Colin and Danny,
The Arbor Heights PTSA Board would like to thank you for your kind and generous contribution in Lynn's behalf. The $500 which came in from the memorial service, plus an additional $50 which came in directly to the AH PTSA, will go towards library books which the students can all use.
We know how much Lynn loved books (especially poetry books). She passed that "love for reading" on to every student she worked with. I know that Jeanette Hagen will do a wonderful job of selecting books which reflect Lynn's love for reading. And we will have book labels inserted with "This book donated by Lynn Barnicle".
Sincerely,
the Arbor Heights PTSA Board
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Lynn's memorial
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Lynn's Memorial
Hello all. Thank you all for your support and kindness you have graced my family with these past few days, it means more to my family than you might ever know.
Lynn's memorial.
Held at Camp Long
5200 35th Ave. SW
11:00am doors will be open and at 12:00 we will head down to the large fire circle at the southern point of of the park for a memorial. Preceding the memorial we will celebrate Lynn's life with music, food, and good people. We will be doing food potluck style, so please bring your favorite food dish to share (refreshments will be taken care of). If any of you would like to bring your instrument, my mom would have loved to hear some musical tunes on this day. We will wrap things up around 5:00, so feel free to stop by and pay your respects before then. Please spread the word to any of my mom's companions, friends or acquaintances you may feel wont be contactd by myself. Dress of course is very casual, so dress for comfort.
Thank you all again!
-Colin and Dan
any important questions or needs feel free to call or txt Colin at (206) 931-4317.
Lynn's memorial.
Held at Camp Long
5200 35th Ave. SW
11:00am doors will be open and at 12:00 we will head down to the large fire circle at the southern point of of the park for a memorial. Preceding the memorial we will celebrate Lynn's life with music, food, and good people. We will be doing food potluck style, so please bring your favorite food dish to share (refreshments will be taken care of). If any of you would like to bring your instrument, my mom would have loved to hear some musical tunes on this day. We will wrap things up around 5:00, so feel free to stop by and pay your respects before then. Please spread the word to any of my mom's companions, friends or acquaintances you may feel wont be contactd by myself. Dress of course is very casual, so dress for comfort.
Thank you all again!
-Colin and Dan
any important questions or needs feel free to call or txt Colin at (206) 931-4317.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
July 26, 2009
Today Lynn left us on a happy, sad, but most of all, loving state. Please think of her in all your thoughts as she visits you all in her own special way. She loved each and every one of you with more than you know.
The highest tribute to death is not grief, but gratitude.
-Thornton Wilder
Friday, July 3, 2009
From Lynn: July 1, 2009
Dear Ones,
I have many goals, some specific, some still taking shape, all really important and esciting to me, and I shared two with my doctor a couple months ago. I wanted to see Danny graduate and I wanted to finish teaching the school year. Wham! I got what I asked for (and a joy it was!), and as soon as my wishes were fulfilled I hit a big bump in the road.
As many of you know, Monday was our last day at school and Tuesday I had scheduled to re-enter treatment at the Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA) to prepare for a bone marrow transplant. My lab reports in late May showed I was in remission and everything looked great; I felt wonderful. The end of any school year can be extraordinarily busy and mine included a week at Outdoor School and the move to Lake Forest Park I was tired, but happy as could be with plenty of energy.
Reentry into the Cancer World was tough at best, and mine was especially funky as I had quite a cough and was immediately put on 'respiratory isolation' which meant I had to wear a mask, sit in a confined part of every waiting area and ride the elevators alone. I was meeting a whole new team of medical folks and felt like the new girl in school without a face. I dutifully showed up for every health test imaginable and kept a vigorous schedule dashing about the fancy new buildlings on Lake Union. I was a little overwhelmed, but I was moving toward this transplant that promised the best bet for me to beat this form of leukemia. On Thursday morning I did a bone marrow biopsy and spinal tap (wow! They are painful!) and by Friday afternoon was in a meeting with my new doctor and physician assistant to hear the very troubling news that the leukemic 'blasts' had returned with a vengeance and I had to postpone my transplant.
After a long night of soul-searching, tears and hugs with Jon, we agreed (as did all the medical folks involved) to keep at it and my immediate job became that of the cowardly lion who had to find his courage.
I returned to Dr. White and Swedish Hospital early Monday morning to resume a hard dose of chemotherapy. I have to be in remission to begin the transplant process and, by golly, remission it will be! It's very similar to what I've been doing since November. Today is the third day and I'm holding up well, expecting to return home on Friday. Another short leash between me and clinic will be tethered for the following one to two weeks, then another round (or more) of chemo til I get back into remission. Then, it's a straight shot back to the transplant world - no waiting this time. Dr. White calls it a 'bump in the road,' and though I might dispute that it feels more like boot camp, I'll travel through with the same commitment I've had all along.
I wrote a new set of goals. The one I'll share with the doctors this time is "29,200 hours of fresh air and sunshine."
Visiting and calls can be tough, so trust that I love and think about you more than you know.
With Hope and Joy,
Lynn
I have many goals, some specific, some still taking shape, all really important and esciting to me, and I shared two with my doctor a couple months ago. I wanted to see Danny graduate and I wanted to finish teaching the school year. Wham! I got what I asked for (and a joy it was!), and as soon as my wishes were fulfilled I hit a big bump in the road.
As many of you know, Monday was our last day at school and Tuesday I had scheduled to re-enter treatment at the Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA) to prepare for a bone marrow transplant. My lab reports in late May showed I was in remission and everything looked great; I felt wonderful. The end of any school year can be extraordinarily busy and mine included a week at Outdoor School and the move to Lake Forest Park I was tired, but happy as could be with plenty of energy.
Reentry into the Cancer World was tough at best, and mine was especially funky as I had quite a cough and was immediately put on 'respiratory isolation' which meant I had to wear a mask, sit in a confined part of every waiting area and ride the elevators alone. I was meeting a whole new team of medical folks and felt like the new girl in school without a face. I dutifully showed up for every health test imaginable and kept a vigorous schedule dashing about the fancy new buildlings on Lake Union. I was a little overwhelmed, but I was moving toward this transplant that promised the best bet for me to beat this form of leukemia. On Thursday morning I did a bone marrow biopsy and spinal tap (wow! They are painful!) and by Friday afternoon was in a meeting with my new doctor and physician assistant to hear the very troubling news that the leukemic 'blasts' had returned with a vengeance and I had to postpone my transplant.
After a long night of soul-searching, tears and hugs with Jon, we agreed (as did all the medical folks involved) to keep at it and my immediate job became that of the cowardly lion who had to find his courage.
I returned to Dr. White and Swedish Hospital early Monday morning to resume a hard dose of chemotherapy. I have to be in remission to begin the transplant process and, by golly, remission it will be! It's very similar to what I've been doing since November. Today is the third day and I'm holding up well, expecting to return home on Friday. Another short leash between me and clinic will be tethered for the following one to two weeks, then another round (or more) of chemo til I get back into remission. Then, it's a straight shot back to the transplant world - no waiting this time. Dr. White calls it a 'bump in the road,' and though I might dispute that it feels more like boot camp, I'll travel through with the same commitment I've had all along.
I wrote a new set of goals. The one I'll share with the doctors this time is "29,200 hours of fresh air and sunshine."
Visiting and calls can be tough, so trust that I love and think about you more than you know.
With Hope and Joy,
Lynn
Friday, June 26, 2009
From Lynn 6/26/09
School ended with its usual flourish on Monday, June 22. As always, it was bittersweet to say 'goodbye' to those 5th graders, but this was especially poignant after what we went through together this year. I do believe they were an unusually compassionate and creative group. I will REALLY miss them, though I grin to think of the interesting and unusual things they will accomplish over the years to come. If you're reading this, Room 22, I promise to send your 'What I Like About Yous' as soon as I get them typed up.
Just because I hate moss, I scheduled to resume treatment on Tuesday the 23rd. I'm now officially a patient of Seattle Cancer Care Alliance (SCCA) and am preparing for a bone marrow transplant in early July. Its a looooooong, complicated process and my head is already spinning with new information and more physical tests than I thought possible. I suspect the 8 rounds in hospital since November were a warm-up for what's to come.
We moved and thanks to Colin, Danny and Jon it was really quite a snap. (heh, heh, I know the boys have a different take, but I REALLY appreciate their hard work.)
I'm feeling a little defiant at resuming 'the sick girl' role, and a lot overhwhelmed at the new place, new staff, new procedures. You all have my word that I will, once again, behave myself and give it my all and then some.
There are many uncertainties post-transplant and I may need some help when I'm released. I'll keep you posted.
Until then, know that I think of ALL of you often and with smiles and soooooooo appreciate your ever-present love and support. I still consider myself one of the luckiest ladies on this planet!
Hugs,
Lynn
Monday, May 4, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Hi ms.b!
hi ms.barnicle! today is april 7,2009 and yesterday i went to arbor heights! i saw you and just started crying, i hope ms.stewart told you that i said hi.. i miss you and hope to talk to you soon!
when you get back to teaching in may i think? i will visit the day you get back! talk to you hopefully in a bit. :)
Danielle
when you get back to teaching in may i think? i will visit the day you get back! talk to you hopefully in a bit. :)
Danielle
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Hi Lynn,
We were at the Hood Canal this weekend and saw this eagle soaring around. Thought of you and wanted to share.
Reading your latest journal, reminds me a lot of when I was going through the tail end of chemo treatments for Lymphoma. At the point where you are now, I was exploring Bone Marrow Transplant options (both my sisters were tested for compatibility) and was talking with my 3 Oncologists about whether that was the next step or not. Fortunately, they all said to "watch and wait" and I have not had to make that next step. But it is great to be informed and to look at all options. Get several opinions and do what is right for you.
At the point and time you are at, I told Kevin that I wanted to set a "5 year goal". When I turned 40, I wanted to go on a Disney Cruise with the family. Well, I have now been on two Disney Cruises and have many, many other fond family memories. Guess I should set a 15 year goal now! :-)
I know in my heart that you too will have many future memories. Your strong spirit and your positive will power will carry you though. The love of your family and friends is with you and will provide the strength and encouragement you need to carry you through.
Andrea has a gift for you, but with her on and off colds, I haven't wanted to risk dropping it off. But sometime in the next month or so, I will have to get her gift (plus a book you might enjoy reading) to you. I will arrange a time to either drop things off or (if girls are healthy) a time to do a brief visit.
We all think of you lots!
Take care,
The Wooleys
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
From Lynn on March 25
Dear Loved Ones,
Here are a few quotes from the last couple weeks: "Feeling crummy?" "Ah, I see you have a healthy chemo hangover!" "You're numbers are in the skids, but nothing we can't fix with a couple doses of good blood." [Yes, I'll confess a new appreciation for 'Twilight;' if I disappear look in Forks.]
Colin was laughing when I returned from a walk with a flat-footed march. I had to explain that since I can't always feel my feet, I'm sure of staying upright if I walk this way. I also described how the same thing happens to my hands which caused me to drop a jar of spaghetti sauce in aisle two last week. How can a three foot descent spread sauce in a 12 foot diameter and sound like a grenade explosion?
Many people ask how Colin and Danny are with all this. It's a complicated question; one that you should really ask them. From my perspective they are amazing. They are loving, supportive and constantly look our for my spirits as well as the everyday details. They have accompanied me to the grocery store and errands and appointments more than any self-respecting young male could imagine, and acted gallant all the while. Danny and I share precious moments, sometimes chatting, sometimes quiet (who? Danny!) in the hospital and home. He is responsible and steady and compassionate, and still grins when the mood strikes. Colin visits often from Bellingham and fills us with his insight and humor and wisdom. Their depth and loving kindness in the face of such worries are remarkable and make me very proud.
Then I'm asked, "and how's Jon?" Well, don't get me started. He's endured every hospital night with me crammed like pretzels in the hospital cots, he lets me cry or makes me laugh on the toughest days, his visitor name badges are stuck all over the 12th floor, as soon as they've checked me in each round the staff ask 'When's Jon coming?' He urges me on or gives me a boost or lets me lolly gag. I simply couldn't do it without him. It's been harder to get away and act normal, and often hard to remember life before November 5, but Jon continues to be a wonder and gift.
I'm now done with seven out of eight rounds of inpatient chemotherapy. I said a not so fond farewell to the last bag of adriamycin last Friday. [I wonder why it has to be neon orange and come in a dirt brown garbage bag? You can only imagine what a 24 hour infusion, along with mega amounts of other fluids and rescue drugs, can do to human cells. If you see a navel orange rolling down the Thriftway aisles, stop and say 'hello.']
My brother, who came for a wonderful visit, was curious about the experience of facing my own mortality. A great question for us all and one that I will confess to spending some time on lately. I have no good answer, but I will say that living on is still the most powerful, relevant and meaningful concept to me. There is some uncertainty about the near future that may include returning to work, undergoing a bone marrow transplant or spending some more quality time at the clinic. What is certain is that there will be some great summer adventures and a move to Lake Forest Park so we can finally be one household!
Your messages and love and blessings are ever present. Thank you with all my heart!
Love,
Lynn
PS - I am SO PROUD of the Room 22 students who showed great progress on their last report cards! Every single person in that class made gains to be applauded. THANK YOU Ms. Stewart for keeping everyone so well cared for!
Here are a few quotes from the last couple weeks: "Feeling crummy?" "Ah, I see you have a healthy chemo hangover!" "You're numbers are in the skids, but nothing we can't fix with a couple doses of good blood." [Yes, I'll confess a new appreciation for 'Twilight;' if I disappear look in Forks.]
Colin was laughing when I returned from a walk with a flat-footed march. I had to explain that since I can't always feel my feet, I'm sure of staying upright if I walk this way. I also described how the same thing happens to my hands which caused me to drop a jar of spaghetti sauce in aisle two last week. How can a three foot descent spread sauce in a 12 foot diameter and sound like a grenade explosion?
Many people ask how Colin and Danny are with all this. It's a complicated question; one that you should really ask them. From my perspective they are amazing. They are loving, supportive and constantly look our for my spirits as well as the everyday details. They have accompanied me to the grocery store and errands and appointments more than any self-respecting young male could imagine, and acted gallant all the while. Danny and I share precious moments, sometimes chatting, sometimes quiet (who? Danny!) in the hospital and home. He is responsible and steady and compassionate, and still grins when the mood strikes. Colin visits often from Bellingham and fills us with his insight and humor and wisdom. Their depth and loving kindness in the face of such worries are remarkable and make me very proud.
Then I'm asked, "and how's Jon?" Well, don't get me started. He's endured every hospital night with me crammed like pretzels in the hospital cots, he lets me cry or makes me laugh on the toughest days, his visitor name badges are stuck all over the 12th floor, as soon as they've checked me in each round the staff ask 'When's Jon coming?' He urges me on or gives me a boost or lets me lolly gag. I simply couldn't do it without him. It's been harder to get away and act normal, and often hard to remember life before November 5, but Jon continues to be a wonder and gift.
I'm now done with seven out of eight rounds of inpatient chemotherapy. I said a not so fond farewell to the last bag of adriamycin last Friday. [I wonder why it has to be neon orange and come in a dirt brown garbage bag? You can only imagine what a 24 hour infusion, along with mega amounts of other fluids and rescue drugs, can do to human cells. If you see a navel orange rolling down the Thriftway aisles, stop and say 'hello.']
My brother, who came for a wonderful visit, was curious about the experience of facing my own mortality. A great question for us all and one that I will confess to spending some time on lately. I have no good answer, but I will say that living on is still the most powerful, relevant and meaningful concept to me. There is some uncertainty about the near future that may include returning to work, undergoing a bone marrow transplant or spending some more quality time at the clinic. What is certain is that there will be some great summer adventures and a move to Lake Forest Park so we can finally be one household!
Your messages and love and blessings are ever present. Thank you with all my heart!
Love,
Lynn
PS - I am SO PROUD of the Room 22 students who showed great progress on their last report cards! Every single person in that class made gains to be applauded. THANK YOU Ms. Stewart for keeping everyone so well cared for!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Hi Lynn,
Just wanted to drop a quick note. I can identify with the "chemo brain". At least that's my excuse. I hope you've been able to enjoy the few and far nice days, between our spring snows.
Alexa says Hi.
We are planning on the "Big Climb" next Sunday. She's going to volunteer, I'm going to crawl.
Regards & Well wishes to all,
Don
Just wanted to drop a quick note. I can identify with the "chemo brain". At least that's my excuse. I hope you've been able to enjoy the few and far nice days, between our spring snows.
Alexa says Hi.
We are planning on the "Big Climb" next Sunday. She's going to volunteer, I'm going to crawl.
Regards & Well wishes to all,
Don
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Dearest Ones, Once again I open with a big grin and a loud shout of 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' I am so grateful and overwhelmed by your kindnesses in every shape and form. As I go through my days, sometimes in the hospital, sometimes at home, sometimes at the clinic or Dr. office, sometimes running errands, a comment or card or gift pops into my mind with a glow of warmth right in my heart. Good news, bad news. There is no bad news. My hair is gone and I'm thinner - mes amis, be careful what you wish for! I gently remind the powers that be that when I wished for less eyebrows and leg hairs, I didn't quite mean none at all. To quote Debra Jarvis, "it feels as though someone is erasing my face." No nose hairs even! This means that on really cold days I can make snotcicles to impress even the grossest of you! Chemo brain is also a reality, and Jon, Danny and Colin are getting used to me stopping mid sentence or rerouting a conversation because I can't recall a name, place or train of thought. To all my students who I remind to 'form a thought before you raise your hand.' I'm right there with you in forgetting what I meant to say. Lastly, the days that I don't feel like my mouth is lined with tin foil are glorious. Every sip of coffee, bit of sandwich or morsel of chocolate is a taste bud sensation and I go into a fit of eating frenzy. The good news - I'm half way through this set of induction treatments. That means that I've endured four rounds of intense chemotherapy in the hospital and at home. There are many chemicals running through my body - some fight the cancer cells (the 'stupid' cells as Dr. White calls them), others throw rocks back at the fighter cells, some work on building good cells, others batlle infections, and other knock around building healthy bones. To all my students and young friends who have achy legs and bones from growing - I'm also right there with you! All these chemicals that march around battling each other and doing construction work can be quite a challenge. Sometimes I feel them sword fighting in my shoulder blades or hammering in my leg bones, sometimes they are wrestling in my stomach or laying cement in my spine, but I have faith that the good guys are winning. The other good news is my doctor and the staff on the 12th floor and clinics are a constant source of solid information, thoughtful care, tons of knowledge and copious amounts of compassion. I am very fortunate to have these people caring and rooting for me. The OTHER good news is Jon (Dr. Drake to my older students) and I are married! We went to Lincoln Park on a sunny Sunday. The sun shone and the skies beamed blue, and with a handful of family and friends said, 'I do!' It was simple and impromptu, and I love being married to the perfect man. Tomorrow I return to the 12th floor for the fifth round of treatments. I muster up my courage, and try to plan how to best manage the effects and stay positive. I dream of coming back to Room 22, of running through the park, and of long, full days of loving and enjoying my family and friends. Until then, your wishes, prayers and encouragment are pushing me in that direction. With Love and Gratitude, Lynn
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Classroom greetings!
From room 22, for you Lynn:
with guest author George Shannon and Ann Dunbar
(picture taken by Phyllis Stewart)
with guest author George Shannon and Ann Dunbar
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
*ding dong*
wow, this is so great!
i'm so happy for you!
(i'm writing with a peice of cake in my right hand - don't ask...long story- so don't mind the errors)
I'm really excited that you have found someone ver dear and special to you!
Ding Dong *WEDDING BELLS!!*
YAY
AGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH i can't get over how happy i am for you, I CAN'T CONTAIN MYSELF!
-the elated (i learned a new word)
carow family!!
i'm so happy for you!
(i'm writing with a peice of cake in my right hand - don't ask...long story- so don't mind the errors)
I'm really excited that you have found someone ver dear and special to you!
Ding Dong *WEDDING BELLS!!*
YAY
AGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH i can't get over how happy i am for you, I CAN'T CONTAIN MYSELF!
-the elated (i learned a new word)
carow family!!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Well I am no detective but I will surmise from the last blog that there were bells in the air. Well YAHOO to that! I had actually signed in to say Happy Birthday to Lynn but alas weddings beat birthdays in the hierarchy of celebrations - I have a strong belief in endorphine healing.
Cherish the love you had yesterday; that you still have today and look forward to cherishing the love you shall have tomorrow."
No wonder the sun has been shining in the Fauntleroy neighborhood!
Cherish the love you had yesterday; that you still have today and look forward to cherishing the love you shall have tomorrow."
No wonder the sun has been shining in the Fauntleroy neighborhood!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
From Bruce and Family
Dear Lynn and Jon,
Congratulations!!! Great love, joy and happiness today and always. Our hope and prayer is that it will be a boost to Lynn's complete recovery too.
Enjoy, we love you and are with you in spirit and will drink a toast to you to celebrate your wedding.
Much love, Martha, Bruce, Sue, Bob, Paul, Mark, Betsy, Steven, and Chris
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Hi Lynn
I was thinking about your illness and how it could seems so much like our recent weather patterns.
Grey skies with spots of great sunshine
Winter storms that force dormancy and solitude
Peaceful and quiet snow falling all around that creates a hush
The intermittent need for avalanche control
Floods that render us helpless yet bound by community
Predictibility that seems partially random
What I see on the horizon is the growth of new life that spring shall bring for you and of course the earth.
I hope all is well and I check in on you from afar.
Hugs
Beth and Family
I was thinking about your illness and how it could seems so much like our recent weather patterns.
Grey skies with spots of great sunshine
Winter storms that force dormancy and solitude
Peaceful and quiet snow falling all around that creates a hush
The intermittent need for avalanche control
Floods that render us helpless yet bound by community
Predictibility that seems partially random
What I see on the horizon is the growth of new life that spring shall bring for you and of course the earth.
I hope all is well and I check in on you from afar.
Hugs
Beth and Family
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
