June 11, 2010
Dear Friends,
Greetings from the reclusive world of the Matkin’s. Where to even begin? It’s been difficult to keep track of the days over the past few weeks. So much is happening in our house at any given moment, but nothing is really going on either. I’ll just say it’s a weird sensation--like a time warp, or a scene from a movie when you don’t know if the characters are in the present, past, or future. I guess it’s our new reality, at least for the next few months, and it’s been one hell-of-a ride so far I can tell you that much.
First and foremost, let me express to you all our most sincere appreciation and gratitude for staging the fundraiser on our behalf. It is incredibly overwhelming to think about the support we received. In fact, it’s made me cry on more than one occasion (but I blame that partly on hormonal overload from the chemo). What’s even more amazing is the fact that so many of the people we know are strapped financially these days, and somehow they still managed to help support us. That kind of friendship and compassion is truly humbling, and we are so blessed to have so many amazing friends. Saying thank you a thousand times does not even begin to express how grateful we are to each and every one of you.
I also thought I’d share a few updates since I don’t have much direct contact with the outside world. I’m nearing the end of my first cycle of chemo and feeling somewhat normal again. This may not be that interesting, but I’ll fill you in anyway since I can honestly say I had no idea what cancer treatment was really going to be like. My chemo is called BEP, and the letters represent the three kinds pollutants they pump into me to kill the cancer. I’m slated for three cycles, and because of the advanced stage of the cancer the regimen is pretty intense. It goes something like this:
~Week 1: I spend M-F at Huntsman in the infusion room hooked to an IV for five to eight hours. Side effects are nausea, fatigue, eventual baldness (which started this week) and some kind of truth serum that inspired me to profess my love of beer to my sister--the one who goes to church every Sunday. The days are long and I come home with olfactory overload. The smell of coffee makes me want to vomit--how messed up is that?
~Week 2: Blood tests and a 15-minute blast of morning chemo on Tuesday. Easier. Side effects are insane fever. Topped out at 102.6 last week.
~Week 3: Same as week two, but feeling pretty good. Although I now have to administer injections into my own belly to help get my white blood cell count back up before the cycle starts over. Makes me happy I’m not diabetic, because it’s not that cool to jam a needle into your own gut.
~Repeat.
Since I’m in the third week of treatment right now I feel pretty good, and although I dread the first week of the cycle again I wish it would come sooner so I could plow through this and get on with life. Even though the cancer I have is in an advanced stage, this chemo is proven to work for testicular cancer, and we are nothing but optimistic about the end result.
On a more cheery note, Harlow Grace Matkin is a beautiful, beautiful girl. I might be a little biased, but I know an ugly baby when I see one, and she is not an ugly baby. I keep telling Shanon what a great job she did making such a beauty. The first week we were back from the hospital I was too sick to really enjoy time with my girls, and everything I smelled or put in my mouth was making me sick. Luckily Shanon’s mom is an angel and spent a lot of time helping us with baby duties while I kept busy trying hard to not to vomit. I never thought I’d appreciate a live-in mother-in-law, but it’s just another example of the selfless acts people have been offering. I get sent to bed and the mother hen’s do their thing. Plus I love Shanon’s mom like my own, so it really hasn’t been that weird.
Now that I feel better I can say without trepidation that being a first time parent is a trip, as many of you know already. The living schedule goes something like this.
Wake, eat, poop, sleep. Repeat.
That’s it. And it’s amazing how time consuming those four things can be. I’ll be honest, there is senseless screaming and tearless crying that rattles my nerves, and poop blow-outs so massive that one can only marvel at how something so small can make such a huge, disgusting mess. But in those serene moments when Harlow is calm, or alert to the world around her, the feeling of love that hits is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. That’s my mushy dad story and I’m sticking to it. It’s true there is nothing in the world that can prepare a person for being a first-time parent, but somehow you seem to make it work, no matter the circumstances.
The events that transpired during the month of May have been the life changing variety for us. And although I can’t say I’ll be a different person when this is all over, I do feel an emotional transformation occurring. Whether it’s a new appreciation for simple pleasures, or a new perspective on the big picture, I don’t think I’ll know for sure until I’m not a chemo patient anymore, and all signs of my cancer have vanished. For now, we’re just taking things one day at a time and dealing with new challenges as they arrive.
If you feel so inclined, please don’t be afraid to call or text me anytime 801-661-1259. If it’s easier you can email me, too. bjmatkin@gmail.com. For as jaded as I was with the general public before all this began, it’s funny how much I miss socialization with the outside world, and we love to have company.
I miss you all and hope everything is good. Thanks again for your friendship and support.
All of Our Love,
Jared, Shanon, Harlow and Emmett
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