Hands Off My Hope!

Value of Kindness

During my mom's final three months, she employed a care-giver named Laura. She was initially hired to help my mom after she broke her hip in October - it was supposed to be a short-term gig for Laura. Then my mom's health started to slide down-hill and Laura ended up helping my mom - and dad - until the end. My mom immediately took a strong liking to Laura and although she was in her life entirely too short, I know that Laura played a tremendous role in my mom's final few months. In fact, Laura brought her husband and four daughters over to my parents' place this past New Year's Eve so her family could meet my mom. My dad got some cookies, and Laura's family enjoyed some quality time with my mom and dad.

I am bringing this up because last week, I received an email from Laura's oldest daughter, Lyndsi, who is a senior in high school. She said she was doing a research paper on the value of kindness and giving, and thought that my mom was one of the best examples she could think of to conclude her paper. She wanted to know if she could ask me some questions to help her gain an even better understanding of who my mom was and why she did what she did. Of course, I was flattered and told her that I would absolutely answer any questions she had.

We met for coffee; it was fun meeting Lyndsi, and much to my surprise and delight, Laura was there, too. We talked about a lot of things, but all conversations led back to my mom; perhaps that's because we were there to talk about her! As far as I know, Lyndsi only met my mom that one time on New Year's Eve, but it was clear to me that my mom made quite an impression on her. She talked about reading her book, bringing it to school, showing it to her friends and sharing it with others. She also talked about the little bit of time she spent with my parents that night, remembering some of the things she talked about with my mom, and the cookies my dad brought.

It was an interesting time with Laura and Lyndsi. It gave me the opportunity to see how my mom impacted people she just met as well as those that she didn't know that long. From our conversation, it was clear to me that they both thought my mom was a very special person. More than that though, our conversation helped me understand the bond my mom had with Laura and her willingness to let people into her life.

This past New Year's Eve was not a good one for my parents; they met with my mom's doctor just that afternoon and determined it was time to set up hospice care. Stacey, Evan, Andy, the kids and I were over at their place for dinner, and although we didn't yet know about mom's prognosis, it was still a fairly somber meal. She didn't eat, but my mom was at the table with us for a bit. During that time, I remember looking at her and thinking how sick she was. She didn't talk and she wasn't engaged. Rather she was withdrawn, yet she wanted to be with us for as long as she could. Half-way through dinner though, she excused herself to go lay down.

We left their place early - partly because of my mom's health, and partly because we needed to get Sasha to bed. About one hour later, Laura, Lyndsi and the rest of their family arrived at my parents' place. Despite being so sick and feeling so awful, my mom wanted to see Laura and meet her family. It was important to her, I know. She could have very easily asked my dad to call Laura and tell her not to come, but that was not what she wanted. It was important to see them that night. As Lyndsi, Laura and I discussed that evening, I learned that my mom was engaged in the conversation and genuinely pleased to see them all.

Some might wonder if it makes me feel badly that my mom wasn't engaged with her own family at dinner that same night, but fairly engaged with people she just met. My answer is No. My mom could be however she wanted to be around us, and by that time she knew she didn't need to put on a "healthy face" just to appease us. But that's not the point of this. Rather, my point is that here it is, five months later my mom's impact still holds. Her book is being read and making an impact. Her actions are remembered, and making an impact. And there is tremendous comfort in that.

Here Comes the Sun

Very few things are black and white in this world, especially when it comes to our health. I find it very interesting how new studies are always coming out touting that things we might think to be bad for us in excess are actually good for us in moderation...wine (but it must be red) and chocolate (but it must be dark) are two of the more favorable examples. What might be considered a vice could actually help you live longer, if enjoyed in moderation.  I think these studies give people the permission they might need or seek to indulge in such luxuries with the attitude of "it's all for my health."

And earlier this week another such study came to light (no pun intended) about the benefits of Vitamin D and breast cancer patients. It was conducted by the American Society of Clinical Oncology and in essence stated that a certain level of Vitamin D - direct from the sun as opposed to from supplements or other sources - may be beneficial to cancer patients in stopping or slowing down the progression of the disease. You can read about it here. It actually highlights some interesting results.

Of course, the results aren't conclusive yet as everyone knows that too much sun and vitamin D can be harmful. On the flip side, too little Vitamin D can be detrimental as well. It's hard to strike a balance with the sun and I am reminded about that now more than ever with two little rugrats to worry about. In fact, earlier this week I brought my kids to the gym one afternoon - they have childcare facilities so the parents can work out. It was a beautiful, sunny, spring day and the "big kids" were actually outside in the playground area. I started to stress because Ethan was not adequately prepared to be outside. I didn't know he was going to be outside so I didn't lather him up with sunscreen or bring a hat. I immediately started to wonder if the 4 p.m. Minnesota sun would harm him and was really feeling kind of bad about the situation, to be honest. Luckily, the child care facility had some sunscreen on hand, and I have to say I was hugely relieved and I got to enjoy a work-out.

When I was growing up I can honestly say I never wore sunscreen when I went outside to play with my friends. The damaging effects of the sun was not a news topic, and I don't recall hearing about the "UV Index." My mom always enjoyed laying in the sun and I can say I am truly my mother's daughter in that regard. When I was younger I was not very careful with how much sun I got; in fact, the tanner I was the better. Now, of course, getting any sun while on vacation is a luxury (if the kids are in tow), and if it just happens to be Andy and me, I am much more careful. Nothing worse than a horrible sun burn.

Most nights as Ethan gets ready for bed and the sun starts to go down he asks me if the sun is going away. I always tell him that it's just going to sleep and that he can be sure that it will be here again tomorrow. In fact, the sun rising in the morning is one thing in our world that is black and white. You can always count on that. And so despite all the hype and hysteria about it's damaging rays, it seems that you can count on it doing some good in cancer patients, too.

Emotional Hang Over

Here it is, Tuesday evening and the Race and Mother's Day are now behind us. I'm not sure how to describe the weekend overall; in a sense it was "good"but in another sense it was incredibly sad for me.

We did our usual Race for the Cure events...the Pre-Race Dinner on Saturday night and the 5K walk on Sunday morning. My mom always loved the dinner...especially after Ethan - and then last year, Sasha - was born. It was a prime place for her to show off her grandchildren. Andy and I always complied with her request to parade them around, and I know her heart swelled with pride as people commented on their good behavior and good looks (although I am a biased mother, I do think my kids are nice to look at). Of course, this year was different at the dinner. In fact, there was a picture of her displayed with the caption "In Loving Memory. Jan Zimmerman." We really appreciate the tribute, and her smiling face is always comforting to look at, but I will say it was kind of weird for me - making the surreal real.

Then there was Race Day. We had a great group of people walking with us in memory of mom, and it actually turned out to be a beautiful day despite the forecast for rain. And since my mom never walked with us because she was manning the Shop, the walk itself didn't feel off. But the whole day sure did. There was a big hole, chunk or void for me that represented her enormous absence. She wasn't at the Shop, she wasn't buzzing around like she did, she wasn't a destination for us to see, before the walk, to wish her a Happy Mother's Day. I kept thinking "something is missing, something is missing." Obviously.

I think what was driven home the most for me this past weekend is the fact that she really is gone. I can't explain what I mean by that other than to say perhaps I have been waiting all this time for her to call or walk in the door. And now I know - as clear as day - that it's not going to happen. Please, I know in theory that two months ago or even four months ago it wasn't going to happen either. But this weekend it was driven home so hard, and that's what was - and still is - the most difficult for me.

As I wipe the tears from my eyes, I now think about how we are going to continue to carry her message forward and market her book. The Race - and the Shop - was always the anchor and to be honest, we didn't think too far past it because we didn't need to. But now we do. Our local NBC affiliate, KARE 11, did a story about the Shop and mentioned my mom and her book on their early morning news program. The only reason we know this is because Evan saw it at the gym early Friday morning. And after doing some digging, I found this article on their web site as well. It's a start, I guess (and yes, she died from the disease after a 13-year battle, not 11 years, as the article states).

So we will continue to continue down the path my mom started. And to all of you who have purchased and/or read her book, thank you for your support. It carries such an important message...and  is especially poignant right now, two days after 50,000+ people showed up to walk and run in support of breast cancer research and treatment.

Mother's Day

Okay, I know the intent of this blog was to carry my mom's message forward and chronicle what we are doing to get her book out there. Every now and then, of course, we will throw in information on breast cancer, cancer awareness, events, etc. that relate to my mom and her message. Today, however, I can't help but bring it down to a more personal level. Two events are happening this weekend that literally define my mom: the Twin Cites Race for the Cure and Mother's Day. And I wonder why I am feeling so sad.

Although I am a mother of two beautiful, extraordinary children, Mother's Day for me has always been about celebrating my mom, not really about me being a mom. Sure, it was fun four years ago when I was pregnant with Ethan on Mother's Day and my mom got me an awesome chenille baby blanket. And it was meaningful to be able to celebrate being a mom with my mom on the subsequent Mother's Days, but again, it was more about her than me. Of course, I knew this year this day would be different and I wondered how it would be for me. Oddly, I didn't feel myself getting sad when I first saw all the Mother's Day cards at the grocery store or Target; I just put it out of my mind and kept walking through the store. But today I am noticing more of a pronounced pit in my heart.

Then there is the Race for the Cure, which as you know, is this Sunday, Mother's Day. We have a team of family and friends walking with us this year, which is fantastic. I went to pick up everyone's t-shirts yesterday (yes, at the Mall of America) and the reality of the situation just kind of hit me. Among all the activity at the Shop for the Cure and the Team Pick Up area, my mom was not there. I mean, of course she was not there, but she should be, you know?

So Stacey, my dad and I are facing the next couple of days...days that have so much meaning to my mom and for my mom...without her. Obviously I'm not telling you anything you don't know. I don't really know what I am trying to tell you...maybe I just want to tell you I'm feeling very unproductive today and I need to explain why. Or perhaps I just want to tell you that I feel like going for a run. Or maybe I just want you to know that my mom died four months ago and the first Mother's Day and Race for the Cure without her is this Sunday and it's going to be really difficult.

Hmmm...not sure which it is. But as I look out the window, I see the sun trying to peek through the clouds, so I might take this opportunity of feeling unproductive and wanting to go for a run and see if I can't marry the two.

What? No Picture?

Regardless of the day of the week, one of my children gets me up between 6:00 and 6:30 in the morning. And today was no exception. Sasha lured me out of my sleep first, so I went to her room to get her up and change her diaper; then Ethan appeared so I went to his room, changed him and put on shorts and a short-sleeved shirt (his latest obsession). Usually during this time, Andy gets up, makes the bed, makes coffee and gets the paper. But for some reason, today he didn't get the newspaper; I did.

The first thing I looked for was the special section on the Race for the Cure...there it was, kind of buried with the coupons and comics. I paged through it and on the fourth page (counting the front) I saw my mom's name and a lengthy article. I started to read the article and realized this was what I was looking for, except one thing was missing: A PHOTO OF HER!

At first I was confused. Then kind of annoyed. Finally disappointed. It's not like there weren't any pictures interspersed in the article, there were...two of them in fact. And an ad!

The content of the article was great. But why, I wonder, was there a picture of a random woman filling out a form, and a picture of another random woman with her three children? Neither of these people are my mom, so what are they doing in an article about her? 

It bugged me for a while. Like I said, the article was a great tribute to my mom. It talked about her fight, her survival, and her desire to help others. It mentioned her book, and it even included a quote by Ethan. But to me, it lost it's impact because there was no photo of her. And I don't think I'm being too picky. There should have been one.

OK, I guess I'm still bugged by it, but not as much. By tomorrow I will be over it. I think. 

By the way...

A quick posting this evening.

If you happen to live in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, the Star Tribune is running a special section in tomorrow (Sunday's) paper devoted to the Race for the Cure. In this special section, there will be an article about my mom and her book. I'm not sure this section will be available on the web; if so I will, of course, post the link to it. If not, we'll figure out some other way to share it.

Stay tuned...