He's Awake!

Pete is in a recovery room, waiting to be transferred to the ICU.  He is pretty groggy and spaced out from the meds, but he is awake and talking.  He's even been cracking jokes and giving the nurses a hard time, so I know he's on the fast track to recovery.  :)

Totally rocking the Bret Michaels-esque headwrap!

I received a brief update from the doctor immediately following surgery.  He said that Pete's operation went as expected -- the tumor appears to be low grade, and they removed it.  Lots of people want to know how much of the tumor was removed, what was left, what type of tumor it was, etc.  At this point,  I don't know.  The doctor should come speak with us later on, but we won't have answers to a lot of the big questions until  the final pathology report is returned in 7-10 days.  Trust me, when we know, you'll know.

For the next few days we'll be hanging out at the hospital with not much to do, so I'm sure a blog update or two will follow.  I'd like to send out a big thank you again to everyone who has prayed, called, visited, and sent us good wishes.  We really appreciate everything you all have done for us!  Stay tuned as the Francis Craniotomy Saga continues!

Ain't No Party Like a Pre-Op Party, 'Cause a Pre-Op Party Don't Stop!

Well, here we are, friends.  The big day has arrived!  Peter and I arrived at Vanderbilt around 8:30 this morning, and they finally took him to surgery around 12:00.  I spoke with the nurse a few minutes ago and she said that they had just made the incision and were ready to get started.  Prayers and happy thoughts, please!  :)

Here are some photos of our experiences so far!

In the waiting area at Vanderbilt.  Let's get this party started!

Peter Francis, your table is now available.

Back in the Pre-Op holding room, where we had some pretty awesome nurses.  They were egging us on and taking pictures.  They even gave me a cool surgery hat to match Pete!

What's sexier than a brain tumor?  Hospital stockings!

All drugged up on happy juice and ready to head off with anesthesia.  Good luck, Pete!

It will be several more hours before I have another update, but I'll post to the blog as soon as I can.  Thank you everyone for all the love and prayers.  You're the best!

Bragging Rights!

Disclaimer:  This is Pete, not Jessica, and, this entry is not of her bragging about how amazing she is. That's my job!!

So, I’m not sure exactly what to say or where to begin, however, I do need to say a few things. My family and I have been inundated with words of encouragement, prayer, generous gestures, and endless offers of support. Without you, friends, family, and strangers alike, we wouldn’t have the laughter and the smiles that gets us through the day, which, in turn, is given back to you... from what I hear. ;)

This entry, however, is not for you; that will come at a later time. I DO need to take this time to show my appreciation for my wife, Jessica. I honestly do not know where to start, how to say thank you, or even how to show her how grateful I am that she hasn’t left me yet.  I’m counting the days though. I think she is banking that the surgery isn't going to be a success and she will not have to worry about how she is going to leave me. I love you girl!! J

All jokes aside though, I really do not have the slightest idea on how to say thank you, enough, for all that she has done. I am used to picking up a Diet Coke for her at the gas station, driving by Gigi’s Cupcakes on my way home from work, or stopping in at Buckhead’s to grab a cup of coffee for her. Since having my seizure, I am no longer legally allowed to drive, and I cannot do any of that. So, I feel as if my hands are tied behind my back. Now, my attempt to show my gratitude is trying to help around the house and that, my friend, is no easy task. I have yet been unable to complete a task that has been “handed off” to me. A big props to all those who can actually manage your children and the home, all the while, still having the ability to look AMAZING at the end of the day (For those grammar freaks that are reading this, Word considers the previous sentence a fragment, and for that, I must apologize.).

Jessica has literally taken it upon herself to spoil me rotten, and that is no exaggeration. Let's forget for a moment the fact that I’m not allowed behind the wheel, she takes me where I need to go, asks if there is anything I need when she goes out, and simply, but most importantly, makes me feel special. I never, in a million years, thought we would be living this reality that we find ourselves in. However, I can honestly say that she has made the last 23 days the best of my life. There are a few exceptions, but, for the most part, I speak the gospel truth. I love her with all of my heart.

Thank you to the most wonderful, beautiful, talented, funny, competitive, silly, intelligent, quick witted, hard working, and sexiest person I know. Yeah, I know, probably shouldn’t have added that last one in there. However, if you’re going to brag on someone, you have to go all out, right?

I ♥ You!!

Two final thoughts as I bring this to a close:

·         For those at work reading this, please have sympathy as I join you guys back in reality in a couple of months. Returning to work from an extended “vacation” is always tough – more so when your wife spoils you rotten.

·         Jessica doesn’t have a clue that I have done this, so, if she finds out about this entry before Tuesday, I may never make it to Vandy.

Luckiest guy alive!

Good Times At Vandy -- Let's Hope They Do Medicine Better Than They Do Football!

Lately, we have been enjoying the heck out of our medical insurance.  Sure, the circumstances are undesirable, but it's good to know all those monthly premiums are good for something.  I decided to get my annual physical out of the way this week, before Pete becomes completely incapacitated.  The nurse practitioner began by asking me all the usual questions about my home life, whether or not I work, and then asked me to rate my stress level.  HA!  I proceeded to share the details of the last 3 weeks with her, hoping to explain why my stress level was a 13 out of 10. She asked about the type of tumor Pete had, and I told her the doctors were unsure at this point, but felt fairly confident it was an astrocytoma or oligodendroglioma.  Her response was "Well, at least it's not a type of glioma.  Those things are REALLY BAD NEWS!" Mmm-hmmm. Oligo...dendro...GLIOMA.  Thanks for the encouragement, ma'am!  Have you ever considered a career in motivational speaking?

But enough about me, let's move on to Pete.  Today was his pre-op appointment at Vanderbilt -- a 6 hour fun-filled day of labs, needles, X-rays, MRI's, and other shenanigans.  A good time was had by all.  Actually, all sarcasm aside, we did manage to have a pretty good time.  Most of the nurses were a lot of fun, and seemed to appreciate that we made light of our circumstances.  And now, for your viewing pleasure, a photographic play-by-play of our day.

8:00 am -- getting ready to face Nashville traffic with Pete as my backseat driver.  Phrases such as "You can begin braking" and "You'll want to start merging" were used quite frequently.

Waiting for our surgery consult.  I'd like to say the crazy faces were a result of sitting in the waiting room for hours on end, but I think we'd only been there about 5 minutes.   

My favorite person of the whole day, Ms. Ruth!  She gave Pete his EKG, and proceeded to flatter him with all sorts of compliments about his large biceps and rippling abs. 

Getting blood drawn for labs.  He was such a brave boy.

Check out the cool shirt!

Woohoo, everyone's favorite part!  Phrases such as "I'm going to need a bigger cup" and "Come on Pete, show 'em how it's done!" may or may not have been used.

Worn out at the end of a very long day, and still waiting for the MRI.  

We also saw an unusual man roaming the halls of the hospital, talking to himself and wearing what I'm pretty sure were boxer briefs.  There's no way in Hades those things could be considered shorts.  Picture not included.

And that, friends, is the sum of our entertaining day at Vanderbilt Hospital.  Our next visit will include hospital gowns, catheters and new haircuts.  I know you're as excited as we are!  Stay tuned!

T-Shirts Are Here!

Several people have expressed an interest in buying a "Brain Tumors Are Sexy" t-shirt.  Well, now you can! We were referred to an awesome little site called Skreened.com that lets you create your own t-shirts and set up an online shop.  We have a few different designs to choose from, and we will probably create more in the future.  If you'd like to buy one, you can follow the link titled "Buy a T-Shirt" at the top of this page.  And now for the disclaimer:  We get $3 commission per shirt sold, and all profits will be going towards Pete's medical bills.  We don't want anyone to feel ripped off, so if you'd like to save $3, or if you'd prefer a different design, you are more than welcome to create one on Skreened.com.  We'll still think you're pretty awesome for wearing a "Brain Tumors Are Sexy" t-shirt, regardless of how you got it.  :)  We've already ordered ours and they should be here tomorrow.  Excited!!!

Francis, party of 20, your table is now available.

There is no greater cause for family togetherness than a terminal illness.  And it’s a well-known fact that nothing says “family togetherness” like hamburgers, hot dogs, and hashbrown casserole.  So, of course, Peter was completely justified in inviting 20+ family members over to our 1100 square foot house for an impromptu family barbeque with only a few hours’ notice.  At least, that’s what he keeps telling me.

I’ve made a concerted effort lately to comply with Pete’s hair-brained notions.  Part of this is due to my innate need to take care of him, and part of it is simply due to the fact that nobody wants to say “no” to a guy with a brain tumor.  Pete knows this, and he plays it well.

So there we were on Saturday afternoon, speeding through Kroger like coke addicts on a munchie binge, filling our cart with massive amounts of food and practically running down small children in the process.  It was great.  Somehow we managed to pull together a Francis Family Funtime Extravaganza in a matter of hours, and it was well worth the effort.

For the first time in I can’t remember how long, Peter’s entire family (minus Becky, you were missed!) was together.  We did a lot of catching up, shared a lot of old stories, laughed until we were in tears, and had a sweet time of prayer for Peter.    It was that night that Pete and I sat down and recounted all the blessings we’ve received since his diagnosis.  I know this probably sounds like an ironic statement to most people.  Cancer is not a blessing.  Losing your spouse is not a blessing.  Not being there to see your children grow up, get married, and have children of their own is not a blessing.  But the love shown to us by others has been completely overwhelming.  The support and words of encouragement from complete strangers has blown us away.  The renewed bonds among family members have exceeded our expectations.  And the peace we’ve experienced in the midst of this chaos is something that can only come from God.  In a word, we’ve been “blessed”. 

So, while we trudge through this mess and face obstacles we never thought we could handle, we are constantly reminded that we are loved and well cared for.  Though life has taken turns we never expected, we know that this is always the way it was supposed to be.  Whether Peter is healed, cured, or succumbs to this illness, we know we are in good hands.  And that is truly a blessing.

Maybe Tomorrow Will Be Better...

I'll just say it.  Today was a bad day.  I mean a really, really bad day.  A day where emotions ran high and patience ran low.  A day filled with an abundance of douchebaggery and ugly crying.

A lot of people have told us that we're still trying to process everything that's happened over the last two weeks.  I don't think that's it.  By the time we left the hospital after Pete's seizure, I think we'd both come to grips with the fact that he has cancer and that there's no cure for it.  But every now and then, we're faced with how much that really sucks, and we have days like this.

And yet, despite the fact that we'd like to high-five one another in the face right now, we're both very much aware that life, in any circumstance or capacity, is precious.  I know there will likely come a time when I'll look back on today and wish I had it to live all over again.  Not because I'd do it differently or because I have regrets, but because Pete is here, and that is pretty darn special.

Post from Pete

My family and I have been overwhelmed with the amount of support offered to us by family, friends, and strangers alike.  Although I do not have the same writing ability and creativity as my wife, we do, however, share the same spirit of gratitude and humbleness for those who have reached out to us in any and every way possible.  We have been witnesses to God’s amazing grace and love during the past two weeks.  The sheer awesomeness of those who have wrapped their arms around our family has truly blown us away.  I do not know where to begin or what to say to all those who have stepped up during our time of need but your outreach has surely taught us what the important things in life really are.  And although this is just the beginning of a long road ahead of us, the amount of love, concern and compassion we have received during the first days of our new reality is more than enough to carry us through the long journey that lies ahead. A million times over, thank you and a high five to all who have shown us love. 

Surgery, Meals, and Copping Feels

Alright, folks.  Pete has given me the a-ok to post his surgery date for the world to see.  He will be having surgery at Vanderbilt on July 31st at 11:00am.  I know some people wanted to know a specific date and time so they could pray, while others have expressed an interest in being at the hospital during surgery.  It's really up to you.  Just please understand that if you do come to the hospital during that time, we cannot make any guarantees about actually seeing Peter.  He will be in surgery prep early that morning, and after surgery he will be in the ICU.  Visitation will be limited, and depending on how he feels, Pete may or may not be up for visitors.  If you would like to stop by, we suggest that you call or text first to see if it's a good time.  And now for the disclaimer:  The first neurosurgeon we spoke with warned that brain surgery can sometimes have some unfortunate side effects, such as changes in personality, loss of cognitive skills, and loss of inhibitions.  In short, he said that sometimes brain surgery patients will grope nurses or make inappropriate advances toward other people.  So, if you do visit, come prepared to be violated, and don't expect Pete to buy you a drink first.  :)

Many people have asked about making a meal for us during the next several weeks.  Well, Pete's incredible boss at work has set up a meal train. I'll be posting the link on my Facebook page if anyone wants to sign up.  You will have to create a free membership first, but after doing so you can view our calendar for openings and sign up for a day that fits your schedule.  

Thanks everyone for thinking of us and keeping us in your prayers!  Not a day has passed by that we haven't felt blessed in some way, shape or form.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Well, the good news is that we met with an incredible Neurosurgeon today.  He was extremely thorough in explaining the MRI, the surgical procedure, and what to expect during the weeks of recovery.  We felt extremely comfortable with him and his staff, and we have decided to move forward with surgery in a few weeks.

The bad news is that the diagnosis is essentially the same.  He believes that the tumor is either a low-grade astrocytoma (the same diagnosis as before), or a low grade oligodendroglioma (try saying that 10 times fast).  We won't be sure of the actual type of tumor until surgery when a biopsy is performed.  At that point, our neurosurgeon will be able to provide us with a treatment plan and prognosis.  At this point, he was reluctant to make any assertions about life expectancy.  However, he did agree that our previous doctor's estimate of 10-15 years was fair.

There really isn't an "ugly" part, but I feel the need to stay true to this entry title, so I'll just tell you something gross.  Our surgeon has agreed to entertain Pete's morbid curiosity by taking some before/after brain pictures during surgery.  I don't plan on posting them on here because, well, I don't plan on looking at them.  If you want to see them, ask Pete.  He'll probably carry them around in his wallet, or put them on his laptop background.

Now that we've gotten all that out of the way, I need to brag on some people.  Peter's co-workers have really stepped up to the plate this past week and taken care of so many things we didn't even realize we would need.  To those of you that are reading this, we are so humbled by your generosity and willingness to help.  We don't even know how to begin showing our gratitude, but I promise you, we are sure going to try!  Peter has been truly blessed with some amazing co-workers and for that, we are truly grateful.

To everyone who has been praying for us, thank you!  We have been feeling the effects of your prayers all around us, and have truly experienced a "peace that passes all understanding".  You have encouraged us, lifted us up, and reminded us we are not alone.  I wish I could give all of you a well-deserved high five!

And last but most definitely not least, a big fat thank you to our sweet friend Melanie, who is seriously the best kind of friend anyone could ask for.  She has made herself available at the drop of a hat to care for and love on our kiddos while we're out kicking some cancer butt.  We are very blessed to call her our friend!

Those are all the updates I have for now.  We go in for pre-op testing sometime next week, so you can look forward to a play-by-play in the upcoming days (I'm sure we'll find some way to make it entertaining).  Oh!  And according to Tennessee state law, Peter isn't allowed to drive for 6 months, so I'm his official chauffeur until further notice.  Keep your eyes peeled for a blog entry where Pete teaches me the finer points of driving technique.  It's gonna be a good one!

The Saturday that changed everything.

The first question everyone asks when we tell them Peter has a brain tumor is "How did you find out?"  I've told this story about 15 times already and I'm a little weary of repeating it, so one last time, here you go.  Pete and I have been working on fixing up the house lately.  We had been painting bathrooms and were getting ready to start painting the kitchen when we decided to take a short nap.  Within just a few minutes of lying down, Peter had a seizure.  He'd never had a seizure before, so of course I went into an all-out panic (just an FYI, touch screen phones are not panic-friendly).  I finally managed to call 911 and the police arrived within 5 minutes (much faster than the 25 minutes it took them to arrive when we were robbed.  Woohoo, Columbia Police Department!  You really CAN do it!).  As if our house wasn't small enough already, we had moved the contents of our bathrooms, closets and kitchen into the living room in order to paint, so I had to clear a path into the bedroom while we waited for the paramedics to arrive.  They took Pete via ambulance to Maury Regional Hospital where he underwent a CT scan and MRI.  The MRI showed that Pete had a brain tumor, but it was still several more hours before we were able to meet with a Neurologist who could shed some light on the situation.  He explained that certain tumors have very specific characteristics, and based on what he saw in the MRI, he felt fairly certain that this was a low-grade astrocytoma (go ahead and get your Google on).  This particular type of tumor does not have definite borders and actually has microscopic tentacles that spread into the brain.  This makes entire removal during surgery extremely difficult, if not impossible.  In short, they will be able to remove most of the tumor, but whatever is left will most likely grow back in a more aggressive form.  Based on this information, the Neurologist estimated that with a successful surgery, Peter could live another 10-15 years.  In addition to this news, he added that the tumor is located in the left hemisphere in the area that controls language and comprehension.  There is a possibility that surgery could compromise this part of the brain, which would mean that Peter could no longer continue in his current line of work.  Needless to say, at this point we were completely blown away and having difficulty processing this information.  We spent the next 24 hours crying, trying to adjust to our new reality, and just feeling numb.  

It has been almost a week since Peter's diagnosis.  In some ways, things are still the same and in some ways they are very different.  For starters, he is not allowed to work or drive (I still argue that Peter driving during a seizure would still be safer than my driving at any given time).  We have had some good days (today) and some really bad days (yesterday).  Overall we are just trying to adjust to life with cancer and accepting the fact that our life prior to last Saturday no longer exists.  We are now looking at surgery, medications, possible chemo and radiation, check-ups and MRI's.  We need to look into the details of our will and life insurance, among other things we never thought we'd have to do at this age.  

After hearing the story of how this all came to be, the next question everyone asks is "How are you doing?" or "What can I do for you?"  Well, to be honest, we're not doing great but we're doing ok.  Ryan underwent 3 heart surgeries before the age of 5, so we're at least somewhat experienced in this area.  We don't relish the opportunity to do this again, but we feel able to switch back into that mode and handle this a second time. Family and friends have surrounded us this past week to make us feel loved and cared for.  We've had multiple offers to cover childcare, meals, and household tasks.  

Overall, if you want to help us, there are several things you can do:

Pray for us -- We're big believers in miracles and we've seen them before.  

Let us know you're thinking of us -- Seriously, all the texts, phone calls and Facebook messages have made us feel like the cool kids in school, which is actually kind of the opposite of what we really were.  ;)

Make us laugh -- Cancer sucks, but laughter helps.  We've done our best to make light of the situation whenever possible.  Don't be afraid of offending us -- if there's an inappropriate cancer joke, we've probably already made it.

Don't treat us any differently than you normally would -- Pete doesn't feel sick and I'm not moping around.  We appreciate the sympathy, but please don't feel sorry for us.  

Trust us to make the decisions we think are best -- We've already had several people call us with suggestions, advice, names of doctors, diets we should try, questions we should ask, etc.  While we certainly appreciate everyone's concern, please understand that with cancer, every case is different.  The decisions we make with our doctor are based on the specific details of Peter's case.  Nobody wants to beat this more than we do, so please trust that every decision is made with a great deal of thought and consideration.

All in all, we'd like to thank everyone who has been there for us this past week.  We have truly been overwhelmed by your love and support!  I will do my best to keep this blog updated in between doctor appointments, schoolwork and taking care of the family.  We go for a second opinion at Vanderbilt tomorrow, so I hope to have some news for you then.

And here you have it!  Proof that Peter not only has a tumor, but also a brain!  Which is more shocking?  You decide.  (What did I tell you about the jokes?!)