One year ago today, 3 stupid little words changed our lives forever. You have cancer. We didn't even really know what that meant. There is no good kind of cancer, but we really didn't know what to expect. We understood that it would be tough, but like any journey, you don't really know what you are in for until you go down the path. Now is a great opportunity for me to be down and talk about how horrible the past year has been, but we were reflecting on it over the weekend. In the past year, while being sick sucks, we've done more than most people and are insanely grateful for it all. It's been hard at times, depressing at times, frustrating at times and just sad a lot. In short, it has been long. 365 days doesn't seem that long, but this past year kind of drug on. For me, the biggest challenge is to consistently watch someone you love be so sick. For Holly, less than being sick, is just how much cancer has taken from her. Time from her family, time from her friends, fun nights out, cool day trips. The little things that most of us take for granted are so dependent on her health. It just sucks. It's been a long year, but we are confident that 2008 will be better. We are confident that her health will be better than it was pre-diagnosis. We know that it will take a lot of time, but we are confident that, like so many other people, we will prevail against this.

Holly doesn't really curse. I pride myself in being able to leverage profanity like a fulcrum to emphasize my points. I can make up curse words like an artist uses mixed medium to create master pieces. Holly just stares at me with disappointment for not being more creative and using a deeper variety of less offensive words to get my point across. But lately, 'Fuck' has crept into the vernacular at the Schnaars household. As in, 'this fucking sucks'. Our kids haven't started saying it yet, but after being under the weather for a year, there really isn't a good synonym that accurately reflects the feeling. What works for you? Photo by Ted and Liz.

Last night is a perfect example of what happens when I'm really tired and try to write a post. I can't come up with words, so I write things that are a bit cryptic and confusing. The long story behind that is that I bumped into a friend from high school on Flickr the other day. In catching up, of course the cancer conversation comes up. Rather than try to explain how crappy things are, I tried to explain how unbelievably supportive and selfless the cancer community is. (As an aside, we need to come up with a better name than cancer community.) It is really cool.

Thank you to everyone who reads this blog. ...to everyone that forwards it to someone that finds it helpful. ...to everyone that has helped us. ...to everyone that leaves a comment. ...to everyone that sends positive thinking. ...to everyone that has answered our questions or quelled our thinking. ...to everyone in the cancer community who has been so incredibly supportive during the past year. The overwhelming support that we've received has been incredible. Thank you.

Those who know me, know that I more than enjoy the occasional 18 hole round.  Every time I play, my partners routinely ask about Holly and how things are going.  One of the tough things about cancer is that I don't have a lot to relate to that I can share.  Most people have no idea.  Holly's post the other week about it being hungover for 11 months was a good analogy. Recently, the amazing Kate Thaxton had a really good post about why cancer to her is like putting. It is amazing how the little victories have become so important.  It is probably more important to recognize how these little battles lead up to winning the war.  This morning, Holly and I were talking about the days that she was home from the hospital after her surgery.  She was down 25 pounds and needed to be held up to take a shower.  Today, taking a shower is no problem.  The battle is having the energy to make it through the day.  In a few months, the battle will be to get her strength back to pre-diagnosis levels.  A few months after that, hopefully, it will be higher still. Sadly, the war never ends.  The battles subside for a little while.  There will hopefully be a nice peace accord that culminates every few months with a routine check-up.  No dirty fighting during the truce, but we will forever be in a war.  Like any war, though, you have to appreciate the small victories to truly appreciate the overall war.  You also have to do the occasional happy dance.

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Tags: chemotherapy, golf

Room 116 pointed out this amazing image blog, FFFFound.  There is some beautiful photography including this one of a young Stevie Wonder.

©Al Satterwhite [http://www.alsatterwhite.com] Since Holly's been sick, I've been listening to a lot of old, really good music including Warren Zevon, the Beach Boys Pet Sounds and, of course, Stevie Wonder.  This is the music that my parents listened to when I was a kid.  Probably between the ages of birth and about 10 years old (or whenever Kiss Alive II came out).  It is amazing how, when life hands you a bizarre event such as cancer, that you revert back a bit to what was comforting as a child.

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Tags: music, stevie_wonder, beach_boys, Warren_zevon

Holly isn't feeling well tonight. The day started out really well, but like most days, by 4:00 the effects of chemotherapy kick in and knock her out. Yesterday she was really sick. As I've mentioned before, cancer has taken away a lot of things. When she was first diagnosed, neither of us had experience with cancer. Of course, when you hear those words 'You have cancer' you immediately think end of the world nah, nah, nah, nah. But lately, as we get towards the end of Holly's chemo treatments, I've been thinking about how much she has accomplished over the past 10 1/2 months. It is cliche to say that we didn't start living until we had cancer (it isn't even true, in our case), but instead of being a death sentence, it has been anything but. Here are just some of the amazing things that she has accomplished:

Manages our entire household. Holly is the Chief Household Officer and does everything from taking the kids to school to making cookies to paying bills to really everything that keeps me running. This in and of itself is amazing. It is a job that I suck at.

Designed and managed the construction of our dream house. Yes the design was before the diagnosis, but she still had cancer when she was doing it. She also managed all of the contractors and still kicks ass when it comes to knocking things off the punch list.

Despite feeling like hell, she is an unbelievable room mom at our daughters school. I can't believe the stuff that she does.

She still works out like a crazy person. I'm healthy and I don't go to the gym that often.

She rarely plays the 'C' card. I play it all the time (someones got to).

Made it through 30 days in the hospital and fought like hell to make it home for or daughters pre-school graduation.

A bunch of her friends have been going through tough times lately. When she could play the 'C' card, she has been one of the most thoughtful, caring friends anyone could wish for.

She is an equally thoughtful, caring & supportive wife despite how bad she feels.

Like I said, these are but a few of the amazing things that she has done while having cancer. I'm too tired to try to find out how many people will be diagnosed with cancer in 2008. It's a lot. Millions globally. It isn't a death sentence, it isn't a new life, it just is. Most times it sucks, but if you are one of the millions that gets diagnosed, it is important to know that it is far from the end of the world. You can get through this too.

It has been a rough week. Two of Holly's closest friends lost relatives to various forms of cancer. I've been following the saga of Randy Pausch and I can barely bring myself to read about Leroy Sievers any more. Holly had her 6th oxciliplatin treatment today and it crushed her. Not a whole lot of fun, but we finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. It looks like December 17th, the day before her birthday, will be her last treatment. Oddly, she started treatment on the day before our sons birthday back in February, so I'm sure that there is a weird cycle there that, were I feeling more philosophical, I'd probably write about. I haven't really been writing too much lately because Holly has been feeling crappy and that song and dance gets old. There are only so many ways to write about the side effects of chemotherapy without sounding like a broken record (or disgusting). With 2 more treatments in our future, and hopefully being done with this disease for the rest of our lives, I'm not really sure what we are going to do with this site once she is finished. Of course, I'll leave it up, it seems like it has helped a lot of people out, for which I'm really thankful. Hopefully, it will continue to do so in the future. I've been thinking of writing a book (and giving it away a'la Seth Godin) on dealing with cancer from a spouses point of view. I'm really not sure. Obviously, I look at this as a great problem to have. Holly's well, not a whole lot to write about. Like Scott & Beth suggested, I should make it a goal to get to 100% search traffic. That way, you are healthy and you are helping others. I just feel like there should be some sort of formal closure to it all.

Well, not better, but I was pretty down the other night. Holly was pretty down too. So here we are, dealing as best we can. The earthquake was exciting. I wasn't around to feel it, but everyone is safe. In having dinner tonight with a friend, he really helped me to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Holly has her next treatment Monday, then only 2 more after that. We should be done with chemo by the middle of December. We see the the finish line.

8 amazing years ago today, Holly and I stood on a bluff in Maui overlooking the Pacific Ocean and exchanged vows. When the judge said 'in sickness and health', I expected that we'd be toothless 90 year olds when we had to deal with that. I never thought 'in sickness and health' would be so significant at such a young age, but here we are. And I love her more than ever. Throughout this entire process, she has been stronger than I could have ever been. She is the most incredible friend, lover, partner-in-crime, mother, everything that I could ever imagine. I love you, Holly. Scott