Home Sweet Home

Let me jump right in..

Spoiler alert. If you want to be surprised, skip right past the next line and catch up later………


Ok, you can pull the cotton out of your ears and remove the eye mask as we start at the beginning of the day.  If you recall from the last time we left our heroine, Elizabeth was about to get a drain tube installed in her liver. Well, I get a text at 6:30 am saying they are about to wheel her back and a few other things (I love you, bring me a pillow case, the usual).  After verbally beating on Ham and Cheese (our daughters if you’re new here) as they are teenagers and cannot possibly get out of the door on time but seem to get everywhere on time (yeah, I know but, yeah), I head off to the temple of doom (or the Mayo Clinic).

As I pull into Starbucks to grab some coffee I get a call from Elizabeth. Are they done? Is she in as much pain as the other night? Why am I not there? Will I have time to get my coffee? This all went through my head in about two seconds. I answered the phone…..

“They didn’t put in the tubes. At the last minute they said my levels went down and cancelled the procedure”. Hell yeah. This was a good thing. No wait, in my head this was a great thing. I got to the hospital (in case you’re wondering, yeah, I got my coffee) and we talked a little about it. I had a feeling the nurse knew something when Elizabeth wanted her IV moved and she said (in a Russian accent) “lets wait on that”. A few minutes later the doctor came in…

“So, your levels are trending down so we can send you home today”. HELL YEAH!!!!! I think I actually clapped like the Gators scored a touchdown. Yes sir, we were going home. I think besides actually hearing my bride say, “I do” I’ve never been so happy or ready to hear anything in my entire life.

Discharge took a little while so we got a chance to look at Facebook.  To say we were blown away by going green for Elizabeth day is an understatement.  We’ve never felt so much love coming at us from everywhere. From people and places we never would’ve thought (first picture, a Sunbelt store from Ft Lauderdale with the whole team in green shirts, getting weepy when you wake up stinks). And the heart that came behind some of these.  My friend Karen might have been the best as she’s a high school teacher and had all six of her classes hold up signs and wear green shirts was really just too much (we loved it).  Another friend started a go fund me page for us.  If you’re friends of mine on Facebook and you’re interested, its somewhere on my page.  If she messages you, its not a scam, she’s not a real Nigerian prince and you don’t have to give anything to receive $50000. Another old friend of mine I love like family left a cooler full of beef (that my family calls Ned, because meat this good should be given remembrance before consumption. We look up, tap our forks to our chests and go, thanks Ned the Cow…..  No, we really don’t do that but I just like to paint a picture of how great this beef is). Elizabeth’s school and parents took some incredible group pictures of their school circus today all wearing green and dedicating it to Elizabeth. Instead of political nonsense and bickering, we all came together. That may sound narcissistic but it was really, really cool to see. We were talking about how you see stories like this and do things for people, but to be in the eye of the storm and it about you or us is surreal. But my thumb is tired (and a little sore) from scrolling and responding to messages, but we will take all of it with zero complaints.

That said, yeah, its a win for today. Elizabeth is a little banged up but will be ready for next week (Vegas has her at probable). We have the next MRI and CT scan then the come to Jesus meeting on thursday  where we figure out the next steps.  But we’ll take this win today and move on to the next one.  Keep riding the wave guys.  We’re honestly just getting started (marathon, not a sprint) I’m taking a break this weekend but will be back monday with my in depth analysis of the Daytona 500 (they turned left, like, a lot), my critiques of the Oscars (haven’t seen any of the movies) and a review of what I ate this weekend. Until then I’m going to spend some time with my family, sit in the hammock with a giant tumbler of rum, and see if I can wrap my head around the last week and a half and sneak in a nap here or there. Until you hear from me next time, love you savages and blog at you later. Big kiss, MUUUUUAHHHHH!!!!

It takes a Village…

Let me jump right in……

OK, first things first, the update on Elizabeth. Well, defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory as she is still residing tonight in the temple of doom instead of the comfy confines of the voodoo lounge. Her bilirubin levels were still not dropping with the stints. Her pain and itching were a whole lot less today so the doctors opted to wait until the blood tests tomorrow to see if they drop before putting a drain tube in. So, yeah, it was a rollercoaster day. Emotionally it was a rough one as we thought at least we were going home.  So pray for a miracle tomorrow. Eventually we gotta catch a break right?

I’d like to, if I haven’t before to thank both of our places of employment.  Both of which these days are like extended family to us.  We are beyond lucky to be surrounded by greatness, and I dont use that word lightly.  At my job, from Keith Lane in upper management to my immediate team of Titus, Stack, Becky, and several others, its been a huge weight off my back that I’ve been able to concentrate on this without any worry. I’m not sure when I will get back running at full speed but I can’t thank you enough for everything.  At Elizabeth’s work, her director Robin has been a godsend in so many ways I could never even put into words. I don’t know names of people at her work nor her parents of her students (and some that aren’t) but their support and that of the church is more than we could’ve hoped for. We love you all and one of these days hope to pay it back.  I’ve heard the phrase concerning racing a child “it takes a village”.  Well, we’re thankful for the village we got hooked into .

So I know this is a more somber post than usual but there’s only so many times you can get kicked in the manregion before you take a knee and I’m about at that limit today. But before I go I’d like to tell a story that I thought of today. I think of it a lot but even more so the last few days. I attended a class about three years ago and our sales manager Bill Thayer was putting it on. Now Bill is one of the most positive forces of nature that I know and one of a handful of people that I’ve met professionally that I look up to. So anyway we get into this class and I’m bleary eyed and probably stinking of rum from the previous night. So he comes in and apparently someone lit a fire under him. He starts off with a rant about being a man and standing up to your store manager or construction manager and growing a pair before you call him to get involved in some petty problem that should never involve him. This goes on for maybe five minutes. It didn’t pertain to me as like I said, we’re like family at my store. A big dysfunctional family but family nonetheless. But then the rant took a sharp turn.  He started talking about his daughter with cystic fibrosis. How terrible a disease it was and all that went with it.  But that he never asked “why me?”  He did at the beginning but after a while you just accept it and deal the best you can with it. Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t an option.  That the cards you’re dealt are the cards you’re dealt. So you could curl up into a ball and cry or you could stand up and move forward. That you wake up and think of a few things that you’re grateful for and go from there.  Truth be told I got more out of that fifteen minutes of the class than the whole three days. I’ve thought more about that and there’s been times since then that I could remember him pacing in front of the class like a coach or preacher delivering a sermon. It hit me that profoundly. I really thought about it today and the last few days. It’s a bad situation, yeah. But what do you do? What can you do?  Well, you stand up and fight because what other option is there. None as far as I can see. I’m sure there’s going to be more rough days. But I just hope I can be there for Elizabeth and the girls like they need. Because again, what other option is there.

I say all this and I know I will get, if you need us we will be there. And I know. One of these days I will candid camera you like Allen Funt, when you least expect it I will be calling you. Or I’ll show up at your doorstep and hope you have rum and eat all your food. Either way, wear your green tomorrow for Go green for Elizabeth day. Facebook us your pictures. Hope to bring the funny tomorrow.  Love you savages and blog at you later.

One game at a Time


Ok, first win of the season here people. Elizabeth more than likely, fingers crossed, will finally be coming home tomorrow and leaving the Temple of Doom. Apparently, the stint they put in at Baptist came loose and fell out, basically leaving her in the same position as when she went in. The bilirubin was going nowhere. Hindsight being 20/20, probably should’ve just bumped her to Mayo from the jump but that’s neither here nor there. She’s feeling a lot better, the pain it seems to have subsided, and if the river don’t run and the creek don’t rise well, we get our fourth leg back in the house.  I couldn’t be more excited. As I was riding down in the elevator on the way to find Ham and Cheese this woman looked at me.  “I know that look, because I have it too, it’s discharge day”. We both swapped stories and they were about the same, the season ain’t over but hey, a win is a win

I know we have a long way to go because like I said from the jump, this ain’t a sprint, its a marathon. We have more scans and consults later next week to see what’s the next step. Again, positive thinking and keep riding the wave.  Also, if you’re a friend of ours on Facebook, on friday its go green for Elizabeth day.  Like pink for breast cancer, green is the color for liver cancer.  Please, please, make me cry and light our pages up with wearing green.  The support from you guys is phenomenal. The visits from the Weavers, Julie Delegal, and Wayne and Kenny really helped our frame of mind, so a special thanks from them. As well as the texts and messages after the meltdown yesterday from me. It means more than you’ll ever know. If I didn’t respond, I saw it and thank you.

I’m cutting this one short as I need to start cleaning this house. After Haley cleaned it thursday its sorta gone to hell. There’s a mountain of laundry that needs to be folded as people love to do laundry. Well, they love to put in in the washer and move it to the dryer and throw it in a basket. They actually hate the key process of folding said laundry. So that and cleaning the sheets as I’m a guy and could sleep on a tarp that’s been laying in the yard under leaves for a month, but the wife likes clean sheets. And the bathroom, because see above, I’m a guy, I’ll say no more. But to steal a sports cliche, its one game at a time people. We’re going to celebrate this one tonight and tomorrow then move onto the next. Keep riding the wave.  Love you guys and blog at you later.

Could be Better

Let me jump in…..

First, an update on Elizabeth. She had the stints removed/replaced. Dr Corral (like Golden, that’s his words) said it was trickier than expected and they had to manipulate some stuff but everything should be fine. Well fine except for Elizabeth’s pain levels when she got back to the room. Jesus Criminey I’ve never seen someone that uncomfortable in my entire life. The nurses did their best and got her an extra pain med as well as gave her a Valium so she could sleep tonight. They also put her on antibiotics so they moved the IV in her already pincusioned and bruised arms. Both Elizabeth and the nurse told me to look away and go across the room. So that. I just really hope she’s fine in the morning.

Because I can’t stand this.

Here’s the part where usually the funny comes in. Funny however, left the building about seven hours ago and is missing. Everyone asks after Elizabeth and the girls, how are you doing. Well, it changes by the hour. Tonight was rough. If we could’ve swapped everything I would’ve done it in two seconds. And please, don’t take this the wrong way, I’m tired of the prayers and good thoughts. Not tired as quit sending them, because believe me, they’re truly appreciated and everything I’ve said about you guys and the wave holds true.  We’re blown away.  But truth be told I’d rather not be in a position where I needed them. I’d much rather come home to cook and have our standard back and forth where she asks me, “can I do anything from the couch” (with really truth be told no intention of getting up because of) “No, I got it”.  I’d rather her unintentionally get in my way while I have stuff I need to get out of the oven, so I sit and wait.  I’d rather flop on the couch after dinner watching TV until bed.  I miss her wanting her back rubbed on the couch. I’d rather go to bed then after a few minutes of handholding, almost simultaneously saying, I’m gonna flip, then moving to our little edge of the bed. I’d rather be awoke by her talking and coughing in her sleep. All of it. So while we’re thankful and truly blessed to have so many people caring about us and keeping us in our thoughts, there’s a piece of me that really wishes we didn’t need to be tonight or in the coming months. But anyway, like Dr Joesph said, today, get emotional, cry all day.  But tomorrow, only cry for an hour, and the next day, cry less. Cause its time to get tough. It’s time to start kicking a little cancer ass. Anyway, thanks for letting me vent on here and keep riding the wave. It’s really phenomenal how this has caught on and seriously, I owe everyone a debt of gratitude for all the positive thoughts (forget what I said earlier, that was angry Bob, he’s quite the asshole). So I love you guys, keep the faith, and blog at you later.

So, onto plan A

Let me jump right in……

Yeah, its a midday post but wanted to keep everyone updated.  After getting to Mayo, we spoke with our friend Rich Joesph, the doctor that greased the wheels from us. There might not be a better guy walking the face of the earth. Told Elizabeth if she’s in pain, order more meds. Nobody is judging here, the pain needs to get under control. It got a little emotional but he offered up the best advice. Cry today, and that’s fine, but tomorrow cry a lot less and the day after even less, because you gotta get tough. Told us if we needed anything, don’t hesitate to call. So that was great.

Then the doctors start rolling in. If you ever want to feel old, come to the Mayo Clinic for treatment. They all look straight out of a high school play. Even the lead guy looked all of about thirty.  And tiny. Well except for I guess the giant intern wearing an ill fitting small jacket. But I digress. Anyway, she’s going today for another scope where they will remove/replace the stints in her liver causing her discomfort because they aren’t doing what they need to do anyway.  Once that’s fixed and the liver is “happy” (probably as soon as next week, her levels are 9.8 and they need to be around a 3) they can start chemo. The good news is she can go home in as soon as a couple of days. We, well she, will start outpatient chemo to shrink the tumor.  After an estimated six rounds they will perform the surgery and cut this thing out. We asked about a transplant and were answered with, no. They were going to do another MRI to get a better look with their machine because they all but said, ours is a badass state of the art d-slr camera with a super high def zoom lens and baptist might as well use a Polaroid and blow on the film and shake it when it comes out. But these doctors are just super confident. Kind of like talking to your mechanic about fixing your transmission. You could never do it but these guys seemed like it would be no problem, they do this all the time. It makes you feel better. So at least now we have a plan and the ball is rolling in the right direction. Hopefully we can stay with plan A and don’t have to start moving down the line in typical Reeves fashion until we’re on plan J or something ridiculous like that. So its a good thing

And thanks again for all the support. There’s around 425 people following this nonsense and again, I’m a huge believer in positive thought (even more so now). So keep riding the wave, cause we aren’t out of the woods yet. Love you guys and blog at you soon #uphillbattle

Chicago, isn’t that elevator music anyway?

Let me jump right in……

A little housecleaning first.  Thanks to all that have joined this blog the last few days. We pulled up the stats and its mind boggling to us. Almost 500 visits a day and a thousand views is way more than we could’ve ever thought.  And the people that keep following this we can’t thank enough. I’ve heard army and prayer warriors but I think this is like a wave. No matter what your beliefs are everyone is coming together and that’s a really cool thing. I know it means a lot to Elizabeth and me as well. Let’s keep riding the wave to the beach and we’ll all raise a toast at the end. And those across the world, leave me a message. We have views from Australia, Columbia, Japan, Germany, let us know because that’s just the best and want to know who you are. Now onto the news.

After three days of staring at the walls of Baptist South, we finally moved to Mayo Clinic. We hoped we wouldn’t have to spend the weekend there but the bilirubin levels were still elevated. So today the doctor came in about 8am and said, yeah, best if we just move you hospital to hospital. We made contact with Rich Joesph (our contact at Mayo who obviously has a ton of pull) and he sent some emails and boom, around noon, lets roll. Well not quite lets roll. There was insurance hold ups, nothing big. Just things that happen. From a personal slant, it was cool to get fired up about something. This “peace and love” Bob Reeves was wearing a little thin anyway. But we got everything done and we were on the way. It was great seeing a little fire back in Elizabeth’s eyes. I’m not going to kid you, we were a little tired after last night. I posted it on Facebook but I’ll say it here. We have tickets to U2 in June. We were sitting there and feeling a little down on ourselves and Elizabeth said “We should probably get rid of the tickets”.

No, no we are not

We are going to that show. It’s in June.  By that time we will have kicked the crap out of cancer and Bono will be singing about you. Nope, not having it

I’m not sure what it was but after Dr Comb left the room this morning there was a little spark in her. One of those things that after 20 years you pick up on. An electricity in the room. It got me charged up. A look of “lets get this this thing going, lets kick some ass”. So we moved to Mayo, where upon the first doctor coming in, was a HUGE difference. We talked for a bit and I can’t speak for Elizabeth but I got the feeling, yeah, this is a little crazy but dude, we’re Mayo Clinic. We’ve seen worse. I left feeling like things were going to get done quick, fast, and in a hurry. We start at around 5am tomorrow and I feel things will escalate quickly.

I’d be remiss though to not say Baptist wasn’t great (well except for Dr. Mumbles, who I would kill here but I’m riding a good wave so we’ll give him a pass. The nurses were top notch. Everyone on the third floor from the nurses (there’s too many to name but they were all angels and if they read this, there’s a special place in my heart for all of them) to the housekeeping and food staff. There was one nurse, Agai, little Phillipino woman, the other night that came in and touched Elizabeth’s head, and asked if she could pray over it. I’m not sure what she said but that’s the level of emotional caring we got.  They genuinely cared about her.  And me as well. The nurse, Emily, when I came up on fire after not receiving Elizabeth’s records gave me a look of, yeah, calm down, I got this. And she did. I cant say enough about them. The biscuits downstairs for breakfast I can’t say were as good. A little over cooked, hard and stale but were saved by the sausage gravy. However the lunch and dinner choices were a bit better. The open face roast beef sandwich was delightful with a standard brown gravy that masked the subtleties of the beef but was a rated seven fingers licked out of ten. The baked fish over rice pilaf was robust with something. I’m not sure what but robust none the less. 8 fingers. But the coup de gras was the turkey with roasted red potatoes and steamed spinach that was delivered to room (not by Elizabeth’s request, we shut it off at lunch). Elizabeth couldn’t eat so we couldn’t let it go to waste. The roasted potatoes were finely seasoned and the spinach could’ve been salted, but the carved turkey, my belly is still giving it a standing ovation. All ten fingers licked.

But when I was leaving I went to the elevator. Happy to be going to a different/better place for treatment I was looking forward to the days ahead. Until i get into the elevator. It was elevator music. But I recognized the song. “You’re the Inspiration” by Chicago. They made it into elevator music. Wasn’t it already? It reminded me of the time of working at Publix and listening to the old Muzak and the one time (and I swear they played it and if they’re still alive, there’s several ex-front service professionals, or as the masses call them, bagboys) they played “stairway to heaven”. Or “light my fire” by the doors was always a real toe tapper. But man, Chicago is not a reach from their actual songs and elevator music. Now it’s stuck in my head. Thanks. Anyway, 5am comes early and its late, so with that, keep the faith, keep riding the wave and spread the love. Love you guys and blog at you soon, Peace.

Quick hitter

From Elizabeth

Hello- it’s Elizabeth. Thank you everyone for everything. And to my amazing husband who is taking this on as well as everything else. He’s amazing. Just a little note – we are seeing Dr. Cooper with Borland Groover and he’s our GI guy. Once we get to Mayo we are praying for Rich Joseph as our oncologist ( I had his sweet daughter in my preschool class last year). It’s Monday morning and we are just waiting to hear something. Bob will keep you posted. 😊🙏🏼💗

So yeah, we heard she may/probably be doing a hospital to hospital transfer. We are getting in contact with “our guy” at Mayo because the doctor here mentioned something about three weeks and that’s unacceptable. It’s been a tough morning as she’s in a lot of pain. I know this because when she says something hurts, it would send me to the floor in the fetal position throwing up. I’ll throw out a longer post later today once we know what’s going on.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Let me jump right in

First off, we are humbled by the support this thing has gotten. Almost 1400 views and 1000 visitors looking at it with close to 400 following. Honestly, I expected maybe 50 people to take a look the first day and trail into nothing. So thank you for caring and all the positive thoughts and comments. We’re truly blown away and huge believers in positive energy and all that riding the wave. So keep the prayers/good thoughts/mojo coming or way.  If you haven’t followed please do.  There’s a follow button somewhere on your screen. If you cant find it, ask a young person and they’ll find it in two seconds and flip the phone back at you with a look of pity and sorrow. Again though, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, now I have to/get to keep doing this. It means a lot. So now heres the update.

Elizabeth is still at Baptist South. We hoped to get her home saturday but her bilirubin levels were still elevated. They took blood again today and it was even a little higher. She’s still really in a lot of pain with the stint they put in. Lots of morphine. The RN’s and staff could not be nicer. I wish Dr. Collins (lead oncologist with Borland Grover) were there on the weekend, or could just pop in to talk, because, waiting. We were talking today and wondering if they are just going to ship her over to mayo tomorrow (monday). As far as her mood, I cant speak for her but I’d hope it was a good day. I went over in the morning and watched CBS Sunday Morning. Which is what we do usually because, we’re old. We both lay on the couch next to each other and pretend to be awake usually. Or we DVR it and watch it at a reasonable hour because who wakes up at 9am on Sunday. Before you answer that, she typically sleeps in, so only one of us is old and wakes up with the roosters. Anyway, we genuinely laughed at one story about this girl selling Girl Scout cookies and one tasted like “A gluten free wasteland, like dirt” and sold 24000 boxes from her letter that went viral. But it was a gut laugh, which I dont think we’ve had in the past three or four days. Instead of family in the room she had friends coming in and out, which if it were me I’d prefer. I even split and let her be, which truth be told, if the situation were transposed, I’d even say, hey, I appreciate the support and love you, but go do it somewhere else.  Nothing against family but sometimes people that you can just talk nonsense with is much better (thanks Robin and Robin, Bettina, and Angela and anyone else that popped in).

Oh, do you remember Dr. Mumbles from the last post? Yeah, he came back in last night. Still the same blank look on his face as when we first met him. Most likely he was the fifth doctor who said trident was nonsense and any other survey on a commercial where they needed credentials. Anyway he’s telling us (Elizabeth, Myself, and ham and cheese were in the room, for all the new people here, that’s Hannah and Haley, our daughters) about blood pressure and if you pass out what to do. Lay down, and elevate your feet.  Then he goes into he was waiting to get his haircut someplace and (apparently) someone passed out and they drug their lifeless heap of a body to the back.

He never noticed.

He was “looking at his phone or something when my wife said, I think you need to do something”

Ok, lets review. Because I think anytime anytime someone just falls out there would be a commotion. Obviously he was locked into playing angry birds or wondering what would happen if he drank the blue stuff in the jar with the combs in it. So he didn’t notice until his wife jarred him from his self induced coma. The woman was ok because he saved the day, laid her back, elevated the feet, and boom, she was fine. Then he went back to angry birds. I asked him though, hey bilirubin, what is it? He mumbled something about digestion and couldn’t leave fast enough. Which is how I feel about Mayo. We cant get there fast enough. We’re just waiting. And waiting. And waiting. With no answers. And no real questions because we aren’t sure what we’re dealing with still. And we want to hear it from straight from the specialists at Mayo. Like Petty sings, you can take it on faith, you take it to the heart, the waiting is the hardest part. Right now, truer words have never been sung. Love you guys and blog at you later.

It ain’t a sprint, it’s a marathon

Let me just jump right in …..

So, last friday, Elizabeth goes to the doctor. She calls me freaking out. “The doctor says I have the symptoms for Hepatitis A.” Well, hepatitis never sounds good so like any doctor who’s ever stayed at a Holiday Inn express (or Red Roof Inn) would do, I went to the google machine and looked it up. Apparently, you feel like crap for a few weeks but with antibiotics, its all cleared up in a matter of weeks. But, understandably, she’s worried. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. I gave her a hug (even though I could get something, that’s small potatoes, I laugh at hep A) and told her everything will work itself out and we’ll be back to normal in no time

Fast forward to tuesday of the next week. They call for an ultrasound. Wait……That doesn’t sound quite right. At least to me and probably to Elizabeth as well.

Wednesday, meet with the doctor. OK, there’s no hep A. Well alright alright alright. That’s great news. But there’s a blockage from the liver to the bile ducts. Might be stones, might be a gallbladder. Either way, its a relief right? No Hep A. Awesome. They did send us immediately to Baptist south for a cat scan to see what the blockage is because, there’s still the jaundice (yellow eyes and unbeknownst to me, yellow skin which apparently, she looked like a minion) and the itching. So we need to figure out what’s happening.

So, after checking in, answering the typical same hospital questions over and over and once more again (seriously, they type this stuff in and write it down, is that just for show?) we sit in a waiting room for two hours waiting for a cat scan while CNN blares the story about Donald Trumps relations with Russia, his meeting with Israel’s Netanyahu, and how these emails tie into eretile dysfunction medicines and walk in bathtubs (the commercials may have blended in at some point). So we go to a room to await the results.

Several people came in and out of the room. One doctor, who we’ll call Mumbles couldn’t get the mouse working on the computer (climbed under the desk at one point like a mechanic working on a transmission) and was about as non informative as drywall. However one doctor came in. After hearing the story of what was going on and the symptoms for 583rd time (seriously, why even write anything) she says, well I’ve got the results and pulls them out of her pocket like Maury Povich with the paternity results. There might be a tumor.


Whatever she said after that was ignored. I looked at Elizabeth and we melted. Seriously? A tumor? Couldn’t be right. Or if it was, it was nothing right? It’s a hospital, they cut these out all the time. It’s like having your brakes squeal a little and they say, well, new rotors for you. It’s a bit of a pain and something you didn’t expect but it’ll be fine right?


The next morning the oncologist comes in. Apparently (and again, this is worst case scenario) Elizabeth has this rare form of Cancer called a “Klatskins Tumor”. I post the name so you can look it up and go, WTF! How in the world does she get one of the rarest forms of cancer. 1 out of 100000 cancer patients gets this! Not 1 out of 100000 people, no, 1 out of 100000 cancer patients!!!!! There’s like, 150 a year and we pulled this card? And it typically hits people from 65 to 80 years old. Yeah, and she’s not a liver abuser like myself or almost all my friends. Seriously, how does this happen? And so quickly. There’s really no answer except in this hand of cards we got thrown a stinker

Anyway, they ran tests (endoscopy) and got samples from the lymph nodes and from what the oncology doctor said, yeah, the cells are cancerous. At this time while Elizabeth was still knocked out I went outside, threw up and called my brother in law Jim (who I will never, ever be able to thank enough for his support) to alert everyone. I got back in the room before they wheeled Elizabeth back and……..well. That went about how you would expect. I think, well know, we’re still trying to wrap our head around this new reality

So here we are. I’m pretty confident we’ll bring Elizabeth home tomorrow (Saturday). They put a stint in her to get the liver function down to a normal level and hopefully get her back in her own bed where she can get some sleep and turn her brain off for a bit. We’re going to the Mayo Clinic where apparently the best guy in the world that handles this is at the hospital. And whatever they say, we do, and move on from there. We have a great group of people that are looking out for us and moving this along at a quick level that we all think this situation deserves. The support we’ve gotten from our friends and family is tremendous. I sure never realized how great we had it at that level. It’s overwhelming and I can’t thank you guys enough. Words cannot express the gratitude both Elizabeth and I feel knowing we have an army behind us. I’m going to keep doing this blog to let everyone know where we’re at in the process. Some days may be good, some may be bad. There may be times we just circle the wagons and dont pick up the phone or answer texts. Just know we appreciate the good thoughts, prayers, and mojo you send our way. And keep up with the blog. It’ll give me something constructive to keep my mind occupied and hopefully we’ll all get through it in one piece. Because as I heard one time in a elevator in Vegas and it really sums this up for the first three days, this ain’t a sprint guys, its a marathon. Love you all and blog at you soon.