The View From Up Here...

Liz was always a chocolate-lover, a party-animal, and a marathon-conversationalist....but who knew she was also an adrenaline-junkie? During a summer trip to Hawaii with Mark and her good friends, the Neuenswanders, Liz strapped herself in, channeled her inner dare-devil, and went for the ride of her life as she zip-lined over the amazing island. It was beautiful. The view was stunning. And that Cancer-thing just didn't matter. The world looks different from above. Sharper. Greener. Bluer. More Peaceful.

And on Monday March 7, 2011, Liz's view changed again. While in the arms of her children, Liz moved on to a sharper, greener, bluer, more peaceful place. We feel her loss...but her influence is still all around us. {In fact, I can hear her editing this post as I type it.} People who love life the way Liz did never really leave us. People who love people the way Liz did are rare. We are better because we knew her. We are stronger because she loved us. We are buoyed by the fact that she would want us to buck up and move forward (trust me on this, I heard it many 'a time growing up). She would urge us to enjoy the view.

She would also want a party. So we are going to accommodate that (...though exactly who will plan it with Liz gone has been a source of much consternation...we'll do our best!). Join us to celebrate her life:

SATURDAY MARCH 12, 2011

NOON

THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS

1501 HILLCREST AVE.

LIVERMORE, CA

Luncheon to follow for ALL guests.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to any Cancer Foundation, the Educational Foundation, or any program that promotes child literacy.

Roller Coaster

{Liz, Heather, & Paige, Becky & Erin-pretending to pass out-on Tower of Terror}

I heard a writing professor once say that you should avoid cliches...like the plague. Good advice, except when they are applicable. And life has been a bit of a roller coaster for Liz lately. Lots of ups and downs. Figuratively and literally.

Nobody loves Disneyland more than Liz. And nobody loves going there without pesky children to beg for bathroom trips, call for cotton candy, and demand Dumbo more than this parent-of-the-year. Disneyland is best enjoyed by adults and that is exactly what Liz, Paige, Erin, and two very brave sisters-in-law, Becky and Heather did last summer.

It turns out the magic kingdom gives you some sweet perks when you have a grave disease. It was about time this dang cancer thing came in handy! We hit every attraction, multiple times (well, the GOOD ones...no Tiki Room for these veterans thank you very much), ate only the finest of Disney cuisine (including a meal at the exclusive Club 33 where even the loo looked like my grandmother's living room furniture), and lounged in luxury in our fabulous suite at the Grand Californian. It was magical. And I'm fairly certain I can never go back for fear another trip couldn't measure up.

So while we took in every crazy ride we could, Liz now finds herself on her own private roller coaster. The fluid that's been accumulating in her abdomen has been confirmed as cancerous. She has ceased chemotherapy and is seeking ways to feel good enough to spend time with family and friends. Some of the worst side-effects have subsided for the time-being which means she can enjoy a tasty meal and some good conversation...a real blessing. Erin has been hanging out for the week and Paige plans a trip back out in a few days. Hospice will come in soon to make sure she stays comfy and content at home.

Matching Sweatshirt Nerds {we made them}

It's Tough To Be A Bug

Life is a roller coaster. Liz can tell you all about the highs and lows. But there is opposition in all things. We would be bored if it were any different. Like a life without Disneyland.

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!