Note to self, when you have someone help you set up a digital space as a newbie, make sure you clear ownership of the site before they retire. One day it was just gone, and no matter what I did, who I called, and how hard I tried, it simply was impossible to get those digital pages back. I was, however, able to re-establish this space and regain ownership of the site. It was important to me to retain the name, hoping upon hope that once I begin to write again here, my readers will find me again. If you are reading this, thank you. If you are new, welcome. And if you are returning, thanks for sticking with me.
At first, as you can imagine, I was pretty angry, then devastated, then a strange thing happened, I embraced the loss. There is something to be said for the loss because it makes you realize one how strong you can become. This past year has been full of highs and lows. I became Dr. Janet Ilko EdD. this past spring under the guidance of Dr. Nancy Frey, Dr. Doug Fisher and
Dr. Diane Lapp. 
The work I have done over the past few years began in this space. My passion and focus continue to be urban students, but my recent passion is continuing to study and test strategies to help Long-term English learners be successful in the content classroom. I have dedicated most of the past ten years in working with these students trying to figure out what we need to do as a system to guarantee them a viable and challenging curriculum with the same opportunities that their English-only counterparts have. It continues to fuel my work and was the focus of my dissertation work. I graduated with my daughter Alicia on Mother’s Day with my doctorate in Educational Leadership, and my daughter graduated with her Masters and Reading Specialist Credential. That was my high point.
Then there was the ultimate low. The hardest part about this amazing time of my life was I had to do this after losing my mom to brain cancer only 2 months before, the week I defended my dissertation. That same week I realized I had lost access to my blog because I went to post this piece on mom and I couldn’t. This digital space has always been a place of both personal and professional thoughts, so it is appropriate I combine them here in my first post. Now that I’m back, here is an excerpt…
March 12th, 2018
Cancer Sucks. That is the plain and simple truth. It sucks the life and soul of your body, and in the case of brain cancer, although painless, it sucks your mind. And watching it happen whether it be slow or fast sucks.
I am exhausted. I thought I could will this away, set a timeline in my head of how this would roll out. I would finish my doctorate, she might have to stay home, not be able to attend but I would be able to share a video, I could come out and share the pictures, it would be poignant, and hard, and even a little painful. But it would not be the devastation I feel sitting in this house right now. In all likelihood, I may not see her again after this trip. She is growing weaker by the day.
She is dying. I know that not because of the books on the table that describe the process. She can no longer stand on her own, she is bedridden and exhausted. When she awakens she is confused sometimes, angry sometimes, calm sometimes. It depends on what her brain is doing at the time I suppose. but because I have seen it before. I know the signs, but I still hold out hope. Hope this nosedive she is taking is side effects to the second round of chemo she was obviously not strong enough to take. That because they elected to stop it, that this may turn around. It might be a fantasy, but it is one that I am going to keep in my head when I have to get in the car on Tuesday morning to go home. Right now, the world revolves around her, and that is as it should be.
She has been my motivation to finish the doctorate since she got sick in November. It was a devastating phone call, and a blur ever since actually. Thanksgiving coming out here to Arizona after the brain surgery. The phone calls, the conversations about treatment or non-treatment. And so she decided on radiation and oral chemotherapy.
What I cannot wrap my head around is the power of looking into her eyes and willing myself to understand the thoughts she cannot clearly say. When we got here this morning she was clearly trying to tell us something. These moments of clarity come to her, and she openly shares her thoughts as best she can through the haze and confusion. She spoke a lot about wanting more time, more time to stay with us. She is not going gently off into the sunset. She is fighting to be here, but cancer is a bitch, and although I can continue to be strong, I don’t get to fight this battle.
She has been my motivation to finish the doctorate since she got sick in November. It was a devastating phone call, and a blur ever since actually. Thanksgiving coming out here to Arizona after the brain surgery. The phone calls, the conversations about treatment or non-treatment. And so she decided on radiation and oral chemotherapy. We came again just a few weeks ago. We were planning to come in two weeks from now, which I still will but the concern this week was that may be too late.
She talked today about Alicia and I being strong women. You are strong she said. And when I told her about the dissertation defense date being moved to next week, she said she wants me to go. My doctoral team moved mountains to move my defense up in hopes I could share it with her. It makes her proud to have this work completed, but it makes me feel selfish for leaving.”
I ended up leaving two days later at her request. I came home and defended my dissertation, We lost her a few days later. I share this now because I have come to realize these past few months that life truly has no guarantees, and it is time to make the most of the time I have on this planet.
I have taken the past few months to try to process all that has happened. I have always been a person who seeks out challenges, tries new things, and I push myself to continue to learn and grow in both my personal and professional life. I missed this space, and so I spent some time trying to get it back, then figuring out what I want this new space to look and feel like. My husband Rob actually nailed it as I lamented losing so much over the past few months. He said, you are a different person, a different writer now. Maybe losing the old space isn’t so bad, because now you have a clean slate to try again. Here’s to new beginnings built upon life experiences. Here’s to a new space to write and share. Here’s to new beginnings.