|Two years prior to diagnosis|
He has beaten extreme odds. But despite his longevity, they still won’t cut us any slack. Because he is at the forefront, they can't make any promises. They say it’s still a matter of “when” and not “if” his cancer returns. In my mind, I see the cartoon character the Tasmanian Devil grabbing us by the back of our underwear and dangling us over a cliff for the past eight years, snarling, drooling and slobbering on us as he swings us precariously over the Grand Canyon with a giant cancer wedgie.
The response to our site has been overwhelming. People from around the world have found us and shared their stories. I can’t tell you how many times my phone alerts me to a new email, and I read a message of gratitude from someone in India or Israel or even a mile away. Sometimes people want us to call them, we always do. The most common question we get is, “What do you eat?” Spouses and loved ones want to know how I’m doing. Others want to know how Ted is doing cognitively. They want to know how much we exercise. The list goes on.
|Stanley (dog), Artie, Char and Patrick|
Ted's 4 year cancer birthday party
When this all began, I spent more hours crying than not crying. My tears didn't begin to dry until there was a history of clear MRI images. Having Ted as an inspiration has helped a lot too. His courage and strength seemed to have rubbed off on me, well, at least for now or as long as the MRIs are good. He used to get MRIs every three months, now he's up to six months. I can't say that I'm completely worry free at the moment, but I've learned to put worry off until I need to.
|Ted taking flight 2010|