Every single day, I get asked, “How’s Jim?”
I am floored that people think to ask, considering most everyone in this world is facing their own issues and sadness and challenges.
And yet people care enough to ask.
I am humbled.
But I am sad because I don’t know how to even begin to answer that question, but let’s sum it up like this: he’s still with us and he’s still fighting.
Quite literally the day after we got the horrible news on my husband’s brother, we drove up to be with Jim and his family. I brought my camera with me. We decided to take some pictures. It was the hardest session ever. To be honest, even though we are so blessed to still get to see and talk to Jim, it’s still very hard for me personally to look at these pictures. But, I want to share some with you because you should meet Jim and his family. They are good people. And this is a reminder to you and to myself of what Jim is fighting for…of what is worth fighting for:
It has been an uphill roller coaster since November. We can’t ever really enjoy any downhill thrill. We can’t ever really take a relaxing breath. We just keep creeping up a hill that gets bigger and bigger. We were told the day after Christmas that we might have 3-4 weeks with him. We’ve passed that 4 week mark. But how strangely joyous and sad is it that we are grateful for just a week, just a day when at age 35, you’re expecting to grow old and have grandchildren and maybe even one day, great-grandchildren? Jim’s not technically my brother and it’s not my husband and children who are facing this exhausting battle, but we are all feeling it. We all hurt. We are all scared. We are all hoping.
Jim is trying. He really is. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to try to eat and eat well when the cancer in your liver is making you nauseous all the time. We went back to spend a few days with them a week or so ago. To see these pictures now, it is gut-wrenching to realize the toll the cancer has taken on Jim’s body in mere weeks. I am glad we took those pictures when we did.
In lieu of the standard chemotherapy treatments, Jim has opted for zelboraf (http://www.skincancer.org/
And so he fights. And he waits. And we wait.
The hardest part is that after all of this waiting, Jim’s sick leave has finally run out. It is incredibly ironic that they sacrificed so much for so long so that Jim could go to school and get a good job and take care of the family while his wife stayed home to care for their children. And now she needs to work. AND care for the children. AND care for her husband. AND do everything around the house. AND worry. AND plan for the future. AND maintain hope. I think my heart aches the most for her in all of this.
When we launched j.imprints back before Christmas, it was a quick effort to provide some sort of financial relief to Jim and his family while he underwent treatment. The response was overwhelming. Absolutely overwhelming and I can’t comprehend the kindness and concern and support that my clients, friends, family, and even complete strangers have shown to our family through j.imprints. It was tough for Jim’s wife to accept this kind of help, but I also know it has become a nice little safety net…a just in case…a “my kiddos aren’t going to go hungry” kind of relief to her. In addition to that, you managed to help us donate nearly $1000 to the Melanoma Research Alliance! Wow! Thank you!
We want to keep this effort going and so long story short, we have created a limited edition Valentine-themed release of images. PLUS we’ve added iPhone cases and notecards to the lineup. Please take a few minutes to browse j.imprints. Please, see if there’s something there that appeals to you. Please PASS on the link! Share it on Facebook, tweet it, blog it, e-mail it. Since Instagram was pretty much the inspiration behind this project, share images of your j.imprints on Instagram and tag them #jimprints (have you searched the #jimprints tag on Instagram? Oh, I love seeing everyone’s images displayed so beautifully). And again, because I promise I will mention this every time I talk about it on here, get educated on melanoma.
Thank you all again for everything. Every message of encouragement. Every little gift. Every story shared. Your power to uplift is immeasurable.