chemo care package

If you've been following me on Twitter or Facebook, I had mentioned that my Dad was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. He starts his treatment on Monday.

I had been wracking my brain what to send along as a care package for him. I looked online and nothing seemed fitting for his personality.

Then I got an idea! My Dad is a gazillion miler on more than a handful or airlines. Having worked in Hong Kong, Sydney, Brussels, and a billion more places all very far away.

I thought hmmmm "an 8 hour Chemo session in a La-Z-Boy would be similar to a transatlantic flight!"

So I whipped up a little tongue-in-cheek parody logo and Chemo Airlines was born!

I went to Target and got all the things one would find in a First Class amenity kit and a few more. Lotion, handwipes, tooth brush + tooth paste, slippers, eye mask, complimentary nuts, mouthwash, bag to put everything in ... then a DVD player and DVD for the "inflight movie"

I created labels for each item and covered up the original packaging with new Chemo Airlines labels. Here's a photo so you can see:

go here to see the photo in Flickr with notes on the items identifying them.

If you look on the right, you can also see a hat that I ironed on the logo using inkjet printable iron on sheets which I cut using a 1" circle punch.

I also included a luggage tag for the bag that says "I'm Flying Chemo Airlines"

To top it all off I altered a safety card that I found online and adjusted:

Although this care package won't make the treatment any easier at least we can have a little laugh and some fun. We're learning from our friend Sean, cancer doesn't like it when you have a laugh!

Here's to you Dad! Love you!!!
xoxoxoxo

Ich vermisse dich, Dad! (I miss you, Dad)

Handsome fella, eh.  That's my dad.  My dad and my mom, to be precise, in St. Goar, Germany in the early 1970s.

Dad died two years ago on April 10th, which was this past Saturday.  As I did last year, I spent a few days conflicted, trying to figure out just what/if/how I am supposed to mark the occasion.  I don't live near family with whom I can gather to share the memories over a cup of coffee, which sounds like the best and most comforting way. I'm nowhere near the cemetery, so I can't visit his grave, and I'm not religious, so going to church or praying doesn't have the same meaning or provide solace for me as it may for others.

But as I was trying to think of "a way" to mark the date, it struck me that maybe I don't have to.  Maybe it's enough that I think of him all the time, not in a "he's looking down on me" kind of way, but more just a strong presence that found me while he was sick and in the hospital and hasn't really left since he died.   I don't ask for his guidance on matters or try to speak with him in any way, but I just feel him there and often find myself thinking...hmmm....I wonder what would dad have thought of this?

In the few years prior to my dad's death, my parents were able to travel some to visit family in different parts of the county (one of the advantages to us all being scattered throughout the US).  In 2006, they visited me in California when I graduated with my masters degree and on that trip we went out for lovely dinner in San Francisco at the well-known restaurant, Farallon.  My dad took in the entire menu and finally settled on a dish of Opa, a fish I had never heard of and I don't think he had either, which was precisely why he wanted to try it.

Sounds reasonable enough, but I remember being really surprised.  I had never pegged my father for the adventurous type, regarding food or otherwise.  He liked hamburger meat and mashed potatoes, potato chips and popcorn.  I didn't even know he liked fish!  Fishsticks, maybe, but fish?!  Opa??  Truth is, I never really thought of my dad as existing much beyond my known world of house and home and family and I didn't really start to know him until the last few years of his life.  Sure, I knew him as my dad, but I didn't know him as a person, as an individual, until much later in life. 

Come to find out, my dad did indeed have a love for going new places, experiencing new things, and trying new foods.  So, when I think to myself....hmmm, I wonder what dad would think of me moving to Vienna, I think back to that dinner at Farallon and I know that he would be thrilled.  And when I wonder what I can do to honor his memory, I realize that just embarking on this adventure with Kiefer is paying homage in some way to my relatively new found understanding of him as an individual and not just my father.  While I can't exactly say that I'm doing it "for him," I know that he would be so proud and excited for me.  I only wish he were around to come visit us there once we're settled.

But you can be sure that I'll enjoy all the wienerschnitzel, apfelstrudel and sachre tort I can, just for him.

The Unexpected Story

I've been struggling this past week to find something to blog about.  Something I've done or planned or a tidbit of info I've chanced to find that will help us get closer to Vienna.  Other than our passports arriving, though, I didn't feel I had anything to say, Vienna-wise.  And, so, I've said nothing.

But as I've been sitting here, saying nothing, things that didn't at first seem related or relatable are crowding my mind and I've decided that they're more connected than I thought at first.  It could just be that this is a sentimental time for me, but I'm starting to weave things together and, if not specifically related to Vienna, they're related to me, and this truly is my story this week.

On February 6th, forty years ago, my mother boarded a plane bound for Germany.  She traveled alone and brought with her a large purse containing all the regular purse "stuff," as well as a passport, 6 place settings, and 3 service pieces of sterling silver.  In addition to what sounds like the ultimate handbag, mom had with her a carefully packed and sealed box that held her wedding gown. She was going to meet my dad, who was in the Air Force.  They were getting married.  In Germany.  On Valentine's Day.


Fast forward forty years.  Here I am, in California, away from my family.  I have no place settings stashed in a large purse, but I have a dress.  I am getting married.  On the day as close to Valentine's Day as we could get at City Hall.

These are but a few of the similarities that have come into focus this week.  On a lighter note, I could reference the obvious love (and need) for purses that fit one's life, whatever life may be at that time, and a love of men from Indiana.  

Mind you, I'm nearly 20 years older than my mom was when she began her "adult life," as she's called it, I'm having a self-imposed low-key wedding, and the wedding is taking place before we move to Austria rather than once we're there.  But the similarities are there, bits of two stories that sound alike in some small way. 


Tenuous connections, silly, coincidences....however you might read them, they are special to me.  If you know me and my mother, you know we don't often do things in the same way.  We have different worldviews and different ways of approaching life and there aren't many cases in which I can say I've followed in her footsteps.  So, I choose to see what is happening now as a way of following in her footsteps, cherishing the story that threads through her life to mine and it is to be continued.


The way we got where we did and the reasons we followed may be be different.  But right now, tonight, as my wedding approaches and as I look forward to experiencing a whole new world together with my soon-to-be husband, I think of my mom, sitting at the airport waiting to board the plane, and I feel as though I'm sitting there with her.

Step One: Obtain Passport

That is correct. I am planning a big, fat international move and I have never been outside the United States!

Well, that's not completely true. My father was in the Air Force, stationed in Germany, so my folks married there and I (along with my younger brother) was born there. But we left when I was very little and no memories serve. Unfortunately, neither do my traveling papers from that time.

This task is quite simple to complete and doesn't actually set me on a path from which there is no return. It's a good idea to have a passport, whether I'm moving or not. I've always thought that, but never quite got around to getting one "just because". Now, getting that document has taken on much greater meaning as the first "official" step toward Vienna.

So, simple it may be, but an easy task to put off. A few weeks ago I set myself a deadline. My birthday - get those photos, fill out the form, wait in line, and get the application in by my birthday. My birthday is now 7 days away. And two of those days are weekend days. Yikes.