I’m not actually sure Bula Bula means but as we’ve embarked on our latest journey to a 28 acre island in the South Pacifc, the nice folks keep saying that to us.

Yes, we’re heading out on another family adventure.  Getting here has been no small feat, but we’ll get to that later.

For starters, I’ve felt an update has been warranted for some time now, probably 8-9 weeks, however, I’m realizing from seat 33C, isle seat, with extra leg room, that I haven’t had the energy, time or spirit to write one.  The days have been indistinguishable but at 3:30 am, when the rest of the plane is sleeping, my mind is still going like a sewing machine, however, I can feel the pressure releasing and have begun to reflect on how we got here. So let’s get started.

We’ve been through the chemo process before and we can do it again.  We’ll just keep the kid's life as normal as possible, accept all the beautiful help, notes, texts, prayers, hugs, words of encouragement and food, from friends and ever present family and we got this. 

As Mike Tyson said, “Everyone has a plan till they get punched in face.”

Days 2-5, post drip, was expected to be the most difficult.  Almost immediately it punched us in the face, knocked Melia down and she’s spent a large part of the last 8 weeks laying on her right side and sitting on the downstairs couch.  Her “weeks off” have been just slightly better, garnering the energy to occasionally walk the trail behind the house, watch the kids play weekend sports, and even went to a concert with friends. 

Nausea, exhaustion, bloating, rashes from an attempt at an immunotherapy, hunger from not eating, digestion issues when eating, intermittent sleep throughout the day/night and overall discomfort are the norm. I’m struggling for events and words to elaborate on the process but nothings coming to mind right now, perhaps it’s been the persistent fog of battle but perhaps that’s all it’s been. 

Melia’s steadfast grace, resilience and optimism never waiver.  She’s determined to take the process in stride, and through the physical and mental challenges, focuses her mind on a full recovery.  Her strength is infectious and gives us all more hope. 

Back to our island adventure.  On a Friday late last year we were invited to go to Tavrau, Fiji, with a group of friends.  My first response was a hard no because we just had a big trip to Australia and New Zealand and the coffers needed replenishment.  The following Tuesday we began seeing evidence of the cancer returning, and then it was a heck yeah, let’s go.

Not knowing what the future holds, let’s do it all.  As the chemo process began we had this trip in our radar but didn’t know what the next day had in store, let alone, an 8 day trip, 7,000 miles away.  I’d be remise if I didn’t say, I bought travel insurance for this one.

Chemo was Tuesday and the flight left on Thursday.  The thought came to her, why don’t we do Chemo on Tuesday and fly out Tuesday night, hopefully before the latest dose really knocks her back down. Seemed like the only chance we had to get her there.  She can sleep anywhere, home, bed in Mexico, bed in Utah, bed on an island in Fiji, we just need to get her there.  A scramble ensued and with the help of a friend, tickets were changed and we were going for it.  On Sunday, Melia was still beat up and against the suggestion of the medical community, we decided to postpone this weeks infusions, so she had the best chance to have some level of comfort and enjoyment with friends and family.  

Perhaps she’ll be able to do a bit of snorkeling and walk sandy beaches but maybe we’ll be carrying her around on a chair, like a Roman queen.  Either way, it’ll be memorable.

The kids are still doing really well, thriving at school and working hard on the activity of the day.  They seem to be doing a good job of understanding dad’s weekly discussions of why he’s so uptight, short tempered and void of patience.  If I can properly relay my thoughts and emotions to them, it shows that I’m also human and struggle just the same, but it also helps tease out emotions and struggles they’re going through.  

Bedtime talks feel like it’s allowing me to connect on a deeper, more emotional level.  It makes me answer difficult questions, which seemingly give them the words to relay and process their own struggles and emotions.

At a minimum, maybe it lessens the time they’re sitting on the shrinks couch in their 20’s or 30’s 🤷🏼‍♂️. 

I’ve likely said it before but since I don’t want to pay $6.99 for airplane WiFi to fact check, I’ll say it again, the worst thing that happens to you is the worst thing that happens to you.  

I get a lot of “I can’t imagine what you’re going through”, but perhaps you can?  When faced with any difficult situation, thoughts, emotions, questions rise to the surface.  Do you run and hide, pretend they don’t exist, focus on work to avoid the difficult questions or do you dig deep for the answer, process it, and make small actionable steps to learn, come to terms with the circumstance and forge ahead?  Maybe it’s a coping mechanism and I’ll change my mind later but that’s what I got for now.