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