Thursday morning re Wed blood counts

Here are the key blood counts for blood counts after all 3 chemos. Still don't really know what it means:

White Blood Cells - 1st - 17.4; 2nd - 7.8; 3rd - 8.4 - normal range 4.0 - 10.5
Red Blood Cells - 1st - 4.36; 2nd - 4.04; 3rd - 3.56 - normal range 4.2-5.4
Hemoglobin - 1st - 13.0; 2nd = 12.1; 3rd - 11.0 - normal range 12.5-16.0
Hematocrit - 1st - 38.0; 2nd - 35.8; 3rd - 32.3 - normal range 37-47

Platelets this time - 428; normal range 150 - 450

Peace

Wednesday evening

A much better day today. First, it feels like I made it through the weekend and the last couple of days mostly because of support from the good guys. Special thanks to David and H for taking me to work on Monday and Tuesday, and David for picking me up. Thanks, too, to J for his kind note in response to my down days.

I just felt better today. That weird food-tasting-off thing was gone and my intestines seemed to have calmed down. I went to work, we got through the day and finished the deal, and I took the bus to the Cancer Center for my blood counts. (I'll add specifics later - just for the record so that this blog ends up with a complete record.) Once again, the group cancer room was rocking. Full house (8 treatment seats occupied) plus another regular chair, when I got there. I took the last chair. I saw something I did not ever expect to see - a young woman obviously pregnant (I learned her baby is due in February), undergoing chemotherapy. It seemed that today was the last treatment day for the young woman; the baby is going to be a girl and Nurse E, joking, asked whether she would name the baby "E" - need some more "E's" she said. In general it seemed like all patients' spirits were in good order. Eventually Nurse E got around to me. The news was good - she said my blood counts were "awesome." Not sure what that means, but I'll take it.

Next on the treatment journey is January 7th "planning session" with the radiologist, and likely radiation to start the following week, maybe January 11th. I go in on January 13th to see Dr. R's PA (sine Dr. R is out that day), and I am supposed to see Nurse E that day to at least tentatively schedule Chemo #4 at the end of the radiation schedule.

Anyway, I'm feeling better. It's not quite so damn cold out. I have one more 1/2 day of work and then a 3 day weekend and a new year. Even though the weather is supposed to suck - snow, freezing rain - I'm hoping to get to the park at least two if not all three days.

Sending out love to all.

And, of course, peace.

Monday night

Not a very good day today. I slept okay (and a lot) last night and woke up feeling pretty good, and David gave me a ride to work. The work day started okay. I have been having that chemo side effect where food doesn't really taste right which pisses me off mostly because it means I don't even get to really (really) enjoy my morning coffee. It just doesn't taste like it should. Anyway, soon into the morning I began having diarrhea which lasted basically all day. I think that tired me out further than I already was. And some bone/joint pain, too. Because of this end of year "crisis" at work, I ended up staying until after 3:30, and I'm sure that tired me out more. David picked me up, too, but by the time I got home, I was not feeling so swell. I actually took a pain pill about an hour ago - the real deal, not just Motrin - I figured if it causes constipation, that might offset the diarrhea, and it does seem to have helped with the joint/bone pain. I'm wondering if the diarrhea is from the chemo or just from the weird stuff that I ate over the past couple of days. I'm wondering how my blood counts will be on Wed - I go a day early this time because the Cancer Center closes early on Thursday for New Year's Eve. Maybe I'm just fighting off a virus, a plain old stomach flu or something.

Anyway, I'm hoping today is the hump day and I really turn a corner tomorrow. The disability insurance company did approve the extension of my disability leave through March 15 and approved my working 6 hours (versus 4 hours), starting tomorrow. Since I worked more than 6 today, I'm hoping to work 4 tomorrow or Wednesday and possibly even take Thursday off since I still have vacation days and stand to lose some of them if I don't take them this year.

Going to bed to let the pain med do its magic.

Peace.

Sunday afternoon

Quiet weekend, not feeling great. Not terrible, but not great. It was sleeting or freezing rain on Saturday morning so Jessie and I didn't get to the park. I went to services at synagogue, also quiet, rabbi and many other people away. Some bone pain, not agony but uncomfortable. Back to the weird hungry-but food not tasting great dialectic. Also some constipation playing tag team with diarrhea. Main side effect - fatigue. I went to bed at 8:01 Saturday night and, although I woke up a couple of times in the early morning hours, I went back to sleep and didn't get up until 6:00 am today. So unseasonably and weirdly warm today - 49 degrees on Dec 27th - I did manage to take Jessie to the park this morning in the rain. We were both pretty bedraggled by the end.

I spoke to my son and grandson. I realized tonight when I took Jessie for a short walk in the neighborhood that because of my kids' visit - and particularly my grandson's visit - so many places here now bring him to mind. So when we walked tonight by the playground by the school yard, it wasn't just the playground by the school yard that kids play at, it was the play ground by the school yard where we took C while he was here. That's a gift he left behind. I hear he had a good Christmas, enjoyed every gift and went to see the Chipmunk movie, too!

I had a long and thoughtful message from M in response to my last couple of posts, for which I am grateful. There were several people I had hoped to call today to catch up after the holiday, but I just felt washed out. I think I just have been trying to hunker down. I know I have a hard 4 day work week in front of me and hope I feel better tomorrow. I guess I'm even a little nervous about leaving chemo behind - odd as that sounds - and venturing into a new form of treatment. At least I had begun to know what to expect with chemo. On the other hand, good riddance for 6-8 weeks! I'm just wondering how the radiation will affect me. Fatigue seems to have been a problem for me with the chemo; will the radiation be worse? Will I be able to work? What will it be like going for the treatments? With chemo, there is a camaraderie in the group chemo rooms. Radiation seems like it will be me going through it all alone. Jeez, a person can really find things to worry about all the time, right?

I'm okay. Tired, a little shaky, but feeling better today than yesterday. Perhaps another 10 hours of sleep will restore me further.

Peace.

Friday evening

Chemo # 3 is history. V picked me up Wed morning and we were able to have coffee and a little breakfast and visit before she dropped me off. The Cancer Center was a humming hive. I saw Dr. R, and it was - I am a little chagrined to say - a good visit. Perhaps because my second chemo went so much better than my first. She said I was doing very well, my blood counts are good and so on. I actually asked her if the fact that my blood counts are good and I feel so well could mean that the chemo isn't doing what it should be doing. She laughed; she said it was the first time anyone ever asked her that question. And she reassured me that it doesn't mean that, just that the new anti-nausea meds and the NuLasta shot are able to really improve the experience for many cancer patients. (Interestingly I ran into Dr. R in Whole Foods on Thursday afternoon; she recognized me and came over and asked how I was feeling. It was strange to see her in such a different context but nice.)

My appointment with Dr. R was at 9:10 and I was done by 9:30. I went to the back chemo group room that they call China because it's so far from the front entrance to the center, and there was a waiting line to get chemo. I kid you not. There were, I think, 8 treatment chairs. They were all full and 3 or so people in them hadn't even gotten started yet. I got a chair after about an hour and about an hour after that I started chemo, so I was done about 3:00 pm. I met an interesting couple; the woman, L., is the cancer patient, and with her was her husband D. She is a retired teacher, he a retired postal worker. She is facing her second bout with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. She was going to get chemo on Wed, but her blood counts weren't good so she had to receive whole blood. She was there almost as long as me just to receive a pint of blood. I think they were backed up because of the holiday. Anyway, I felt for her - she, her husband and I enjoyed talking for several hours - about books, about politics - the bad "healthcare" bill - etc. It sounds like she's had a rough road, needing many blood transfusions over the course of her treatment. But her spirits were good and she was positive.

I learned that the Cancer Center was closing at noon on Thursday and I couldn't get my NuLasta shot until 3:00 pm (must be minimum of 24 hours after chemo is finished). So there was a bit of a ruckus solving the issue. Nurse E was able to find a nurse at the hospital to agree to do it, and set up an appointment for me to go to the nursing station there at 3:00 on Thurs.

I worked Thursday morning, went into the office, very busy in our little group with our end-of-year urgent matters, but on the whole many many people out on vacation. I went to the hospital and got the shot. I had a nice brief chat with my daughter who called to check on me. She arrived in Atlanta and was staying with her cousin A, who has a baby that is about 15 months old I think. Last night I was wiped out and just slightly nauseous, not throwing up level, just affecting what I felt like eating. I ended up eating just some good sour dough bread David had bought, but couldn't get down much of the chicken soup he had so kindly made. I ended up falling asleep on the couch by 6:30 or 7:00 I think, getting up later to get into bed.

This morning I had arranged to meet H at 6:30 am and we took a long walk - with Jessie - through the neighborhood and to the park (I usually drive to the park and do my walking there) - and that was good. In general I felt better, still tired and still just the slightest bit nauseous, but I admit I was eating odd things today - nuts and candy and cookies that were gifts. I did have orange juice and a bowl of cereal this morning. I am starting to have some bone ... discomfort ... from the NuLasta shot. I wouldn't (yet) call it pain, but I may take a Motrin before bed. I had another chat with my daughter, and a lovely long call with Aunt M and C - wish I could be there to share Aunt M's chicken dinner tonight - and a brief call with my brother J. David had a long chat with his niece S; we hope to make it up to visit her and her family in Maine before too long. David seems to be fighting a cold and I think is generally tired from his work, from getting our place ready for my kids' visit and from the visit itself. I hope he can fight it off and it doesn't spoil his time off - he has a rare 4 nights off of work in a row.

Well, that's it for now. For anyone reading this, please offer a little prayer for the sweet lady L that I met in the chemo room on Wed and for all the others everywhere that face disease, poverty, hunger, oppression, war. A prayer for peace. A prayer to hold on to hope in dark times.

Peace.

Tuesday evening

Everyone has gone home. The apartment seems quiet. Even Jessie seems subdued. We were a little worried that my son's flights would be affected by the snow storm of the weekend, but I spoke to him today and they got home with no trouble.

I went into the office today. We're gearing up for end of the year deals. I need to call the disability insurance company and see if they received Dr. M's request to extend my disability after 12/28, and to approve me going to 3/4 time work (30 hours a week) during the radiation treatments. I meant to do it today but got too busy and forgot.

My eyes are drooping but I'm forcing myself to stay up until 10:00 pm to take the Decadron. I have to take it again at 5:00 am. I see Dr. R at 9:10. V is picking me up and we're going to go for coffee and some breakfast beforehand.

I found it interesting that my kids really had no questions they wanted to ask me about the treatments or the whole process. I think they may have been relieved to find me really unchanged except for my poor bald head. My son commented specifically on how much energy he thought I had. And it's true that while they were here, my energy level was up (at least I wasn't falling asleep on the couch at 7:00 or 7:30 pm as I was doing the week before they came). Still the kids were supportive and clearly concerned about me. I think back to the fact that when my father had his open heart surgery in the mid 1970's, I was in my mid-20's. I'm not sure I had many questions about the specifics of his treatments, just how he was doing in general, how he felt and his prognosis.

Anyway, the only thing I'm really dreading about Chemo #3 is the NuLasta shot and possible side effects spilling over into next week, which promises to be a very very busy week at work (and the week I'm hoping to start working 3/4 instead of 1/2 time). I have to say that although I do like Dr. R, I can't say I"m really looking forward to seeing her. There's something about seeing your oncologist that raises the whole cancer thing back to the obvious. She drills me, goes through all the effects of the treatment and the effects of the drugs given to deal with the effects of the treatment. When she is concerned, it shows. I much prefer just jumping on the treatment ship and sailing through the hours with Nurse E at the helm. Perhaps that's because when you're doing the treatment, you feel like you're accomplishing something (and meanwhile you don't have to think about why you need to accomplish it - whereas just the word 'oncologist' reminds you).

At any rate, it's good to know that once I get through tomorrow, I have one work day and then a 3 day weekend. 3 days to get back to the park and see what (and who) is stirring over there. I wonder if the omnipresent squirrels ever hibernate. (Do squirrels hibernate? I assume so, but actually don't know. Their apparently more delicate chipmunk cousins do seem to have gone to ground for the winter.)

Peace on earth.

Monday morning

I had a good weekend. Saturday I took Jessie to the park. It was cold. Very cold. Then my son, grandson and I went out to breakfast and then to the Connecticut Children's Museum. My grandson had a blast. He cried when we made him leave every exhibit, because he was having so much fun in every one of them. We even saw a brief planetarium show and a movie in the planetarium. It snowed 6 or 8 inches on Saturday night and on Sunday morning we had breakfast at home, and then David, my son and my grandson and I went to the park - but the other side of the park from where I usually go with Jessie - because there is a big hill there. David had found 2 plastic tray-like thingys in our basement that belonged to someone who had moved out. They appeared to be made for "sledding" on snow. So we took those. First my son went down holding my grandson on his lap, but later my grandson went down on the "sled" by himself (although we had moved to a slightly gentler slope before he did that). He spied a playground in the park and wanted to go there, so we trudged through the snow to the playground equipment and he happily climbed and slid and had fun there. Then more hill sliding. It was a good - if exhausting - morning.

THe other day my son remarked on how "healthy" I seem, being thankful for it. I do feel healthy, relatively speaking. I mean I felt healthy before all this began - except for the one problem I was having (breakthrough bleeding which isn't supposed to "break through" when you are a post-menopausal woman).

It has been a good visit. I loved spending time with my grandson who is amazing. I'm sure every grandmother says that, especially about a first grandchild, but nonetheless...

Anyway, I have to work this morning and then my son and grandson fly out this afternoon - assuming that the airport delays have cleared up and their plane is able to take off.

Tonight, Tai Chi. Tomorrow night, the Decadron routine again (5 tablets at 10:00 pm - 2 hours past my bedtime). Wednesday, Chemo. Thursday, NuLasta shot.

In the meantime, peace.

Thursday morning and Friday morning

Thursday morning - three pitiful ducks. That's what Jessie and I saw at the pond yesterday morning. Female. Smallish, perhaps juveniles. It was supposed to be 27 degrees, but possibly because it had been warmer the past couple of days, some of the ice on the pond that was there at our prvious visit had melted. Still the area in which these sad little ducks had to swim was small. I wondered if they were left behind by the larger group that inhabits the pond, or if they stopped at the park on their way from somewhere further north to somewhere further south. At any rate, it was good to see them, but I worried about them.

Friday morning - the ducks are gone. Hopefully they flew on south. It was even colder this morning and more of the pond was frozen over, almost all of it.

Perhaps because the pond-related level of activity is lower, I found myself noticing other things in the park. For instance, the odd consistency of the red clay path that circles the larger of the two parts of the park. It had snowed, the snow had melted, the water had soaked into the red clay and caused it to form pellet-like globules that crunch under foot. Jessie and I also went to the rock garden and I sat on a bench in the cold dawn light for while. The rock garden is so bare now. Truly a "rock" garden. While I sat there, a hawk flew overhead, followed by another hawk obviously chasing it. My eyes are too bad and the hawks were too high for me to be sure, but I am guessing red tailed hawks. Not sure.

One thing I'm grateful to this cancer experience for is what seems to be a newfound desire and ability to pay attention to the natural world when I'm out in it. I find myself wishing I could be able to walk in the park every single day for a year, paying attention to new details day after day. Maybe I can - if not every single day, then almost.

I've been enjoying my kids' visit. My daughter leaves this afternoon, my son and grandson stay over until Monday.

I saw Dr. M on Wednesday. He pronounced me fully recovered from the surgery and able to exercise and generally "do" whatever I feel up to doing. Of course, I am already back in my Tai Chi class. And my little Hanukkah gathering seemed to be a success - almost every single latke was devoured. Thanks to all the friends who came by - and to my kids for bearing with me in my desire to let my friends meet them and the baby. It made me happy (especial thanks to V and J for bringing the plunger and to J for using it with skill to unstop my kitchen sink which saved the day - and the party - literally).

I've mostly been focused on the kids and my grandson, but the back of my brain is now counting down days to Chemo #3 - next Wednesday. It will be a little odd to have chemo and go back on Christmas Eve for the NuLasta shot, and then experience the side effects of the chemo and the shot over the holiday weekend.

Okay, going to go out for breakfast with the kids.

Peace on earth. Now if possible.

Wednesday morning

The kids are here and my grandson. Amazing what a couple of young people and a 3 year old do to the staid atmosphere of a small apartment. My grandson in particular has livened up the mix - he's interested in everything, so he picks things up and moves them around. What a shake up. It's great! I'm sure after they leave I'll be finding things in odd places for weeks to come.

I see Dr. M this afternoon for a post-surgery follow up. Should be routine.

I'm feeling well. I can't say I'm looking forward to the chemo next week, except that after it, there's no more chemo for between 8 and 12 weeks! (2-3 weeks off, then radiation, then 2-3 weeks off and then the last 3 chemos).

I'm taking tomorrow and Friday off of work to spend time with the kids. I hope to get up early tomorrow and take Jessie to the park while everyone else is sleeping. I want to see what's going on there - if the ducks are really gone for the season, I'll have to explore a little more and find some other living creatures to keep track of over these cold winter months.

Thanks to several people who sent me their thoughts about my experience at synagogue with people who usually do not speak to me doing so on learning of my cancer. I was ungenerous (and thanks to J who was glad to know I am sometimes mean spirited - if only J knew how often such sparks of mean-spiritedness flare up in my withered old heart, just usually not out onto the paper - no noble suffering cancer patient, I!) - and I do see how people could be trying to be kind. I will try to keep it in mind.

It's a cold day. But the sun is out. And my grandson likes listening to my book that includes 100 songs and calls of birds.

Peace

Sunday afternoon

A grey day, rain, sleet and freezing rain this afternoon. Jessie and I did make it to the park this morning, first time in quite a while. It was quiet. The pond had half frozen over and the other half was mid-freezing, looking like wrinkled skin. No ducks. Or else they were well hidden. Very quiet. Eerie.

I went into the office on Friday and had a pretty good day. Friday night, David and I had dinner at H and M's; good food, good company. Saturday I went to sabbath services at synagogue, and stayed to hear the rabbinic intern's talk on Hannukah. It appears that word has finally gotten out generally about my circumstances. Many people came up and spoke to me (how are you feeling? is there anything I can do for you? do you need any food? ) including a number of people that generally ignore me. Interesting phenomenon. Is it the synagogue equivalent of rubbernecking on a highway after a bad accident? (Okay, that's not very generous on my part, I admit.)

Last night David's brother R and his girlfriend J came over. We visited a while and then went out to dinner. It was a good evening, too.

Today was cleaning day, trying to finish getting the apartment ready for the kids' visit. David and I both worked hard. I went to the store to get some things for the baby - apple juice, raisin bran, fruit, cookies.

As all of the foregoing shows, I'm feeling good. Still dealing with slight numbness in tips of several fingers - side effect of the NuLasta shot. Still get tired at 7:30 pm and am gone by 8:30 pm (of course, I'm getting up at 5:30 or 6:00). But basically I"m okay. The kids flights are late tomorrow night - my daughter arrives around 8 pm and my son and grandson not until 9:30 or so - so they won't be arriving here until quite late.

But all is well in my corner of the world right now.

Peace.

Thursday afternoon

Yesterday was a pretty normal day. I worked in the morning from home. I had hoped to go into the office, but the 5-6 inches of snow we got over night and into the morning convinced me to rethink the idea. I did go out in the afternoon and clean off my truck. Good exercise although I feel like I pulled something on one of my ribs. A little sore. The snow had turned to rain and I was worried that it would get colder and turn the layer of snow to ice on the truck, which would be hard to get off. I didn't need to go anywhere yesterday, but today I had to go to the Cancer Center for my blood work.

I went in and they were swamped. Poor Nurse E had a room full of all her patients, most waiting to be started on chemo, a couple of us there for blood work results. It took a long time and she was a little distracted, so I didn't really get to talk to her the way I had sort of hoped to. Specifically I wanted to more than mention (which I did) this sort of odd "pain" I've had the last couple of days in my abdomen. At first I thought it was gas, but I don't think so. It's not excruciating or anything, but kind of unpleasant. Comes and goes to some extent, but is more there than not. I did mention it. She wondered if it could be something post-surgery related, or even a hernia. She asked if I had seen or was going to see Dr. M. I told her I was supposed to have a follow up with him 6 weeks after the surgery - which actually was last week. So anyway, I did call his office and I have an appointment next Wednesday.

As far as the blood counts go, Nurse E said they were fine, but they do seem different than last time. Here's some comparisons:

White Blood Cells - Last time 17.4 ; this time 7.8; Normal range 4.0-10.5
Red Blood Cells - Last time 4.36; this time 4.04; normal range 4.2-5.4
Hemoglobin - Last time 13.0; this time 12.1; normal range 12.5-16.0
Hematocrit - Last time 38.0; this time 35.8; normal range 37-47

My platelets were still good - last time 300; this time 345; normal range 150-450

Anyway, Nurse E didn't seem concerned. But she also didn't have much time to talk to me about what it meant. I see Dr. R before the next chemo on Dec 23rd so I guess I just need to write down questions and take them with me.

At any rate, I'm doing okay. We still have quite a bit to do around here to get ready for the kids' visit. But I'm doing my best not to stress over it. It will get done. Or it won't. Either way, it wll be great to have them here. I'm feeling better already, and I think I'm on the upswing now and so should feel better every day from now on (to the next chemo).

Okay. I'm going out to do an errand or two. It's a cold and beautiful day. Blue sky. Clouds. Sun. Wind.

Peace.

Tuesday morning

At last, Jessie and I made it to the park this morning. We went early, so early that once we got there, we sat in the car for a little while until a bit more sun peaked over the horizon. I know the park well, but I'm a little squeamish about walking its paths in the pitch dark. It was still very dark when we began, just a hint of pale yellow, eggshell they'd call it if it were paint, in the east. The pond was flat silver. The ducks were raucous. It was cold. A good walk.

I met Dr. V yesterday morning, the radiologist in charge of that portion of my treatment. I liked him. I think he may be Dutch or Scandinavian by birth, a very slight accent and a somewhat formal demeanor. I felt that of all the doctors I've seen so far, he gave the clearest explanation of both the reasons for the treatment I am receiving and what to expect from the portion of the treatment he is responsible for. On some level it sounds like the 5 weeks of radiation will be less invasive and debilitating than the chemo. However, his clarity was somewhat sobering. He discussed not only the potential "acute" side effects - short-term things like fatigue, changes in bladder and bowel, etc. - but also the possible long-term effects - that the changes in bladder and bowel could be permanent, the possibility of a bowel obstruction that could require surgery to correct. All small risks - less than 5%. But I've discovered that when YOU area red or black space on the cancer roulette wheel, 5% sounds like a lot.

I have an appointment the first week in January for a "planning" session. They will do an abdominal CT scan to figure out where everything inside of me is actually located, and tattoo some marks on my abdomen that will be the targets for the radiation treatments. I learned that I will not need internal radiation (e.g., through the vagina) only external. Apparently internal radiation is used where there is some indication of cancer having affected the cervix or lower uterus. Dr. V said that as there was no indication of that in my case, I won't need internal radiation. Since the idea of it kind of creeped me out, I'm glad about that.

I've been finding myself thinking about the longer term effects of all this on one's life, of how once you have been diagnosed with "cancer," you can't undo that ever again and go back to being what you were before. It's like losing your virginity. You're a virgin. Until you're not, ever again. One day of your life, you don't have cancer. Then you do have it or have had it. If things go well, you become a "cancer survivor" and that's what you are the rest of your life. But you can't ever go back to being someone for whom cancer was - at most - someone else's issue (maybe a loved one's problem, or a friend's). Of course almost everyone KNOWS someone who has cancer or has had it - but I'm learning the space between that and being the one who has/has had it is not small. I recall Dr. M saying that once all this treatment is done, I'll be going to see him every 3 months for at least 2 years.

I was thinking yesterday during my evening walk with Jessie about paying attention, about the fact that cancer makes you pay attention to the present, to your life right now as it exists. No more half-attention, where you're kind of thinking about what you have to deal with today, but you're also thinking about tomorrow, next week, next year - either worrying about the future or hoping for the future. Cancer strips that away and demands that you pay attention to your life in the moment you are living it. Which is good. Because really there isn't anything else, not really. So maybe this is a gift that cancer might bring - the gift of reminding me to pay attention and live, now, not later, now.

Okay, the sun is up. It's supposed to be a nice but cold day before a storm comes in tonight, bringing snow, sleet, freezing rain. So I'm off to start my day.

Peace.

Monday early morning

Well, Jessie and I didn't make it to the park yesterday (Sunday) morning. I wasn't feeling great and there wasn't much snow, just a sprinkling but enough to have made some icy sidewalks. I decided to stick close to home. I did make it to K's baby shower with J on Saturday afternoon. We didn't stay until the end, but I think it meant a lot to K that we came. I was glad to be able to go.

One thing I learned this weekend is that the "bad" weekend I had after my first chemo was not all related to the constipation-diarrhea-vomiting-cramps phenomenon. That weekend, too, I must have also been experiencing the beginnings of the side effects of the chemo, they were just masked by how sick I felt from the other. So this past weekend, without the masking, I learned that the chemo (plus the NuLasta shot, hard to tell what side effects come from what) makes me very tired, somewhat shaky (like when you have low blood sugar), the steroids make me feel hungry all the time but not really knowing what I want to eat. Probably the most significant "side effect" was how tired I felt. I had (still am having) some bone pain, but it hasn't been debilitating. I found myself on edge, though, worrying about side effects from the drugs they give you to deal with chemo side effects (for example, there are some serious potential side effects of the NuLasta shot). It's like circles within circles. You put off worrying about the effect of the chemo by taking another drug, only to worry about its effect.

I did have a lovely long talk with my daughter and also spoke with both V and H this weekend. And, in any event, despite the tiredness, bone pain and shakiness, I did quite a lot. David and I are still cleaning up the apartment in preparation for the kids coming. I actually went through my bedroom closet - how often does one do that - including a bunch of old bills and other paper I had stored in there. I did a couple loads of laundry and went to the store. Given that I didn't feel great, actually I got a lot done.

Today I have my "meet and greet" with Dr. V, my radiologist. I have 2 main goals: first, to confirm that I can set the radiology appointments for late in the day, which is the advice I've been given by those who've gone through radiation (it makes you tired; do it at the end of your day so you can go home and collapse). Late in the day will also let me work every day before the appointment. Second goal, to find out at least approximately when it will start - is there a 3 week break between my 3rd chemo on Dec 23 and the start of the radiation? This matters only because it gives me some sense of how long this whole thing is going to last.

Maybe it's just the ebb and flow of the whole treatment process, but going through chemo #2 and at least the beginnings of its side effects, I have felt a little depressed again. I find myself worrying about the cumulative effects of the whole treatment process. Perhaps these feelings are stirred up partly by the fact that my hair is almost gone now. All that's left is some patches of grey fuzz, but rubbing off in places so there are balding spots. My poor skull seems such a symbol of the accumulation of the effects of the chemo. I worry about being able to bounce back from each treatment. It seemed like I was more tired this time than after chemo #1, and I worry that by the end, I'll be so tired I won't be able to do anything. I even worry in the back of my little mind - what if this doesn't "cure" me and this becomes a way of life for years to come.

But I'm not freaking out. I'm really okay. These are just feelings I'm having. They poke their little noses up in my consciousness along side of my feelings of anticipation about the kids' visit, about spending a week with my grandson, about the glorious full moon we had last week, through which I walked Jessie in the dusk and saw the sky turn almost green across the horizon shading to blue and black above, stars coming out, bare tree limbs like lace.

I am doing okay.

Peace.

Saturday morning

We didn't make it to the park for a walk today, Jessie and I - in fact, we haven't been in some time. Maybe tomorrow. There's supposed to be snow tonight, ending in the morning. As long as it isn't too icy, it might actually be lovely to see the park in its first garment of white.

But today I didn't feel up to it. I went in to the office yesterday, and I think accomplished what I needed to. But by the time I got home, I was really worn out. Also my eating habits seemed all screwed up. I kept thinking I wanted to eat something - a breakfast sandwich, a cup of coffee, and trying to and then not really feeling like it. I did finally have a cup of soup for lunch. When I got home around 2:00, I was really wiped out. We ended up going to Whole Foods to buy take out dinner early, around 5:30 - mine was a weird combination of a cup of chicken soup, a scoop of mashed potatoes, and an Indian fried vegetable dough thingy. I did have some bone/joint pain, and I took 1 Motrin about 6:00 and that dealt with the worst of it. Then I slept on the couch from 6:30 where I ended up staying so until 4:30 in the morning. I was having a little nausea and sleeping on the couch with my head elevated seemed to help that. I was able to avoid taking the Compazine anti-nausea med that I took last time (that contributed to my constipation-diarrhea fiasco). At 4:30 I woke up and got in the bed.

When David got home around 6:15, I woke up feeling somewhat better. I took Jessie for a walk in the neighborhood, and was able to eat something. But I still feel a little shaky, weak, tired. Not terrible. Just ... not quite right. But so far I haven't had to take another Motrin; my hips and knees ache, but so far at least no worse than on a bad arthritis day (which, as a matter of fact, this day might be since a storm is on its way, first rain turning to snow.)

Well, I may go stick my head back in a book. And likely sleep even more. I am hoping to feel well enough to go to the baby shower for my young friend from work, K, this afternoon, but I'm still uncertain about that. Maybe a little more rest...

Peace.

Thursday early evening

I went in to the office to work today; that went well. If I'm feeling okay, I may go in again tomorrow (with the thought that next week is likely to be the week when the chemo side effects are most engaged).

I found a wool scarf that I have had for 25 years or so - it was a gift to me from a good friend and neighbor in NYC - GFM, who was also my son's 4th grade teacher - she brought it back to me as a gift from a trip she took in the 1980s to the Soviet Union. I am not a great scarf wearer - at least up until now - and I wore this scarf only a few times (around my neck) over the years, but kept it because I liked the print but more because GFM gave it to me. This morning I took it out and tried it as a head covering. It worked well; I found it cooler to wear inside (the office in this case) than the hats I have. So anyway, I wore the scarf to work today and it felt good, sort of more office-like than a hat. But mostly just more comfortable because of being cooler. I really didn't think I would like wearing scarves as head coverings, but maybe I will. I am going to order a couple more cotton ones from the Cancer Society catalog that they gave me at the Cancer Center.

I got my NuLasta shot this afternoon. Shouldn't really start with the bone pain side effects until later tomorrow or tomorrow evening.

I find I am tired. Perhaps just a busy day - at work, then to the Cancer Center, and then errands. Perhaps also some effects of the Chemo and the related drugs they gave me yesterday before the Chemo and the anti-nausea and steroids I have to take today (and the net couple of days). Anyway, I think I'll sleep well tonight.

Another nice thing that happened today was that I had a call at work from a friend, TDJ, who used to work in our group but was laid off some time ago. We've stayed in periodic touch. Interestingly she told me that for the past few days or week I've been strongly on her mind and she felt the need to talk to me. So we caught up. (Several years ago, while TDJ worked with us, she had to undergo brain surgery to have a tumor - which Thank God proved to be benign -- removed from her brain. We were always friends, but I think we became closer during that time, while she recovered and then when she returned to work. She certainly has a sense of what I"m going through. It was good to talk to her.)

I would be looking forward to the cooler weather they say is coming this weekend if I didn't know that sooner or later it will become true winter weather with its panoply of snow, ice an sleet, especially dreaded ice.

Peace.

Wednesday evening - 2 down...

Chemo went well. Okay, in order:

First - as always - I got weighed. I gained back almost 3 pounds. ( My guess is that's the weight I lost over the horrible weekend of not eating, vomiting and having diarrhea - not real legitimate weight loss. I'm fine with it.) Then blood work. Then meeting with Doctor R, with whom I went over the past 3 weeks since Chemo #1 and told her all the details. I really like her. She was determined that I should not have the horrible experience dealing with taking the necessary drugs -- chemo, anti-nausea and pain pills - and then suffer constipation from those and then suffer worse from the so-called cure for that. So now I'm taking as a prophylactic a much gentler plant-based laxative (took one tonight). She prescribed some sort of awful sweet liquid that I have to "swish and spit" several times a day because she feels I'm developing a slight yeast infection in my mouth, apparently another common side effect. And she wants to hear if I experience any numbness in my hands and feet (I did last time - in 3 fingers and a couple toes on my left side, but it went away after a few days). Apparently this can be serious and even permanent.

Then I had chemo. No surprises - except that I had a another turkey sandwich for lunch and while it was good, fine - it wasn't out of this world as it was last time. It could be that I didn't eat it last time until 2:30 and this time I was included in the first round of lunch serving - at about 12:30.

V drove me to the appointment (oh - before that, my lovely son called me this morning to say hello and send love before the chemo - that was nice). H came and sat with me for a couple of hours from around 10 or 10:30 until noon at least. And David picked me up. I was able to go to the office holiday dinner tonight I did not east like a horse, but i ate well and the food was good - I just skipped the dessert which wasn't particularly inviting, at least to me.

So that was my day. Tomorrow I go in at 2:30 for the NuLasta shot. I'm really really hoping the pain is manageable this time with just Motrin. I want to go to the baby shower for K on Saturday with J and Kim from work.

I'm feeling okay. I'm tired. I think I will sleep very well tonight.

I send love to each of you reading this.

And peace.

Wednesday morning - pre-Chemo

Just a quick note before I go off for my second chemo. I'm doing okay. I had a good day yesterday - still shedding like a maniac, very little fuzz left up there. I worked my 1/2 day both Monday & Tuesday, Monday in the office, and Tuesday from home - and especially Tuesday was very productive. That felt good. Yesterday I learned that before the Chemo today, I see Dr. R, the medical oncologist. Apparently Nurse E told me this and I missed it. I'll be meeting with Dr. R before every Chemo. I took my Decadron last night at 10:00 (way past my new "normal" bedtime) and at 5:00 am this morning (just slightly earlier than my new "normal" wake up time). My daughter called to check on me yesterday. V is dropping me off at the Cancer Center, H is dropping by to visit with me there after her own doctor's appointment, and David will pick me up. I am feeling well loved and supported.

Tonight is my office holiday dinner. Nurse E thinks I'll be very ready to eat from all the steroids. If nausea stays at bay, I would agree with her.

Now I'm off to find something to eat so I can take my morning magnesium.

All is well with me. Now if we could just have world peace, address global warming, eliminate poverty and aids, and enjoy equality and justice everywhere.

Peace.

Tuesday 2:39 AM

Trying to stay honest here so when I look back at this experience, I'll remember that everything wasn't roses and sunshine all the time.

It's the middle of the night. I woke up and am having a hard time going back to sleep. Of course, I fell asleep on the couch between 9:30 and 10:00 p.m., woke up about midnight, got in bed, slept again, so I've already slept 5 or more hour. I'm certainly not in any physical pain or even discomfort, and no terrible specific thoughts or fears are suddenly weighing on me - just general malaise, about losing my hair, about the next chemo and potential side effects. I'd say half of the buzz cut fuzz I had on Friday has now fallen out; I'm shedding short grey hairs like pine needles fall from a dead Christmas tree. My skull is left with what looks like a kind of fuzzy greyish coating, not really "hair." (By the way, going to work was fine; my "haircut" was admired by those with whom I shared it.) I also went to Tai Chi on Monday night, and shared with my class my circumstances. I've been in the class with most of the people for almost 2 years; they were very supportive. I told them not to get too fond of my new "hair style" since I'm shedding it rapidly and it will likely be gone the next time I see them.

Basically, everything is okay. I'm just having a little middle-of-the-night angst.

I'm going to get a drink of water and listen to a little music on my iPod.

Peace.

Sunday morning

A quiet mostly at-home day yesterday. David and I did go to the movies to see the new end-of-the-world disaster film, 2012. It was - as expected - an end-of-the world disaster film. No surprises. But since for some reason, I've always liked disaster films... It was just nice to get out..

This morning I took Jessie to the park. We walked the front and the back loop. Lots of ducks and some Canadian geese on the pond. I understand this is mating season for ducks (as opposed to spring for most birds). They were kind of quiet today, apart from the one laughing duck. There was also a large flock of what I think are starlings. They were on the ground, pecking at the turning-brown grass. My guess would be around a thousand of them. I had forgotten to write here an incident from a prior visit to the park, last week I think. Jessie and I were coming back to the main entrance of the park from the back loop when I heard a strange sound. Suddenly I realized the sound was coming from above us. A huge, truly gigantic flock (much much larger than today's flock of 1,000) of starlings was circling overhead. They began alighting in trees across the center of the park, each tree holding hundreds and hundreds of them. All of them were calling out to one another - thousands upon thousands of starlings, all calling out. It was an amazing sight (and sound)!

A couple things on my cancer-mind. First, my poor little fuzzy head continues to shed my poor little fuzz. I do think it is less traumatic than having clumps of longer hair fall out. The current fuzz sheddings could pass for Jessie's bristly fur, which she drops regularly in all locations including across the apartment. I have been out several times, but always wearing a cap of some sort (I've worn the green wool cap that V gave me in her care package, and also the soft black knit cap that Aunt M made me - thanks again to both of them!) Tomorrow I have been planning to go into the office. I admit I am nervous about going in now, with my almost-shaved head (but who knows - by tomorrow I could lose most of my fuzz). I am nervous about wearing a hat/cap. I think I'm getting used to myself, but it's harder to deal with how other people may react to me.

Which reminds me - I read an interesting article in the NY Times this morning about a Cancer Center - kind of a patients and family only (no doctors, nurses, etc.) recreation center - at Sloan-Kettering hospital in NYC. Here is a quote about one cancer patient who goes to the center: "He felt comfortable in the center. Among other things, it allowed his cancer to be out front, because it was everywhere in the room. It is those without cancer who felt strange here. Outside of the hospital, Mr. Piepho rarely speaks of his condition, even to close friends. 'I think there’s a certain ethical responsibility about handling cancer,' he said. 'There’s a burden you place on people when you tell them you have it. Here there’s no burden. This particular place is common ground.'”

I do understand the concept of "common ground" with other cancer patients; that's what I felt in the group treatment room at the Cancer Center here. But I'm wondering about his statement that "there's a certain ethical responsibility about handling cancer... a burden you place on people when you tell them you have it". I'm not sure I understand what he means. What is the burden he's referring to? Is it the question of how people will respond to you when they learn you have/had cancer? Admittedly I don't have much experience yet. I'm a cancer newbie, but already I can see that people respond to learning you have cancer in a wide variety of ways. Even among people you know really care about you, reactions vary widely. I wonder if the situation of a person with cancer shares something in common with a person with a physical or mental disability in terms of how a circumstance beyond the control of a person - having cancer or a disability - can result in making other people - even people who care about the person - uncomfortable. Yet the idea that something about who I am that I have no control over - I am a person being treated for cancer - should be something to be kept hidden out of concern about making other people uncomfortable - well I'm not sure I buy that, at least in the abstract. I can understand not wanting to draw attention to it - for example, by wearing a cap/hat to work tomorrow - but in my case, at least, I must admit that my motivation would be to care for my own feelings and not about putting a burden on other people.

I have started to feel a certain knot of tension building in me about my second chemo session - this coming Wednesday. And yet I can't say I'm really dreading it. I think I am sort of looking forward to it in an odd way - to get it over with and mark another one finished.

Anyway, I am off to buy some Legos for my grandson to play with during his visit (in just 2 weeks!) and a couple of other errands.

Peace

Friday afternoon

Well, since the blog entry earlier this morning, I called my friend H - who had offered her hair stylist to me to cut my hair off - and H was able to get me an appointment today. So I had my hair cut off. The stylist suggested that rather than shave my head entirely, I leave a little hair. She's done this for other cancer patients, so I trusted her advice. So now I have what is essentially a buzz cut. David said it's like what he got when he joined the Coast Guard. It feels funny, and probably looks funnier. But at least there is some hair up there still. Better than having it fall out in clumps which it was starting to do. Of course H and the stylist complimented me -on the shape of my head, my nice hair line, my small ears, etc. etc. and I guess it doesn't look terrible - my ears don't stick out, my head doesn't appear to have any obvious deformities (bumps, flat places, etc.). But it feels pretty drastic. I wonder how long it will take to get used to it. Probably about the time the fuzz that is left begins to fall out, I'll have gotten use to the fuzz.

I continue to find it so interesting what I am learning about myself. My general approach to my hair for years, decades, has been to have something that is "easy" to deal with. This summer I cut it shorter than I had had it cut since I was in middle school, a true "short" haircut, and I had just begun to get used to that and even like it. But still, there was hair up there. I could feel it on my ears. I could feel it on the back of my neck. On my forehead. I could reach up and touch it with my fingers. And it was like a fence or a wall, a kind of shelter - something to cover me and support me. Without it, I feel so exposed. My face, my self is just sitting out there in the open. Scary. All of which reminds me of a poem I wrote back in high school - which I've always liked (and remembered). In memory of my lost hair I'm going to include it here:

HOUSE OF HAIR

I live inside a house of hair
and no one knows I"m hiding there.
Like golden strands of silken hay,
I do not brush the hair away
that covers my face. Alone, afraid
I stay inside the world I've made.
I see out, they don't see in,
I am behind a wall of thin,
shaking shining strands of hair,
and no one knows I'm hiding there.

Bye hair.
Peace.

Friday morning very early

Happy (Belated) Thanksgiving to each of you who are taking the time to follow this blog. I did not write because I was either busy -- cooking turkey and dressing, making gravy, acorn squash, mashed potatoes -- or vegging in front of the TV watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade, highlights of the national dog show and football. David made cranberry sauce, and his scrumptious walnut cranberry bread. We bought an apple pie. Jessie scored some turkey. It was a delicious meal. David's brother didn't come; he wasn't feeling well. We prepared a meal-to-go and David will take it to him over the next day or so. Kim dropped by late in the day, not to eat, just to visit. I spoke to my son, S, and to Aunt M. A good day.

Cancer-news-wise, my hair is now officially falling out. Just running my fingers through it, I can tell there is less of it. But yesterday for the first time, very gently pulling at it resulted in small clumps, little bitty rats' nests, coming out, It's hard to decide at what point to have it cut or shaved off. I have a certain horror of waking up one morning and having a big bald spot somewhere on my head and finding a BIG clump of hair in the bed with me. At the same time, David is right. At this particular moment, it still looks more or less normal - even if I can tell it's different and changing rapidly now. But how rapidly? Can it wait until Monday afternoon? I'm planning to go in to the office on Monday morning. Do I want to risk going in on Monday and trailng little baby rats' nests of hair around the office after me like Hansel and Gretel's crumbs? (Where's Laurence? Oh, just follow the little clumps of her hair. You'll find her.) It's amazing what you learn about yourself from this process. When Doctor R and Nurse E both brought up hair loss as a side effect, I didn't exactly pooh pooh it, but I really thought it wouldn't be that big a deal for me. It's not as if I have had long flowing silky locks on a day to day basis up until now that chemo is going to rob me of, But now, coming down to the wire, I am discovering it is a more freighted experience than I expected. I think once the hair is really gone, it may get easier. It's just letting go of it. Hmm.... a lesson there, too.

Maybe I'll decide to have it shaved off today -my personal Black Friday. Otherwise, I guess I'll wait until Monday afternoon. I think it comes down to the question of deciding which freaks me out more: Going ahead and having it shaved off now -- or -- the possibility that before I have it shaved off, truly large and obvious clumps will fall out. Don't know yet.

It's time to go take Jessie out. I have to check the weather to see if we should try to go to the park. I'd like to. We'll see.

Peace

Tuesday evening

Today began with a walk in the park with Jessie. The heron was again missing. I am going to imagine her as having arrived in Central America and now enjoying the company of a comely juvenile male heron, long necks twisting together in the tropical night. Beats sitting on a small float in a cold pond full of duck and goose guano in a New England turning to winter.

Today was my second day of working part-time. It went well. I need to get used to the fact that doing everything on my lap top over my DSL connection from home will take longer. It's amazing how spoiled we get; we experience things happening instantaneously and then anything less makes us impatient.

Kim called this afternoon to tell me she had received a letter from the disability insurance company saying my leave had been "suspended". I reached the disability insurance company and they said their records did show that Doctor M's report had been received but that no determination had yet been made on the extension of the leave and return to part-time work. Kim later talked to someone in HR who said this is common, some sort of timing problem, and I shouldn't worry about it. Later a case manager from the insurance company called me. I told her the issue and she said she would review the paper work and get back to me within an hour, as I understood it with a determination. She never called back. Surprise, surprise! I could freak out over this, but I'm going to do my best to choose not. After all, whatever is going to happen, is going to happen -- whether I freak out or not. Freaking out is tiring. And there are more interesting ways of getting tired.

For example, I went to my Tai Chi class last night, first time since the week before my surgery. It was good. It would be good if I could get back into practicing on the days between the weekly class (I was doing that some before the surgery). Anyway, it was a milestone to be back. I should be able to make next week's class. Not sure about the week after that, since that will be during the days during which the chemo side effects are likely to be most pronounced. We'll see

All in all, an okay day. I bought celery and onions to make dressing for our Thanksgiving turkey who is now thawing in the refrigerator. I was troubled all day by a slight case of diarrhea, but after having experienced the opposite, I am not complaining, just stating a fact. From what I understand, it may be a side effect of the magnesium pills which, amazingly, I have been remembering to take.

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving. Cooking. Eating The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (I remember taking my kids to it in person when we first moved to New York). Football (yes, actually, football).

Peace.

Monday early morning

During lunch with my girlfriends, V, S and M yesterday, someone reminded me that just a week ago I was so very sick. It was hard to believe.

No posts over the weekend because it was a good weekend, a quiet weekend, a normal weekend. Cancer-wise, I remembered to take all meds (B vitamins and magnesium) both days. May hair is showing is is made of the same stubborn DNA that comprises the rest of me - it continues to cling to my head. Although V asked if I had gotten it cut again since she took me to get it cut the week after my surgery (3 weeks ago). I have not gotten it cut. It's not falling out yet, but neither is it growing anymore.

Otherwise, I took Jessie to the park on Saturday morning. No heron. I attended synagogue services on Saturday morning. Stayed around the house the rest of the day, odds and ends. Sunday my friend L came over mid-morning and we went to the park (but not Jessie - poor Jessie!). Still no heron. I think she may have migrated. I will miss her, but it makes me happy in a way to think of her migrating. LIkely it means she's going to a location where many other herons winter (oooh, first time I think I have ever used "winter" as a verb!). I like thinking of her in a community of herons somewhere warm, rather than all alone here in the frosty fall awaiting winter's cold. I met V, S and M for lunch on Sunday. A lovely long foursome talk. And later Sunday, David went with me and I bought an office chair to use for working at home.

A wonderfully pedestrian weekend.

Today is my first day working part-time. A milestone,

Peace.

Friday afternoon

A good quiet ... normal ... day.

It was raining this morning so no park walk for Jessie and me. Instead a long damp (and weirdly unseasonably warm) walk through the neighborhood, followed by damp dog smells in the apartment. I took myself out for coffee and a roll and read a book. I went to Staples and tried out desk chairs. If I am going to work 20 hours a week from home, I need something better than an old straight back wooden chair. Home. The kids sent confirmations of their flights for their mid-December visit. I spoke with Kim about arrangements for beginning work next week. Etc. Etc. In other words - truly a normal day.

In cancer-treatment specific news: Hurrah, I remembered to take the new magnesium capsules at breakfast and - more-or-less - after lunch. My hair continues to stubbornly cling to my head. The 3-color glossy "Chemotherapy and You" booklet says that hair loss typically begins 1-2 weeks after treatment, but nurse E told me 3 weeks. For some reason I have more confidence in nurse E than in that booklet. Still, I try to become prepared for the day/night I reach up and unconsciously touch my hair and a clump comes out. H advised that her hairdresser will be happy to shave my head, give me a buzz cut (perhaps it would be less traumatic for fuzz to fall out than clumps of "hair"?) or whatever I'd like. Recalling the conversation with H about going to her hairdresser, I realized I felt a surge of panic, thinking she meant I should go now, in the next day or so, and I was freaked out. Then I realized that was my own dread. H was just telling me that when/if I want to do this, her hairdresser will be happy to help.

That's it. A good boring day.

Peace.

Thursday night

A nice normal start to the day: Jessie and I went to the park, walked both loops. I didn't see the heron, but I have chosen not worry about that.

Today was blood count day. I can't say I was really worried about it, more curious to see what it involved. I arrived and was weighed - I think they weigh you every time you're there. I learned that I have lost 5 pounds since the first chemo treatment, and a total of 12 pounds since the day of the surgery. I certainly don't mind, although if weight loss continued in a linear progression over the course of the entire 20+ weeks of treatment, it could be problematic. I doubt that will happen. And nurse E didn't even mention it as a concern, so...

They drew my blood, and then I waited. Then I was taken by a nursing assistant to the group chemo room. There my pulse, blood pressure and temp were taken (all fine). Eventually nurse E came and talked with me about my experiences over the past week. She had suggestions about a gentler plant-based laxative. I told her about the slight numbness in 3 fingers of my left hand; she didn't seem worried, but told me to keep taking my B vitamins. Eventually my blood counts came in. They were all fine, very good in fact. One category, I had 13.2 and the bottom range of "acceptable" would have been .8. Quite a difference. Good red cell count. Good white cell count (due to the NuLasta).. Good platelets (but I knew that would be okay; over the past couple years I've donated platelets and was able to do a double or triple due to my high platelet count). The only unknown was magnesium level; I guess it takes longer to get that reading. Nurse E said she'd call me later with those results. If it was too low, I might have to come in one day next week for an IV magnesium infusion. If slightly low, I'd have to take magnesium tablets.

One interesting thing was spending about an hour in the group chemo room. It was good. There was spirit. There was camaraderie. Not evenly among everyone there, but still. (Most everyone in the room - about 8 patients - were nurse E's charges, which I think was part of it). I realized that if I am in the group room next time, that will be fine. Maybe I've adjusted some, taken a first good stride toward acceptance, but it was good to find myself among people I know are in my shoes, and I in theirs. And of course, I realized that of those in that room, many are in shoes far less hopeful and harder to wear than my own.

That was the morning. The rest of the day was good. I cleaned up my home "office" a little bit. Did some grocery shopping. Went to the post office to mail some letters and my brother J's birthday present. As I was leaving the PO, nurse E called; turns out my magnesium was just slightly low, so I bought the mag pills and now have to take those 3 times a day. That makes 10 pills a day on a regular basis--okay, all vitamins/minerals, but I am not a keen (or experienced) pill taker.

Other news - I think both my kids and my grandson will be coming to visit in mid-December. They're coordinating and I'm waiting to hear final dates.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow. That's okay. It's been a good day.

Peace.

Wednesday morning

Feeling better today. Jessie and I walked both loops in the park. A quiet day. Crisp. The heron was hunched down in her new usual spot.

Today I need to check with the disability insurance company and make sure things are set up for me to start work half-time next Monday. Also I'm going to try to do some cleaning up - my kids are coming, so perhaps I feel that old nesting instinct stirring. Actually things are wildly out of control around here; David and I have both been distracted for a while.

Today is one week anniversary of first chemo. Hurrah. Tomorrow is first blood count day. My fingers are crossed.

I'm well.

Peace.

Tuesday afternoon

Hello. The sun is shining again. I did get up this morning and take Jessie to the park for our walk. In the end, I cut it a little shorter than usual. I found I was still a little weak, probably the side effect of the fasting, vomiting, diarrhea-filled weekend. But it was a crisp fall morning. When we first arrived, I didn't see the heron. We walked the back loop, which is our usual route. By the time we finished that, I was feeling fatigued. Normally I would do the front loop and rest on a bench in the Eddy Rock Garden, my favorite place. But I wasn't feeling up to the second loop. So I sat on a bench by the pond, something I rarely do. It was a little later than usual - perhaps 7:00 am. The pond seemed very quiet. Still. Empty. Nothing moved. So we sat in the sun. Then one little brown duck flew in and landed, and squawked up a storm. Then another. Then 4 Canadian geese landed on the far side of the pond. Suddenly I saw motion here and there. What I had thought was emptiness and stillness, was quiet water with ducks gliding through it. I still didn't see the heron, but I decided not to worry. I watched the ducks and the geese spread out over the pond. One duck in particular laughed like a hyena, I kid you not. One single loud guttural "He" followed by a series of falling "he he he he he he he he" notes. A laughing duck. It actually made me laugh. I decided not to do the front loop but to walk around the pond itself, a slightly shorter path and perhaps more interesting to Jessie. As we turned toward the north side of the pond, the sun moved to my right shoulder and suddenly I could see the heron, out on the small float in the middle of the main part of the pond. The sun's glare had hidden her before. But there she was, all alone. So different than the community of ducks and geese. Tall. Grey-green. Looking all hunched over. I wondered where she sleeps. Has she built a nest? Perhaps in one of the tall pines that stand on the larger of the two little islands in the middle of the pond? I didn't linger to wonder long - I was feeling tired and we walked back to the car and came home.

As far as how I'm doing overall, physically and emotionally, last night I think I hit a first (albeit small) wall. I should have known, I guess. There was a hint in what Dr. M said when David and I met with him to get the treatment recommendations (that seems a long time ago now, doesn't it?). I remember him saying that the chemo's effectiveness PEAKED about 10 days after the treatment. I have only now reached day 6. Six measly days. Not even 1 full week out of the 20 or more weeks this "treatment" will continue. And guess what - I discovered I don't like it! I had some time this morning between when I woke up at 5:30 and when I took Jessie to the park, to stew in a little bitter self-pity juice. Yes, I am recovering from the weekend bout of laxative-related vomiting and cramps, etc., but last night I realized for the first time that I was now feeling the effects of the actual chemo drugs. Tiredness, dog (sorry Jessie) tiredness and real changes in how food tastes. I look at a plate of food with anticipation, eat 3 or 4 bites and find I don't want any more. Heartburn (so far dealt with by Tums). Very slight numbness in my fingertips - which I believe is a serious side effect that I'm supposed to report (I missed the B-vitamins on Sunday because of the vomiting and those are supposed to counter that side effect). Between last night and this morning, I guess I came up against the fact that I I have reached only the cusp of understanding what all this is going to mean, how this is going to affect me. Only six days have gone by! How is it going to be in 60 days? 90 days? How will I deal with radiation? With more chemo after radiation? I guess I thought that I had started chemo this time from a relative position of health Before all this started, I wasn't feeling sick; I felt well. When I got through the immediate aftermath of the first chemo without the stereotypical side effects - vomiting, etc. - I guess I thought somehow I would be different. Not me. I wouldn't fall prey to the same maladies as the rest of the world of cancer patients - at least not yet. I thought I had bypassed the chemo's side-effects, but they hadn't even gotten started yet. Not only was I being unrealistic, but I learned I was still in some denial about the whole experience.

Well the day has picked me up, starting with getting back to the park. I'm feeling physically stronger. My kids are both trying to make arrangements to come for visits in December (my son bringing my grandson). My friend J from work made by hand and sent to me a very very soft deep pink angora/wool cap, which she says I'll look gorgeous in and - if not (J is a realist, one of the things I really like about her) - it will certainly keep my bald head warm (hair not yet falling out, by the way). Yesterday I received a beautiful fruit basket from a work colleague, R, and his wife P. So thoughtful. My aunt M and cousin C sent a beautiful card with even more loving thoughts written by each. Friends are staying in touch by email, phone, comments here. I am only on day 6 post-chemo, and the gifts of love and caring that people are showering on me are piling up. How lucky I am. So lucky.

Peace

Monday morning

Well, I'm back after a rough weekend. Sorry if the regularity of my prior postings followed by a 2 day gap caused any of you, my sweet family and friends, to worry. I'm okay.

To pick up from Friday afternoon's post, Friday evening the predicted bone/joint pain side effect of the NuLasta shot began kicking in. I took a Motrin and that helped some, but when I went to bed, the pain seemed to be increasing a lot and I really dreaded not getting any sleep, so about 10 pm I took a Percocet. As a result I slept well, some discomfort but it definitely took the edge off the real deep bone pain. The problem with the Percocet - as I guess everyone in the world other than I already knew - is that it causes constipation. I was already well down that road, likely as a result of the chemo drugs generally and the Compizine I took on Wed night for nausea. So by Saturday I was suffering big time from constipation. The weather was rainy, so I didn't take Jessie to the park in the morning. It wasn't too bad a day; I was uncomfortable, residual bone/joint aches/pain, increasingly bloated feeling, but nothing terrible. But as the day went along, the constipation plagued me more and more. By that evening, I was really worried about it. I ended up calling the oncologist on call at the hospital on Saturday night, and she told me I could take a laxative; in fact, to start with 1 pill, if that didn't work, take another, and another up to 4 pills total. So I took 1 pill before bed; another one when I was still tossing and turning 3 hours later; I slept some and took another one at 6 am. I guess I over did it.

The result was that on Sunday I began the day able to use the bathroom one time, and that was it, and only with much effort. Meanwhile, my insides felt like they were being torn up. And to top it off, I starting vomiting (a reminder that this is to be an uncensored - well, almost uncensored - blog). As vomiting goes, it wasn't terrible. I hadn't eaten much on Saturday - afraid of being stopped up - and I ate nothing at all on Sunday, so there wasn't much to come up. It actually did make me feel better. I spent the entire day on the couch clutching a big blue bucket or leaning over it. David was here and caring for me, while also rebuilding his "new" bike. It was comforting to hear the sounds he made has he clanked wrenches, and pulled wheels and did other stuff. But he was always there for me, too. The worst part was that I felt weaker and weaker; I did try to drink water and soda. I was worried about becoming dehydrated.

By late yesterday afternoon, I actually started to feel a little better, well enough that I asked David to make me a piece of toast. It took me an hour to eat that one piece of toast and I couldn't quite finish it. But it seemed to mark a turning point. No more vomiting after that. (I think the vomiting was the result of some reaction to the laxative, nothing else.) I began to feel just slightly alive and aware of things through the evening. David heated some chicken soup and I ate a little broth. That helped, too, I think. I went to bed feeling very very weak but much better. I tossed some, but mostly slept through.

I woke up - surprise surprise - with diarrhea, but to tell the truth, that was a real relief. It's gotten better over the morning. I'm trying to get my strength back by eating - yogurt, toast and some scrambled eggs so far - and drinking fluids.

What gets me about the whole experience is that it didn't even seem to have to do directly with the chemo, only indirectly - NuLasta, side effect pain, pain killer, side effect constipation, laxative, side effects vomiting, cramps, and eventually diarrhea- and the 18 hours of this has left me feeling so incredibly weak and depleted. But worse than the physical feelings, is a feeling of vulnerability. This is ALL new to me. I've never taken pain killers or dealt with their side effects. I've never taken laxatives and have no way to judge their impact on me. I feel like I wasted some of the days I should have been feeling "good" (relatively) dealing with this whole physical cul d'sac - and that pisses me off. I want to own every single good day. I know there will inevitably be bad days, bad days truly tied to the chemo and radiation. Why rush into that state? Soon enough it will be here to be dealt with.

So for today, my goal is to get my strength back and put the weekend behind me. I hope to feel strong enough to take Jessie to the park tomorrow morning and find out what the heron has been up to without my watchful eye.

Peace.

Friday afternoon

Well, in the end I got out of bed last night and spent time here adding a post, and then hunkered down on the couch and read for a couple hours and ended up back in bed about 4:00 am. Then David came home, early. I was able to go back to sleep and slept until 7:30, late for me. But I think the interrupted sleep - 5 hours on the couch and 3 in bed - wiped me out a little. I haven't done much today. I didn't take Jessie to the park because it's cold and overcast and it was too late to get there and have a good walk and get home and eat something before I had to take the Emend ($100/anti nausea) and steroid pills. So we went for a walk in the neighborhood, then I got coffee and had breakfast and took my pills. So far no side effects from the NuLasta shot that I can pin down. I mean I feel achy in my hip joints and shoulders, but that could be 5 hours sleeping on the couch and the overcast weather or general age and decrepitude.

Apart from reading (I'm re-reading "In the Country of Illness" by Robert Lipsyte; I learned about this book from H. a woman I met through my ex-husband S, who was in his cancer support group; it was incredibly helpful to me then as a caregiver; now I am reading it from the perspective of a cancer patient - sobering; one interesting thing is how far treatment standards seem to have come since the book was written - about 10 years ago I think), I spent most of the day on the phone - calling the disability insurance carrier several times, and being called back by them eventually; calling my employer's employee assistance unit and being called back by them, calling Kim and talking to her about all this (and other stuff), calling Dr. M to try to speak to his office manager who handles the paperwork for disability claims (she had left for the day; I was told to talk to her on Monday). So many details, requirements, forms, questions, restrictions, rules, inquiries, hand-offs from person to person. I mean I am feeling pretty well and had some difficulty dealing with it all. I can't imagine what it would be like for someone really in pain or otherwise dealing with significant physical problems (like how would you talk on the phone, take calls, answer questions, if you had to park yourself over the toilet to throw up all day?) At any rate, it appears the process has been started by which I may go back to work part-time next Thursday, from home (although getting approved to work from home longer time as part of short-term disability appears more complicated; well - one thing at a time).

Now we're waiting for UPS to deliver the "new" bike David ordered on eBay, a vintage Raleigh, which he will begin anew the process of making his own. It is supposedly in the area, and to be delivered today.

Since I brought up H above, as having given my ex-husband S, and me, the book I mentioned, I want to say something more about H - may she rest in peace. She like S was a retired teacher, originally from NY or NJ, I forget, relocated to Atlanta like S. They met in the support group. She was older than he; in her late 60's when we met her I think. She wrote poetry. She was caring and kind. After the first chemo protocol given to S gave him TB rather than curing his bladder cancer, he had to undergo a major operation in which they removed his bladder and built a new one from a piece of intestine. He was in intensive care for 7 or 10 days and in the hospital at least 2 weeks. And every single day he was in the hospital over that time, he received a card in the mail from H. Sometimes with a separate note, sometimes just a card with a brief message - kind or funny, some times a poem would be enclosed - but a card arrived for him every one of the days he was in the hospital. I will never forget how much that meant to S. I was there every day, of course, and others visited. But something about H taking the time to write to him daily - that really touched him, and in turn, me. H. was in remission at that time, but sometime during the next 18 months of S's follow up chemo and radiation treatments, her cancer returned and she died. She was a wonderful person; I feel lucky to have met her - may her memory be a blessing to her family and to all whose paths crossed hers.

Peace.

Late Thursday/early Friday

I couldn't sleep so I got back up and decided to write about the NuLasta injection, etc. Not to worry - I fell asleep on the couch at around 9:00 pm and slept there until almost 1:00 am, got up and switched to the bed, and got a little restless. Not feeling physically bad and not upset. Just a little restless.

As far as the rest of my day, I had a lovely longish talk with my son, S. We discussed possible timing and arrangements for him to come up for a visit with my grandson, C. My daughter-in-law is in school and likely can't come along - my son is "free" to come at this point because on or around the time I was having my surgery, he was let go from his job (a job he didn't care for and that paid almost nothing; still, there is an element of panic in the recession-filled world of being cut loose). So I'm hoping S and C will come up for 5-6 days, possibly between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I also got to visit with my new next door neighbor, tiny little rosebud-let JR. I held her for a bit. She is so tiny, but had just been to the doctor and pronounced perfect - actually, I think he said healthy. But I say perfect. I offered to give M. the note she left for me on Sunday night ("Midnight Sunday - my water may have broken. Going to the hospital. M & R") for her baby book/ scrap book. I know some day baby JR will get a kick out of it, especially since she was born only 4 hours later!

I got the shot. In the end, despite multiple kind offers to drive me, go with me, etc., I decided to drive by myself. I think it was good to do that. It seemed a first step toward integrating the "treatment" for cancer into my own individual life, something I deal with myself - of course and thank God, with support from wonderful family and friends - but still (as I think Mary S put it), a journey that on certain levels I must take alone.

The shot itself, not a big deal. Nurse E met me but was busy with another patient in the group treatment room, so nurse B, whom I met on Wed., took over. She first asked me questions about my reaction to the first chemo. I filled her in Then she warned that the NuLasta injection "burned" when it went. Didn't seem much like that to me. I asked when I could expect to feel the side effects - I actually was worried they might start on my drive home. No, no, she laughed, maybe not at all, and most likely not for a couple days. Joint and bone pain. Hips, legs, knees. She said once she had a patient she explained that to and she forgot to tell him the pain could be in his breastbone and when that happened, he thought he was having a heart attack. So she warned me about pain in the breastbone. And that was it. I drove myself home.

I'm planning on calling Dr. M's office tomorrow, and the ESU and disability insurance company tomorrow to discuss going back to work. I had discussed with Dr. M the possibility of going back to work first part-time (1/2 time). I'm thinking I would like to see if he would approve my doing that a week from today (Thursday, Nov. 19th I think). That would mean 5 days of part-time work and then the Thanksgiving break. I think that might work out okay. I've already talked to Kim at work about it. I think I'm ready but am a little nervous about it. I'll write more about it and my feelings after i talk to the aforesaid people tomorrow.

Okay, I'm fading. I think I'm ready - or almost - go back to bed with my Ice Bat. Go ahead, ask me about my Ice Bat!

Peace.

Thursday morning

Thanks to all who sent anti-nausea spirits to guard me last night. I slept well woke up feeling much better, just a slight momentary wobbliness when I first got out of bed, but it went away quickly. I decided to take Jessie to the park since I'm not sure how I will react to the injection of NuLasta scheduled for this afternoon. The park was as always (especially at 6:30 in the morning) peaceful and peace-giving. The heron was back on her old perch, the small float in the back of the pond. I read a little more about great blue herons and now believe she (still not sure about gender) is an immature / juvenile great blue heron. That explains why she does not yet have the feathery crest features of the adult heron. While Jessie and I passed the pond, 2 separate gaggles of Canadian geese came in for watery landings. The first group landed, and squawked and honked up a storm. A moment or two later, the second group landed. More squawking and honking joined the first group. It sounded like... I don't what.... a big family reunion where people hadn't seen each other in ages It was great.

Now to catch up on cancer-specific news - I have now taken my morning-after treatment meds (Emend and 2 of the steroid pills), plus the B1, B6 and B12 vitamins recommended by nurse E to counter the chemo side effect of tingling/numbness in the fingers and toes. I'm feeling every so slightly shaky, the way you might if you hadn't eaten anything for a while. So I ate my usual yogurt. My sense of taste seems a little affected, sort of a background after taste present in my mouth, but I didn't notice it until I took the meds. I'm wondering if it is associated with the B-vitamins, which weren't coated, just plain tablets, and have a strong odor. I sure did enjoy my morning coffee before Jessie and I sent to the park!

Back to yesterday: I'm going to try to describe as much of yesterday's treatment and my feelings about it as I am able to, so bear with me if this is long (there are only 6 of these treatments scheduled in total, and I can't imagine I'll have as much to say about the others as this one).

Helen and I arrived a little early. I was weighed and had blood drawn. A short wait and we were taken to a private treatment room (Nurse E had said she tries to put first timers in private rooms versus the group treatment room). We waited some more. My blood pressure was taken (120/80 - high for me, but lower than when I met with Dr. R), pulse and temperature. Waited some more. Nurse E came by and met Helen and went over the treatment schedule. She returned with pre-treatment meds. I can't remember them all, but they included 1 or more pills from my stash of the prescribed steroids, one of my $100/pill Emend doses, an alternative to Benedril (which I can't take) to deal with potential allergic reaction to one of the chemo drugs), and some other pills that I failed to ask about. We then waited about an hour for all those meds to start working.

The first chemo drug was the Paclitaxel (which is familiarly if not affectionately referred to as "Taxel") - the one to which a small percentage of patients have extreme allergic reactions. As a result, for the first hour, the IV is released very very slowly with alarms set every 10-15 minutes, for a stop and check. Either Nurse E or a nurse B was in the room with me for most of that hour, a measure I guess of the seriousness of the potential allergic reaction. Nurse B is the shift manager or something like that. I liked her. She has a cool spiky short hair cut and advised me that there is a very good chance my post-chemo hair will grow back in curly. Since I've coveted curly hair my whole life, this is a small something to look forward to (apart from generally putting all this behind us). At any rate, I got through the first hour with no problems and nurse E let the IV run normally and told me it would be 3 more hours.

Helen and I had lovely talks as long as she was able to stay, which was several hours. Then I listened to podcasts on my iPod with the uncomfortable treatment chair ( I have to say it, I feel bad criticizing anything about the cancer center which seems like a good and caring place - but these treatment chairs ... man oh man) reclined. Apparently they came around offering lunch while I was doing this and thought I was asleep. So the first drug finished, and I was hooked up with the second which takes an hour. I got up and peed a couple of times (one restroom is shared by 2 private treatment rooms). I asked about lunch and nurse E found some for me. A plain turkey sandwich on wheat bread, container of applesauce and a slice of Sara Lee pound cake. The turkey sandwich tasted great (I like my sandwiches plain). Later in the day I spoke with V and she told me that when A went through chemo, the steroids they gave him made him ravenous. Likely that's what was going on with me, because I don't think I ever devoured a simple turkey sandwich with as much gusto. David arrived about then; we split the pound cake. The second chemo drug finished. Nurse E went through my post-treatment instructions for meds. We changed my NuLasta appointment from Friday am to Thursday (today) at 3:00 pm. And we left.

When I got home, I was still ravenous. I drank a diet coke and had some chips and then some crackers. My daughter called, and I spoke to V and to J. I had an early dinner of the chicken soup David had made the day before. I rested, napped, and was awakened by a rush of nausea. Once I sat up, it dissipated. But I could hardly keep my eyes open and I really longed to lie down and sleep, but was afraid to. Slight to moderate nausea came and went. Finally, about 8 pm, I gave in and took an anti-nausea tablet nurse E had previously called in for me.

During the treatments themselves, I didn't have a lot of physical (or emotional) reactions. Once or twice I felt a flush come up in my face. I was getting glucose through the IV before the treatment, and as is usual with that, I could feel the coldness of the glucose in my arm. The IV site didn't hurt at all; in fact, nurse E put in the IV so gently that I barely felt it. Emotionally, I felt a little bit all day long as if I were waiting for that proverbial shoe to drop (a cliche brought to mind perhaps by the fact that Helen and I talked shoes for some time). Seriously what I mean is that I kept waiting for something bad to happen - to have something hurt, or to have that extreme or any other allergic reaction, or to see that certain gleam of "uh oh" in the eyes of nurse E or nurse B and know something wasn't right. But none of that happened.

I was thinking about this on my walk in the park this morning, and I realized that my past health/medical experiences haven't prepared me for cancer treatments. This isn't like a big buildup to a surgery, after which there is a period of recovery. This is a long term on-going experience that varies, changes and accumulates over time. Yesterday was just passing through the entry gate to what is going to be a way of life, both during the months of treatment and to a certain extent, even afterwards, with post-treatment follow up appointments for years, likely (if I am lucky, for many, many years).

And during treatment, the new way of life will bring chemo side effects to deal with, which have only lifted a cold little nose and nudged me under the arm, so to speak, to get my attention so far. They have not yet sunk their fangs in me or even nipped me hard (perhaps the side effects of the NuLasta injection will bring that new experience). So far only some fatigue (some of which was "naturally" based on lack of sleep - surprise! surprise!). A little nausea combined with ravenous cravings for food (ha!). B-vitamins based short-term affect on taste. Clearly I'm still a cancer neophyte.

That's it for now. Thanks for bearing through a long post. I think I'll go try to enjoy the day before the NuLasta injection this afternoon.

Peace.

Wednesday evening - 1 down...

Well, I made it through Chemo #1, thanks to support from Helen, David and the excellent and on the ball nurse E. Now I am very tired - result of not sleeping great and getting up at 5:00 am to take the second load of pre-treatment meds, and then not really being able to go back to sleep. Plus all the supporting meds they gave before the treatment; it seems like 1 common side effect of almost all of them is drowsiness, fatigue, etc. In the last hour or so I've had my first twinges/tweaks of nausea, nothing terrible ... yet. But I went ahead and took the additional anti-nausea med they gave me a presecription for. I'll write more about the whole treatment experience at another time, hopefully tomorrow.

Just as we were pulling into the parking lot at home, my neighbors were arriving with brand new and beautiful little baby JR. She is a peanut, tiny and perfect, and she was sleeping soundly when I saw her (later this afternoon I thought I heard wonderful little protesting little mew-cries from next door - hungry I bet! I had a wonderful care package waiting here for me from V - I am now the owner of 4 new caps, 2 outdoors type caps from V, and 2 indoors caps made by nurse E's aunt or mother, I forget which. I had a good talk with V and J and also had a lovely short chat with my daughter, whom I admire so much for what she's choosing to do with her life, while being so available to be there for me, too. It can't be easy for her.

That's it for now. Thanks to each of you who has written to me, commented here, called, stopped by and been so supportive and loving. I'm going to try to go to bed now. Please send me powerful strong anti-nausea spirits to guard me through the night.

Peace.

Later Tuesday afternoon

Update - my neighbor M had her baby very early Monday morning, 4:30 am. A girl! 7 pounds. Mother and daughter (and dad, too) all doing well. They are due home tomorrow, mid-day. That gives me a wonderful thing to look forward to after my first chemo session - a new baby girl!

Life rocks!

Tuesday afternoon

Okay, it's official. I am nervous, scared, anxious and full of dread about tomorrow. Okay, glad we got that out of the way.

Jessie and I saw the heron this morning, still on the ducks' side of the pond. Today he/she was actually wading in the pond, about 4 or 5 feet from the shore. While I watched, he/she began to stretch out his/her neck and very very slowly began leaning over toward the water. I thought, oh, she (I've decided I'm going to call this heron a SHE from now on until I learn otherwise) is going to go for a fish. But instead of shooting her beak into the water after a fish, she kind of flopped over in slow motion and the whole top half of her went under water. Like getting dunked. If she was going for a fish, she's not very good at it. I thought maybe she was taking a little bath (not that I'd want to bathe in that pond - too many ducks and Canadian geese. Ick squared!)

Otherwise, dropped by my office to pick up a couple of things. Went to the grocery store. Read some. Spoke to my daughter which was lovely.

The only significant cancer-related news is that I was finally approved to join an on-line subscription based support group for women with gynocological cancers. I logged on and read the other group members' introductions; sobering. They all seemed to be very strong women with (unfortunately) longer experience dealing with cancer(s) than I. Made me realize again how truly lucky I am. Seems sort of pathetic to be as full of anxiety as I am about my first treatment in the face of their collective experiences and on-going battles. I also realized that while I have really wanted to join this support group, when I did and went to start reviewing the first postings, I saw that I am actually not yet ready to read all the nitty-gritty details of dealing with cancer treatments, side effects, etc. I guess when I start going through that and dealing with those issues myself, then likely I will be looking for advice, support and so on. But it was interesting to learn about myself that I am not yet ready to hear details about other people's hard hard struggles. I'll get there, I'm sure. And hopefully be able to be there as support for others, myself, some day.

Lovely notes from Jon and Cathy. Trying to fix a time to get together with V, M and S - something to look forward to post-first chemo.

Well, I'm actually so nervous that I"m going to stop writing now. Perhaps I'll log in and write more later. Otherwise, the next post will be post-first-chemo. That'll be great!

Peace.

Monday evening

Back to the park this morning. Saw the heron scratching in short grass beside the pond.

Then I dropped off the big red (and very heavy, very full) Jug O'Pee at the Cancer Center. While waiting for the valet parking service (can you believe it - valet parking for us cancer patients!) I ran into a woman I know from work. I recognized her; I'm not sure she recognized me. She was clearly wearing a wig. When I dropped off the Jug O'Pee in the second floor lab, she was in the second floor blood room, having blood drawn. Obviously she is going through cancer treatment as well. It was a strange experience; I didn't really realize who she was or how I knew her until she had gotten into her car and driven away.

Then I came home and read for a while, and then walked over to the synagogue and attended Rabbi C's funeral service. There were many many people there; family members spoke and several rabbis and congregants. It was a moving service. I knew him only slightly; at the end of the service I realized that I wished I had had the chance to know him better.

At the service an older woman I used to know well when I attended a different synagogue, but haven't seen in 6 or 7 years, happened to be sitting near me. She leaned over with a mask of pity (okay, maybe it was sympathy) on her face and patted my arm. "Is there anything we can do for you, dear? Do you need anything at all? Meals?" I smiled. "No, thank you, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine." I turned away and waited for the service to start. At some point during the service, she slipped out. Funny, how some people's "sympathy" can be the hardest thing of all to bear. Also I was a big confused about how it was that she came to know my situation. It's not that I want the cancer to be a secret, but there are many people in my own congregation that I am much closer to who I havent' had a chance to tell yet, and yet this person knew. I guess it means that the news will get around. I think it might be a universal response to cancer to want to seem to be - and to be treated as - as "normal" as possible for as long as possible. It's one thing to have a disease; it's another thing to BE a disease.

Anyway, that's my day - so far. I"m feeling gradually increasing nervousness about Wednesday. But what can you do? Best news of the day - under our front door this morning was a little note on which our next door neighbor, M, had written "I think my water may have broken; we're on our way to the hospital." M's and R's first baby - they chose NOT to find out if it was going to be a boy or a girl, which I admire. At any rate, we haven't heard from R yet, which could auger a long and hard labor, but I'm hoping just that the baby has been born, and everyone is tired and thrilled, and focused on family. A new life.

How sweet the thought of it.

Peace.

Sunday evening

Quiet day -- except for one very bad thing completely unconnected with cancer or health - David's bike was stolen last night, right from the hallway outside our door, with us sleeping inside the apartment. And our great watch dog apparently "watched" (or at least listened assuming the thief/thieves made any noise at all). The bike wasn't locked up; it's been there many a day, many a night over the past several years, without a problem. I guess now it's time to start locking everything up. What a drag. And David built this bike, slowly, lovingly over years, buying parts on eBay and improving it gradually until it was perfect. Rats! Double Rats!

Otherwise, it was a quiet day of peeing in the "hat" and collecting in the jug to deliver to the Cancer Center tomorrow. I was nervous about it - which goes to show you that it is possible to be nervous about anything at all. I'm not sure why I was nervous, or what I expected to go wrong: Miss the "hat"? Not pee enough? Pee too much? Pee wrong color? Forget to put the "hat" in the toilet bowl before I sat down? What? Anyway, the day is almost over and my nervousness has proved (so far) unfounded.

I did not take Jessie to the park this morning, probably because of my fear about the pee collection. Again, not sure what I thought would happen. It is true that I have occasionally used the restroom in Starbuck's when I go there to buy a coffee before we go to the park. But not often. So did I think that if I did go to the park this morning, I would have the irresistible urge to pee at Starbuck's and not make it home to pee in the 'hat"? Don't know. Anyway, I took Jessie for a fairly long walk in the neighborhood this morning. Then late this afternoon, when my nerves were more settled, I took her to the park. A walk in the park on a sunny warm Sunday fall afternoon reminded me of why I so prefer to go early in the morning. Saw the heron, sitting on a different small float, leaning his/her long neck over to the water to nab an early dinner, probably small fishes, but I couldn't see.

I spoke with both kids, Aunt M and Carol, which was good and comforting to me. Tomorrow I drop the big red (literally, the plastic container is red) Jug O'Pee off at the Cancer Center in the morning. I may drop in at my office to pick up something I will need - if / when I ever start working from home - or I may wait to do that on Tuesday. I want to attend funeral services at my synagogue tomorrow mid-day for Rabbi C, z"l, who passed away just before the Jewish Sabbath, 89 years old, may his memory be a blessing for his family and for the entire community who will miss him (including me).

I'm thinking I may go to my Tai Chi class tomorrow night. There are only a couple of parts of our form that I probably shouldn't do 2-weeks post surgery, and I can just skip those. Tai Chi always relaxes me, centers me or something equally touchy-feely As of right now, I am feeling pretty good, more or less at peace. Of course, beneath the calm surface of my heart, brain, soul, there are racing currents of emotion - fear, dread, sadness. I don't want to deny them, or ignore them, but I don't want them controlling me either. I want to construct a boat of calmness and peace and ride those emotions in a positive direction.

Thanks to all of you for your continuing emails, calls, comments, prayers.