Brain cancer is...

...tossing us some sweeter stuff today.

In the pic, above, you see the Iowa maple syrup we received today from our caring family members, Pat and Veryl Burghardt.  (Team D Iowa!  Represent!)  Veryl has helped more remote family members in the production of this pancake prize.  We--again--love the Life 2.0 lesson of the wonder of the connections among us all.  Thanks, P & V, and thanks for sending the link to the PBS video that shows the place of production, the Potter farm, where many family members (including my mom) were born. 

Thanks, too, you two, for the theme of the day's post, from the quote in your letter:  "You've had enough bitter pills to swallow lately...here's something sweet instead."

Here's to five more sweet things that came our way today too.  

1.  Dr. Park called Darrell yesterday afternoon, highly annoyed with our insurance company.  The first cancer call of this morning was from chemo nurse Patty (The crowd goes wild! Aaaaa!), letting us know that Dr. Park called the medical director at our insurance company and--voila!--the tinfoil hat treatment is back on the team!  

I'm not sure if the news is a little late; mechanical engineer Darrell apparently held the power all along to build his own Tumor Treating Fields device:  

Whatever.  Maybe we'll alternate his version with the hard won, FDA-approved, $22,000-a-month version.  Sweet.

2.  I know you recall Melanie, SHRNS (Super Hero Registered Nurse Sister) who coaxed us to the ER, met us there, and stayed with us through Darrell's tests, admission, surgery, and of course later, with Gail, all the yada yada.  Melanie keeps fighting medical crimes.   Yesterday she was part of the advance life support team (whoosh) for a little girl who took on a rattlesnake.  Melanie's carrying the girl in the news video.  You're cool, Melanie.  Fight on!

 3.  Take a look at this pic.  More specifically, look at the shirts.

FOUR Team D members...FOUR vee-neck tee shirts.  It's a trend, friends.  Thanks Ruth (left) and Hallie (right) for your love and for salmon dinner.  Deliciously sweet.

4.  Our family has the incredible gift of knee-to-knee, real, raw conversations every day.  (Ignore the cancer stuff on the floor.)  Sweet.

 5.  And because you're hanging on edge about my poor fingers trying desperately to open my pajama drawer with mismatched pulls...

...sweet.  Good night, moon.