northern lights and acts of kindness

I made three meals yesterday. I only report this because it's a new land speed record. These were not cheese and cracker meals either. These were hot food of a healthy variety kind of meals. Hurray for me.

This morning for breakfast, I had a piece of lefse with butter and a molasses cookie. If I had pickled herring in the house, I would have had some of that, too. Tis the season.

I made a batch of my favorite molasses cookies. Of course, I got to the point where you add the molasses and I have none. Bless my husband's heart...off to the store he goes. Here's the recipe:

Molly's Coffee Molasses Cookies

4 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 and 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 and 1/4 ground cloves
1 and 1/4 teaspoons cinnamon
1 stick butter, softened
1/2 cup vegetable shortening
3 and 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup molasses
2 large eggs

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees and grease 2 large baking sheets.
2. In large bowl whisk together flour, salt, baking soda, ginger, cloves, and cinnamon,
3. In another bowl, with a mixer, beat together butter, shortening, and 3 cups sugar until light and fluffy and beat in molasses.
4. Beat in eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition.
5. Gradually beat in dry ingredients and combine well.
6. In a small shallow bowl, put remaining 1/2 cup sugar. Form dough into 2 inch balls (Don't skimp! Ours were 1.8 ounces each. We weighed them.) and roll in sugar.
7. On baking sheet, arrange balls about 4 inches apart and flatten slightly with bottom of glass dipped in sugar. Everybody used to have a cut glass something or other for this purpose. Don't use a fork...that's for peanut butter cookies.
8. Bake cookies in batches in middle of oven for 15 minutes, or until puffed and golden. Cookies should be soft. Let them sit on the pan for a few minutes to settle. Transfer to metal rack with spatula to cool.

The recipe says that it originally came from Molly’s Coffee Saloon and Roasting Company in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

I used a whiskey glass with a nice pattern in the bottom. This is what the cookies should look like...big and crackly. The pattern doesn't show up so much...but it's important to use the right thing. No forks! No smooth glass!

There is a movement afoot, originated by Ann Curry, to encourage people to do 26 acts of kindness in memory of the victims of Sandy Hook Elementary School. Lovely idea. Wouldn't it be good if this just became what we do instead of something special that we do? Be sure to read Karen's comment about earth angels on my last post.

Mom, loved your comment, too. Being grateful for what we have is important. I learned from you, many times, when things are crappy you just soldier on because things could always be worse. I counted ten friends I wrote Christmas cards to this year, where part of the message was understanding that some tragedy or illness makes it hard to have a happy Christmas. That's a lot of folks suffering.

Regis and I got up in the middle of the night and went out into the back yard to watch the northern lights. If you're not from here, this is a good link to read about them and here is a fairly reasonable picture at our latitude although we didn't see the dramatic colors at the bottom. It's not common to see them here in southern MN so when you read on FB at 2 am that one of your friends says to get out of bed and go outside, you do. It's an amazing thing.

Regis shaved my head again the other day because it wasn't time for my hair to fall out yet and it was starting to, let's say, itch. Last night, I had a glass of pinot noir and modeled my hairless head again, this time with more verve. Mom's friend, Ione, loaned me a bunch of hats from her bout with cancer so I wanted to send a couple photos along with my thank you note. I also got my new red velvet turban in the mail the other day, and my cousin, Christine, sent me a crown. All cause for photos.

angels walk among us

I've been telling my Facebook friends to watch for angels among us because I know they are here. At first, I thought of them as elves, but now I think they are sort of a combination of characteristics of both: compassionate, tough, sweet, funny, prankster-loving helpers. I looked for an image of an angel this morning, but most of them look like porn star angels. Good grief. I found this. This is an angel would get the job done. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Those skinny barely-clothed angels with long flowing hair and bare feet could not really do the job. An angel would have to be sturdy even though they are celestial, I suppose. I'm thinking of these more as earth walking angels than religious angels, however.

This is a nice one, too. A mama figure gathering all the children.

I'm going to keep looking for angels and telling their stories. There are some wonderful folks out there.

I've written before about my purple power port. It looks like this:

This is on the bony part of my chest. And yes, it does make a knob like this. I asked the doctor if it would stick out or if it would kind of disappear. He said, "Well, you're thin so it will probably poke out." Who thought that would ever be a problem.

It's healing but the two spots are still covered by glue, a medical version of glue, I am sure but still glue. It itches, it hurts, it's aggravated by a bra strap. I started looking for a solution online...tiny pillows, pads, cushions, even a different sort of bra. I came up with one thing that looked sort of industrial and was kind of expensive. I gave up. Then I had an idea...I folded up a soft, silky polyester scarf and used that to pad the port site. So much better!

So, I think....who wants to wear a folded up scarf in their bra all day and night. Someone could make this...just not me. I imagined it to be about 3X5, soft fabric to slide over the pin pricks and glue residue, triple padded, machine washable, bright colors, and inexpensive enough that you could have a couple to toss in the wash.

I presented my idea to a couple people who are contemplating it and working on prototypes. Kay, a very sweet woman at Sew Boutique in St. Peter, drew a little sketch and said she would work on it even though she is pregnant and running a busy retail store. I sent an email to my friend Katy, in Georgia, who makes my aprons. She's very busy, too, and takes care of her mom who has cancer. She said they were making a road trip and pondering ideas would make good conversation over the miles. Kay and Katy, taking time out of their busy lives to help.

Then I went into My Father's Daughter where my friend, Pam, works. MFD is a gift shop that specializes in local and handmade things. Since they sell a lot of sewn things, I thought Pam might know a seamstress. She gets right on the phone to her friend, Kathy, who asks for my ideas and says she will have them ready by 3 o'clock. That day. No charge. What? I argued about that but she was adamant and said it was her gift. I told her my goal yesterday was to watch for angels among us and she was definitely one! Pam, too!

So, it was a great day. Jan came to help with some cleaning, I washed all the bedding, Gus went to the dog park, I saw some very nice people (Thanks for the hugs, River Rock family!), and we took a drive to see the Christmas lights. Lovely. Life is good.

I found Santa at the HyVee in Mankato!

When I started seeing pictures of my grandkids with Santa, I got the happy notion that I wanted my picture taken with Santa this year. I missed it when Santa came to the lumberyard in St. Peter so I put out the word that my friends should let me know when he came to town again.

As luck would have it, we were walking into the HyVee yesterday morning and there was Santa, going in the other door! Regis and I grabbed a cart and trailed him through the deli and back to the entrance. He was setting up the Salvation Army red kettle so I asked if I could have my picture taken with him. He insisted I sit on his knee even though he was carrying a cane and I was a little worried about that. He was a funny Santa and it was a hoot.

I woke up a little pissy again this morning. I had a call yesterday from a health care provider who I like very much. She wanted to know how I was doing. Appreciate that. I said sleeping is my biggest issue. She thinks it's because I am lying awake at night worrying about cancer and that I am in denial about cancer being a part of my life. I call bullshit.

She wants me to visit with a social worker and go to a support group. I thought I just needed better drugs for sleeping but all she offers is guided imagery and sympathy which I can find in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.

I agreed to visit with the social worker next time I come in but I am not going to a support group at this point. It might be different than I imagine (most likely) but sitting in a circle of folding chairs with a bunch of morose people is not my idea of support or fun.

I have a long list of people who are wonderful support for me, some who have been through breast cancer and some who have not. I tried an online support group and we all know how that went. They censored me.

Am I stomping my foot and saying not not not?

So, I will carry on. If I am in denial, I think there may be a part of denial that's healthy.

Calvin is my hero. He always has words of wisdom for any of life's difficult moments.

Regis and I have been regular morning shoppers at the HyVee so we have gotten to know a few of the folks who work there. The guys in the meat department are great. Regis was in a couple weeks ago and told them about my cancer when they asked about me. Yesterday, Scott expressed concern about my health and well-being. How sweet. I sent a note to the HyVee interweb presence so they would know we appreciate their very personal brand of customer service.

I met my friend, Joanne, for a glass of wine at Patrick's yesterday afternoon. We always have wonderful conversation and we enjoy the dark quiet. Except for the giant television and the loud drunks. Haha!

As we were leaving, Jerry told us to come down Friday to celebrate the Mayan New Year by buying really expensive drinks and putting them on a tab...just in case. Good one.

On to whatever day this is. Oh yeah, Wednesday.

reactivating the force field

I had a mostly wonderful day. I woke up a tiny bit pissy, as I reported on Facebook, and didn't feel like going to work out with Rachel. I took a warm shower, rubbed my bald head with Jojoba lotion from the Swedish Kontur, drank some coffee, and I changed my mind. The workout was great...all legs and abs...and Rachel is a lighthouse in a dark night.

We picked Alex up at noon and went to Whiskey River for lunch. He had a great time counting the squirrels and wild turkeys (birds not whiskey). We ordered ribs for our Christmas Eve dining pleasure. Alex wanted to win an Angry Birds stuffed toy in the machine which costs a dollar a time and almost never gives up a toy. I tried to explain the dumbness of gambling and made a deal with him that he couldn't melt down if we didn't win one. We didn't win and he wasn't upset. He said maybe next time. The gambler's creed.

I tried to take a nap to no avail. Sleep is elusive. Damn.

I signed up for an online cancer support group. The first post I wrote, I used the word hell, as in it's been a hell of a ride. They censored it to read: It's been a XXXX of a ride. What the fuck. People with cancer can't use the word hell?

We're watching the concert to benefit the victims of Hurricane Sandy. So many good old rockers that I had to order (had to) a sweatshirt with 121212 on it. What the hell. I don't even wear sweatshirts. The power of the internet.

Eric Clapton is playing Crossroads, a song he first sang when he played with Cream back in the 60's. I would never remember that but my in-house musicologist came up with that factoid. That's almost 50 years ago and of course, my friends know that I couldn't come up with that fact either, having not only a bad memory but being very bad at math.

I woke up in the middle of the night and had to know about the nadir of my chemotherapy. I heard that term bandied about but I let that bird fly away...there was too much. Why do these things occur in the middle of the night? I had to get out all the chemo papers and read them in bed at 3 am. No wonder I have insomnia.

Here is my explanation. (Please refer to the disclaimer a few posts ago.) I have the chemo treatment which whacks not only the bad cells but some good ones because it is inanimate and doesn't know the difference. After the treatment, it goes about slaying all these cells, good and bad, until some point when my white count is at its lowest and it stops cooking. This is the nadir. The low point. After that, it picks up again until the next treatment. That is recovery. I think.

One thing I have learned about when bad things happen, powerful forces of community good and prayer rise up, surge up, and encircle the injured and pretty soon everyone is in the circle. Powerful forces bring everyone together.

I found a fellow on Facebook, through another friend, who has cancer. A very serious cancer for which he gets daily treatments until his white cell count says stop. In spite of his hardships, he writes lovely posts almost every day about his farm, egg coffee, biscuits, his old truck, his wood stove. They are works of joy in themselves, but then other people start writing about what he's said and how it fits in their own lives and they wish him well and express love and gratitude and it must feel like one of those old tent revivals in a way.

Yesterday the Fed Ex man came to the door with a package. He has been coming here for years and I don't know him personally but he's always very friendly. He asked about my health and welfare and I was a little surprised but then realized, ah, the chemo cap and the port bandage give it away. I was touched that he took a moment from his very busy day to talk to me. That's a Christmas elf.

We are awake early again. Gus is going to daycare for the morning and we're going off to do errands. You don't stop needing to buy coffee and milk and bread just because you're distracted. Maybe a distraction from a distraction is good, too.

airing my minor complaints and sap warning

Because it's my blog, I get to decide on the content. I know my problems are not as bad as those some folks deal with but it's my life and I'm spellbound by it. Bad ass shit and all.

Saturday night, I had terrible bone pain from Neulasta. Terrible? Probably a 5 on that little smiley face pain scale they give you. Tylenol didn't help. Nothing helped. So I spent a whiny and restless night.

I woke up weepy in the morning. I haven't had many periods of weepy self-pity so I thought I could indulge myself. I cried on Regis's shoulder, I let a few tears run down my cheeks during The Nutcracker, and I wallowed in general misery most of the day.

I knew it was happening so I did implement some defensive moves. I invited Ella to spend the afternoon. We watched The Nutcracker, the really old one with Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gelsey Kirkland. I had a glass of wine although the benefits of that are up for debate. Ella set up the Leopard Chair Cafe and served us fresh berries and hot chocolate. We got burgers from McDonald's for dinner and please God do not let us make that mistake again. It's probably been five years since we ate there and I don't think we need much more proof that there is little of nutritional value in a McDonald's hamburger and a lot of gut and taste destroying chemicals. Ugh ugh and double ugh.

Last night I slept better and we woke up at 4 ready to start the day. I'm not saying there won't be a nap in our future, but for now, two hours before daylight, things look good.

I read through the book they gave me called Chemotherapy and You. There's a day brightener for you. I know this does not make sense, but back when I had my surgery, I thought of this as a physical wound that would heal quickly and that I would be back to my merry ways. I told Rachel I would be back to work out in a week. Water off a duck's back, I thought. I'm strong. I'm cocky. No problem.

While I am in pretty good shape for an old gal, it has not been as easy as all of that. I don't think it's because I'm a bigger whiner than some, but because I have very few thoughts that get filtered out before they're written. If it flits through my brain, it comes out here.

So, I sit here in the pre-dawn hours reading about mouth sores, muscle and bone pain, dreaded infections, changes in vision, loss of appetite. What the hell. I did not sign up for this. This is not the ticket I bought. Not the bus I wanted to be on. Not the show I planned to see. Can you hear the sound of maniacal laughter?

As always, my disclaimer. My views are not necessarily the views of the establishment. No reference materials were used in the writing of this blog post. Do not use this information for any scholarly productions or even in a middle school report on cancer. Do not use this information for educational purposes. The complaints and the opinions are mine alone.

Ah, that felt good.

On to other things.

Our old friend and neighbor, Jim Hughes, died in a terrible car wreck on a viciously icy 169 last week. I knew him for years through school, his kids played with my kids, Deb is a good friend. In an instant, a bright and active man is gone.

School shooting has dominated the news which is one reason why I don't watch the news and only read it sparingly. I know it happened, I have a few details and that's all I want. It is unspeakably sad on so many levels.

My brother, Bruce, lost a grandbaby to SIDS a month ago. More unspeakable sadness.

My youngest brother, Steve, is in a hospice program, dying. More unspeakable sadness.

And everywhere it continues.

But. It's the way the world is or can be. Evil people. Sad accidents. Unspeakable acts of violence. My philosophy is that sad things will continue to go on forever and it's our job to look for good in the world. Like Mr. Roger's mom used to tell him, "Look for the helpers." It can't be all tragedy and illness and death. We have to be grateful for things. Maybe we even have to be grateful for the bad things that give us perspective on the good things.

"Gratitude"
Barbara Crooker

This week, the news of the world is bleak, another war
grinding on, and all these friends down with cancer,
or worse, a little something long term that they won’t die of
for twenty or thirty miserable years—
And here I live in a house of weathered brick, where a man
with silver hair still thinks I’m beautiful. How many times
have I forgotten to give thanks? The late day sun shines
through the pink wisteria with its green and white leaves
as if it were stained glass, there’s an old cherry tree
that one lucky Sunday bloomed with a rainbow:
cardinals, orioles, goldfinches, blue jays, indigo buntings,
and my garden has tiny lettuces just coming up,
so perfect they could make you cry: Green Towers,
Red Sails, Oak Leaf. For this is May, and the whole world
sings, gleams, as if it were basted in butter, and the air’s
sweet enough to send a diabetic into shock—
And at least today, all the parts of my body are working,
the sky’s clear as a china bowl, leaves murmur their leafy chatter,
finches percolate along. I’m doodling around this page,
know sorrow’s somewhere beyond the horizon, but still, I’m riffing
on the warm air, the wingbeats of my lungs that can take this all in,
flush the heart’s red peony, then send it back without effort or thought.
And the trees breathe in what we exhale, clap their green hands
in gratitude, bend to the sky.

Today, my list is thus. Good coffee. A sweet man in the recliner. A fluffy dog at my feet. Warmth from my faux fireplace. A family of cardinals who come to our feeder daily. Barbara Crooker's poems. Ella who wants her dad to rub my bald head for luck.

Life is good.

my shield of invincibility went haywire

We had a pizza party last night. With a two-year old, a four-year old, and a 65-pound dog, our house is full to the brim. It was a fun time and the only casualty was a Schell's beer glass. The pizza was good, the salad from River Rock was delicious, and the Ravishing Red Velvet Cake was divine. We all licked our fingers.

More moopish weather today. We could use some sunshine.

I had a shot of Neulasta last Wednesday. It's purpose is to build up my white blood count and prevent infections but one of the side effects is bone pain. I wasn't worried because I have been wearing my shield of invincibility. Oh, yeah. That stopped working last night right about bedtime. My legs ache like a word I shouldn't say. I tried a heating pad, Tylenol, wine, heavy socks...to no avail. This morning, I will try exercise.

Doctors are very smart; this I know. They must have giant flow charts to show where the bad cells are and what they do to combat them and what the side effects are and what to do about those and how it all works together. I'm sure I could never keep it straight. This ain't bakin' Christmas cookies, my friends.

Here are some pictures from the event. The young woman is Peter's friend, April. The little girl is Zoey, April's daughter. (And of course, my handsome and wonderful children, Tiffany and Peter...but you knew that...) We had a wonderful time. God bless us everyone.

it's a new day!

Yesterday, I took two naps before noon and today, I haven't had one nap and it's almost 3 o'clock! I'd say that's progress.

I've also gotten a lot of things done. I wrapped the gifts I need for tonight, bought more cards, finished my cards, made all the corrections to the spreadsheet, did errands downtown, went to the liquor store, and helped Regis make Bruce's apple pie recipe. Now, I need to head downtown to pick up the rest of the dinner fixin's but I'm feeling pretty darn smug about the state of my circle of influence.

We simplified the Christmas meals. Tonight, Papa Murphy is making the pizzas and River Rock is providing the green salad (roasted butternut squash, blue cheese, and cranberries) and the Ravishing Red Velvet Cake. I love a menu that comes together like this!

Elliot loves his bath and usually tries to convince me that he needs one when he comes for a visit. His mama sent me this picture by text message this morning so I know he had one. Isn't that quite a grin?

Zoey is coming here for the first time tonight. We haven't had a two-year old for about a year so we better batten down the hatches. Funny how much they change in a year.

I realized today that I missed the Nutcracker this year for the first time in many years. I recall Emily mentioning it but it slid right off the radar. That makes me a little sad.

Here we go. Enjoy your moopish evening in Minnesota!

brain mush and some stray photos

Regis and I are pretty sure that the guy who draws this cartoon knows us.

Ella and I always wear aprons when we cook together. My apron is called Fight Like a Girl (See the breast cancer logos?) and my friend, Katy, in Georgia, is making Ella one just like it.

I'm not sure I ever shared the hinder side of my Halloween Fun Run costume. I am an artificial knee and  I rigged up elastic tendons so the knee cap on my butt would move when I bent over. I didn't get a prize as they seemed to go in for traditional mummies and monsters. Ah, well.

Ella and I had our picture taken by the giant cat after the race.

I was going to write that Regis had taken me somewhere today but all I could think of was that it was out in the country. Oh, yeah, Walgreens. No exactly IN the country but we had to go through it to get there and we took the long scenic route home so I could eat my cheeseburger and Gus could have a few fries. It was a beautiful sunshiney day.

I needed wrapping paper and things like that. Also stopped at Contents for a few things although I spent a lot of time standing and staring at the three things I bought. Wait, wait...what?

Now, I have to take on the printing of a spreadsheet into labels. I did this last year so I should be able to connive my limp little brain around it again but we shall see.

Later, I did manage it and even got a snowman face to appear on the label. Ta da!

Regis and I spent the evening watch an old compilation of SNL Christmas shows. Chevy Chase, John Belushi, Gilda Radner, Dan Akroyd, Garret Morris, Jane Curtain...all the good ones. It was a hoot. Can't believe we used to stay awake until 11 o'clock to watch it...we used to go home to make sure we got to watch it...and now we have to shut it off at 8 and go to bed. Humbug.

I called a nurse yesterday and she gave me the go ahead to stop taking all the nausea drugs. I hadn't had any nausea and I think they were making me fuzzy-headed. I feel good so far, so will only use them if needed. I wonder about next time? Is the effect of chemo cumulative? Will I feel clobbered by the end?

inspiration and bravery?

It's a puzzle to me how my diagnosis of breast cancer can be like some of the others I hear about: Stage IV metastatic brain cancer, pancreatic cancer, esophageal cancer. Those seem a lot more dire and frightening and I wonder how those folks keep going. They must be the brave ones, the inspirational ones.

Maybe it's that once you don your boxing robe, it doesn't seem so bad and you just dance on, forgetting what the words on the back say.

Cancer is a mad procession of appointments and medications and procedures. Some have left me bruised and battered but most have been tolerable, even the ET hut I was in the other day to have my port installed. We wonder how people do it but maybe this is the answer. We all, we just do. Without thinking of the choices or the fairness or the conclusion, which will not be any different, really, than anyone else's conclusion in most ways that matter.

Some of my sweet friends in the social media and friends who send me cards say I am an inspiration and that I am brave. I don't feel like that at all. I am only doing what many other people do every day, get up and face the dragon. At this moment, in my life, the dragon happens to be breast cancer.

In a few minutes, I could name ten people who are facing far more dire dragons that this, and probably with far more bravery than I am. In some cases, they are more alone, or in more pain, or in worse financial straits, or their prognosis is not so good. Lots of reasons that one's lot could be worse.

I wallow in self-pity sometimes, I spend a few hours some afternoons in my bedroom nest reading and napping, I let things go that I should be doing, I forget things, I am lazy some days. Some days I cry.

Then I get up and watch the cardinals in the bird feeder or I take Gus in the back yard for a romp, or I try to organize my helter-skelter Christmas card list. I go to River Rock for a gingerbread latte and hugs from my dear, young friends. That's life. Good and bad. We buck up and do our best.

Dodge the shadows, friends. Always look for the sunshine wherever you find it...in music or poetry or birds or your big, fluffy dog. Life is very good.

short note...middle of the night

We have been sleeping better but Regis had a restless period and I needed a drink of water so here I am. Gus likes to sleep on the bed some nights so we had his furry self to contend with, too. I decided to get out of bed to re-hydrate and write a little after my last meds.

Young Regis dropped off a bag of ice for us and was just in time for beef stew with dumplings. He stayed to eat stew and have a cookie at the end. Regis even made him a Manhattan for dessert. It had been a cold day in his truck with no heater.

Our Christmas meals this year are going to be a combination of catering and pot luck. I'm ordering ribs for Christmas Eve from Whiskey River (I hope), and bread and desserts from River Rock. Reg thought they could bring cheese potatoes. Voila. Tiffany and Eric are coming on Saturday night because they won't be here Christmas Eve. We're having a pizza buffet, a big green salad catered from River Rock and a Red Velvet Cake. Easiest menu ever.

Why do I wake up in the middle of the night thinking of this stuff? I think my mind goes numb when I think about the plethora of medication on my desk. Tomorrow, I can cut back on some of the nausea meds if I haven't experienced any...and I haven't.

Back to bed. Feel fingers slowing down.....back to sleep.

almost-solstice morning and still very dark

I do not know how people survive in the places where they have 24 hours of near darkness. Ack.

Yesterday, I went back to the cancer center for a shot of Neulasta^® (pegfilgrastim), a prescription medication used to reduce the risk of infection (initially marked by fever) in patients with some tumors receiving strong chemotherapy that decreases the number of infection-fighting white blood cells.

We ordered a pizza for dinner and watched the movie Scrooged. My policy has been that the phone and lights go off about 7 o'clock and we watch a silly Christmas movie. It's very relaxing.

Regis is in his recliner this morning and Gus is in his lap. It's their ritual. Gus lays his paw on the arm of the chair and Regis combs his ears while they watch the sun rise. It's a calm way to start the day for both of them.

I stopped at River Rock for a gingerbread latte yesterday and ran into my friend, Jill, by accident. I also gleaned many gentle hugs from the lovely baristas. We had a nice visit while Regis took Gus to the dog park. I heard about her Christmas plans, which are wild and include many small children, and advised her not to watch Christmas Vacation. Ha! She said it will be fun and I bet it will be.

I got a fun box of Christmas surprises from Mom in the mail...holiday socks, a candle, sweet smelling things, an insulated cup, and probably a thing or two I am forgetting. Thanks, Mom. Our neighbor, Julie, stopped by with a poinsettia later in the afternoon. All in all, a sweet day.

purple power port, chemical cocktail, chest wounds

Yesterday was my first chemotherapy treatment. I had all sorts of, so far, unfounded fears. The port install went just fine, although I thought they were a bit stingy with the Versed. I was looking forward to a long nap but I was barely in and out of wakefulness, no pain but awareness of them fiddling around with me, then fully awake as soon as they finished. I like to be less conscious than that.

I ordered breakfast which was waiting for me when I got back to my curtained cubby hole. The eggs were cold but I don't mind them that way and it all tasted great, not having eaten since the day before. The photo at the top was my destination: Chemo Chair #8, Andreas Cancer Center.

My chair hos lots of comforts: massage, heat, foot-rest, back recline, cup holder, and television remote. The nurses or volunteers will bring coffee, water, and pretty much your heart's desire. We packed a little bag lunch of peanut butter sandwiches, nuts, crackers, and dried fruit.

Regis sat with me most of the time as they hooked up bag after bag, I think there were 8. a bag of saline, a bag of antibiotic, a bag of anti-nausea stuff, then another, then a steroid to make the anti-nausea bag work better, then the real stuff. One of the real chemos (and you can tell them because the nurses suit up like they are approaching ET) came in a giant tube of red liquid. It makes your pee red for a couple days. TMI?

I had to pick up four prescriptions on the way home. Since they weren't ready, we dropped into Tav on the Ave for a glass of wine and some popcorn. I think that helped as much as anything.

So now, I'm dinged on both wings: the scar and potential swelling under my left arm, the stitches over my left breast, the hole up near my collar bone where they snaked the port tube in, and a  minor lump further down where the port is. Don told me they aren't purple anymore but clear, which is not nearly so much fun. I am pretty sure that all these owies will prevent me from doing household chores like dishes and cleaning.

I'm going to follow my friend, Jan's philosophy which is try very hard not to act like a sick person and to have fun every day. First...a short nap.

cards, soap, and an icy walk

I think I should make cookies. I put a turkey breast in the oven for dinner (and left-overs) and a small sweet thing would be nice at the end of the meal. Can a guy make cookies without dirtying any dishes? That's the part I hate.

I think my interest in Christmas baking peaked a few years ago and then went into a steep decline. I just looked at my Christmas binder (another story) but there isn't one thing there that interests me. Maybe we'll just make the old standard chocolate chip cookies. Or truffles. Truffles do interest me.

I had Regis drop me off downtown this morning so I could buy Christmas cards. I did a search and rescue in the basement yesterday, thinking I must have cards that I bought in some previous post-Christmas sale. No such luck. I did find, however, the mother of all stashes of holiday napkins. I love holiday napkins...obviously as I have eight packages ready for use.

I bought cards and this lovely box of soap at the Swedish Kontur. It's sitting on my desk in front of me and I pick it up from time to time and sniff it. Actually, I inhale deeply. It's so nice I may never use it.

Cards. I realize this is a multi-step process of which I may be incapable. I have the cards and that is the easy part. Additional steps: Stamp. Address. Write on card. Take to PO. Well, now that I wrote it down, it doesn't seem so daunting.

The hard part is that my fancy list of addresses that I had put on a spreadsheet disappeared in my last computer upgrade. I have managed to scavenge what I hope is most addresses and I might be able to scrounge some more from the web and FB. Uh oh...back to feeling like a daunting task.

The sidewalks downtown were an icy bitch. I walked like a penguin from one store to the next. It's the one thing I hate about Minnesota winters...walking like a damn penguin. For all my warm climate friends, this is it:



You walk like this so you don't fall down and crack your head. One winter a few years ago, I fell three times and Regis fell once. Most of those were on the same day.

I liked the comments on the last post from new cancer friends. Caroline suggested that the germ thing is a worthless battle and Karen suggested that she did the same thing and it was more about control than germs. I've never been overly concerned about germs as you can attest if you have been to my house. I am not a cleaner and if it weren't for Jan, we would live in a hovel. That could be an exaggeration for effect, a literary device of which I am fond.

I'd like to point out that I am not ending my sentences with prepositions today either.

Onward and upward.

sunday snowfall

I feel that nervous agitated energy I always feel before a trip. I feel like I have to get everything done today and tomorrow, forgetting that there will be stores and restaurants and Christmas cards after Tuesday. I cleaned up my office and threw out a ton of paper and magazine and catalogs...needing order and calm. I wiped everything down with antiseptic wipes. Not sure what that last part is about.

I'm listening to BB King's Christmas album and watching the snow fall. We're going out to the winery with some friends later to toast the first snowfall of the season.

bidding adieu to my hair

I decided to get rid of my hair in one fell swoop. As Ella says, "Who wants your hair falling out in chunks? That would be gross."  She is a philosophical one, that girl. Besides, her principal, Mr. Doherty, is bald and she thinks he looks good.

It was not traumatic. Regis studied up on how to do it and he cut it in three stages going from one attachment to the other as it got shorter. Emily wrote a poem called Hair? Who Cares? and read it before the clipping commenced.

The two ladies who were here, Emily and Ella, took me into the bathroom to have the first real look. It's startling at first but what the hell. It's only hair, and as the poem says, there are far more important things in life.

I was a bit disconcerted that after my head is shaved, we could only pick up a half a sandwich bag full of hair. That's all I had?

I told my cousin, Deb, today that I was nervous about getting my port installed and then having to travel through the halls from one medical facility to another through a public hallway and right past an entrance...in a blue gown She said: Wait. You are the person who posted a picture of herself on Facebook in a blue gown. Hilarious and true.

Since my company went home this morning, I have spent some time in my nest...in the bedroom with the drapes closed, the laptop playing the 1970 version of Scrooge with Albert Finney and a pile of detective novels on the bed. It's very serene and comforting. Regis is taking me to Dino's for pizza so I will have to get out of my pajamas. Next week, I'll go out. I promise.

Actually, I am only half in pajamas. My top half is hot because of the blankety-blank Ace bandage and my bottom half is cold. So I have leggings and socks on the bottom half. If the Ace wrap keeps the alien baby from returning, it's worth it.

If I had any gumption, I'd go do the dishes. But I don't.

all clothes must fit in bag

In my typical fashion, I am perseverating on the minutia of my cancer treatment. I have several lists and the one regarding what to wear and bring on Tuesday, starts with: All clothes must fit in bag.

If I go in full regalia, including hat, tall boots, socks, purse, pants and several sweaters...Regis ends up dragging all my crap everywhere he goes. If I am careful about what I wear and bring, it will all fit tidily into a bag and won't be such a nuisance. Someone suggested I get him a wheeled cart but that might be going too far.

I also have a list of food things to bring. I hate getting trapped places with no access to good food. They have coffee and other beverages there but I don't think much of their snack assortment which consists mostly of giant dry muffins that must be made in another state. I'm thinking small sandwiches, nuts, cheese, dark chocolate.

For those of you who might be interested in the scientific side to this, as opposed to the fashion and food side, I was randomly assigned to Arm 1 of the clinical trials. That means I will get:
Adriamycin every 14 days for 4 cycles
Cytoxan every 14 days for 4 cycles
Paclitaxel every 7 days for 12 weeks
Dexamethason before each Paclitaxel treatment. It's for nausea.

At the end of all of this, there will be radiation for some period of time. Then targeted hormone treatment that goes on for a long time. Maybe five years. Cross that bridge when we come to it.

I read back over my posts for the last few days and thought I must sound like I'm high on Zoloft or something. Believe me, it ain't all silver saddles and Sunday parades. Many days I am tired and bleary-eyed. I usually take a restorative interlude in the afternoon from noon to two o'clock. I don't always sleep but I do read and spend some time with my eyes closed. Some days, even after that, it doesn't take much to feel a kick in my sad pants, get my feelings hurt, or just succumb to ennui.

I will say that things are tipping in my favor for now. Far more good times than bad..far more. I am greatly humbled by the kindness of so many people, those I have known for a long time and some who I have only met through cancer. Maybe it's like most things in life, once you've been down the road, you recognize the signs and eagerly lend a hand or an ear.

Thanks to Mary for the morning coffee in her serene country home and the company of Handsome Bob. Thanks to Keith and Corrine for the chicken soup with homemade noodles and the ride to see the Christmas lights. Thanks to Joanne for the glass of wine and the hour in the sunny booth at Patrick's. Thanks to Jill for the quiet lunch in the shadows last week. We had our own little tucked away place to linger over chicken sandwiches and at that moment, it was just what I needed. Thanks to Laurie at Turban Diva for making me feel chic and cool instead of old and sick and for letting me tell my story. Thanks to Anders and Judie for the sweet dinner the other night. We know there is not a better way to spend a winter evening than with friends and Manhattans! Thanks to Karen who read my blog and wrote a note to tell me her own cancer journey and to share her mantra, believe.

Thanks to Regis, my sweet husband. He sits with me in clinic after clinic, he drives me to appointments, he makes me eggs when I'm hungry, he finds me books and music, he pastes my face on a Dancing with the Stars photo, and he takes care of me and Gus. He swears he will help me with this dragon.

That's a lot of nice things to happen in a few short weeks. I am lucky.

Here we are!

See? I could have been on Dancing with the Stars! What a hoot!

bidding adieu to the alien baby

I woke up yesterday feeling sad and agitated. Then my alien baby drain started to malfunction again. Every time I pressed on the drain site, I made a noise like a tire going flat. A high-pitched whistle under my arm. The bulb wouldn't maintain suction so I knew we were going to be making another trip to the clinic. Holy crap.

When I talked to the wound care nurse on the phone, I made the noise because I listen to Car Talk and it helps to diagnose the problem if you hear the noise. Callers are always imitating their car noises. Plus, it's entertaining.

Regis and Gus drove me over to the clinic. Gus always knows when you're feeling down and he stuck his big wet nose behind my head and gave my ear a lick.

I felt better the minute I got there. The people who take care of me in that clinic are so kind and caring. They took care of the drain in no time flat and I was on my way. Jan said when she heard the noise, she knew right away. See?

I took a nice nap in the early part of the afternoon. It's become my habit again to read and nap in the afternoon. It doesn't keep be from sleeping at night so I guess it's fine. Besides, what the hell.

Joanne picked me up about 4 and we went to sit in a sunny booth at Patrick's. Some days I like shadows but yesterday I needed sun. We lingered over a glass of wine, talking about our impending European vacations and Caribbean cruises. We both have the attitude that crap happens in life so you might as well expect it and try to have fun anyway.

I am the official Turban Diva of the Month. I have let Regis know that he can address me as Oh, Turban Diva for now. Maybe for the whole month. The picture at the top is one she used for the article. She ran it through some kind of process to eliminate a few wrinkles so if I look younger than you remember, that's why.

We met our old friend, Anders, and a new friend Judie at Whiskey River for dinner. It was a very sweet evening talking about our lovely Jan, books we love, good times in the past, and adventures to come. Interesting when you meet someone new, it doesn't take very long to discover common ground. Judy's dad taught at UND and she was born in Grand Forks. She loves detective stories so she and Anders are going to send a list of good books they recommend, even one by a Norwegian. Ha!

Regis had a dream last night that I was on Dancing with the Stars with Donny Osmond. Donny made disparaging remarks about my dancing so Regis had to kick his ass. That would have been something to see.

Note: It wasn't Donny who made the disparaging remarks, it was Simon. Donny was my dancing partner and Regis said we rocked.

alien baby runs amok and psycho light show

We had to make an unexpected run to the clinic today because my alien baby drain was malfunctioning. I thought they would have to pull it but bless Jan's heart, she saved the day. She told me she was in the Navy and had her own ship so I was not surprised that she could deal with a small drainage issue.

I forgot to post the photos of the lights. I'm not a fan of lights on large deciduous trees because you end with something that looks like this. I think this would have been better had we been on foot but alas, too lazy. We had a very nice with our hosts, however, and a delicious dinner at Neighbors.

Today I received an email from the lady who made my most recent scarf and turban purchases. She wondered if I would like to be the Turban Diva for December. Would I? Of course I would! She is using some of the photos and I had to send her my long tale of woe. What a hoot. I will post the link when it becomes available.

I've decided I like reading mysteries so if you have any to recommend, leave the title in a comment. I'm somewhere in the compendium of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories which are very good...and which only cost four dollars on Amazon.

I made cookies today to take to a friend's mom who is in a swing bed in the local hospital. She needs to gain weight and the food in that place is not going to cut the mustard. We know this having fallen victim to it a time or two in the past months.

I think that's it from Crazy Town. We're tired and ready to go to bed. Regis with his sciatica and me with my alien baby. Ah, life is an adventure.

a weekend full of goodness

We have had the sweetest weekend. Lots of friends and little kids and a parade and a style show. How could it be any better than that?

In the mail Friday, I got two hat/scarf combos that I bought on Etsy. Ella and Emily came over for a wig and hat style show. I dragged out all my head costumery and we had a blast. Ella is quite the fashionista. The conversation over dinner was about a party we may throw next weekend to say good-bye to my hair. Ella is not the least bit concerned and knows it will grow back. Emily is bringing poems. Regis will supply the appropriate sound track. My friend, Deb, is coming to get her own head shaved. Haha! It will be a hoot.

Ella looks like a silent film star.

Gus had to be in the pictures, too.

Ella loves color!

The fedora look is good for her, too.

Ah, well. It's bound to be an adventure.

Ella and I decided that we wanted to be in the Fish House Parade this year. We didn't want to only watch it, we wanted to be in it. Too late to arrange a float or get a truck, we just wandered up to Third Street and joined the parade. You can do that in St. Peter. I picked up stray candy and Ella handed it back out to little kids in wagons and strollers who were too small to run for it. It was very sweet.

Tonight some friends are coming to take us to Sibley Park to see the holiday lights then out for some grab and a glass of wine. Nice way to end such a nice weekend.

today

Regis put on our first and favorite Christmas CD this morning. Christmas on the Moors which we always refer to as Christmas on the Moops.

I had coffee with Shannon and Gretchen at River Rock. I was running off at the mouth due to the alien baby related Percoset. They didn't seem to mind.

I went to the Pulse and walked on the treadmill and talked to Rachel about my exercise plan. Good to get that back in my routine.

I got a call from Judy. I will be in Arm 1 of the clinical trial, the one I was hoping to win. What the hell. If you can't win the Powerball why not win the chemo lottery. More drugs more often. What they call dose dense. We're good to go for the 11th.

Jill is picking me up at noon for lunch. We always have a lot to talk about and we're going to a favorite spot...low lights, friendly service, good food, only two televisions.

Ella is coming over tonight for our head gear style show.

It will be a fine day.

and the alien baby is delivered

I saw a couple of my doctors today and they examined my armpit alien baby and deemed it ready for delivery. I have never been so glad to have a doctor come at me with a couple big needles and a knife. They drained 100 ml out of that sucker in the first five minutes. The downside is that I'm back to dragging a drain around and I'm back to wearing the Ace bandage but it's still better than that alien baby.

I also signed the informed consent for the chemotherapy clinical trial. I bet that sucker kept a team of lawyers busy for a good long time. I only had to sign my name one time, eleven times less than I had to sign it to get an acupuncture treatment yesterday.

I'll get randomized tomorrow which is not nearly as interesting as it sounds. It means that they will put my number into the computer and I will be randomly assigned to Arm 1 or Arm 2 of the study. The arm determines the kind of drugs and the cycle, 14-day or 21-day.

Chemotherapy starts Tuesday, December 11th after the port installation. This involves Versed which is my favorite drug if I have to be sedated. My biggest worry about it is this: Will they dress me to transport me from one part of the hospital to the other or will I have to stumble down the hall in a blue gown dragging an IV pole?

Regis told me I need to travel light from now on so no boots. They get a little heavy to tote around a big hospital. I always worry about footwear it seems. I also worry about food and drink so I'll pack a little cooler. I hate to count on cafeteria food.

At first one of my fears was hair loss, but baldness lost its hold on me. (Sound like a bad country song?) I asked Regis today what he would think about shaving my head before my hair got a chance to fall out on its own.

I'm thinking of this as another fashion opportunity. Ella is coming over tomorrow to do the Head Gear Style Show. I dug out all my wigs, hats, scarves, and other sundry head coverings. We're going to try on a variety of things, Regis will take our pictures, and we can peruse the pictures and decide which look we like the best.

Well, that's enough about cancer. Sometimes it's hard to segue from that to another topic so I am going to sign off then start another post.

dreams of the weird

I had a dream last night that, in a six block run, involved an evil event, a houseful of guests for whom I had forgotten to prepare, uninvited guests in the attic, bowls full of wet cookies in the yard, a lost cellphone, and a lane on 169 full of drunk people with their lights off as I tried to navigate my way to the SPPD. This is about as much of a plot as my dreams get.

Regis had a dream the other night that I was wearing a Smearth Hat. When he first told me the dream, I thought he said Smurf Hat so I had quite a different impression. The Smearth Hat had an elastic strap under my chin and an opening in the top. Bubbles would fly out of the opening to land on surfaces around the house where they issued sarcastic comments and insults like, "Oh look, Uncle Alfred...if he had another brain it would be lonely." Eventually the bubbles would cease their insults and burst. I was the only one wearing the Smearth Hat. Of course.

alien baby

It was a long day, my friends, but much was accomplished. I am feeling much better this evening and hope that I am ready to go forward without holing up in the bedroom. At least for now.

I woke up this morning with a monster ugly swelling under my arm, right where the incision was made. It looked like an alien baby about to emerge so I called the clinic and told them to prepare for delivery. Then I had Regis wrap me up real tight so I didn't have to feel it.

On the way to the appointment, I told Emily the story. Alex says in this soft little voice from the back seat, "Nana, do you really have an alien baby at your house?"

No alien baby was delivered. No needles were used. No need to use the Ace bandage anymore, sweet relief. It will dissipate on its own says the doctor.

So, the upshot is that my treatments will probably start December 10th or thereabouts. I will be a part of the clinical study (no disadvantages and many advantages). I have a few appointments between now and then...port installation, blood work, and I can't remember what else. Very hard to keep track of all of this stuff. I wonder if my insurance company would pay for a secretary for me.

This is what the port looks like. It's called a Power Port, a title I like. The tube goes down into a vein near my heart so the medicine can be pumped in the right places. The purple part is about an inch across. I'll have a plastic card, a key chain tag, and a purple bracelet to identify that I belong to the Purple Power Port Club.

This is where it goes. The doctor makes a little incision in your skin and they tuck it underneath. The other part, the PowerLoc connects without making a hole. The medicine gets pumped in via the PowerLoc. This is a non-medical person describing a medical procedure. Ask to see my Purple Power Port!

It was quite disconcerting to listen to all the known and unknown side effects. It reminded me of a list I saw years ago of all the things aloe vera was supposed to cure... I wondered how it could cure diarrhea and constipation both. Same with this stuff. In the end...be careful of almost everything. Go in a zig-zag pattern when you trot down the sidewalk. Always look over your shoulder.

Regis and I stopped at a new place in Mankato on our way home. They have 42 televisions. I won't be going back there soon.

Well, here is the day brightener of the day. This is my Aunt Jean who lives in Washington...all dressed up for Halloween. She is going to be 90 so I say, here's to that! Great spirit, Aunt Jean!

little by little...coming out from under the cloud

I wrote the other day about feeling immobilized. I felt that way yesterday, too, in spite of having coffee with a lovely friend of mine. Her home is in the woods and I felt calm and peaceful going there to see her, but I came home and crawled back into bed.

I stopped at the coop to buy something for dinner and came home with the weirdest assortment of things. I made a lot of trips around that store, too, picking up chicken breasts then putting them back, picking up ham slices then putting them back. I should have had a list.

Mary sent a message later saying that after she had a game plan, she felt much more able to manage her disease. I think she's right about that. Friday, I expected to leave the clinic knowing something. When I only left with a fistful of more appointments, it was disappointing so I holed up for a few more days. I am optimistic that today will be better.

We had planned that Regis would stay home today as there was no point in him sitting for 6 hours while I just did appointment after appointment. He told me last night as we went to bed that he plans to take Gus to the Paw for the afternoon so he can join me. He wants to know what's going on and he wants to help me through it. Bless his heart.

I have done a ton of reading lately because when you lay in bed that much, you have to do something. I read both of Will Thomas' books, The Hellfire Conspiracy and Black Hand. Both easy reads but very good. Yesterday I started Love is a Mixtape by Rob Sheffield. Amanda, if you haven't read this book, I think you would love it.

Just got off the phone with Nancy. She has the same kind of cancer, the same oncologist, the same number of lymph nodes involved, and she was also 60 when diagnosed. She is dropping off a book and she gave me the name of a chiropractor for some additional care. I have an appointment tomorrow. That's a good sign.

a very large cloud of ennui has descended on us

We are not unhappy or discontented. We are listless and languid. The back of my neck is sweaty and my hair is flat. I think I've had three naps today although the last two count as only one since I didn't get out of bed between them. I finally decided to get vertical so I walked out to the living room where Regis had just assumed the nap position. Sigh.

It's only one o'clock and I've had three naps. I could take another one which I may disguise as reading.

This has been my favorite meal this weekend. I call it the Thanksgiving Parfait. I put a spoonful of apple pie in the bottom of the glass, then dollops of potatoes, stuffing, yams, and green bean casserole. Top with cranberry sauce. No heating. Easy to eat while slumped over in a napping position. Toss glass and spoon into trash when finished. No dishes!

I've been wrapped in a giant Ace bandage for four days. It makes me hot and cranky and is probably going to cause a yeast infection the size of Rhode Island. Its purpose is to compress my chest so that my body rids itself of fluid and I don't swell up like a giant grape cluster. It's hard to get the right amount of compression so you don't wake up unable to breathe or digest your food. Thanks for listening to my complaint.

I also have nerve issues on the back of my arm, namely that I can't feel the back of my arm. I am going to take special care not to get my arm wiggles near a fan because I could get mauled before I knew what hit me.

I go back to the doctor on Tuesday for a fleet of things which I don't recall but have written down. The nice lady who scheduled this for me was kind enough to write the names and times but I grabbed the paper and started noting the place, as well. It's easy to get confused. If I didn't think it would make me depressed, I would add up all the hours we have spent at doctor's appointments in the last nine months. It's a lot.

I think I have time to take one more nap before we go to wish Tom and Betty bon voyage. The are wintering in Texas again this year.

qualifying for a clinical trial by wearing a crown

Yesterday, I had an appointment with an oncologist. An oncologist. Regis and I joked that we were going to see an oinkologist...a specialist for people who really like bacon.

I don't think I had thought through, in my head, where I was going and why so this was a day of reckoning.

We walked in and there are posters for cancer support groups, brochures about wigs and scarves, and chemo chairs. What the hell. I thought it odd that the nurse asked about my appetite. I ran into Bonnie, a woman I used to work with...who has cancer...and no hair. Baldness could be my future.

The oncologist asked if I would be interested in being part of a clinical trial. It's a Level 3 trial where they decide based on patient outcomes, if this protocol should be the standard of care. He made it sound like a very exclusive club so I asked about the criteria to qualify. He said this and that, this and that but in my mind, you qualify by wearing ass kickin' boots to appointments, by photoshopping crowns onto your pictures, and by using fuck three times or more in a single paragraph.

I'm trying to find a balance between attention to all the details that this seems to require and a healthy sense of life goes on in spite of all this shit. I don't want breast cancer to be all I talk about or think about and I don't want pink to be the only color I wear!

Enough about that.

Regis and I are making a plan for the day. Make yours a good one!

the peace of morning

I love retirement because mornings are so peaceful. No rushing to get ready for work and planning the whole day before the sun even comes up. We sit in our chairs, dog at our feet, fireplace pumping out some heat, cups of coffee at hand. So much nicer to move gently into the day.

One of the things I gave up in the medical madness of the last few weeks is Thanksgiving dinner. We're still having it here but it's much modified from the affairs of the past. Regis has planned the whole meal with a little help from the binder. Tom, I even allowed Reddi-Whip on the grocery list. I don't care about the damn Reddi-Whip anyway. What I like is lots of people and lots of good food.

We'll have lots of help. Ella and Peter are coming Wednesday to help with cooking. Peter loves the cornbread and sausage dressing and said he would make it. Tiffany and Amber are coming early Thursday to help. We have paper plates and plastic forks. Side dishes will be cooked in aluminum throw-away containers. I plan to sit on the couch wearing my crown, holding a long-stemmed wine glass and dispensing advice.

You may have read that I have a lazy tumor. This did not surprise me at all. Any other kind of energetic tumor would have quickly been shunned by the rest of my cells and forced out through the nearest orifice. A lazy tumor could probably be tolerated. Easier to track down and decimate, too, which is a good thing.

I probably will have a host of scans to make sure we know about any cancer encampments outside the perimeter. PET scan, bone scan, CT scan...it will be like Star Trek. Pretty soon, I'll have as many medical reports as our old dog, Bert. He had every medical complication known to science. They would unroll the blood work report for me and I would start to laugh. I told the vet I raised two kids and never got that much information about their inner workings.

I haven't worked much in the past two weeks but I feel now like I can reboot my brain and possibly do a few things.I'm not sure if it's the meds, but I have had some difficulty thinking. Any more than a two-step process and I'm in trouble. I still seem able to put forth my daily does of drivel here, though, huh?

Ok. Getting my lazy butt up and finding some purpose.

i wrote this in my head but now it's gone...

Regis and I went over to meet with the surgeon this afternoon. He said the margins, between tumor and healthy tissue, are fine and there is no need for more surgery. The tumor is negative for HER2 and postivie for both hormone receptors. That means basically, I have a lazy tumor. I would expect as much. He said the oncologist will likely recommend (he may have said "offer") chemotherapy as well as radiation but it sounds much more positive than the picture I was getting on Friday when the PA made it sound horrible. He said no, it does not look horrible. He likes the oncologist I'll be seeing, he gave me his email address, and said I should come in anytime there is something I need to know or don't understand. He also cautioned me about reading things on the internet, something I have discovered on my own. I still have the drain but that should come out Wednesday.

Fireworks! Champagne! Celebrate!

waiting...for what I'm not sure

It's Monday and today we'll go meet with a surgeon and maybe with an oncologist. Maybe today this will turn into one of Regis' dreams, with a plot and characters, instead of being like one of my dreams, an amorphous blob that scares the shit out of me for unknown reasons.

I've gotten used to saying the word cancer although if I am caught off-guard, I say something else. Someone at the Pulse yesterday asked me if I was hurt because I was snoozing on the couch instead of exercising. No, I said, just lazy.

If we had implemented my idea where people have a small virtual projection over their heads telling you the information you need to know, then my problem would be solved. I thought of this once at the Mayo Clinic. I like to think of it as curiosity and not nosiness but it could be nosiness.

So, if people were curious...or nosy...they could read it in blue lights over my head. I have breast cancer. (It would probably also say I am a drama queen.)

Ella came over yesterday. She went to the Pulse together and we exercised for 30 seconds at a time on each and every machine they have there. When we came home, I took a nap and she played with Poppop. Later, she gave me a shoulder massage, a scalp massage, and then a hand and foot massage with lotion. She is an angel.

Emily came over later and we did our usual dinner and a movie. This week, we watched Dancing Outlaw for which there are not words to describe. You have to look it up for yourself.

The sink is full of dishes, I need a shower, and I have some other tasks to do this morning. One more cup of coffee, one more paragraph, one more minute of bliss.

the good, the bad, and the mundane

I was sitting at the table eating my lunch when I saw the pathology report. I had read through it with the PA on Friday but only about a tenth of it stuck with any meaning. Like a flock of little moths in the garden. Since it's three pages of mostly unintelligible medical lingo, I skimmed through it and tried to absorb some more of it today. The PA had highlighted a few things and written down a few notes but it only made sense in a general way. So, I started putting words into google. Words like metastatic. 

Words like metastatic crawl around the outside of my head if doesn't pertain to me. If it becomes personal, all of a sudden it's like a darning needle in my brain. Right in the ear.

Then I started looking up survival rates. Oh, holy shit. This is a concept of which I would rather not be aware.

I'm not reading anymore...at least until I see Dr. Deaconson and the med onc. That's what they call the oncologist...a med onc. I'm learning a whole new language and I think I would rather be learning Urdu. No, I know I would rather be learning Urdu. Whatever the hell Urdu is.

I took two naps today. Both right after my Percoset for pain and Benadryl for itching. It's like falling into a deep hole...I cannot keep my eyes open. Such a blissful sleep for such a shitty reason.

Friends came and took Gus for a two hour walk today. He came home filthy and exhausted so we call that walk a major success.

Last this afternoon, we met Nikki and Scott at the winery. We shared a couple pizzas, a bottle of wine, and some stories. It was a cozy evening by the fire and very good for my soul.

We stopped at River Rock for a couple cookies on the way home. The very sweet baristas hugged me and offered to do anything we needed done. Such nice people.

Regis and I are going to buy groceries in the morning. I usually am way over-prepared for Thanksgiving. I have a binder, I have to-do lists, I have the list of groceries, and I have the timeline. This year, Regis is in charge. We have a list on a piece of notebook paper and we have assigned our offspring to bring a variety of things. I am not worried about the food...I am only worried about the commotion. I may need a nap in the middle of it all.

So, there it is. The good, the bad, and the mundane. Your real life doesn't stop just because you're traveling through a shit storm of medical issues. The dog still needs a walk and a bath, you still need to buy groceries and do laundry, and somehow the dishes continue to accumulate in the sink. I guess the trick is to find things to make you laugh and friends to hug you. And once in a while, go bowling.