Some may think it is strange to entitle the post - Good News!, especially since we are talking about Dad's cancer. But we know what we are dealing with: Multiple Myeloma/Plasmacytoma.
What is important is that the doctor believes that this is very treatable. We are hoping for good results and Dad is starting treatment today. He still needs to do more tests (of course) but Phew. Grateful to know and grateful for modern medicine.
Thank you for your prayers - they helped!
If you want to follow Dad's progress, we are updating his blog daily:
Phil Brown Updates
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Dad Update
So we know, kind of. Dad has stage 4 cancer and it has spread to his bones but apparently it is not terminal until we have:
1) discovered what type of cancer he has
2) exhausted all treatment options available
http://philraybrown.blogspot.com/
We are hoping for the best, but we are currently waiting. Again....Did I mention that I hate waiting?
1) discovered what type of cancer he has
2) exhausted all treatment options available
http://philraybrown.blogspot.com/
We are hoping for the best, but we are currently waiting. Again....Did I mention that I hate waiting?
Monday, July 7, 2008
Father's Day - A Little Late
I love blogging. More specifically I love "blog stalking" others blogs. I am constantly checking various family members blogs ( Stephanie - I read your blog over and over :)). It is such a simple way to keep in touch with people. Okay, it is borderline lazy. I will say this though, there are some ways in which the blog is a form of therapy. My sister in law Stephanie writes the most amazing entries on her blog everyday, describing her emotions. She has said that it is a form of therapy for her, but it is therapy for us too.
There are other uses for blogs. My Dad has been going to a lot of Dr. appointments lately. And I have been calling up there almost every day. With 11 kids in the family, they almost need a calling service. One of my sisters suggested creating a private blog to keep the family updated. It would also be a way to update his medications, appointments and any news from the doctor. I jumped on blogger to register his name and was surprised to find out that the name philipraybrown (Philip Ray Brown) was already taken. Curious, I clicked on it and found this:
http://philipraybrown.blogspot.com/
It seems that 4 years ago, Lexi (little sister) interviewed my Dad for a school project. It was pretty concise history of my Dad. And it was so fun to read. He is a tad older. He is 72, not 73 as I was telling people - oops! When I called to wish him happy 73 - he asked why I was trying to add years to his life?
Since I missed Father's Day and his birthday (both within a few days of each other), I want to make a post about my Dad. Just share a little bit with you about him. I always loved my Dad but I didn't really appreciate him until I was older. He is a kind soul and the term "without guile" frequently comes to mind. I don't think that it occurs to him to do bad things. And his needs and wants are simple (a quality I wish I had). His favorite thing to eat is a japeleno burger form Whataburger! Like I said, his needs are very simple.
I am not the only person to see these qualities. My Mom's first impression of my Dad was that he was "so good." He takes after Grandma Brown as a natural storyteller and has a large supply of jokes. He has an amazing memory and I doubt if I have ever caught him without a book in his back pocket or his hands.
His most valuable possession is his testimony. His belief in his Savior is one of the guiding forces in his life and it was such a great example to his children. I remember him once telling me that he put the Savior first in his life, even over my Mom. When I first heard it, I was immature and in love with the idea of romance, so that was disappointing to hear. How unromantic. When I was older and wise enough to ask him to expand, he did so simply, "By putting the Savior first in my life, I am capable of loving your Mother more deeply than I ever would by myself." Wow. I can't tell you the impact that statement had on me and the qualities I sought after in a companion shifted to be more eternal, someone with a desire to do what is right. (Which I would like to say, I found :)) As I get older, I find myself seeking Dad's counsel more and more in my life, regretting I haven't used this valuable resource more.
In the end, I am more like my Mom. I am proud of that. She was a bright, energetic and fun woman. But I really wish I was more like my Dad, possessing all of the goodness that guarantees eternal blessings. I love you Dad!
There are other uses for blogs. My Dad has been going to a lot of Dr. appointments lately. And I have been calling up there almost every day. With 11 kids in the family, they almost need a calling service. One of my sisters suggested creating a private blog to keep the family updated. It would also be a way to update his medications, appointments and any news from the doctor. I jumped on blogger to register his name and was surprised to find out that the name philipraybrown (Philip Ray Brown) was already taken. Curious, I clicked on it and found this:
http://philipraybrown.blogspot.com/
It seems that 4 years ago, Lexi (little sister) interviewed my Dad for a school project. It was pretty concise history of my Dad. And it was so fun to read. He is a tad older. He is 72, not 73 as I was telling people - oops! When I called to wish him happy 73 - he asked why I was trying to add years to his life?
Dad in front of his favorite place. Whataburger. Have you ever seen a smile like that?
Since I missed Father's Day and his birthday (both within a few days of each other), I want to make a post about my Dad. Just share a little bit with you about him. I always loved my Dad but I didn't really appreciate him until I was older. He is a kind soul and the term "without guile" frequently comes to mind. I don't think that it occurs to him to do bad things. And his needs and wants are simple (a quality I wish I had). His favorite thing to eat is a japeleno burger form Whataburger! Like I said, his needs are very simple.
I am not the only person to see these qualities. My Mom's first impression of my Dad was that he was "so good." He takes after Grandma Brown as a natural storyteller and has a large supply of jokes. He has an amazing memory and I doubt if I have ever caught him without a book in his back pocket or his hands.
His most valuable possession is his testimony. His belief in his Savior is one of the guiding forces in his life and it was such a great example to his children. I remember him once telling me that he put the Savior first in his life, even over my Mom. When I first heard it, I was immature and in love with the idea of romance, so that was disappointing to hear. How unromantic. When I was older and wise enough to ask him to expand, he did so simply, "By putting the Savior first in my life, I am capable of loving your Mother more deeply than I ever would by myself." Wow. I can't tell you the impact that statement had on me and the qualities I sought after in a companion shifted to be more eternal, someone with a desire to do what is right. (Which I would like to say, I found :)) As I get older, I find myself seeking Dad's counsel more and more in my life, regretting I haven't used this valuable resource more.
In the end, I am more like my Mom. I am proud of that. She was a bright, energetic and fun woman. But I really wish I was more like my Dad, possessing all of the goodness that guarantees eternal blessings. I love you Dad!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Moving Forward But Not Moving On
I struggle with posting on my blog in general but this post was hard to make for so many different reasons. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. From the accident, the ensuing sorrow, to the planning the service - everything came in a steady stream and it culminated with a beautiful service. The service was truly beautiful, Jon, Stephanie and their bishop were the only speakers and seeing how they were the two people who knew Camille best, it was perfect. It was brief (just over 30 minutes) but I came away in awe of Jon and Stephanie. Their faith throughout this trial has been a huge example to all of us. As far as Camille is concerned, I have no doubt as to her place in heaven. In Stephanie's talk she said that, "Camille will watch over her sisters throughout their lives to make sure they return to live with her again." I believe that our loved ones that pass on before us are a huge part of our lives and Camille will be no exception.
Let's talk about the title. In the aftermath of the memorial service, we have all had to return to our lives. I didn't really want to leave. I couldn't live in Vegas forever (although that would be great) because I have a life in California. But getting back in the swing of things has been difficult for me, I can't even wrap my mind around how hard it is for Stephanie and Jon. I didn't want to return to everything with the attitude of moving on. Because I am not. There is still a little ache. Although Camille was so young and little, her absence is huge. And there will always be an absence, until she is reunited with her family in the eternities. So because I can't keep things the way they were, I have to move forward. Things are happening all around that force my life to move forward. So I am moving forward but not moving on. Not forgetting but remembering. Reminding myself that is okay to cry sometimes and to take things at my own speed.
I find that more often than not, I am grateful. Grateful for sisters, especially Buffy (seriously Buff - thank you!) for dropping everything in her life to ensure that Stephanie had Camille's baby book completed by the funeral. I am grateful to all of my sisters who watched Buffy's kids so she could work and those who worked with her (I have a LOT of sisters). I am grateful to the Harris sisters and all of the work they did to make the service beautiful. Grateful for the Harris and Waite families. I have felt so much closer to my Harris family throughout this ordeal. Grateful to my husband for teaching me about faith. Grateful to the example he is to me. Grateful that Stephanie so eloquently posts everyday on her blog. Grateful to the friends and family that have expressed their condolences and shared similar experiences of loss. And mostly I am grateful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is through Him that we are sealed together as a family and through His Atonement we will see Camille again.
Let's talk about the title. In the aftermath of the memorial service, we have all had to return to our lives. I didn't really want to leave. I couldn't live in Vegas forever (although that would be great) because I have a life in California. But getting back in the swing of things has been difficult for me, I can't even wrap my mind around how hard it is for Stephanie and Jon. I didn't want to return to everything with the attitude of moving on. Because I am not. There is still a little ache. Although Camille was so young and little, her absence is huge. And there will always be an absence, until she is reunited with her family in the eternities. So because I can't keep things the way they were, I have to move forward. Things are happening all around that force my life to move forward. So I am moving forward but not moving on. Not forgetting but remembering. Reminding myself that is okay to cry sometimes and to take things at my own speed.
I find that more often than not, I am grateful. Grateful for sisters, especially Buffy (seriously Buff - thank you!) for dropping everything in her life to ensure that Stephanie had Camille's baby book completed by the funeral. I am grateful to all of my sisters who watched Buffy's kids so she could work and those who worked with her (I have a LOT of sisters). I am grateful to the Harris sisters and all of the work they did to make the service beautiful. Grateful for the Harris and Waite families. I have felt so much closer to my Harris family throughout this ordeal. Grateful to my husband for teaching me about faith. Grateful to the example he is to me. Grateful that Stephanie so eloquently posts everyday on her blog. Grateful to the friends and family that have expressed their condolences and shared similar experiences of loss. And mostly I am grateful for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is through Him that we are sealed together as a family and through His Atonement we will see Camille again.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Sweet Camille
This is our sweet niece Camille Kathleen Waite. She drowned in a tragic accident on Friday afternoon. She was in a coma for 2 days.
After two days of prayers, priesthood blessings, and fasting on Camille's and her family's behalf, her parents made the difficult decision to turn off her respirator this afternoon after her body began to decline. Camille passed away peacefully in her parents arms.
We will miss our sweet Camille and her happy smile. We are grateful for our Savior Jesus Christ and the ability we have to be with our families forever.
Please include Stephanie and Jon and their little family in your prayers at this difficult time. If you would like to leave them a message of comfort, you can on the Waite family blog. They appreciate your words and support, even if you haven't had a chance to know their beautiful Camille.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Uncle Brent
When I think about Uncle Brent a few things come to mind - ASU sports, Easter breakfast, cowboy hats, cowboy boots, glasses and lots and lots of newspapers. He was and still is such a good man. My heart ached to find out that after being in the hospital for 7 weeks and countless complications, he passed away at the age of 66.
One of my favorite memories of Uncle Brent was when I was a freshman in college. He had taken a sabbatical to research for a book and had moved to D.C. for a year with Aunt Marilyn, Mandy and Bethany. I went to visit him with a few of my sisters. One night we were up late and by we, I mean - Mandy, Bethany, Misha and Nikki, all of the older people were asleep. At the time, we were in a very young and immature stage where we would make fun of wedding invitations. Okay - that hasn't stopped but at the time there was a particular invitation that had arrived at my parents house. I hadn't recognized the name but I had found the layout and pictures to be humorous. As I was describing the invitation, Mandy disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the very invitation I was describing!!!!! At this point we start screaming and laughing hysterically. At 2 o'clock in the morning. In a townhouse full of sleeping people.
That's when we heard the footsteps. They were the heavy footsteps of a Dad who had been pulled from sleep by a room full of giggling girls. We heard him coming down the stairs and I seriously fought the urge to run and hide like a 6 year old. WE WERE SO BUSTED. Uncle Brent appeared in a robe with his hair crazy messed up and his glasses on crooked. On another person it would have looked silly but Uncle Brent was not a person who looked foolish. He didn't have to holler to get his point across that we were being loud. He just reminded us that we were being loud and to quiet down. I can't remember what he said but it might be something my Dad often said, "What's the matter with you?"
Why do I love this story? Because he felt comfortable enough to discipline me like one of his kids. And because that is not the first time I was busted by Uncle Brent or my Dad. :)
I love him and his sweet family. I am grateful to have known him. I am grateful my husband had the chance to meet him and I am grateful he is no longer in pain. I am sure he is having a grand ole time with Grandma and Grandpa Brown and my Mom and I can't wait to see him again.
Uncle Brent, March 2008
Let me tell you a little bit about Uncle Brent. He was my Dad's closest brother. Brent and Phil (my Dad) were the two youngest children of Joseph and Elda Brown. They reminded me of two peas in a pod. We were lucky enough to live a few miles away from Uncle Brent and Aunt Marilyn and their 6 children. His youngest 3 daughters -Angela, Mandy and Bethany - are some of my closest cousins. It would be safe to say I practically lived at their home and I probably spent days of my life begging my mother to let me play with Mandy.
One of my favorite memories of Uncle Brent was when I was a freshman in college. He had taken a sabbatical to research for a book and had moved to D.C. for a year with Aunt Marilyn, Mandy and Bethany. I went to visit him with a few of my sisters. One night we were up late and by we, I mean - Mandy, Bethany, Misha and Nikki, all of the older people were asleep. At the time, we were in a very young and immature stage where we would make fun of wedding invitations. Okay - that hasn't stopped but at the time there was a particular invitation that had arrived at my parents house. I hadn't recognized the name but I had found the layout and pictures to be humorous. As I was describing the invitation, Mandy disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the very invitation I was describing!!!!! At this point we start screaming and laughing hysterically. At 2 o'clock in the morning. In a townhouse full of sleeping people.
That's when we heard the footsteps. They were the heavy footsteps of a Dad who had been pulled from sleep by a room full of giggling girls. We heard him coming down the stairs and I seriously fought the urge to run and hide like a 6 year old. WE WERE SO BUSTED. Uncle Brent appeared in a robe with his hair crazy messed up and his glasses on crooked. On another person it would have looked silly but Uncle Brent was not a person who looked foolish. He didn't have to holler to get his point across that we were being loud. He just reminded us that we were being loud and to quiet down. I can't remember what he said but it might be something my Dad often said, "What's the matter with you?"
Why do I love this story? Because he felt comfortable enough to discipline me like one of his kids. And because that is not the first time I was busted by Uncle Brent or my Dad. :)
I love him and his sweet family. I am grateful to have known him. I am grateful my husband had the chance to meet him and I am grateful he is no longer in pain. I am sure he is having a grand ole time with Grandma and Grandpa Brown and my Mom and I can't wait to see him again.
Brown Boys - my Dad, brother Johnny, cousin Morgan and Uncle Brent
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Moms
This most recent Mother's Day was one of the more pleasant ones recently in my memory. We spent it with Darren's Mom and it was wonderful to see him enjoying her company. I will upload pictures soon from the weekend. It was the first (and probably last) time I ever witnessed Darren and Stephen switching places on their parents. And I can't even describe the AWESOME-ness of the moment. That is how funny it was, I got to make up a word for it.
But I digress. I am writing this post because I wanted to share some thoughts about Mothers. It is a topic I enjoy. Because although Mother's Day can be a bummer, I believe that for 23 years of my life, I had it pretty good. So I am going to share a story which is random and sweet and is one of my favorite memories of my Mom, since it happened right before she passed.
Let me give you some background. Out of my parents, my Mom was the mechanically inclined person. She was capable of changing oil, popping a clutch, changing tires, and knew all kinds of crazy things about belts and I have seen her hotwire a car. She talked shop with mechanics. She was THAT Mom. Not to say my Dad was a slouch by any stretch but it was typically my Mom that would ask her children about the well being of their vehicles and tires. She was very big on getting tires rotated and checked.
At this particular time in my life I had an '82 VW Jetta. I was fortunate enough to purchase this car for $100 from my brother Jeremy and his wife Kimmi. And it was a great car. It has its little quirks but it worked and served my needs in college. At this particular time, I got a flat tire. Not just a flat tire but more of a tire implosion (I think the tires were from 1982). Luckily, I knew how to change a tire (my Momma taught me right) so I put on the spare tire. Since it wasn't a donut tire, I had no intention of getting it truly replaced. This was a topic that worried my Mom greatly when she called me. One of the questions she typically asked during the conversation was, "Did you get a new spare tire? You should always have a spare tire in your trunk." To which I would breezily reply, "Yeah yeah, I am going to get one soon."
Around Thanksgiving, I called my Mom (which I must admit, I did quite often) and she answered the phone crying. When I asked what happened, she told me that she had been very stressed. She was planning Thanksgiving in Arizona for all of her Bluth cousins and wanted to play games and have some sort of a program. Well she had talked to a few family members who shot down all of her ideas. And she was stressed and discouraged and felt bad. At this point, she sensed my first instinct to call these people and let them know exactly how I felt about ANYONE making my Mom cry, and she made me promise that I would not call them. I was sad because I didn't think I could made it to Thanksgiving to help her so I did the next best thing I could. I called my brother Tim. I told him a short story about what happened and told him he needed to be at Mom's disposal for Thanksgiving. (She didn't say I couldn't tell other people :)) Tim promptly called Mom and told her that it would be a great time and he was there to help with whatever she wanted to do.
These events happened within the course of an hour. What do they have to do with a tire? I promise I will get there. On my way to work Mom calls.
Me: Hi Mom
Mom: Hi Nikki-gal - Tim just called me. You didn't happen to tell him what happened did you?
Me: I only promised not to call those people, I didn't promise I wouldn't call anyone else.
Mom: Thank you, it was a huge relief to get that call. That really helped.
Me: No problem. It will be a great weekend.
Mom: Where are you headed to right now?
Me: Work.
Mom: Did you get your spare tire?
Me: Ummm, yeah, I will get that when I get home. Huge priority.
Mom: Long lecture about how dangerous it is to drive without a spare.
I got off the phone as fast as I could and went into work. When I came out almost 6 hours later, I was surprised to find a brand new tire on my back seat. No note, just the tire. I never locked my car because who steals an '82 Jetta? If it ran out of gas, it would be totaled. But the tire was there. It came from Mom because she was the only person who cared. Which means my Mom jumped in her car, went and bought the tire. Since she is a car person, she knew which tire to purchase. Then she drove 45 minutes from Salt Lake City to Orem to put the tire on my back seat to show her love for me. She didn't call me, or come into my work. She just drove home. Some Moms make quilts and some Moms write eloquent notes to show their love but I am glad I had a Mom who simply bought a tire. And to me that's love.
As a little sidenote there was a great article in the New York Times by Thomas Friedman (thanks Corey). His mother recently passed and he paid tribute to her. At the end he wrote, Call your mother, I sure wish I could call mine. I couldn't agree with him more.
Dad and Mom, Christmas 2000
But I digress. I am writing this post because I wanted to share some thoughts about Mothers. It is a topic I enjoy. Because although Mother's Day can be a bummer, I believe that for 23 years of my life, I had it pretty good. So I am going to share a story which is random and sweet and is one of my favorite memories of my Mom, since it happened right before she passed.
Let me give you some background. Out of my parents, my Mom was the mechanically inclined person. She was capable of changing oil, popping a clutch, changing tires, and knew all kinds of crazy things about belts and I have seen her hotwire a car. She talked shop with mechanics. She was THAT Mom. Not to say my Dad was a slouch by any stretch but it was typically my Mom that would ask her children about the well being of their vehicles and tires. She was very big on getting tires rotated and checked.
At this particular time in my life I had an '82 VW Jetta. I was fortunate enough to purchase this car for $100 from my brother Jeremy and his wife Kimmi. And it was a great car. It has its little quirks but it worked and served my needs in college. At this particular time, I got a flat tire. Not just a flat tire but more of a tire implosion (I think the tires were from 1982). Luckily, I knew how to change a tire (my Momma taught me right) so I put on the spare tire. Since it wasn't a donut tire, I had no intention of getting it truly replaced. This was a topic that worried my Mom greatly when she called me. One of the questions she typically asked during the conversation was, "Did you get a new spare tire? You should always have a spare tire in your trunk." To which I would breezily reply, "Yeah yeah, I am going to get one soon."
Around Thanksgiving, I called my Mom (which I must admit, I did quite often) and she answered the phone crying. When I asked what happened, she told me that she had been very stressed. She was planning Thanksgiving in Arizona for all of her Bluth cousins and wanted to play games and have some sort of a program. Well she had talked to a few family members who shot down all of her ideas. And she was stressed and discouraged and felt bad. At this point, she sensed my first instinct to call these people and let them know exactly how I felt about ANYONE making my Mom cry, and she made me promise that I would not call them. I was sad because I didn't think I could made it to Thanksgiving to help her so I did the next best thing I could. I called my brother Tim. I told him a short story about what happened and told him he needed to be at Mom's disposal for Thanksgiving. (She didn't say I couldn't tell other people :)) Tim promptly called Mom and told her that it would be a great time and he was there to help with whatever she wanted to do.
These events happened within the course of an hour. What do they have to do with a tire? I promise I will get there. On my way to work Mom calls.
Me: Hi Mom
Mom: Hi Nikki-gal - Tim just called me. You didn't happen to tell him what happened did you?
Me: I only promised not to call those people, I didn't promise I wouldn't call anyone else.
Mom: Thank you, it was a huge relief to get that call. That really helped.
Me: No problem. It will be a great weekend.
Mom: Where are you headed to right now?
Me: Work.
Mom: Did you get your spare tire?
Me: Ummm, yeah, I will get that when I get home. Huge priority.
Mom: Long lecture about how dangerous it is to drive without a spare.
I got off the phone as fast as I could and went into work. When I came out almost 6 hours later, I was surprised to find a brand new tire on my back seat. No note, just the tire. I never locked my car because who steals an '82 Jetta? If it ran out of gas, it would be totaled. But the tire was there. It came from Mom because she was the only person who cared. Which means my Mom jumped in her car, went and bought the tire. Since she is a car person, she knew which tire to purchase. Then she drove 45 minutes from Salt Lake City to Orem to put the tire on my back seat to show her love for me. She didn't call me, or come into my work. She just drove home. Some Moms make quilts and some Moms write eloquent notes to show their love but I am glad I had a Mom who simply bought a tire. And to me that's love.
As a little sidenote there was a great article in the New York Times by Thomas Friedman (thanks Corey). His mother recently passed and he paid tribute to her. At the end he wrote, Call your mother, I sure wish I could call mine. I couldn't agree with him more.
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