The Lottery and Mathew's Bucket List

I have been having some trouble this week working on posts for the blog.

For several reasons:

- Jan 15th is the third anniversary of Mat’s passing.

- The part of his journey I am at right now is a difficult time.

- Waiting, hoping and pushing for things to get moving.

- Mathew’s condition was so tenuous.

- This is the time when Dr. Knight, the pain and palliative doctor, came in to tell Mathew that he probably isn’t going to survive this cancer.

- And when Mathew made his bucket list.

This isn’t a linear process. I have copies of texts, journals, The Notebook, medical paperwork and more. Every so often I take the stack I have set aside (I have a few bins full of paper information) and am working on, sort out and rearrange by subject or timeline. Then, I make notes on the next few posts and write them.

I found myself obsessing over the exact timeline. I have to let that go and know that you will understand if I mix up what happened on Tuesday that first week at Moffitt with what happened on Thursday.

The 5th floor at Moffitt consists of 5 South and 5 North. I mentioned this before that Mathew was on 5 South, Surgical Oncology.

Between north and south is a wedge-shaped lobby, one wall all windows overlooking the front of the Cancer Center and across the street, the University of South Florida campus, and the elevators.

It was on one of these first days, I was standing in the lobby thinking about the lottery and that the fattest jackpot wouldn’t help. Of course, I could have used the money to provide better transportation, clothing, personal items and any material item Mathew would want or need. But all of the money in the world couldn’t change the fact, or the impact of this cancer.

That’s how I felt then. Thanksgiving weekend would cause me to change my mind about the relationship between money and survival.

Replace the 3 Lumen Pic Line with a Port

Mathew's 3 Lumen Pic Line was replaced with a Power P.A.C. Both Mathew and I were given Medical I.D. cards to carry at all times. I have mentioned before that texting from the DRC is almost impossible. The staff told me it used to be the X-ray department so the walls are leaded. Again, the phone tree would have helped so much. I texted the following information to my niece, my sister and Mathew’s Dad and Stepmom. And probably Joseph and Carlos. I know that could have been reduced to two texts, three at the most. At the time I didn’t know about group messaging as my phone was an old Android. Texts Between me and Diane Hi. We are at the hospital early because Mat is in a lot of pain. We think the bill stent may have moved. Sent 3-31-14 Because he was NPO for other procedure they should be able to fix today. Sent 3-31-14 In the DRC sending texts is almost impossible so if you don’t hear from me for a while don’t worry. If ...

A Cancer Poem by Mathew Rodgers 2014

From Mathew’s Journal 4-5-14 “I lie awake in my pain bed metallic noises chirping from my strange computer companion”

Hair Loss After Chemo for Sarcoma, My Son's Point of View

I can't imagine or pretend to know how it feels to lose your hair because you have cancer and the chemo causes your hair to fall out. I only know what I saw with Mathew and years ago, my sister Elizabeth's experience as they lost their hair to chemotherapy. But it was something that affected Mathew more than just the initial hair loss, it had nuances. Here is a journal entry. It's short but I think it speaks volumes. MATHEW’S JOURNAL 5-23-14 Lately, I’ve been envious of people’s hair. Well, I guess not envious of other people’s hair but missing mine. I told my Mom about it and expressed to her that I was afraid I was falling prey to vanity. She expressed the idea that I may be missing having hair because it’s part of being healthy. I do miss having a life and at the same time, I’m afraid that I may never have a full life again or that I may lose what’s left of the one I have. - I’ve been thinking about dying a lot lately. I don’t know wh...

Confections For Cats

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