survival percentages that they thought would make it but didn't and conversely, kids that had a much lower number that did. I didn't ask for an opinion on Emmah, though at that time we were still pretty early in the therapy.
During one of the stints between chemo sessions (we were home for those) I was getting some materials for working on the house and was talking with a guy (an employee) that I had befriended there. We had in the past talked about our kids and how they drive us crazy... the usual type stuff. Before all hell broke loose with Emmah, we were discussing kids and when they get sick. I mentioned Emmah and her vague pains and such. Anyway, he was somewhat aware that she was feeling sick. Then we were hit with the news and I wasn't in as often, so when he saw me in this particular time, he made it a point to engage in a conversation. I explained what had transpired since we last spoke and we ended up talking for a good 10-15 minutes. One of the things I recall from that conversation was this. I said to him, "You know, what if we put her through all of this and she only lives for another 3-4 years?" (it's a realistic thing to think when anyone is diagnosed with cancer especially with the magical 5 year mark being the benchmark) His reply was... "Well, it's another 3-4 years that you have with her." It kind of stuck a chord with me right then and helped me to develop the either you make it or you don't philosophy.
As the therapy progressed we continued to receive good news... scans were good, BMA's (bone marrow aspirates) were good, but we knew everything that was laid out in the beginning didn't leave us with a path paved in gold. We (ironically) had Emmah's age working against us in this case. There was also a gene that was amplified (the n-myc gene) and an amplification of this gene was not something that was desired. In the beginning, there was some confusion as to whether it was amplified with Emmah. Initially we (Julie and I) thought that it was not and so for a little bit, we thought the only things we had going against us was her age and that it was stage IV. We later learned that she was in fact n-myc amplified. For the record, n-myc amplification doesn't determine outcome... it's just another hurdle to overcome.
We had things in our favor as well... negative in the bone scan, negative in the bone marrow, negative in any other organs. The only sign of it was the initial abdominal mass and the one that had metastasized to her neck. It was this one in particular that pushed her into being stage IV. We'd like to think that we were only a matter of a couple weeks difference from stage III to stage IV. Either way, she was stage IV. The tumor seemed to be responding to the chemotherapy and after we got past the first chemo session (all 25 daze of it) the subsequent sessions went a little easier. For one thing we now kind of had an insight to how this was going to go. I remember the day they came in and told us some really great news. As fate would have it, I wasn't in the room and I got it second hand from Emmah who wasn't 100% sure. The news was too good to be true and I had Emmah under the spot light saying "what exactly did he say?"
I had requested to speak to the doctor after rounds and he came back and told me and confirmed what Emmah had said... the tumor is 75% dead... only 20-25% of it remains. He then took me to see the scan, the most recent results and had them side by side with the initial scan from when we first came in. Now I'm no expert, but there was a whole lot less of something on one of them than the other. It was at this time during this conversation that he said that they've seen kids go through what Emmah had endured (to that point) and the tumors didn't budge. More great news. Now it was time to talk about resection and getting it out.
Julie and I did some research and had talked to a friend of a friend of a friend (or something close to that anyway) whose kid was high risk neuroblastoma. Younger than Emmah, but had it in more places. It came out through email correspondence that there was a surgeon (a specialist) at Sloan Kettering that specialized in neuroblastoma resections. Even though we were told that the surgeons here were capable of performing the operation, we opted to take a trip. We befriended a number of people during our stay in New York between the Ronald McDonald House and sitting around waiting at Sloan. One constant question would surface with the same response. People would ask if it was in her bone marrow to which we'd reply, it was not. The usual response was you are so lucky. I mean we knew that it not being in the marrow was a really good thing already, but to hear all these people kind of drove it home. The surgery was a long 10 hours and she had been recovering ahead of schedule. While we were there, we were able to meet with a neuroblastoma specialist (our oncologists are great, but are not neuroblastoma specialist) and through conversation with him, he said that what Emmah had was something that they informally refer to as stage 4n. No evidence in the marrow. He also said that that form was rather curable. We didn't press him into a percentage, just hearing it was rather curable was good enough for us.
We came home and finished up the chemo at Hope and then eventually made our way to Children's for the stem cell part of it. We had spoken with the doctors previous to the stem cell and as the time approached, we met again to go over some of the finer details. During one of the conversations with one of the doctors there, he said that when it doesn't show in the bone or marrow, they view it as a 60% survival rate. Of course this is wonderful to hear, but in the end you realize it's just a number after all, and while it does stand for something, at the very same time, it doesn't mean a thing. Either you make it or you don't... and we're making it.
It's been a long and emotional roller coaster ride these past 19 months and reading some other stories about how sick other kids became going through therapy, we feel very blessed and happy to have had so many good things happen. By no means do I mean to diminish or cheapen what Emmah had to go through and endure, but from what I've read she could've had it worse... much, much worse.
Yet another good thing.
As her 12th birthday comes today and goes tomorrow, I go on knowing that she is here and things are good. The test results are still good and she seems as healthy as anyone else. We know that she's not fully recovered from the high dose stem cell chemo since her platelets are still low... stable but low, so we know that the marrow is still not up to speed yet. We are getting there though. Nothing has changed in terms of how Emmah is viewed... she's still in the same category as on day one.
Emmah still has a long way to go... but we've come a very long way to be where we are today. Currently she's taking horse riding lessons every Sunday morning. We will happily celebrate every milestone that comes down the pike and every birthday day that comes along since they truly are special moments in time... moments that were shrouded in question on that inauspicious day... August 11th, 2006.
Realize that everyday is a milestone... for all of us... in that not one of us knows what our own tomorrows hold for us... but... for some, each day is truly a miracle to be embraced.
A double milestone day indeed!
Happy, Happy Birthday Emmah...
KUIYTAP
One being that it's Emmah's 12th birthday... the last pre-teen birthday. For those of you who still know how to get around our little web-house here, sign her guest book please... it's still there and still functional.
The other being that it was on this date last year (actually the morning of this date last year) that the last bag of chemo ran dry marking an end to the chemo part of her treatment (the 7th chemo treatment in all) and ending a grueling 96 hour chemo infusion marathon. The night nurses decorated her room as we slept and she was treated to a rousing rendition of happy birthday from the nursing staff and the doctor on call for that weekend. They gave her what was either a giant cupcake, or a mini cake from the hospital cafe... it was still a touch frozen. No matter, it's not like Emmah was going to eat any of it... nor did I... for the record.
Emmah seemed rather unmoved... she was kind of fresh off sleeping as they entered the room in addition to being a little more than hung over from the toxic juice pumped into her.
It's hard to believe that we are one year removed from the end of her chemo and it's even harder to imagine being as far along as we are when I look back and remember how I felt on the day we got the official news. They were talking about 9 months when she's done with chemo... 9 months? Those that are familiar with our somewhat expansive brood, know that we are plenty familiar with the time frame of 9 months, but to me, they may as well have said 90 months.
When they sat us down and gave the news and then threw out the 30% survival rate and then said 9 months, I have to admit that a thought flashed into my head... will we even make it 9 months? It's well documented that plenty of people succumb to the rigors of chemo itself. Then, as we had the chance afterwards, after the diagnosis was given, to research neuroblastoma... that 30% looked small indeed... smaller still after reading story after story of other children's experiences. A lot of them having an unfavorable ending.
So, we stopped reading the stories... and redirected our focus and research to strengthening Emmah as best we could... emotionally, mentally and physically. I mean after all, someone had to make up the 30% statistic, why not us? You can't have a 30% demographic without anyone being in there making up the 30%... right? 30 out of 100 is better than 10 out of 100 and if this was baseball and we were a hitter... 30% puts you in a lofty class... it's a matter of perspective. But this sadly was not baseball and when the chemo started, it was like having one of your worst nightmares come to life. Sitting there as they administer toxin after toxin after toxin in what amounts to a grasping attempt of beating back the cancer. Essentially sitting there watching the beginning of the fighting for your child's life... all the while unsure of the outcome. Minutes felt like hours and hours were seemingly endless.
Those hours eventually gave way to days, days to weeks and so on and I would spend a lot of time reflecting and talking to anyone, trying to find out all that I could while picking their respective brains to find any shred of hope to raise our spirits. As one session of chemo passes after another, you keep picking their brains and you have conversation after conversation when possible... they are busy after all as we are not their only patient... but you hang on their every word. Waiting for any (and all) test results as if you were on shards of glass with a stack of weights in your lap. You rely on the doctors with their results to either lighten your load or to toss another weight in your lap. I remember when we had our first CT after chemo had started and they came back with that there was some initial signs of internal necrosis... that's how the tumors (when they die) die, from the inside out. Lemme say this... they do a pretty good job of keeping you grounded and don't let you get too high... which is a good thing since no one wants to fall from that elevation. We'd rather play it down and keep it low key anyway. Even so there was some small internal fist pumping going on.
I wasn't trying to be standoffish or rude, but I tried to keep myself from befriending any other parents for fear that something might happen to their kid and it would send me into a spiral.
Side note here: I can remember hearing a couple of code blues on our floor when we were at Children's. Very, very upsetting... all too much.
Anyway... we knew where we stood with Emmah. That in conjunction with the other kids spread us pretty thin in the emotionality department. It's not that I didn't care about any other kid on that floor, but I had enough with me right there in my lap to keep me busy. It's a terrible thing knowing that all the rooms on that floor have a patient in 'em and that patient happens to be a kid. What's depressing is that as I type this out there are thousands of kids facing the same kind of challenge... the challenge of beating cancer.
I remember a particular conversation with the head oncology nurse at Hope where we were talking about things. Somehow the conversation turned to talking about survival chances and the percentages that are attached to them. I want to add that prior to this conversation, I had adopted the attitude that 30% was just a number and the reality of it was this; either you make it or you don't... plain and simple. What she said during this part of the conversation further strengthened my newly adopted philosophy. She said that there were kids that had much higher survival percentages that they thought would make it but didn't and conversely, kids that had a much lower number that did. I didn't ask for an opinion on Emmah, though at that time we were still pretty early in the therapy.
During one of the stints between chemo sessions (we were home for those) I was getting some materials for working on the house and was talking with a guy (an employee) that I had befriended there. We had in the past talked about our kids and how they drive us crazy... the usual type stuff. Before all hell broke loose with Emmah, we were discussing kids and when they get sick. I mentioned Emmah and her vague pains and such. Anyway, he was somewhat aware that she was feeling sick. Then we were hit with the news and I wasn't in as often, so when he saw me in this particular time, he made it a point to engage in a conversation. I explained what had transpired since we last spoke and we ended up talking for a good 10-15 minutes. One of the things I recall from that conversation was this. I said to him, "You know, what if we put her through all of this and she only lives for another 3-4 years?" (it's a realistic thing to think when anyone is diagnosed with cancer especially with the magical 5 year mark being the benchmark) His reply was... "Well, it's another 3-4 years that you have with her." It kind of stuck a chord with me right then and helped me to develop the either you make it or you don't philosophy.
As the therapy progressed we continued to receive good news... scans were good, BMA's (bone marrow aspirates) were good, but we knew everything that was laid out in the beginning didn't leave us with a path paved in gold. We (ironically) had Emmah's age working against us in this case. There was also a gene that was amplified (the n-myc gene) and an amplification of this gene was not something that was desired. In the beginning, there was some confusion as to whether it was amplified with Emmah. Initially we (Julie and I) thought that it was not and so for a little bit, we thought the only things we had going against us was her age and that it was stage IV. We later learned that she was in fact n-myc amplified. For the record, n-myc amplification doesn't determine outcome... it's just another hurdle to overcome.
We had things in our favor as well... negative in the bone scan, negative in the bone marrow, negative in any other organs. The only sign of it was the initial abdominal mass and the one that had metastasized to her neck. It was this one in particular that pushed her into being stage IV. We'd like to think that we were only a matter of a couple weeks difference from stage III to stage IV. Either way, she was stage IV. The tumor seemed to be responding to the chemotherapy and after we got past the first chemo session (all 25 daze of it) the subsequent sessions went a little easier. For one thing we now kind of had an insight to how this was going to go. I remember the day they came in and told us some really great news. As fate would have it, I wasn't in the room and I got it second hand from Emmah who wasn't 100% sure. The news was too good to be true and I had Emmah under the spot light saying "what exactly did he say?"
I had requested to speak to the doctor after rounds and he came back and told me and confirmed what Emmah had said... the tumor is 75% dead... only 20-25% of it remains. He then took me to see the scan, the most recent results and had them side by side with the initial scan from when we first came in. Now I'm no expert, but there was a whole lot less of something on one of them than the other. It was at this time during this conversation that he said that they've seen kids go through what Emmah had endured (to that point) and the tumors didn't budge. More great news. Now it was time to talk about resection and getting it out.
Julie and I did some research and had talked to a friend of a friend of a friend (or something close to that anyway) whose kid was high risk neuroblastoma. Younger than Emmah, but had it in more places. It came out through email correspondence that there was a surgeon (a specialist) at Sloan Kettering that specialized in neuroblastoma resections. Even though we were told that the surgeons here were capable of performing the operation, we opted to take a trip. We befriended a number of people during our stay in New York between the Ronald McDonald House and sitting around waiting at Sloan. One constant question would surface with the same response. People would ask if it was in her bone marrow to which we'd reply, it was not. The usual response was you are so lucky. I mean we knew that it not being in the marrow was a really good thing already, but to hear all these people kind of drove it home. The surgery was a long 10 hours and she had been recovering ahead of schedule. While we were there, we were able to meet with a neuroblastoma specialist (our oncologists are great, but are not neuroblastoma specialist) and through conversation with him, he said that what Emmah had was something that they informally refer to as stage 4n. No evidence in the marrow. He also said that that form was rather curable. We didn't press him into a percentage, just hearing it was rather curable was good enough for us.
We came home and finished up the chemo at Hope and then eventually made our way to Children's for the stem cell part of it. We had spoken with the doctors previous to the stem cell and as the time approached, we met again to go over some of the finer details. During one of the conversations with one of the doctors there, he said that when it doesn't show in the bone or marrow, they view it as a 60% survival rate. Of course this is wonderful to hear, but in the end you realize it's just a number after all, and while it does stand for something, at the very same time, it doesn't mean a thing. Either you make it or you don't... and we're making it.
It's been a long and emotional roller coaster ride these past 19 months and reading some other stories about how sick other kids became going through therapy, we feel very blessed and happy to have had so many good things happen. By no means do I mean to diminish or cheapen what Emmah had to go through and endure, but from what I've read she could've had it worse... much, much worse.
Yet another good thing.
As her 12th birthday comes today and goes tomorrow, I go on knowing that she is here and things are good. The test results are still good and she seems as healthy as anyone else. We know that she's not fully recovered from the high dose stem cell chemo since her platelets are still low... stable but low, so we know that the marrow is still not up to speed yet. We are getting there though. Nothing has changed in terms of how Emmah is viewed... she's still in the same category as on day one.
Emmah still has a long way to go... but we've come a very long way to be where we are today. Currently she's taking horse riding lessons every Sunday morning. We will happily celebrate every milestone that comes down the pike and every birthday day that comes along since they truly are special moments in time... moments that were shrouded in question on that inauspicious day... August 11th, 2006.
Realize that everyday is a milestone... for all of us... in that not one of us knows what our own tomorrows hold for us... but... for some, each day is truly a miracle to be embraced.
A double milestone day indeed!
Happy, Happy Birthday Emmah...
KUIYTAP
08 March, 2008
Spare Change Information...
The fiber experiment is over!
Well, it's over (for now) for Ana... too many poopsplosions going on. For a definition of poopsplosion, see the Everybody Poops... post. Too many soiled pajamas and clothes... and our dryer is so over worked as is the laundry lady!
The fiber experiment was an attempt to curb some of the marble poops (for a definition of the marble poop, see above everybody poops link) that and an attempt to get more fiber into everyone's diet (yours truly included... good for cholesterol good for the heart) via some tasty bars... no, really, they are tasty. I found them on a trip to Trader Joe's and the chocolate brownie actually sounded good so we bought it as a test. We ended up buying them online from the maker of the bar... buying direct and eliminating the middle man... sorry 'bout that TJ's. They are all natural and five flavors are available, chocolate brownie, banana walnut, cinnamon raisin, orange cranberry and peanut butter. The amount of fiber in each bar is about 50% of the daily requirement. Perhaps Ana eating a bar a day was a bit too much cleansing for her.
Glad you asked... my personal favorites are the chocolate brownie and the banana walnut... the orange and cinnamon are a tie and the peanut butter takes up the last spot... not peanut buttery enough for my liking, or for anyone's liking for that matter.
What else? Oh...
Rachael has an ear confection... well that's what she said the other day as she, Lyndsey and myself were playing doctor. I asked her why she had come to see me (it was my turn to be doctor) and she told me that she had a tummy ache, her throat hurt and that she had an ear confection.
You know, I've heard of eye candy and have even seen some over my years, but never have I heard of ear candy.
With spring being rumored to be right around the corner I think that it's fair to say that are far enough removed from the holidays. I will be soon posting our Christmas letter in the Junk Drawer for all to see. This is for the people that didn't get a card from us... though just because I'm posting it it doesn't mean that it will reach any more people than it already has via the mail. As this year goes on, you may in fact still get one if we have something to mail to you. Please know that if you did not receive a letter or a card this year it doesn't mean that we weren't thinking of you. Our intentions were there and we do know what is said about roads paved with good intentions... they start at our house. It's just that distribution was too busy doing all that laundry and such and is awash with guilt for not getting them out. Publishing is mentally too ill equipped and is busy mentally preparing to finally get outside and work on the house now that winter perhaps maybe might be letting up on it's grip.
I'm optimistic taking a gander of the extended forecast and seeing upper 40's and low 50's for the upcoming week. All the while we bask in the goodness of visit after good visit for Emmah. As I type this out, she's performing a magic show for her amazed brother and sisters. Hmmm... I better go and check on the dollar and quarter I lent them. HA... we sure tricked Dad! No Dad really, Emmah made them disappear.
I also see (as of my posting this) the enemy has infiltrated my survey... someone voted for the cubs.
KUIYTAP
Well, it's over (for now) for Ana... too many poopsplosions going on. For a definition of poopsplosion, see the Everybody Poops... post. Too many soiled pajamas and clothes... and our dryer is so over worked as is the laundry lady!
The fiber experiment was an attempt to curb some of the marble poops (for a definition of the marble poop, see above everybody poops link) that and an attempt to get more fiber into everyone's diet (yours truly included... good for cholesterol good for the heart) via some tasty bars... no, really, they are tasty. I found them on a trip to Trader Joe's and the chocolate brownie actually sounded good so we bought it as a test. We ended up buying them online from the maker of the bar... buying direct and eliminating the middle man... sorry 'bout that TJ's. They are all natural and five flavors are available, chocolate brownie, banana walnut, cinnamon raisin, orange cranberry and peanut butter. The amount of fiber in each bar is about 50% of the daily requirement. Perhaps Ana eating a bar a day was a bit too much cleansing for her.
Glad you asked... my personal favorites are the chocolate brownie and the banana walnut... the orange and cinnamon are a tie and the peanut butter takes up the last spot... not peanut buttery enough for my liking, or for anyone's liking for that matter.
What else? Oh...
Rachael has an ear confection... well that's what she said the other day as she, Lyndsey and myself were playing doctor. I asked her why she had come to see me (it was my turn to be doctor) and she told me that she had a tummy ache, her throat hurt and that she had an ear confection.
You know, I've heard of eye candy and have even seen some over my years, but never have I heard of ear candy.
With spring being rumored to be right around the corner I think that it's fair to say that are far enough removed from the holidays. I will be soon posting our Christmas letter in the Junk Drawer for all to see. This is for the people that didn't get a card from us... though just because I'm posting it it doesn't mean that it will reach any more people than it already has via the mail. As this year goes on, you may in fact still get one if we have something to mail to you. Please know that if you did not receive a letter or a card this year it doesn't mean that we weren't thinking of you. Our intentions were there and we do know what is said about roads paved with good intentions... they start at our house. It's just that distribution was too busy doing all that laundry and such and is awash with guilt for not getting them out. Publishing is mentally too ill equipped and is busy mentally preparing to finally get outside and work on the house now that winter perhaps maybe might be letting up on it's grip.
I'm optimistic taking a gander of the extended forecast and seeing upper 40's and low 50's for the upcoming week. All the while we bask in the goodness of visit after good visit for Emmah. As I type this out, she's performing a magic show for her amazed brother and sisters. Hmmm... I better go and check on the dollar and quarter I lent them. HA... we sure tricked Dad! No Dad really, Emmah made them disappear.
I also see (as of my posting this) the enemy has infiltrated my survey... someone voted for the cubs.
KUIYTAP
02 March, 2008
Aiming For A Corner...
Needing to reacquaint yourself with the Great MAW Expedition? Then here's the link to the previous MAW post Mush! To The North Pole... of course, you can still just go to the MAW label to the right and reacquaint yourself that way too.
We last left our midnight ramblers cheesing off our camping neighbor, car camping and rustlin' up some grub.
We last left our midnight ramblers cheesing off our camping neighbor, car camping and rustlin' up some grub.
Too Much? Time On Our Hands...
That must be a typo... has to be. Right? Since we were backpackless, we had opted out of going to Mesa Verde. That meant that we had all kinds of time now and perhaps pleasing to my olfactory only... then again perhaps not... this meant (at long last) a shower for me. Yup, showers and sleep... two (of many) of life's grandest things. Wasn't really getting enough of either though. All this extra time is being brought to by the people of stranded backpack. There was no way we were going to be walking around carrying Ana as we climbed our way in and around Mesa Verde and since Mesa Verde was in between Durango and Cortez (our next camping destination) we were almost giddy with the notion of having the extra time as it's only about an hour drive between the two towns.
Breathe in. We didn't rush though our breakfast. Breathe out. Nor did we rush through loading up. We savored the slower pace, but hey, it's not like we can hang out here all day long, so onward we pressed to Cortez. To say nothing of the rarity... while driving we thought it rather novel to actually be getting to the campground and be setting up in honest to goodness daylight. The genuine article where we didn't have to worry about a fading (or recently faded) sun. So that's what we did. C'mon... really? Really... We checked in and set up with daylight-a-plenty ahead of us.
But something was off... something wasn't right and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Then it hit me... so this is what it's like huh? Boy it was weird not having to go to bed straight away after getting the tent up; so now what? This is uncharted territory for us. This is something that we've only read about but never personally experienced before. People setting up camp AND still having the rest of the day ahead? Absurd! Insane! We weren't prepared! We didn't plan for this! So now what indeed!
A rolling down the highway shot between Durango and Cortez...
Breathe in. We didn't rush though our breakfast. Breathe out. Nor did we rush through loading up. We savored the slower pace, but hey, it's not like we can hang out here all day long, so onward we pressed to Cortez. To say nothing of the rarity... while driving we thought it rather novel to actually be getting to the campground and be setting up in honest to goodness daylight. The genuine article where we didn't have to worry about a fading (or recently faded) sun. So that's what we did. C'mon... really? Really... We checked in and set up with daylight-a-plenty ahead of us.
But something was off... something wasn't right and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Then it hit me... so this is what it's like huh? Boy it was weird not having to go to bed straight away after getting the tent up; so now what? This is uncharted territory for us. This is something that we've only read about but never personally experienced before. People setting up camp AND still having the rest of the day ahead? Absurd! Insane! We weren't prepared! We didn't plan for this! So now what indeed!
So Let's Eat!
The Main Street Brewery raises it's own cattle, so getting a steak means some really fresh meat and as the name states... Brewery... they make their own beer too. I don't remember what I ordered to eat, but I do remember that the beer was really good. Don't misunderstand me, the food was really good too, Julie's steak was really tender and done well. They also make their own cream sodas, in about a dozen or so flavors.
It was an especially nice time knowing that there was no hurry to be gettin' along since we really had nothing better to do. That and knowing that our tent was just down the road and only five minutes away with the added bonus of it already being set up. It was one of the few times that we were able to relax a bit. Eventually we left to go back to camp and we contemplated a fire and some roasting of marshmallows. Well, I contemplated a fire and the kids contemplated the roasting of marshmallows, I for one was plenty f u l l.
The Night Brought The Rain...
When all else fails... eat! It was getting on about lunchtime anyhow and wanting to sample some local fare, we headed on into town to the 
Main Street Brewery. Unfortunately for us, too early for them to be open, so we stopped at a something we passed on the way into town and a staple of our camping excursions... Wal-Mart. Noticing that we were a bit light in the cutlery and flatware department while in Cascade, we thought it prudent to check and see what their camping area had. We found some all in one eating utensils and bought one for everyone as well as some enamel coated camping plates and bowls. Having previously noted that the snack bag was getting a bit low we restocked our rations and ran back to camp as things needed to be put in the cooler. In the time it took us to shop and unload it was late enough to go and drink... I mean eat... you know eat AND drink.
Main Street Brewery. Unfortunately for us, too early for them to be open, so we stopped at a something we passed on the way into town and a staple of our camping excursions... Wal-Mart. Noticing that we were a bit light in the cutlery and flatware department while in Cascade, we thought it prudent to check and see what their camping area had. We found some all in one eating utensils and bought one for everyone as well as some enamel coated camping plates and bowls. Having previously noted that the snack bag was getting a bit low we restocked our rations and ran back to camp as things needed to be put in the cooler. In the time it took us to shop and unload it was late enough to go and drink... I mean eat... you know eat AND drink.
The Main Street Brewery raises it's own cattle, so getting a steak means some really fresh meat and as the name states... Brewery... they make their own beer too. I don't remember what I ordered to eat, but I do remember that the beer was really good. Don't misunderstand me, the food was really good too, Julie's steak was really tender and done well. They also make their own cream sodas, in about a dozen or so flavors.It was an especially nice time knowing that there was no hurry to be gettin' along since we really had nothing better to do. That and knowing that our tent was just down the road and only five minutes away with the added bonus of it already being set up. It was one of the few times that we were able to relax a bit. Eventually we left to go back to camp and we contemplated a fire and some roasting of marshmallows. Well, I contemplated a fire and the kids contemplated the roasting of marshmallows, I for one was plenty f u l l.
The Night Brought The Rain...
Or perhaps the rain brought the night, either way, we weren't back to camp for very long when it started to sprinkle... a steady sprinkle... one that seemed destined to be staying for the night, or at the very least until we bedded down. Since it was raining and getting late(er) plus the more than customary one beer and the full belly was putting me in a relaxed, sleepy state, I figured since there will be no fire (I wasn't about to sit around a campfire in the steady drizzly rain) bed was fast becoming a strong option and perhaps in order. So bed it was to be.
The rain never did let up and in fact turned into a full throttle thunderstorm with BIG rain. It was kind of cool, to me anyway, to listen to the thunder rumble across the sky. It was somewhere around 3am again... the bewitching time for rain... as I lay there counting the time that elapsed between lightening and the thunder to see if it was coming or going. It was still coming. I don't remember how long it rained for, but it didn't matter the duration, what mattered was the amount of rain that fell. I'm only an armchair weatherman, but I suspect that around 2+" of rain fell, and fell rather quickly once it got serious about it. Of course being awakened at that hour usually lets you know that your bladder is full and in need of emptying and I for one was not going to walk the 100 to 200 yards or so to go to the bathroom, punch in a code while standing in the rain to open the door. So um... well... we won't talk about where exactly I went. Let's just say that I didn't have one drop of rain fall upon me and leave it at that.
Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow...
After the rain has fallen, things tend to be wet. This time there was no hurricane force wind to dry things off. So I took a towel and started beating the top of the rain fly in an attempt to speed up the drying process. After getting most of the water off, it was then removed and spread flat to dry in the sun as we packed up. While we were eating breakfast Lesley was telling us that as she went to the bathroom that morning she passed two people who camped that night by merely rolling themselves (individually) up in tarps. That's right, like human burritos wrapped in plastic.
Breakfast allowed us to break in the new flatware and cutlery. They worked flawlessly and everyone was excited to be trying and using something new... even if only being used for cold cereal. We had a fairly long day ahead and as expected eating and packing up took longer than desired. We still needed to get to Four Corners and make it to the Mather Campground in Grand Canyon. Checking out, a walk through the office/gift shop took 
some time and then you have to factor in the goodbyes that needed to be said since this the end of the line for Auntie Lesley. 
Pictures and long goodbyes and it's time to head on out. Let's all say goodbye to Auntie Lesley... goodbye, and sadly goodbye to Cortez... and in a matter of a few hours so long to Colorado.
Riddle Me This... When Is A Corner Not A Corner?
Breakfast allowed us to break in the new flatware and cutlery. They worked flawlessly and everyone was excited to be trying and using something new... even if only being used for cold cereal. We had a fairly long day ahead and as expected eating and packing up took longer than desired. We still needed to get to Four Corners and make it to the Mather Campground in Grand Canyon. Checking out, a walk through the office/gift shop took 
some time and then you have to factor in the goodbyes that needed to be said since this the end of the line for Auntie Lesley. 
Pictures and long goodbyes and it's time to head on out. Let's all say goodbye to Auntie Lesley... goodbye, and sadly goodbye to Cortez... and in a matter of a few hours so long to Colorado.Riddle Me This... When Is A Corner Not A Corner?
When it is Four Corners... and what is made with four corners... a big square... and that's what this was, a big square of cement surrounded by Indian peddlers which was surrounded by desert.
Nothing exciting to tell here, although you'd have to have a pretty low threshold for excitement to think that anything posted here is exciting. Just some more quality time packed into the Sequoia driving through essentially desert. Upon arrival, which is still more desert (Four Corners is in the middle of nothing but desert and is on Indian land) you have to pay to see the actual point. I will say this, the money that is being brought in isn't going for any enhancement of the immediate area there... as you will note in some of the pictures. This was our big chance to roll on some New Mexican land... that's were the entrance drive is, in New Mexico. So we paid our money and well... went to the point and snapped pictures like we were a bunch of stupid tourists.
It's a strip mall of sorts... actually more like adjoining 'L' shaped outdoor kiosks. This is where the Indians sit and peddle their wares. Hand made jewelry and such to which we visited each and every one. We did purchase some things, so we did our part to help the Indian economy. On the third side is a row of port-a-potties... hey, at least they were trying to blend them into the background... they were tan. The fourth side was the entrance/exit. That's about it... the Four Corners monument, many Indian peddlers and a row of port-a-potties... and if that don't scream yee-haw, then I don't know what does. In all honesty it was kinda cool, the actual point that is as well as the whole experience. It consists of a cement pad that has each state seal in it, the marker in the center and four lines in the cement going off into infinity to mark the state boundaries. It's someplace else to say I was there... I experienced it.
Oh, I almost forgot, the backpack. Once we discovered that it was missing, Julie called the Duck to see if in fact it was at our tent site. It was, but now what? We weren't about to turn back and we were going to kind of need it for the rest of the trip... either that or we put Ana on a rope and drag her around as we did not pack a stroller for her. Since we felt that that would be frowned upon, we felt it best to somehow get the pack back, or would you say get the backpack back? It was decided that the Duck people would mail it on ahead of us to Carlsbad, Ca... to where we'd be staying for Legoland. Mailing it there put it far enough ahead of us that the only way it doesn't arrive before us is if someone or something screwed it up. Luckily for us this was not the case as it was in fact waiting for us when we arrived, but that's further on down the story road here. We still have to get through Grand Canyon and San Clemente Beach before we get to Carlsbad.
Next up: Grand Canyon, San Clemente Beach (and Leaving Four Corners). This will get you there... Finding A Really BIG Hole In The Ground...
KUIYTAP
Nothing exciting to tell here, although you'd have to have a pretty low threshold for excitement to think that anything posted here is exciting. Just some more quality time packed into the Sequoia driving through essentially desert. Upon arrival, which is still more desert (Four Corners is in the middle of nothing but desert and is on Indian land) you have to pay to see the actual point. I will say this, the money that is being brought in isn't going for any enhancement of the immediate area there... as you will note in some of the pictures. This was our big chance to roll on some New Mexican land... that's were the entrance drive is, in New Mexico. So we paid our money and well... went to the point and snapped pictures like we were a bunch of stupid tourists.
It's a strip mall of sorts... actually more like adjoining 'L' shaped outdoor kiosks. This is where the Indians sit and peddle their wares. Hand made jewelry and such to which we visited each and every one. We did purchase some things, so we did our part to help the Indian economy. On the third side is a row of port-a-potties... hey, at least they were trying to blend them into the background... they were tan. The fourth side was the entrance/exit. That's about it... the Four Corners monument, many Indian peddlers and a row of port-a-potties... and if that don't scream yee-haw, then I don't know what does. In all honesty it was kinda cool, the actual point that is as well as the whole experience. It consists of a cement pad that has each state seal in it, the marker in the center and four lines in the cement going off into infinity to mark the state boundaries. It's someplace else to say I was there... I experienced it.
For your perusing pleasure, a photo album showing our Four Corners Experience...
Oh, I almost forgot, the backpack. Once we discovered that it was missing, Julie called the Duck to see if in fact it was at our tent site. It was, but now what? We weren't about to turn back and we were going to kind of need it for the rest of the trip... either that or we put Ana on a rope and drag her around as we did not pack a stroller for her. Since we felt that that would be frowned upon, we felt it best to somehow get the pack back, or would you say get the backpack back? It was decided that the Duck people would mail it on ahead of us to Carlsbad, Ca... to where we'd be staying for Legoland. Mailing it there put it far enough ahead of us that the only way it doesn't arrive before us is if someone or something screwed it up. Luckily for us this was not the case as it was in fact waiting for us when we arrived, but that's further on down the story road here. We still have to get through Grand Canyon and San Clemente Beach before we get to Carlsbad.
Next up: Grand Canyon, San Clemente Beach (and Leaving Four Corners). This will get you there... Finding A Really BIG Hole In The Ground...
KUIYTAP
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)