Mangy Cat

This is M.C. M.C. stands for Mangy Cat. It could also refer to mean cat, malnutritioned creature, or possibly more appropriate, master of comedic chaos.

This kitten was discovered under our vehicle on Tuesday morning. Gabe yelled down to the office, "Mom! There's a cat under the Suv." It's not unusual for there to be stray cats lurking and tormenting our sweet Chloe, so my response was to instruct him to chase it off with the broom. "No, Mom. It's a kitten! It's little. Come see", so I left my work to check it out. Sure enough, it was a kitten and it appeared to be in pitiful shape. And mean. I tried to reach it and it hissed at me and moved away. Again I tried and again it hissed. Gabe fixed it a small bowl of food and we left it alone.

Throughout the day we checked for the kitten. It was still here and still wanted nothing to do with any of us. It ventured from beneath the car but as soon as approached it would hiss and run. It ran from beneath one car to another and back again. We spent some time in the evening just sitting near by. Not posing a threat, hoping this poor thing would come to us. I certainly have no desire for another cat, but this tiny creature was in need of help. It was digging and scratching at its long white fur, its face was a mess with mucus and its eyes were so matted it could barely keep them open.

Wednesday morning brought another full day of hiss and run. Not posing a threat did little good, so again on went the chase. I would not be surprised if neighbors popped some corn and pulled up a chair to the windows for a good laugh at our failed antics. Despite my general dislike for cats, this was a baby in need of medical help so we increased our pursuit. I dubbed it MC and it in turn became a bit more confident. It spent more time out on our porch, and began darting up the tree or under a bush, as well as the two cars. We tossed things up at it in the tree, hoping we could scare it down or knock it off and catch it. I thought it might deem us as much of a threat as whatever chased it our way but it still refused to venture beyond our home. This mangy cat seemed to have claim sanctuary in our yard. It was in need of refuge and was claiming it at our house. UGH.

Thursday came and there was more hiss and run, but never beyond our yard. The kitten was looking a bit better, it could hold it's eyes open wider but they still had a nasty glaze over them. Growing more annoyed and not willing to be outsmarted by this mean cat, we borrowed a critter trap from the city. We set it up on the porch beneath our two chairs, slid in a bowl of food, water and left for the evening. We crossed our fingers hoping we wouldn't find our own cat stuck in the wire cage upon our return. We came home to find success. Mangy Cat had been caught! HA!

Friday afternoon we slid the trap in front of a very large dog crate (all we had) and gently prodded Mean Cat into it, tipped it a bit and latched the door. HA! It took all four of us over three days, but we finally did it. I drove the dirt roads into Derby to the vet office with the kids and the tiny hissing kitten in the big dog traveler.

They guessed MC's age at about six weeks. The doctor was the first one to actually touch it. No actual mange, but this kitten had a upper respiratory infection, loads of fleas, probably a herpes virus in its eyes, ear mites and maybe leukemia or AIDs. The herpes virus was very contagious so we would need to keep it completely away from our cat. (Too late for that, there had already had a few close hiss fights over the last few days.) Super. What on earth have we gotten ourselves into now? Before going to any further trouble on the pathetic stray, the doctor wanted to do the test for leukemia/AIDs which would take about an hour.

We left for a happy hour trip to Sonic and a visit with Grandpa. I reminded him about B.C., the black cat my sister discovered and on which my mother, also not a fan of cats, took pity. B.C. was a bag of bones with scabs on its feet. It healed at our home, then left, never to be seen again. I was hoping for the same kind of luck with M.C. Soon the Vet called and the tests were negative so I could come get M.C. I will admit that after the laundry list of things wrong with the kitten, I was hopeful to be freed from obligation by bad test results, so I cursed my luck once I hung up, and my father laughed. Quite a bit, actually.

I headed back to the vet's office alone. Laughing much of the way. God is funny. This pathetic creature of His was now in our care, of all people. I laughed as I paid the $146 invoice (it was the only acceptable response), laughed in more disbelief as the young lady showed me the medicines the doctor would soon be going over. I chuckled as I asked do we even know yet if it's a boy or a girl? She went back to check. It's a boy.

The doctor soon called me back. He showed me how to apply the ear drops (once a day), the eye ointment (3 times a day!), explained that the amoxicillan drops (2x a day) must be refridgerated, and the powder could be mixed with food (2x a day). And I laughed. The good news, the kitten was no longer mean and terrified. He was very cooperative for them through all that they put him through. And he needs to be back in three weeks for a check up and kitten shots. Awesome.

So far, Mangy Cat has also been tolerable of us. Fingers crossed, we'll get him healthy and adopted by someone not living here. He's been cuddled and we've been administering medicine and ointment without any hissing. Although I'm tempted.

Hope, Joy & Mickey Mouse!

“PLEASE, just let Mommy finish her homework and she’ll take you to Disney World when she graduates,” I pleaded with the small humans in our home.
“Did you just tell them you’d take them to Disney World?” Mr. 1inamillion soon questioned.
“Yes! Just let me finish my homework and we all will go to Disney World when I graduate.” I then promised him too.

This is how our vacation planning began years ago. I was doing online classes at that time, and my pleading promises continued on through the degree completion program that began in March 2006 and ended in October 2007. During that time, both my father in law and my mother passed away. Dane had four surgeries and four months of chemotherapy. Graduation was scheduled for May 10, 2008, my 32nd birthday. I was blessed with the help of really good friends in the program, understanding professors and a fierce determination to graduate on my birthday, so I actually made it despite the odds. Our money, however, did not so the promise of Disney World was delayed.

On Memorial day 2009, we traded in our mini-van for a couple of reasons. The first being who really wants to drive a mini-van? We had traded in our Tracker for that van the weekend following the birth of Thing 2 as quickly as possible. We discovered on the way home from the hospital that we did not have room for two car seats. It was a painful drive home for me with my knees at the dashboard and bent slightly forward over a line of staples that followed the C-section because the passenger seat was pushed forward to accommodate the added car seat. I hated that van and after five years, I still was horrible at parking the thing. The second reason we traded the van for a new Escape was it came with a trip for four to Disney World. A year late, but we could keep our promise to the kids!

I was so hesitant to commit to scheduling the trip. Mr. 1inamillion had just been through another surgery and radiation following tumor number four. We booked it for the following Thanksgiving. It was several months away, leaving a lot of time for things to go wrong but the kids wouldn’t miss school and it timed with an expected bonus. Not long after making the reservations, tumors five, six and seven appeared. Dane began chemo, and we cancelled our trip. Thanksgiving was spent with him suffering through shingles and me painting the kitchen, determined to overcome something. The kids were of course disappointed but bought into the promise that we would go next year.

After four rounds of chemo, Dane began a clinical trial based out of St. Louis. Several road trips back and forth followed, along with a CT scan showing diminishing tumors. Secretly, we rebooked the trip, despite my concern that maybe God didn’t want us going to Disney World and we could just be asking for more trouble. Just in case, we scheduled it quickly, for the week before his next CT scan.

In an effort to prevent further disappointments and unkept promises, we managed to keep it completely from Things 1 and 2. We were leaving early on a Sunday and the plan was to send them to a Mother’s Day Out event at the church on Saturday so we could pack in secrecy. Gabe threw up that morning. I thought for sure that might be the beginning of the end, but it happened just once and he was fine. They remained home and I managed to pack suitcases because…umm….we needed more room in our drawers and closets so I was packing away summer clothes.

Early Sunday, we loaded the car then woke the kids and quickly got them ready, bundled and out the door. We hit the road on our way to…umm….church, the long way around because of construction. We parked in a satellite lot, yanked suit cases out of the back, told them to grab their car seats and we hurried through the snow onto a shuttle bus. Gabe began to grin, wide-eyed, but said nothing. I was drilling Lucy on Mommy’s cell number, terrified of a Home Alone 2 moment and giving her no time to question. We entered the airport, checked in, made it through security and to our gate.

“So where do you think we’re really going?” we finally ask.
“I don’t know. A different church?“ suggested Gabe hesitantly.
Lucy exclaimed, “Rachel’s church!” and I suddenly understood just how very easily children are kidnapped. They were still utterly clueless, but were so very excited once we told them. It really was a great moment. Too early in the morning for me to have been fast enough with a camera to capture, but Mr. 1inamillion and I soaked it in completely.

I was still expecting for everything to go wrong; plane delays, to be completely stuck in Houston, to lose luggage, horrible weather, anything. It was in fact pouring rain when we arrived in Orlando but as we pulled into the hotel, the rain stopped and the weather was beautiful the remainder of the week. I am sure that God found entertainment in baffling me with the perfection of it all.

I had emailed teachers previously, but Monday morning as we walked into the Magic Kingdom I called the school office to excuse Things 1 and 2 from school for the week and giggled a bit. Our first ride was the Tea Cups and it was there that I saw it. Joy! All three of my most-loved ones were smiling and giggling at once.

Aside from Gabe asking for the barf bag as we spun on that ride, there were no complaints of nausea. There were no mentions of doctors, appointments, scans, or cancer. There was no mention of how long there may be before the next surgery and no mentions of chemotherapy. There was excited talk of what tomorrow would bring and even talk of a next vacation. A couple of days into the week, I recognized it. Hope!

I had never thought that the 1inamillion family was without hope. But our hope for so long had just been for less bad stuff. I hoped for the basement to remain dry, not that it would ever become a finished and enjoyable space. We hoped for more time before another treatment, instead of no more cancer at all.

We had stopped hoping for the great stuff God has in store for us. We stopped believing his promise to prosper and not harm us, his plan for our hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) By enabling us to fulfill the promise we made to our children, our faith in the greatness of His promise was restored. I still fear planning and long term commitments, but a bit less. That long awaited visit with Mickey Mouse made us again joyful in hope.

Chasing goals

I set two goals for myself at the start of 2010. The first was to complete a bible study. I hadn't really spent time in God's word since I was a child. I read verses here and there over the years, but never as I should. I completed Priscilla Shirer's He Speaks to Me and am now in the middle of her study, One in a Million. Taking the time to read the Bible and search my heart to apply it makes such a difference in my days. I am so glad I accomplished that goal and am continuing forward.

My second goal for this year was to participate in a road race. This is something that I've longed to do for quite some time. I desperately want to be one of those real runners. Someone who easily kicks out enough miles to efficiently burn a few extra brownies. Slim, sleak in little running gear posing with a big smile after a race, I long for that to be me. Well, I managed to participate in a road race in early June to at least accomplish the goal that I had set.

I regularly run/walk 2 miles with my personal trainer in 30 minutes, so I had hoped I could manage 3.1 on my own amongst a crowd of people in possibly 45 minutes. I huff and puff and am beat red by the time Britney's dragged me the two miles around town. There is nothing slim and sleak about me, but I convinced myself at the last minute to do Victory in the Valley's East Meets West 5K. They are the cancer support organization that has done so much for us, so it was without a doubt an excellent cause. I went alone so there would be no significant witnesses to my potential failure, but I made it. In less than 45 minutes. I was so proud of myself!

"Did you win?" That was how Things 1 and 2 greeted me after my drive to meet them post run, busting my bubble. "Well, no."

"It wasn't really that kind of race," Mr. 1inamillion tried to save me.

"But did you get a ribbon?", Gabe asked. I began a list in my mind of the chores I would soon dish out to this little buzz kill.

"No, I finished it. That's what matters!"

"But what place did you get?", he persisted.

I sighed, then replied with "NOT LAST!" and followed with the laundry list of assignments.

The record shows that my time was 42:31 and I came in 410th place. I take great pride in the fact that there were 44 people slower than me. I was beat red, gasping a bit, and alone in my accomplishment so there are no smiling photos of me with my race number. There was no one to hug or high-five once I crossed the line, but I achieved my goal.

Yesterday I changed a statement about my self. I used to say, "I would love to do a marathon, but there's no way I could do that". I am so proud of my friends that have done it! To focus, and work hard training for so long, I have so much admiration for them. Not to mention total envy of their cute smiling post race pics and finisher medals. I used to say I wanted to train for a half-marathon. I even have a training plan pulled from a magazine that's hung by my desk for a year.

Yesterday I said, out loud, I am training for a half marathon. I followed by typing that in an email. Now I've done it again. I am training for a half marathon. I do have the personal trainer so she might as well be training me for something, right? I need to have another goal to chase, to focus on something I am capable of conquering.

Now that I've said it and committed myself to the goal, how many people will hold me accountable? How many people will join me? I don't want to do this one alone. Miserable finish or not, I want a picture and I want someone to share the sense of accomplishment with me! I can't imagine that I will be able to run the entire 13.1 miles in October, but my goal is to just complete it. Run, walk or crawl. Hopefully, there will be at least a few people crawling slower than me so I can tell my kids what place I got and have a little bit of pride left.

Meet my personal trainer, Britney! This is her happy face after our loop around Mayberry.

Chemo update

Mr. 1inamillion has completed three rounds of chemo. We traveled two weeks ago to see his St. Louis oncologist and have his CT scan. The film shows that the cancer is stable. Nothing new has appeared and the small existing tumors showed no real growth. It wasn't the quick and obvious progress for which we hoped but it is considered to be good news.

The concerning news is in his blood work. It's showing signs of some early damage to his kidneys. They're changing him to a new regimen of chemo that has proven effective on soft tissue sarcomas but should be easier on his system. There's still a lot unknown to us regarding the new regimen. Honestly, I prefer to ask the nurses at the treatment center my questions. They see it all face to face, day in and day out and I am in awe of their care and knowledge. There are already some perks in sight, though. The schedule is one day instead of 5 and there is no Matilda. Dane won't spend all of his days in treatment week at the cancer center or be chained to a pump for five nights. Hopefully he will recuperate a bit faster and have more time and strength to spend on things he enjoys.

Tomorrow is his first day on the new regimen. We appreciate your prayers for this new battle in his ongoing war.

What We Need

Is there anything you guys need? What can I do to help? These are questions that we hear often and always struggle to answer. It's hard to know what we need, and harder still to ask for it. We don't like to impose, let alone admit our weakness.

Mr. 1inamillion asked me months ago what we needed to get through this. "What do I tell people when they ask?" My reply was I have no idea. I have no idea what help we need to get through this again. My response was construed as not caring, but honestly I didn't know. God hadn't told me yet, perhaps he had told someone else. Our situation can be so very overwhelming, so I really liked the thought that He had told someone else. That became my prayer. "Lord, help. Please just tell someone else what we need. I can't manage it anymore so please tell somebody else." Soon after that, our basement flooded. Again.


Years ago we had water in our basement with every rain. I spent lots of time cleaning it up, then we finally spent lots of money fixing it. Still I have yet to see a rainbow down there and though I've considered painting one, I decided that would be cheating and wouldn't offer the assurance I desired. This time the water wasn't coming from the ground, it was dripping from the air shaft. Handy as I am, I bought a couple of buckets at the Family Dollar, identified the perfect arrangement to catch the drips and called it good. After a few trips down to empty and reposition my solution, I decided it might be pipes above the air shaft and called my sister and her plumber husband.

Shelly and her knight in shining armor rode out and saved the day. It wasn't leaking pipes, it was condensation from the air conditioner and he fixed it with his pocket knife. He scraped enough lint from the coils for a scarf, two sweaters and a stocking cap then opened the shaft enough to let the remaining water drain out. So far, so good. The basement has remained dry and the air conditioner is much improved.

Shortly after their departure from our humble abode, my big sister called with apologies. After spending a bit of time observing my chaotic mess, she hoped I didn't mind but she called our brother and scheduled a work day. We had talked before about her girls coming out later in the summer to watch kids and help a bit with housework, and though she had been listening, she hadn't really realized my need for immediate, bigger help. And she was sorry for that.


Let's just say that a lot has remained undone in the 1inamillion household after three years of surgeries, chemo, radiation, traveling to find the right doctors, traveling for the clinic trial, traveling for work, and fibromyalgia. We commit to being fed, bathed and dressed in mostly clean clothes upon leaving the house. Anything beyond that is a rare bonus. I managed to say nothing more than thank you and shed quiet tears during that call. There was no brave face, no down playing our weakness and need for helping hands. I thanked God for flooding the basement and sending in the troops. Then I thought "of course You'd tell her what I need!" I should have known. She spent years practicing as the boss of me.

Almost immediately a posse of nieces arrived. I was tucked away in the office on a conference call while two teenage girls took charge of Things 1 and 2 and began tackling the downstairs playroom with great speed. Two more were upstairs cleaning the kitchen and then they straightened up the living room and began to make a dent in the kids' bedroom. In the following weeks, my sister, one of her girls, my brother and his wife arrived with trailers. The storage room and shed that have easily accumulated much too much were cleaned out and the kids' room received an extreme makeover. Really, they were days meant for reality television.


We have since decided to proceed with our desire to move to my hometown. Close to Dad, my sister's family and our church, and closer to the treatment center and pharmacy that is so often our destination. We (Dane, myself and the boss of me) have decided our family needs to be closer to our resources and we need a landlord. The goal is no longer to wait, sell then buy another house. Accepting our limitations, the goal is to soon rent, then sell this home. Give up the dreams and burdens of home ownership in our sweet little town for the freedoms proximity and a tad fewer responsibilities have to offer.


I am praying for the Lord to bless this move. To make this particular path clear and easy. There is still much ahead of us and much that needs to be done. But I know that He is listening. I can't tell you what exactly we may need, but I'm not so overwhelmed by the question. I will just suggest you talk to my big sister.

The Church Ladies are Making Me Fat

My mom had an extended hospital stay when I was young. This is what I remember from that time:

1. Kimi's egg rolls.
2. Chicken noodles courtesy of Ms. Kris.
3. Running to get the neighbor one morning because my brother and sister were about to kill each other on the front porch.

I don't really recall being scared or disappointed in any way by the situation. The manna was delicious and plentiful. Mom made it through, as did my siblings. That's really about it.

I shared this with Mr. 1inamillion when he worried about what his cancer would put the kids through. I am reassured by the hope that when trouble hits them later in life, they too will remember church lady suppers and know that they will be just fine.

The Israelites spent forty years in the desert after leaving Egypt. Without the ability to provide food themselves, they were blessed with bread from heaven, manna. The Lord does not promise life will be easy, but there will be provisions to get us through it. Each day, manna fell from heaven with the morning dew. The flavor of manna has been compared to that of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

When I step out my front door in the morning, I see a lawn in need of mowing, peppered with bicycles, baseball mits and golf toys. There's not a Krispy Kreme in sight, but the manna for the Daniel family is no doubt plentiful. It's found eighteen miles down a few dirt roads and a county highway, in a refridgerator with our name on it at the Mulvane United Methodist church. The manna doesn't show up with the morning dew, it's meals made by church ladies three days a week. It doesn't taste like doughnuts though it almost always includes something chocolate.

Delicious barbeque beef, enchiladas, chicken and rice, or pasta casseroles, most often accompanied by brownies. Occasionally there's chocolate pie and a chocolate cake. Some of the Israelites complained about the constant flavor of manna and were sick of its sweetness. Now I am not grumbling about the flavors. Not at all. Oh, the yummy brownies! I'm whining about my own struggle with gluttony. I haven't met a brownie I didn't like, and I can't pass them by without a bite. Or two. Ok really I totally lose count.

The generosity of our church family has eliminated that struggle of 'what's for dinner?'. They've eased a financial burden and taken away the aromas of cooking that can heighten nausea brought on by chemo. They've lightened my work load, and nothing else. The miracle of their labor is that Mr. 1inamillion has not lost ANY weight in these first three rounds of treatment. That is truly amazing. Unfortunately neither have I. The few pounds I lost at the start of the year are back, despite the running I do with the big dog.

I am referring to the casseroles and sweets as the manna, because it really is from heaven. The Lord has blessed us with people in our lives who wish to help, whose names we may not even know. The gift of food is simply there when I go looking for it. Rarely do I know who has provided it. While I have muttered more than once that the church ladies are making me fat at the sight of more desserts, I am accepting of the treasures and now my own weaknesses. We are so grateful. The kids look forward to the surprise of what's for dinner, Dane is always able to eat a bit and I am happy to worry only about the dishes. The joy, of course, is shared the following morning by Britney. She's the big dog who loves to run and eagerly looks forward to punishing me for my gluttony through the neighborhoods of Douglass.