Tell Me a Story...

Liz reading to a gaggle of grandkids during the 2010 Christmas festivities

A story of a grandma. A mother. A friend. A sister. A cancer fighter. A party planner.

You know her. And you haven't heard her story in a while. That's because she's had an amazing year. A year that is worth documenting. A year filled with family, and friends, and Disneyland, and Hawaii. A year's worth of activities and a lifetime worth of memories. Oh...do I have some stories to tell. And I will tell them. But not today.

Because today is filled with another tale. A tale of a fight. And you need to know how those winds of war are blowing. And Liz needs to know that we all still march behind her.

After an incredible year, Liz has hit a rough patch. She has valiantly endured multiple rounds of various chemotherapies. The cancer retreated...long enough to give her some valuable time doing the things she loves (again...more on that later...). But it's a formidable foe and she again finds herself in the trenches.

This week has been a real battle. Liz has made several recent trips to the ER to mitigate complications of a compromised liver. The most recent scans showed small but ever present tumors in her liver and now excess fluid is building in her abdomen. The resulting side effects are difficult to bear and make everyday activities daunting. Medications and the care of dedicated professionals are moderately helpful....but at its core, this is a solitary war.

Liz, as you probably guessed, is enduring like the warrior she is. Mark is at her side every step of the way like the the attentive partner he is. The family has rallied like the bunch of crazy people we are.

The next step is to definitively determine the cause of all the accumulating fluid. That will hopefully happen later this week. Hospice is an option in the near future to relieve the worst of the symptoms and allow her to remain at home so we all can sit by her side. Helping out. Hanging out. And, of course, telling stories...

Should you wish to contact Liz with your story, notes to her email at lizardhatch@gmail.com are frequently checked and you may send cards and letters to the home address at 2323 Stonebridge Rd. Livermore CA 94550. You can also leave your story here in the comment section....

Liz and Chloe with Santa on the Polar Express, Christmas 2010

And check back here for more stories.

Putting the Pieces Together. . .

Mark, Liz, Aiden, random Lego-Boy, and Carter at Legoland last weekend.

There are lots of things to build at Legoland. Lots of pieces that must fall into place to make that perfect creation...whatever that may be. And if you are a Lego-Obsessed little boy it is your Mecca.

If those little boys are your grandkids and you are Liz Hatch, you follow them on their religious trek to the mother-ship. Who cares if you have cancer?

Liz is doing really great! Sometimes during on "off-week" of chemo, she almost feels like herself. Almost. She still gets more tired than normal, has some swelling in her face and feet from all the steroids, and has found herself weirdly craving glass after glass of milk, but none of that has stopped her from doing things that are important to her.

Last week that meant meeting Erin and her crazy brood of block-building maniacs at Legoland in San Diego. They had a blast. On the drive back, Liz even got to see her Aunt Beth (her father's sister) and Uncle Don and catch up on the extended family.

She is about to enter her last round of chemo before they do more scans to see how well she is doing. What happens from there is still a bit of a mystery and will depend on what they find. But the pieces are fitting together now. The treatment, the care-providers, the friends, the chemo-buddies, the family, the prayers, have all built her up....like one giant, amazing Lego-Creation. And the grandkids think that is pretty cool.

The Lizinator

Erin and Baby Chloe ready for a day out in Livermore, April 2010

{Recent Text Messages Between Erin and Paige}

Paige: R U still having fun there in Livermore?
Erin: Exhausted. Mom is back to her old ways.
Paige: That's pathetic that you can't even keep up with Cancer-Liz.
Erin: I know! She's not human. I think she is a robot.
Paige: Like the Lizinator! Good luck. . .


Erin and her kids have been in Livermore for the whole week. You might think that their Spring Break would be relaxing....what with Liz needing to take it a tad easier these days. You'd be wrong. They've hit the zoo, the Lego Store (aka: Carter's Mother-Ship), the movies, camping at Del Valle, lunch with many a friend and family member, play-dates with cousins, hair appointments...and oh, and did we mention Chemo? Yes, Chemo.

Liz may be battling the nastiest disease out there, but you wouldn't know it by the way she is flitting about town with dozens of grandkids in tow. She's unstoppable. A bit like a super-hero. Look for "The Lizinator" in theaters this summer. Should be a blockbuster.

Do You See What I See?

Liz's granddaughter, Quinlan, sports some spectacles for a closer look.

So Liz got some amazing scan results with those unmistakable words "significant improvement" and we all got more than a little excited. But the moment of truth came today as she met with her doctor for the official interpretation of how those tumors look.

Would he see what we saw? What would he say it all means? Do we still have reason to be optimistic?

The answer came as clear as those glasses on Q's face:

She could not have hoped for better scan results. That's what he said. That's what he saw. That's what we thought. That's reason to be grateful.

{So what else can we see? What else is on the horizon?}

Chemotherapy continued today but it's with new resolve that Liz moves forward.

We see some bright days ahead. Can you see it too??

Something Significant. . .

Liz Catches Up on Some Thank You Notes March, 2010

The scan results are back and though they are written in Medical-ese and thus their true meaning is difficult to decipher, the phrase "significant improvement" was unmistakable, and stood out like a NEON sign, you know, the kind you can't miss when it says something wonderful like "FRESH DOUGHNUTS" or "SHOE SALE."

Liz meets with her doctor on Tuesday to translate what this all really means. But we are encouraged at the thought that the chemotherapy seems to be having a positive effect. It makes Liz feel like she can keep up this crazy treatment if the results are "significant improvement."

We'll keep you posted on the significant developments!

In The Hunt. . .

Liz's granddaughters, Caris and Kelby, in the hunt for the elusive Easter Egg

We've been hunting for a lot of things lately. That sneaky other patent leather shoe. The beloved blankie (also known as "Bubble Gum" at our house) that seems to have grown some legs and sauntered away. Our wee dog who enjoys the occasional solitary jaunt in the neighborhood. Eggs....because it totally makes sense that a bunny comes and hides them to celebrate Easter. What is with that weird tradition? Oh, and of course, our sanity...we are always looking for that.

And perhaps you've been hunting for a Liz update. Hunt no more!

Liz has been enduring weeks of Chemotherapy now and she's tolerating it amazingly well! She is surrounded by people who have lined up to be her Chemo-Buddy and the regimen of once-a-week treatment for two consecutive weeks followed by a third week off has continued. She sits and chats for hours while the treatment pours into her body. She is religious about taking her anti-naseau medications and they are working! She has found that she gets really fatigued five days after her treatment so she is learning to takes naps. That's been an adjustment.

She has lost some hair...but she started with so much that she now just has enough for only herself (instead of having enough to share with you and three of your closest friends). Her face has gotten a tad puffy but when people run into her as she is out and about, they tell her she looks amazing. She thinks they are really just amazed that she is standing upright...people with cancer are just not supposed to do the things she is doing.

Some days she feels so good she wonders if all this crazy treatment is really working. We should get an indication of that soon. This Thursday she goes in for her first body scan since the chemo started. That should give us an idea as to whether the tumors are being contained, whether they are shrinking, whether they are running scared.

So right now, we are in the hunt for some good news! Won't you join us?

The Most. . .

On a recent visit to Grandma Liz, Julia left this fantastic note.
She's got the most hope.

But Liz had the most strength this week as she went back to Chemo for round two, week two. It went off without a hitch. Five long hours of chemicals dripped into her but she had the most patience. She's feeling good...good enough to take a road trip to Utah this week for a wedding and little visit with family and friends. That should be the most fun.

We're all hoping this treatment is the most effective thing possible. Julia may have the most hope but the rest of us are pretty close...