Back to the park this morning, but a foreshortened walk as the Big D came knocking. I did not see the heron, but I am not concerned. She is there. Many birds calling. Although we arrived at the same time as yesterday, perhaps because it was Sunday there were quite a few more people. That just means I have to get up earlier, be there when the sun is actually rising. I did see a hawk in a tree, recognizing it as a bird of prey by its silhouette, but not able to tell what kind of hawk or possibly harrier. It was calling its short rasping call over and over. What a wimpy call. Like a whimpering puppy.
I joined M yesterday afternoon to see her granddaughter in her middle school yearly theatrical production. S was great and the production was fun. Seeing more than 100 sixth through eighth graders singing, dancing, acting, remembering lines and generally appearing to have a good time was a life affirming activity for me.
I am bald again. Actually I think more bald than the first time. Yet there is this disgusting little ... fuzz stuff. Not quite hair, but keeping my skull from that nice shiny real "bald" look. It's the fuzz that gives me the Uncle Fester look (combined with my glasses). I guess I could shave my head, but that seems extreme. It's funny but I miss my 3/8" re-grown hair more than my old "normal" hair. When this is over (wow - first time I think I may have written those words: "when this is over") - when this is over and my hair again starts to re-grow, when it gets back to at least where it was before this second round of chemo, about 3/8" or slightly more, I'm taking off the scarves, hats etc. and going about with that as my new "haircut".
This week is Passover--first seder Monday night, second seder Tuesday night. It's been a while since I really "looked forward" to Passover, and can't say that I am this year. However, if the Big D is still loitering in my vicinity, then a few days of matzo ought to do him in. I've signed up to go to the community seder at my synagogue, at my friend D's suggestion. She's still recovering from back surgery. We're going to go and hang out and try to have some fun. Likely easier for D since she can comply with the Passover injunction to consume 4 glasses of wine, while I still have to stick to grape juice. But it will be fun to watch her get a little sloshed, and even egg her on a bit.
Then one more week and Chemo #6. Even though it will be wonderful to know it is the LAST one, I still am not in any hurry to get to it. I basically just dread it. I have so much respect - increasing as I go through this myself - for people with cancer whose treatment protocols call for them to go through much much more intensive chemotherapy than I've had to do. My ex husband, S, had to go through 5 months of chemo, every month like this: week 1 - chemo type 1, week 2 - chemo type 1, week 3 - chemo type 2 - week 4 - off, and then all over again. 3 chemos every month. As he went along, his blood counts worsened, and they were unable to do every chemo every week. He'd have to wait longer, for his counts to come back up. So instead of 5 months, it took more like 7 or 7 and a half months. My protocol of 6 chemos, each 3 weeks apart, seems like heaven. At the same time, it has been a cumulative experience - physically wearing me down and, I am beginning to recognize - psychologically wearing me down, too. The first time I was just petrified: not knowing what to expect, thinking my hair would fall out over night and I'd spend days throwing up in the toilet or something like that. As I get close to finishing, friends seem to assume I can't wait to go through Chemo #6 to "get it over with." But that's not how it feels to me. It's still something I HAVE to do, and will do, but my feeling is I can certainly wait every day, every hour until I actually MUST go through it one last time.
The sun seems to be coming out. There's a nice March zing of chill in the air. Perhaps human beings will wake up all over the planet today and be kinder to one another. I'll try.
Peace.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Saturday morning
Back! She is back!
The heron is back at the pond, looking bigger and more beautifully blue-grey. I am convinced that last year she was a juvenile. Now she looks full grown. Jessie and I had finished our walk - we walked both loops this morning, something I haven't done in quite some time. The pond looked so pretty in the early sun, I decided to walk back to it and sit on a bench for a little while in the sun. And there she was! Ironically the heron picked the coldest day we've had in March to reappear. There was a skim of ice on puddles throughout the park - and there were a lot of big puddles because of all the rain we've had. She stood in place almost directly across from the bench I sat on - slowly swiveling her elegant head almost 180 degrees as she kept an eye on things. Her yellow beak stood out, long and sharp. She seems much bigger than last fall. But I have to believe it is the same heron. We sat and watched her a while.
A pair of mallards in the pond near us became nervous about Jessie - not knowing that I would have to pick her up and throw her bodily into the pond for her to get near them, given her Labrador Recliner attitude about water - and swam slowly away. I heard a bird calling nearby and, based on the "Birding by Ear" CD I've been listening to, thought "that's a red winged blackbird". And sure enough, I saw a black bird perched at the top bare branches of a small rounded tree nearby. Suddenly it flew across the pond, flashing the red on its wings.
Then the heron began walking slowing around the pond's edge. When she walks, her long neck stretches out to lead her, her head bobs ever so slightly, calling to mind a large green elegant chicken. Her movement must have caught Jessie's eye because Jessie sat down and stared across the pond, seeming to follow the heron's movement around the pond. We watched until she "disappeared" behind a tangled bramble of bare branches in a thicket of small trees and bushes directly across from us. It was chilly but sunny, birds called out from every side of us, pairs of ducks swam slowly and quietly in the pond, which glowed silver in the early sun. A pair of Canada geese sat in the greening grass across the pond, a few yards from the bramble that hid the heron. Finally I decided I could leave. It was a perfect moment. I cried as we walked back to the car because I felt so full of hope and joy.
Peace.
The heron is back at the pond, looking bigger and more beautifully blue-grey. I am convinced that last year she was a juvenile. Now she looks full grown. Jessie and I had finished our walk - we walked both loops this morning, something I haven't done in quite some time. The pond looked so pretty in the early sun, I decided to walk back to it and sit on a bench for a little while in the sun. And there she was! Ironically the heron picked the coldest day we've had in March to reappear. There was a skim of ice on puddles throughout the park - and there were a lot of big puddles because of all the rain we've had. She stood in place almost directly across from the bench I sat on - slowly swiveling her elegant head almost 180 degrees as she kept an eye on things. Her yellow beak stood out, long and sharp. She seems much bigger than last fall. But I have to believe it is the same heron. We sat and watched her a while.
A pair of mallards in the pond near us became nervous about Jessie - not knowing that I would have to pick her up and throw her bodily into the pond for her to get near them, given her Labrador Recliner attitude about water - and swam slowly away. I heard a bird calling nearby and, based on the "Birding by Ear" CD I've been listening to, thought "that's a red winged blackbird". And sure enough, I saw a black bird perched at the top bare branches of a small rounded tree nearby. Suddenly it flew across the pond, flashing the red on its wings.
Then the heron began walking slowing around the pond's edge. When she walks, her long neck stretches out to lead her, her head bobs ever so slightly, calling to mind a large green elegant chicken. Her movement must have caught Jessie's eye because Jessie sat down and stared across the pond, seeming to follow the heron's movement around the pond. We watched until she "disappeared" behind a tangled bramble of bare branches in a thicket of small trees and bushes directly across from us. It was chilly but sunny, birds called out from every side of us, pairs of ducks swam slowly and quietly in the pond, which glowed silver in the early sun. A pair of Canada geese sat in the greening grass across the pond, a few yards from the bramble that hid the heron. Finally I decided I could leave. It was a perfect moment. I cried as we walked back to the car because I felt so full of hope and joy.
Peace.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Friday night
Made it through the rest of the week. Good blood counts today. Looking forward to the park tomorrow.
Why didn't someone reading this - assuming there is still someone reading this - point out the weirdness of my worrying about my "bowls" (rather than bowels), as in "Geez, I really hate having to bring up intestinal issues yet again, but my BOWLS just can't get their act together." Well, my bowls are doing fine and my bowels are better, too.
Peace. Justice. Spring. Hope. For every living thing on the planet.
Why didn't someone reading this - assuming there is still someone reading this - point out the weirdness of my worrying about my "bowls" (rather than bowels), as in "Geez, I really hate having to bring up intestinal issues yet again, but my BOWLS just can't get their act together." Well, my bowls are doing fine and my bowels are better, too.
Peace. Justice. Spring. Hope. For every living thing on the planet.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Wednesday evening
Well, I think I "wrote" too soon on Sunday -- the after effects of Chemo #5 hadn't quite hit me head on yet when I last posted. I did have a very good morning on Sunday, including Jessie and my walk in the park. But by later in the afternoon, I wasn't feeling very well at all. One problem was constipation. (Geez, I really hate having to bring up intestinal issues yet again, but my bowls just can't get their act together.) I took my "normal" Senna plant-based laxative in the evening with the other B vitamins and magnesium that I'm supposed to take every day. I also just felt exhausted.
Even so I decided to go in to work on Monday because there was a big meeting scheduled for 3:00 pm (who schedules a meeting at 3:00 pm???) which sort of represented the culmination of a long-term project I've been involved actively in. I thought I should be there to answer questions, and I also sort of wanted to see the final results of this 18 month effort (by me but also by many many other people). So anyway, I dragged myself in to the office ... and I felt really terrible. The Big C turned into the Big D by mid day. I was tired, but also weak (I have discovered the crucial difference between been "tired" or "fatigued," on the one hand, and being "weak" on the other hand). I made it through the day and to the afternoon meeting, but barely. Thankfully, K offered to give me a ride home - she was at the meeting also and leaving from there - and that was a big help. I basically collapsed when I got home, slept another 11 - 12 hours. No Tai Chi that night (which makes me sad - that's 4 weeks I've missed, 2 times after Chemo #4 when I was so sick with the chemo effects and the cold, 1 time because of being in Nashville, and again this past Monday. Hopefully next week I'll get back.)
Tuesday I felt better, not quite "right" but better. I managed to get through the day at work much better. Diarrhea was better. Food still tasting "off" but not quite as weird as Sunday night and Monday. Still tired, but less "weak." (One side effect I haven't written too much about, which apparently can be quite serious, is neuropathy in the extremities. One of the chemo drugs - I forget which one, can cause your fingers and toes and feet to tingle or become numb. For me it has gotten progressively worse in my left foot in particular after every chemo. I did have some numbness in 3 finger tips on my left hand after the first few chemos, but that has stopped. After this last chemo, my left foot now feels as if 1/4" of the bottom of the ball of my left foot and 3 of the toes are all "asleep". It's a really odd feeling walking around that way. In the past it has always gone away - or gone away 90-95% by the next chemo - and over the "break" when I had radiation, all the numbness went away. Hopefully this too will pass.)
And today I felt significantly better.
It's weird how there is a very specific and concrete cycle to the chemo side effects. I've been saying that "Monday is the worst day" and by god, it sure is/was. Well, there should only be one more bad Monday to go.
Thanks to all who checked on me. I survived. Blood counts on Friday this week.
It finally stopped raining, although it was March wind chilly today. But the sun was out. And the days are perceptibly lengthening. Daffodils are lifting up yellow heads through the damp ground in neighbors' yards. I saw a cherry tree's blossoms opening on the way home from the bus stop today. Spring is springing. Hurray.
Peace.
Even so I decided to go in to work on Monday because there was a big meeting scheduled for 3:00 pm (who schedules a meeting at 3:00 pm???) which sort of represented the culmination of a long-term project I've been involved actively in. I thought I should be there to answer questions, and I also sort of wanted to see the final results of this 18 month effort (by me but also by many many other people). So anyway, I dragged myself in to the office ... and I felt really terrible. The Big C turned into the Big D by mid day. I was tired, but also weak (I have discovered the crucial difference between been "tired" or "fatigued," on the one hand, and being "weak" on the other hand). I made it through the day and to the afternoon meeting, but barely. Thankfully, K offered to give me a ride home - she was at the meeting also and leaving from there - and that was a big help. I basically collapsed when I got home, slept another 11 - 12 hours. No Tai Chi that night (which makes me sad - that's 4 weeks I've missed, 2 times after Chemo #4 when I was so sick with the chemo effects and the cold, 1 time because of being in Nashville, and again this past Monday. Hopefully next week I'll get back.)
Tuesday I felt better, not quite "right" but better. I managed to get through the day at work much better. Diarrhea was better. Food still tasting "off" but not quite as weird as Sunday night and Monday. Still tired, but less "weak." (One side effect I haven't written too much about, which apparently can be quite serious, is neuropathy in the extremities. One of the chemo drugs - I forget which one, can cause your fingers and toes and feet to tingle or become numb. For me it has gotten progressively worse in my left foot in particular after every chemo. I did have some numbness in 3 finger tips on my left hand after the first few chemos, but that has stopped. After this last chemo, my left foot now feels as if 1/4" of the bottom of the ball of my left foot and 3 of the toes are all "asleep". It's a really odd feeling walking around that way. In the past it has always gone away - or gone away 90-95% by the next chemo - and over the "break" when I had radiation, all the numbness went away. Hopefully this too will pass.)
And today I felt significantly better.
It's weird how there is a very specific and concrete cycle to the chemo side effects. I've been saying that "Monday is the worst day" and by god, it sure is/was. Well, there should only be one more bad Monday to go.
Thanks to all who checked on me. I survived. Blood counts on Friday this week.
It finally stopped raining, although it was March wind chilly today. But the sun was out. And the days are perceptibly lengthening. Daffodils are lifting up yellow heads through the damp ground in neighbors' yards. I saw a cherry tree's blossoms opening on the way home from the bus stop today. Spring is springing. Hurray.
Peace.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sunday morning
Spring is coming. Red winged blackbirds are back. I saw the muskrat at the pond again. But more on that later. First...
I want to write a little about our trip to Nashville, which was perfect. That's amazing to me. David's crazy work-at-night schedule, my being post-Chemo, my brother and son having to drive 4-1/2 hours each way to join us, other cousins and family and friends coordinating visits - David's and my plane rides, rental cars and hotel rooms - and it came out perfect. Aunt M is the same - not a single marble missing, sharp as a tack and fun as ever... she may out live us all. It was great to see her and visit some. Visiting with S before she heads north to Canada was good. I really do hope we can figure out some day how to connect up to kayak together up north some time. Cousin C is amazing. I don't know how she keeps working as she does, but she does. And then comes home and opens her home to all the family at almost a moment's notice. Cousin D looks great as always, although she still can't play Hearts, even when she's dealt a WINNING hand! It was great to get hugs and general support from her crazy boyfriend L who is one person who knows what I'm going through (and says the heron will be back at the pond in the park when my treatments are done - he may be right). Cousin D even came by, which meant a great deal to me. He's still has the best looks of us all - of course he's the youngest. And then my brother J and son and grandson drove up through overcast skies and bad weather just to spend 24 hours. That was the best. J seems tired, which worries me, but spring coming and foretelling summer at the Georgia coast should energize him. Of course getting to see S and C was great. The hotel had an indoor pool and C and I "swam" for an hour or so on Sunday morning. We also were able to play our requisite cousins' cut-throat Hearts game in the afternoon instead of middle of the night - with the predictable result of J winning (again) - and thanks to my son's patience and suggestion to take C to see the "Squeakwell" (for S's third or fourth time), with David joining them. What's amazing to me was that it was a 3-day trip - but revived me as if it was a much longer trip. And of course, now David has met my crazy family - each and everyone of whom I love.
So that was Nashville.
Meanwhile, another chemo down and - fingers crossed - so far, much better than last time (although that's not saying a lot). Another "thinking of you" package on my doorstep, for me and Jessie - from D. Very sweet (and unnecessary, but so appreciated). Thursday and Friday (esp Fri) were a little rough at work. When I went for my shot on Thursday afternoon, Nurse E said the "shaky" feeling is the coming down off the steroids. I was able to take Jessie to the park on Saturday. We had a good walk, but got there just a little late I think. Other people walking, no muskrat, no heron, but besides the pairs of ducks some Canada geese couples have arrived. Later yesterday I was able to do a couple short errands, but except for that I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and watched NCAA basketball, read and slept. Feeling "off" as far as taste, hungry but off. Felt like I ate all day without really enjoying anything. But I definitely rested. I woke up this morning - Sunday - feeling better. Jessie and I got to the park earlier. For the first 15 minutes or so, I saw only 1 other person. We saw the sun come up, that rosy pink that has orange in it, brilliant. First trip around the north loop, I didn't see the muskrat, but we saw a pair of hawks, the raucous ducks and Canada geese. Many many birds calling, singing everywhere. The ground is firming up, still springy with the heavy rains of last weekend. I felt well enough that we walked around the pond itself - just checking to make sure the heron wasn't on the other side, out of sight from the main path (she wasn't) - and that's when I saw the muskrat again, on the big side of the pond rather than the little side where I saw it the first time. It was just a pleasure to walk this morning. Jessie was happy too - many many squirrels, including one slow guy she tried to follow up a tree, literally. It was a good morning.
Thanks to all who have written, called, left care packages, and generally checked up on me. My experience with the most recent chemo before this last one freaked me out a little, and that must have come through in these postings. I don't know how I would get through any of this without the support of each of you. I am very lucky My short-term goal is to get through the remainder of the side effects from this last chemo as well as possible and then on to Chemo #6!
Meanwhile, my poor re-balding skull - yes the little 3/8" fuzz that was growing in quite nicely is all falling out again - anyway, my re-balding skull loves the spring breeze.
Peace to each and all.
I want to write a little about our trip to Nashville, which was perfect. That's amazing to me. David's crazy work-at-night schedule, my being post-Chemo, my brother and son having to drive 4-1/2 hours each way to join us, other cousins and family and friends coordinating visits - David's and my plane rides, rental cars and hotel rooms - and it came out perfect. Aunt M is the same - not a single marble missing, sharp as a tack and fun as ever... she may out live us all. It was great to see her and visit some. Visiting with S before she heads north to Canada was good. I really do hope we can figure out some day how to connect up to kayak together up north some time. Cousin C is amazing. I don't know how she keeps working as she does, but she does. And then comes home and opens her home to all the family at almost a moment's notice. Cousin D looks great as always, although she still can't play Hearts, even when she's dealt a WINNING hand! It was great to get hugs and general support from her crazy boyfriend L who is one person who knows what I'm going through (and says the heron will be back at the pond in the park when my treatments are done - he may be right). Cousin D even came by, which meant a great deal to me. He's still has the best looks of us all - of course he's the youngest. And then my brother J and son and grandson drove up through overcast skies and bad weather just to spend 24 hours. That was the best. J seems tired, which worries me, but spring coming and foretelling summer at the Georgia coast should energize him. Of course getting to see S and C was great. The hotel had an indoor pool and C and I "swam" for an hour or so on Sunday morning. We also were able to play our requisite cousins' cut-throat Hearts game in the afternoon instead of middle of the night - with the predictable result of J winning (again) - and thanks to my son's patience and suggestion to take C to see the "Squeakwell" (for S's third or fourth time), with David joining them. What's amazing to me was that it was a 3-day trip - but revived me as if it was a much longer trip. And of course, now David has met my crazy family - each and everyone of whom I love.
So that was Nashville.
Meanwhile, another chemo down and - fingers crossed - so far, much better than last time (although that's not saying a lot). Another "thinking of you" package on my doorstep, for me and Jessie - from D. Very sweet (and unnecessary, but so appreciated). Thursday and Friday (esp Fri) were a little rough at work. When I went for my shot on Thursday afternoon, Nurse E said the "shaky" feeling is the coming down off the steroids. I was able to take Jessie to the park on Saturday. We had a good walk, but got there just a little late I think. Other people walking, no muskrat, no heron, but besides the pairs of ducks some Canada geese couples have arrived. Later yesterday I was able to do a couple short errands, but except for that I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and watched NCAA basketball, read and slept. Feeling "off" as far as taste, hungry but off. Felt like I ate all day without really enjoying anything. But I definitely rested. I woke up this morning - Sunday - feeling better. Jessie and I got to the park earlier. For the first 15 minutes or so, I saw only 1 other person. We saw the sun come up, that rosy pink that has orange in it, brilliant. First trip around the north loop, I didn't see the muskrat, but we saw a pair of hawks, the raucous ducks and Canada geese. Many many birds calling, singing everywhere. The ground is firming up, still springy with the heavy rains of last weekend. I felt well enough that we walked around the pond itself - just checking to make sure the heron wasn't on the other side, out of sight from the main path (she wasn't) - and that's when I saw the muskrat again, on the big side of the pond rather than the little side where I saw it the first time. It was just a pleasure to walk this morning. Jessie was happy too - many many squirrels, including one slow guy she tried to follow up a tree, literally. It was a good morning.
Thanks to all who have written, called, left care packages, and generally checked up on me. My experience with the most recent chemo before this last one freaked me out a little, and that must have come through in these postings. I don't know how I would get through any of this without the support of each of you. I am very lucky My short-term goal is to get through the remainder of the side effects from this last chemo as well as possible and then on to Chemo #6!
Meanwhile, my poor re-balding skull - yes the little 3/8" fuzz that was growing in quite nicely is all falling out again - anyway, my re-balding skull loves the spring breeze.
Peace to each and all.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Wednesday evening - 1 down...
Chemo #5 is history. One more to go.
As usual, the worst part of the experience of Chemo #5 (this far) was staying up last night to take the Decadron and getting up at 5 AM to do it again this morning. So I am wiped out. H kindly took me to the Cancer Center and hung out until 11:30. That was great. I saw Dr. R, and was pronounced as doing "well". I learned that in addition to Dr. M - the gynocological oncologist - I'll be seeing Dr. R every 3 months for 2 years, and every 6 months for a year after that. I was relieved. I really like and trust her and although I think Dr. M is a good doctor, I'm not as comfortable with him. Dr. R spoke very highly of him, though, which made me more comfortable.
We set up my appointments for: Nulasta shot tomorrow, blood work next week, next chemo and same day before the chemo, next appointment with Dr. R or her PA, CT scan 2-3 weeks after that (ICK - although I did learn today that they have Mocha flavored barium drink, yum), first post-treatment follow up with Dr. R a week after that, and finally, appointment with new Primary Care Doctor, Dr. T, recommended by both Nurse E and Dr R. I figure it would be good to find a primary care doctor I actually like and can relate to and therefore might go to occasionally. My current PCP is okay; when I've seen him - a couple of time for pre-surgery check-ups, he's been nice and seemed thorough, but he is part of a VERY busy practice and I've never needed to go to him much and he doesn't seem very pro-active. All that's generally okay, but I thought I might like a fresh start. Dr. T is a woman doctor, too, so that may make me more comfortable, not sure.
I got home to find a sweet "thinking of you" package on my doorstep; a very healthy and interesting bamboo plant (and large--18 inches tall, with the trunk all twisted in interesting shapes) and - even better - a card from V with a couple of photos of her granddaughter, S, who at 2-1/2 is really adorable. I want to arrange a marriage with my grandson. Let's tie up the loose ends ASAP.
So tomorrow it's back to work. Very busy there with end of quarter deals. I am crossing my own - and ask all family and friend to likewise cross their - fingers, toes, etc. and pray or politely ask the universe or just generally hope the next 4-5 days of chemo side effects are not too bad. Selfish of me, but... I know I'll get through it. All I really hope is to see a difference between this post-chemo week and the last one when I was so sidelined by the cold.
The weather is beautiful. It was in the 60's today. I can't wait to get back to the park. I missed last weekend by going to Nashville - which was definitely worth it - but 2 weeks in early spring is a LONG time. I expect to see familiar friends of the botanical and wildlife families - bustin' out all over. At least buds, and those tiny very pale green curled leaves that start a tree's summer wardrobe. Perhaps the muskrat - I'm feeling pretty confident it was a muskrat. And, dare I write it here - will my heron be back?
Peace.
As usual, the worst part of the experience of Chemo #5 (this far) was staying up last night to take the Decadron and getting up at 5 AM to do it again this morning. So I am wiped out. H kindly took me to the Cancer Center and hung out until 11:30. That was great. I saw Dr. R, and was pronounced as doing "well". I learned that in addition to Dr. M - the gynocological oncologist - I'll be seeing Dr. R every 3 months for 2 years, and every 6 months for a year after that. I was relieved. I really like and trust her and although I think Dr. M is a good doctor, I'm not as comfortable with him. Dr. R spoke very highly of him, though, which made me more comfortable.
We set up my appointments for: Nulasta shot tomorrow, blood work next week, next chemo and same day before the chemo, next appointment with Dr. R or her PA, CT scan 2-3 weeks after that (ICK - although I did learn today that they have Mocha flavored barium drink, yum), first post-treatment follow up with Dr. R a week after that, and finally, appointment with new Primary Care Doctor, Dr. T, recommended by both Nurse E and Dr R. I figure it would be good to find a primary care doctor I actually like and can relate to and therefore might go to occasionally. My current PCP is okay; when I've seen him - a couple of time for pre-surgery check-ups, he's been nice and seemed thorough, but he is part of a VERY busy practice and I've never needed to go to him much and he doesn't seem very pro-active. All that's generally okay, but I thought I might like a fresh start. Dr. T is a woman doctor, too, so that may make me more comfortable, not sure.
I got home to find a sweet "thinking of you" package on my doorstep; a very healthy and interesting bamboo plant (and large--18 inches tall, with the trunk all twisted in interesting shapes) and - even better - a card from V with a couple of photos of her granddaughter, S, who at 2-1/2 is really adorable. I want to arrange a marriage with my grandson. Let's tie up the loose ends ASAP.
So tomorrow it's back to work. Very busy there with end of quarter deals. I am crossing my own - and ask all family and friend to likewise cross their - fingers, toes, etc. and pray or politely ask the universe or just generally hope the next 4-5 days of chemo side effects are not too bad. Selfish of me, but... I know I'll get through it. All I really hope is to see a difference between this post-chemo week and the last one when I was so sidelined by the cold.
The weather is beautiful. It was in the 60's today. I can't wait to get back to the park. I missed last weekend by going to Nashville - which was definitely worth it - but 2 weeks in early spring is a LONG time. I expect to see familiar friends of the botanical and wildlife families - bustin' out all over. At least buds, and those tiny very pale green curled leaves that start a tree's summer wardrobe. Perhaps the muskrat - I'm feeling pretty confident it was a muskrat. And, dare I write it here - will my heron be back?
Peace.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Tuesday night
It's 9:50 p.m. Tuesday night. I'm fighting to stay awake until 10:00 p.m. when I have to take my 5 Decadron pills. Then I have to get up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow to take 5 more. Chemo #5 tomorrow. H has kindly offered to take me. I also see Dr. R tomorrow. The only good thing I am feeling about tomorrow is that it brings me one more chemo closer to being finished
David and I had a great trip to Nashville, but I"m too tired to write about it tonight. I'll try to do so tomorrow late afternoon after the chemo.
Peace.
David and I had a great trip to Nashville, but I"m too tired to write about it tonight. I'll try to do so tomorrow late afternoon after the chemo.
Peace.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Thursday night
At long last, my cold seems to be losing its grip. I'm not completely over it, but improving daily, and certainly a world away from how I felt a week ago. That's good, because David and I are getting ready to go to Nashville for a 3-day weekend, to visit Aunt M and cousins, C, D and D, and S - who is about to move to Canada - will stop by. My brother John and son and grandson are supposed to drive up from Atlanta to spend Saturday night. A mini-family reunion. D's crazy boyfriend L is stopping by. We must have at least one good long cut-throat game of Hearts. David hasn't met my family (my kids, yes, but not Aunt M or brother John or my cousins). He's in for a treat. We're a normal family, which is to say - strange and wonderful.
Today I saw Dr. M - the gynecological oncologist "in charge" of my treatment overall, and the guy I will be seeing every 3 months for 2 years. He pronounced me doing well, and said that after the last chemo, I should schedule a CT scan about 2 weeks later, and then come to see him a week or so after that. That scan will be the "baseline" for the post-treatment era. A CT scan is not something I am looking forward to, mostly because I hated drinking the icky thick sickeningly sweet "vanilla" flavored crap that they made me (and are likely to keep making me) drink due to where my cancer was (abdomen). Someone else in the hospital waiting area on the day of my scan told me they have other "flavors" including something like Strawberry-Banana - man, if they give me that, I will puke it right up on the waiting room floor, I kid you not.
Anyway, I guess the fact that we had this conversation today is an indication of progress - I'm nearing the end of the "treatment phase." As I think I might have written here before, there's a certain odd security about being "in treatment" as if the cancer can't get you while you're getting hammered by chemo and radiation. Post-treatment is the big scary "normal" world where cancer snuck up on you before, jumped out and screamed "Gotcha!" So of course, heading back into that world is both thrilling - I mean, really, this treatment stuff is not exactly fun - and fear-inducing. That's life, I guess.
I think maybe tomorrow, before we go out of town, I'll post that letter to myself I mentioned before , the one I started some time ago as a short list of things I think I have learned through all of this. We'll see.
In the meantime, it was in the 50's today - jean jacket weather. The sun was out. The leaves on rhododendron bushes on the sunny sides of the streets and park paths are uncurling from their winter concave shapes into their summer convex curves, and their tight dark buds have appeared. One tree on my street has tiny pale green leaves pushing out. Spring will come. It will not come soon enough for some - my friend CB's brother passed away suddenly of a massive heart attack, people still suffer... in Haiti, in Chile, elsewhere - but spring is like hope, isn't it. Where there's a little warmth, a little kindness - it pushes out and insists on being felt.
Peace
Today I saw Dr. M - the gynecological oncologist "in charge" of my treatment overall, and the guy I will be seeing every 3 months for 2 years. He pronounced me doing well, and said that after the last chemo, I should schedule a CT scan about 2 weeks later, and then come to see him a week or so after that. That scan will be the "baseline" for the post-treatment era. A CT scan is not something I am looking forward to, mostly because I hated drinking the icky thick sickeningly sweet "vanilla" flavored crap that they made me (and are likely to keep making me) drink due to where my cancer was (abdomen). Someone else in the hospital waiting area on the day of my scan told me they have other "flavors" including something like Strawberry-Banana - man, if they give me that, I will puke it right up on the waiting room floor, I kid you not.
Anyway, I guess the fact that we had this conversation today is an indication of progress - I'm nearing the end of the "treatment phase." As I think I might have written here before, there's a certain odd security about being "in treatment" as if the cancer can't get you while you're getting hammered by chemo and radiation. Post-treatment is the big scary "normal" world where cancer snuck up on you before, jumped out and screamed "Gotcha!" So of course, heading back into that world is both thrilling - I mean, really, this treatment stuff is not exactly fun - and fear-inducing. That's life, I guess.
I think maybe tomorrow, before we go out of town, I'll post that letter to myself I mentioned before , the one I started some time ago as a short list of things I think I have learned through all of this. We'll see.
In the meantime, it was in the 50's today - jean jacket weather. The sun was out. The leaves on rhododendron bushes on the sunny sides of the streets and park paths are uncurling from their winter concave shapes into their summer convex curves, and their tight dark buds have appeared. One tree on my street has tiny pale green leaves pushing out. Spring will come. It will not come soon enough for some - my friend CB's brother passed away suddenly of a massive heart attack, people still suffer... in Haiti, in Chile, elsewhere - but spring is like hope, isn't it. Where there's a little warmth, a little kindness - it pushes out and insists on being felt.
Peace
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Saturday morning
They're back! The ducks - at least about a dozen of them - are back at the pond. What a difference a couple of weeks makes.
But before I write about that, I want to let everyone know that I'm feeling much better. I did go to work on Wednesday, and although I was tired and suffering the normal (get that? NORMAL) effects of a cold, I was actually present in my own skin all day, having passed out the other side of that feeling of experiencing everything as if under water. Each day after that I felt better, although my cold got worse. On Thursday I got my blood counts; all "fine" according to Nurse E. She also advised me to take Mucinex rather than the cold tablet I was taking. So I did, with the result that the stuffy head and running nose effects came back. Just really odd that each day as my cold symptoms worsened, I felt better - not just psychologically better, but physically better, I guess because last weekend and Monday in particular, I was reeling from the joint impact of chemo side effects and the cold. Anyway, who knew it was possible to feel so happy - and even physically better - to have a plain old cold. Thanks to all who called, wrote, and otherwise checked on me over the past week. I think Monday really was a nadir in this whole cancer experience. I felt so bad and I thought I was going to be like that for 6 more weeks. The love and care of friends is a main reason I made it through that rough time.
This morning Jessie and I went to the park. We went to the park! It was unbelievably great. First, we got there earlier than I've been going, but with the sun coming up earlier that was possible. First thing, we head toward the pond and I hear them - the ducks, my raucously loud bickering duck friends are back. (There is still ice on the pond, but in broken pieces of thin flaky skim like bits of cold fat that break up gradually on the surface of a warming soup pot. On both sides of the pond, the remaining ice is concentrated on one side, probably the water is just enough colder there because of the curve in how the rising sun hits the pond surface to cause the ice there to hang on longer.) We walked up toward the small side of the pond and there I see a new creature - not sure what, possibly muskrat, I don't think it would be a beaver or an otter - swimming in the pond, just a little head above water, powerful strokes, creating v-shaped ripples. It probably smelled Jessie and disappeared quickly. We moved back slightly and waited. It didn't reappear. We crossed to the bigger side of the pond to see the ducks. About a dozen, male and female, circling, bickering, chasing in smaller groups. It was great to see them. We walked the north loop. All the snow and ice is gone. The ground is heavy with moisture, soft, squishy. The trees are still completely bare, but birds are out on the bare limbs, singing. For the first time, I think, since all this cancer stuff began, I felt as if there will be an afterwards, that spring will come - to the park and to me. I felt joy. Later Jessie and I walked back to the pond for another look. I saw the new creature again, not close enough to be sure what it is - I think a muskrat - but it's big. Although only its head was above water, it swam fast and the v-shaped ripples were big, indicating a big body under the water. I hope it stays. Meanwhile, the ducks were quiet. Interestingly, at least three pairs/couples had formed, male and female, and were off doing their own circling duets, male following female. I guess all the bickering earlier was about those pairings. Perhaps I saw the beginnings of courtships.
At any rate, I feel full of possibility. Yes, the ground is still cold and damp. Yes, the trees are still bare. Yes, the pond still is dotted with ice. But life stirs and that raises hope like sap. Let spring come.
Peace.
But before I write about that, I want to let everyone know that I'm feeling much better. I did go to work on Wednesday, and although I was tired and suffering the normal (get that? NORMAL) effects of a cold, I was actually present in my own skin all day, having passed out the other side of that feeling of experiencing everything as if under water. Each day after that I felt better, although my cold got worse. On Thursday I got my blood counts; all "fine" according to Nurse E. She also advised me to take Mucinex rather than the cold tablet I was taking. So I did, with the result that the stuffy head and running nose effects came back. Just really odd that each day as my cold symptoms worsened, I felt better - not just psychologically better, but physically better, I guess because last weekend and Monday in particular, I was reeling from the joint impact of chemo side effects and the cold. Anyway, who knew it was possible to feel so happy - and even physically better - to have a plain old cold. Thanks to all who called, wrote, and otherwise checked on me over the past week. I think Monday really was a nadir in this whole cancer experience. I felt so bad and I thought I was going to be like that for 6 more weeks. The love and care of friends is a main reason I made it through that rough time.
This morning Jessie and I went to the park. We went to the park! It was unbelievably great. First, we got there earlier than I've been going, but with the sun coming up earlier that was possible. First thing, we head toward the pond and I hear them - the ducks, my raucously loud bickering duck friends are back. (There is still ice on the pond, but in broken pieces of thin flaky skim like bits of cold fat that break up gradually on the surface of a warming soup pot. On both sides of the pond, the remaining ice is concentrated on one side, probably the water is just enough colder there because of the curve in how the rising sun hits the pond surface to cause the ice there to hang on longer.) We walked up toward the small side of the pond and there I see a new creature - not sure what, possibly muskrat, I don't think it would be a beaver or an otter - swimming in the pond, just a little head above water, powerful strokes, creating v-shaped ripples. It probably smelled Jessie and disappeared quickly. We moved back slightly and waited. It didn't reappear. We crossed to the bigger side of the pond to see the ducks. About a dozen, male and female, circling, bickering, chasing in smaller groups. It was great to see them. We walked the north loop. All the snow and ice is gone. The ground is heavy with moisture, soft, squishy. The trees are still completely bare, but birds are out on the bare limbs, singing. For the first time, I think, since all this cancer stuff began, I felt as if there will be an afterwards, that spring will come - to the park and to me. I felt joy. Later Jessie and I walked back to the pond for another look. I saw the new creature again, not close enough to be sure what it is - I think a muskrat - but it's big. Although only its head was above water, it swam fast and the v-shaped ripples were big, indicating a big body under the water. I hope it stays. Meanwhile, the ducks were quiet. Interestingly, at least three pairs/couples had formed, male and female, and were off doing their own circling duets, male following female. I guess all the bickering earlier was about those pairings. Perhaps I saw the beginnings of courtships.
At any rate, I feel full of possibility. Yes, the ground is still cold and damp. Yes, the trees are still bare. Yes, the pond still is dotted with ice. But life stirs and that raises hope like sap. Let spring come.
Peace.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Tuesday morning
Well, I "think" I'm feeling a little better this morning, but I haven't decided yet whether I will try to go in to work - or just work from home. I'm going to wait a little while because yesterday I started out thinking I felt better, too. One thing I did figure out last night is that I'm sick - I mean on top of the chemo side effects, I have come down with a sore throat and cold. For some reason, that immediately made me feel better. I guess because I realize that how icky I have been feeling over the past couple of days is due in part at least to a plain old fashioned cold virus. I am relieved to know that this isn't all the after effects of chemo. Of course, that's there, too. I can't yet tell what my innards are plotting for today. I drank gallons of water last night and was careful what I ate. So maybe the gut will straighten itself out a little today. At any rate, I don't feel great, but I feel more positive. I just took some old fashioned cold medicine. A cold. Wow. Who would have thought plain old cold, on top of chemo, could make you feel so rotten.
I heard that the earthquake in Chile was so strong, it knocked the planet off its axis by 3 inches! As a result, the year is shortened by some minute fraction. A plane of relief workers traveling from Santiago to the area hardest hit crashed and killed all on board. Pictures of children searching for their parents. Older people in the streets. It's hard to complain about a cold, or even chemo side effects. And the people of Haiti are still living outdoors with the rainy season coming.
Can't we get this planet together? Forget governments, big business, armies. Can't people care about each other? Do something?
Peace. Please.
I heard that the earthquake in Chile was so strong, it knocked the planet off its axis by 3 inches! As a result, the year is shortened by some minute fraction. A plane of relief workers traveling from Santiago to the area hardest hit crashed and killed all on board. Pictures of children searching for their parents. Older people in the streets. It's hard to complain about a cold, or even chemo side effects. And the people of Haiti are still living outdoors with the rainy season coming.
Can't we get this planet together? Forget governments, big business, armies. Can't people care about each other? Do something?
Peace. Please.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Monday afternoon
Pretty bad day yesterday. Again today. I got up this morning thinking I felt better and David gave me a ride to work. I had to call him several hours later to come back and get me. Diarrhea, fatigue, lightheadedness, weakness, aching gut. I thought I might pass out on the toilet in the bathroom at work. I haven't even tried to work from home. Just sleeping. Reading a little.
I had a lovely long note from M, back from FL, who reminded me that I do start this chemo cycle much more compromised than the first 3 cycles. I know that. It's still hard. I want there to be something I can DO to feel better - rest (I've done that, lots of that over the past 72 hours), change what I eat (I've done that, too), not eat (I've done that too), drink lots of fluids (I've done that). I guess it's just about patience, letting my body come back to itself, heal and gradually strengthen.
Maybe tomorrow will be better. If not, it's going to be a long 6 weeks until this is all over with (God willing).
Praying for V's family in Chile and all those going through the devastation there.
Peace.
I had a lovely long note from M, back from FL, who reminded me that I do start this chemo cycle much more compromised than the first 3 cycles. I know that. It's still hard. I want there to be something I can DO to feel better - rest (I've done that, lots of that over the past 72 hours), change what I eat (I've done that, too), not eat (I've done that too), drink lots of fluids (I've done that). I guess it's just about patience, letting my body come back to itself, heal and gradually strengthen.
Maybe tomorrow will be better. If not, it's going to be a long 6 weeks until this is all over with (God willing).
Praying for V's family in Chile and all those going through the devastation there.
Peace.
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