chemo in pictures

I didn't have much gumption yesterday. I tried turning on the television but I forgot to watch it and turned it off again. I did some knitting and some visiting but mostly what I did was sit in my big chemo chair and take pictures to document the event. 

The control on my big chair. I can have a heated massage!

Television remote control...and my hat.

I'm usually cold when I get there so I wear boots and I ask for a heated blanket.

The little door there is how my chemicals come from the pharmacy. It's a big suction device like they have at banks. Wooshhhh...and there they are.

What the chemicals look like on the IV pole.

Almost done with Peter's scarf.

At some point during this mess, I get a hot flash and have to strip my boots, my hat and scarf, and lose the blanket.

Where Regis sits to keep me company.

Here I am with the bear Tom got me for my birthday this year. I like to take comfort things.

See how bad my eyes look?

Regis told me to make sure I had my eyes open.

Almost done. I'm more comfortable with my head now. I even bared it at the restaurant when we went out for lunch.

Done with third treatment!

When we got home, these lovely shoes were in the mail. Regis ordered them for me as a surprise. A friend of mine asked if they were hard to walk in and I said these are not walking around shoes. These are shoes for sitting in a chair and looking elegant.

My friend, Caroline in Boston, made snow angels on the beach for me.

Hurray for Caroline!

I had a pod mate named Arlene. She is 91 years old and told me about learning to drive the horses on the farm and what a treat it was to finally get a tractor. She is the head of the prayer chain at her church and said they will pray for me. I thought that was sweet. Arlene will be in two weeks from now for her transfusion so we said we would look for each other.

All in all, a good day. Thanks for all the encouraging words and prayers.

i forgot to make dinner and my daily can of whoop ass

I was really lazy yesterday so I laid around and read most of the afternoon. About five, when I wandered out to the living room, I told Regis I had forgotten to make dinner. It worked once, it could work again.

I'm off to my third chemotherapy treatment today. I have one left after today and then it's on to something new. In spite of my sleeping issues, I feel strong.

the way things smell

I took two naps yesterday. I hadn't slept well the night before and my sleep consultant said I should sleep when the opportunity presented itself so I did. When I got up from my second nap, Regis said he was taking me to the winery.

There is nothing better for a bad case of the crankies than a trip to a winery with a fireplace, soft lights, and friendly women. My snow angel was still visible outside the door, even with the warmer weather. Oh, yeah...it was Pinot and Pizza night, too, so it was win win win all around. We clinked our glasses a few times to toast...something...and had a very nice time.

I slept like a baby last night. Wine can be very good therapy.

I've figured out that having cancer and going through chemotherapy is a little bit like being pregnant. Every day is different and I'm never sure if my symptoms are related to the big thing or if I'm just being hyper vigilant about my health...or just being weird.

The other night we cooked a flank steak which is a favorite of mine. It smelled wonderful while it was cooking, then all of a sudden when it hit the table, I thought, "I can't live here with that awful smell!" Nancy, I'm glad you told me your smell story so I knew I wasn't having an olfactory hallucination.

I've had trouble sleeping for twenty years. I'm not sure the advent of insomnia coincided with the start of menopause or my children finally sleeping through the night. I was so used to waking up in the night that once I could sleep, I couldn't sleep.

So my insomnia is worse some nights. In the handbook of chemotherapy, it says that insomnia is a side effect of either cancer or the treatment. So, is this my usual sleeplessness or exacerbated sleeplessness? I lie awake at night and wonder if there is a dog... which is a reference to my favorite joke about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac.

I'm going to mention it to the doctor. I tried the guided imagery again the other night and wanted to throw my iPod against the wall and stick a steak knife in my ear. I am not stretching my toes toward the sky and I am not feeling myself sink into the pillow and who thought that her little drugged out voice would be soothing?

I'm looking forward to the three post-chemo days when I go about in a dexamethasone-lorazepam haze. My neighbor slapped his knee and laughed out loud when I told him about this the other day. He said that was quite the positive spin on chemotherapy. Chemo for insomniacs. I should start a support group.

There are a couple of local characters who try to out one-line each other on twitter. Of course, they're up in the middle of the night but I read their tweets at 4 am. I call it my Coffee and Comedy start to the day.

I had three jobs that I had been procrastinating about for weeks: taking excess shoes and boots to the basement, updating my address list, and writing some thank you notes. I got busy and did them all in less than an hour. This makes no sense. I spent way more time not wanting to do those things than I did in doing them.

Going to my geriatric exercise class this morning. I'll try to put a burn on those old guys with the oxygen tanks. Maybe it's not so bad, this exercising with the old and infirm. I'm on the honor roll instead of in the remedial group.

spam, sleep, symptoms, and cranky: WARNING

Cranky pretty much sums it up.

I was awake until 2 o'clock last night, moved to the couch, fell asleep until 5 o'clock. I woke up at one point with my head wedged between the pillow and the back of the couch and thought what the hell where am I. I spent more time trying to sleep than I did sleeping.

I have to change the comment setting on my blog again. Sorry to make it more complicated, Mom, but I am getting too much spam from robots promoting Pakistani baseball, Viagra, or knock-off Gucci purses. Do they really think anybody reads that shit? Half the time it's in a language I can't even read. It's really irritating me this morning. See paragraph above.

The other day, I complained about not experiencing any symptoms from my chemo treatments and wondered if they were slipping me bags of plain saline. Ah, yeah. Be careful what you wish for, I'd say. I have been experiencing symptoms.

I called the research nurse yesterday because the top of my head itches like a bitch, my eyes look like I've been on an opium bender, and my skin is drying up. She is always very interested in my symptoms and has good ideas. I bought a cool mist humidifier, I massaged the top of my head, I bought saline drops.

I had to pay 14 dollars for a bottle of plain saline drops for my eyes. Seriously. There are tons of drops on the shelf for two dollars a bottle but the plain saline with no chemicals they keep behind the counter and it costs seven times as much. How does this make sense? That math was hard for me, by the way.

Last night I was fascinated when I could grab a fingerful of the tiny stubble and it would come out in my hand. I stared at it by the light of my Kindle. Tiny pinches of hair in the eerie light of an electronic device.

I had to get out of my chair just now and walk into the other room to shut off my favorite radio station. It's Elvis's birthday today so that's the musical agenda. I can't stand Elvis on a good day.

Yes, some good things have happened in the last few days, but just let me get this out of my system.

I went to my new exercise class yesterday. It's like a fitness center for the aged...lots of pink hair, walkers, and oxygen tanks. My new friend, Allen, told me that he noticed right away that I could tie my shoe laces in the middle. He said old fat guys with big bellies like himself tie them on the side or not at all.

I used to go to a gym where the women ran marathons. Have I crossed over to the other side?

My volume knob hurts again today. I suppose it was the stretching I did yesterday. Even Tiffany, who is fascinated with all things weirdly medical thinks the port is gross. It's my new alien baby.

I think that's all the complaining I want to do today. Here is my list of things going well:

• I like my new exercise class. The trainers are very smart and helpful and the people there are friendly. I got to pick the radio station yesterday. (Oh, my God. This sounds like playing Cootie for bananas in the nursing home, Jane.)
• Regis took my long grocery list and went to the store this morning before it was even light. I hate going to the grocery store. I wander around and buy weird things then get home and wonder what to do with them.
• I have two things coming in the mail. A package of homemade lefse from Deb and Larry in Arizona. Don't be staking out my mailbox for the next few days because I don't leave the house!
• The other is a dress from Betty and Tom in Texas. Maybe it will be a wild colored south of the border looking dress and I can wear it to my next chemo appointment. I like to go for the outrageous attire when I go there...no blue gowns or sweat pants.
• I had to confess to the pharmacist at Walgreen's that I lost the syringes for my Vitamin B. She was very nice about it and replaced them without making me feel like a junkie. I picked up the lost ones the day of my first chemo appointment, then it was Christmas. Who knows where they went? They disappeared in the flotsam and jetsam of daily living.

That's enough for today. Things will always get better.

snow angels: my daily can of whoop ass

Snow Angel

It’s easy to make one,
lying on your back
in the newest snow.

You sweep your arms
up and down to make
a pattern that looks like wings.

Later you forget your creation,
go inside for some hot chocolate.
That’s when she rises from the snow,

takes a feathery breath, tries her wings.
She skims over frozen lakes
like the faintest handwriting.

Later when you climb beneath the covers,
she peers in through your frosty window,
happy you called her into the world.

I went for a walk yesterday afternoon when the sun was perfect for a snow angel picture. I walked by many yards with undisturbed snow and I was so tempted to flop down and make one, but I was sure that I would be seen and medical authorities would be called before I could make my escape.

When I got home, there was a nice spot on the boulevard so I went to work. Sure enough, the neighbors across the street walk out their front door and the neighbors to the north pull into their driveway. Jan rolled down the window and asked it they should call 911. I said no, I'm making a snow angel.

Maybe I should do this after dark. People would wake up, look out the front window, and there would be a perfect snow angel.

Hannah and Miles make snow angels. Thanks, Jill, for sending the poem and the picture!

While reading about snow angels, I found the world record for most snow angels made at one time. February 14, 2011 — Nova Scotians are confident they have broken the Guinness World Record for making the most snow angels in different places at once.

The article says the event proved to be more of an uplifting experience than anticipated. “From what people have told me, the exact moment the kids all fell back, it was a really emotional experience for those watching.”

Which proves my theory. Making snow angels is good for you. It's like an emotional can of whoop ass for the bad shit that happens. Make snow angels instead of reading the news. Make snow angels instead of dusting and sweeping. Make snow angels instead of thinking about cancer. And a place where schools take the time to organize snow angel events instead of standardized testing sessions? Heaven.

I have my next chemotherapy treatment on Thursday. Adriamycin and Cytoxan. My chemical cocktail for the day. A friend of mine asked me yesterday, how will they know it's working? That stopped me for a second. How will they know it's working?

I almost wish (not really) that I had some side effects because side effects would be a reminder of the fact of cancer being a part of my life. The way it is, some days I can forget I have cancer. This is a good thing except that it makes the moment when I realize, again, that I do, more of a smackdown that it would be if cancer was hanging around in the front of my brain all the time. 

I feel like I am coming up on the top of the roller coaster again and Thursday morning will be the crest...looking at the down hill screaming side. That's my reminder that I have cancer...going to the Cancer Center, getting blood drawn, meeting with the research nurse and the oncologist, sitting in a room full of other cancer patients many of whom look tired and sick, having a nurse come at me with bag after bag of toxic shit. And I know it's toxic because they look like this:

That's why I need the snow angel whoop ass...to fight off the open can of fuck.

snow and sand angels...i put out the call again

One day this week, I put out the call for snow angel pictures, or if my friends live in a warm climate, a sand angel would do. I asked that people send them to me. The response was underwhelming but I was tickled with this picture my friend, Sharon, sent from Sarasota, Florida. The sand is so white it looks like snow!

I love that the sand angel has a straw hat in the final photo. I would still like to get pictures if you have half a mind to lay yourself down in the tall grass, or snow, or sand. Whatever you got where you live.

I took Gus for a walk yesterday and thought about dropping into the snow myself but I was in the area of the hospital and I was afraid someone would send out the ambulance if I suddenly dropped to my back and starting flopping my arms and legs around.

If you aren't of a mind to do it yourself, don't you know some small kids who would like to learn to make snow angels? Snow angels are like May baskets...a disappearing art. Be a part of the movement to revive the art of snow angels!

Really, we would all be better off if we worried more about snow angels and less about housecleaning and bills. I would say the aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to make a snow angel. Rebel! Get in the snow!

After today, we will be a one car family. We really don't need two cars anymore, we won't have to pay insurance on two cars, and someone else can benefit from the good care the little Corolla had from Regis. Bye bye, Toyota!

Tiffany and I met to transfer the title. Because she was working, we met up in Mankato. We had both looked on the internet to see where to go but before we ended up in the right place, we went to the Justice Center, the old courthouse, and the recycling center which is a very upscale and modern looking building. Not the kind of place you would expect to find old newspapers and tin cans. Finally, we both ended up at the government center licensing department. Mankato...better signage? Better information on the web?

When I was at the Paw the other day, a dog passed me that looked like my old friend, Deb's dog, Dickens. Dickens was a big dog and a lab/Basset cross. Like a giant lab with half-legs but he could jump like an NBA star. When we were in the yard, he would often do a vertical leap to peer at us over the five-foot fence. It was truly amazing. Dickens looked like this.

I commented to the woman behind the desk that I used to know a dog like that who could jump straight into the air. She laughed and said this dog's owners have their kitchen table set up on cinder blocks because the dog can jump onto the table. I laughed and laughed.

So last night, Deb came down and I showed her the picture I had drawn of Dickens and the table on cinder blocks. Deb's son, Ryan, is an artist, and he says anybody can learn to draw. I sent my picture home with her and said to tell him this could be proof that it might not be true. We had a glass of Ass Kicker beer, watched for cardinals, and talked about when our kids were little and played together in refrigerator boxes on the driveway. It was a sweet evening.

 

My friend, Richie, is stopping over this morning. She brought us a spaghetti dinner the other night and we enjoyed it immensely. The food other people prepare always tastes so good!

Regis is off to do tax prep schooling for AARP this morning. As I would rather be staked naked to an ant hill and covered with honey, I am staying home doing what I do best: sitting in my chair, drinking coffee, and socializing.

Ella and I made snow angels on December 20, 2010 in Mike's yard. There was a full moon and it was magical. See our angels behind us?

It was a beautiful winter that year.

i've got no circadian rhythm and i can't dance

I was reading about insomnia in the middle of the night. Apparently it has something to do with circadian rhythm. Mine has disappeared or I never had any. Is this related to the reason I am a terrible dancer? Is this related to my Norwegian heritage?

I keep trying to find a theme to the bear pictures or some relation to a bigger picture. I am having no luck. So  here, bear pictures on Friday. Happy weekend.

Bear in bikini rides trike

Bears dance to YMCA

the best defense against an open can of you-know-what

My old friend and neighbor, Deb, who leaves frequent comments on my blog, told me yesterday that the best defense against an open can of fuck is the daily opening of a can of whoop ass. I don't know why I didn't think of that! Thanks, Deb! Frankly, I think we should write this up for JAMA as there is probably true evidence that whoop ass works.

For some reason the concept of whoop ass cracks me up. I spent ten minutes looking for images of whoop ass on google. There are no images for the other can...the one that hit me in the morning...I checked that out, too.

My POD is to finish updating my address list, call Irene, print some pictures, write some thank you notes, and walk for twenty minutes. And to open a fresh can of whoop ass.

silver saddles and sunday parades

I worked in a bar when I was in college. One of the many characters who frequented Brannigan's was fond of saying life ain't all silver saddles and Sunday parades. Boy, he wasn't whistlin' Dixie.

I was on my way into the shower this morning and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My head is bald. I have a scar on one breast and a port sticking up like a knob on the other one. My nipples point in two different directions...one southwesterly and the other more distinctly north. They are not symmetrical. I have a scar under my left arm and looks like the flap on an envelope. Oh, hello gnarly old body.

I can go days and days and not think about cancer but then I have this moment in the mirror and it's like getting walloped with an open can of fuck. I was suddenly tired of hats and scarves, tired of drugs, tired of appointments, tired of all of it. Nothing was funny. I wanted to go back to bed.

Then I had an appointment this afternoon for a health assessment with a program called Exercise is Medicine. On my way out the door, I thought this will be a brief assessment as life suckage has reached a record high this morning.

But what do you know, just when you think you can never be cynical enough, things take a turn for the better. The sun comes out. You start singing and dancing again. And here comes the parade!

I meant to only go one time but they were all so happy and encouraging that I signed up for two times a week for a month and now I'm trying to convince Regis to join me. They have Sirius radio, they laugh a lot and everybody else is toting oxygen tanks so we'll be able to beat them in foot races, for sure.

Dude, it is all silver saddles and Sunday parades!

admitting ignorance

When I wake up early, sometimes I do some retail therapy on the internet so I am quiet and don't wake Regis before he's ready.

This morning, I was looking at my favorite eyewear website, Bleudame. I wanted some clear glass eyewear since my glasses don't correct for my cataract anyway and I can see fine for the most part. Except for that myopia thing. I'm tired of the same old glasses so I ordered a few pair from this place...for ten bucks each. I paid a king's ransom for my last pair of real glasses so what the hell. This is a pretty cheap fashion opportunity.

So. I'm looking at the website and they have a list of celebrities on the left sidebar. Apparently, if you are a fan, you can buy glasses like your favorite celebrity. It was a long list made mostly of names of which I have no flipping awareness. Even if I had some shadow of recognition of the name, I had no idea what kind of glasses they wear. Kim Kardashian? Dakota Fanning? Ah, well. I'm a cultural idiot.

I have also gotten interested in looking at vintage stuff on Etsy. It amuses me because, for example, I just looked at a porcelain doorknob, exactly like the one I have on the door in the basement, that is going for $38. Clothes that look like what I wore in the 60s...that cost way more now than they did new. If only I had kept all that old crap and sold it on Etsy, I'd probably have enough money to pay for my health insurance.

 I just had the best sweet roll in the universe. Sticky caramelized sugar on the bottom with very subtle orange flavored cream cheese icing. With a little Hope butter, that is heaven...right there. Thanks, Paul!

We took a package of Deb's lefse out of the freezer yesterday and it was so good. When you've only had store-bought lefse for a while, the real thing is even better than you imagined. Thanks, Deb!

I'm going for an exercise assessment this afternoon at the Mayo Clinic Cardiac Rehab Center. I don't need cardiac rehab but they offer it to cancer patients, too. I haven't been exercising much since my diagnosis. I think I'm tired, I'm worried about hurting myself (I know...makes no sense.), and I'm worried about germs. Sounds like a hypochondriac to me.

a forgotten post about the nightgown

I made chocolate truffles and buckwheat cheese straws and had my friend Joanne over for a glass of wine today. When that was all said and done, I got on the interwebs and ordered a nightgown from LL Bean and a pack of  thank you notes from Etsy. Ahhh. Someone carry me into the bedroom. It's been a big day.

I'd really like to go back to the hospital for a few days and lounge around in this nightgown, have nurses bring me warm drinks and cool compresses and fan my face. What the hell.

I can hardly keep up with the need to thank folks. I thought I would send Christmas cards with a note saying thanks for you acts of kindness but holy crap, they keep coming. Such a nice problem to have.

awake in the middle of the night

When I'm awake in the middle of the night on the first day of the new year, it doesn't bode well. I was awake off and on from 11 o'clock on, and finally got up at 3. What the hell is up with that?

Our house is cold in the middle of the night, the theory being that if you are in bed, you don't need heat in the living room.

I would like some eggs and toast but I don't really feel like leaving the comfort of my chair in front of the fireplace to make breakfast. It could be my only option, however.

These old friends came down from the cities yesterday to have breakfast and visit. We went to Whiskey River, had a nice time watching the birds and turkeys, then popped into Swedish Kontur where a nice gentleman took our picture. Then, suddenly, I had to go home and take a nap.

In the past few years, Regis and I usually hunker down on New Year's Eve. We planned yesterday to make dinner at home and watch a movie. For some reason, about 4 o'clock we took a notion to go out to the winery for an early glass of wine and a pizza.

We didn't want to be there when the crowds descended because of the germ thing. I know it might be impossible to avoid them (germs not crowds) but I do my best. So, we were the only customers for a while, we gabbed with our favorite servers, Angie and I traded earrings because she really needed to bling it up a notch, and we had our favorite Quattro Fromaggio pizza by the fire. So nice.

The sky was winter opal as we left so I made a snow angel by the door. I tried to convince another patron to join me but she said she was cold.

Richie brought spaghetti sauce and a loaf of bread...really the makings for a whole meal. We'll enjoy that today! As she was leaving I wished her happy 2013 and said we would not be sad to bid adieu to 2012 but later, I thought that's not true. It's been a good year, all in all. Some bad shit, some wonderful stuff. The bad days just make the good ones seem all that much more blissful.

I'm suspecting my crack medical team of giving me bags of saline instead of the real thing. I have hardly any ill effects, which believe me, I am not complaining about but still...what the hell. I've had no nausea and no vomiting. Regis thinks my hair may be starting to give way because he can see some bald spots and my head is very tender. I sleep a lot...most days...and when I need a nap, I need one right this minute. See above.

My cousin Deb, the lefse angel, sent us a package of made from scratch, Vi's recipe lefse. She mailed it on Thursday, two day express through the USPS. Guaranteed two day delivery. It did not arrive Saturday so we expected it yesterday. Our mail usually comes in the late afternoon so Regis thought it was safe to go out for a while in the morning. Sure. Come home to find a note saying sorry we missed you, pick your lefse up on Wednesday.

I marched right down to the PO and of course, there it was. We had to dispatch one bag because it was looking a little gray. The rest appears fine and we can't wait to try it. It's safely in the freezer...never fear.

It's Ella's 7th birthday today! Happy birthday little sunshine of our lives!

more gratitude

1. People. I know there are some evil people in the world but if you look around and add up the truly wonderful ones, they far outnumber the mean bastards. This has really come to the front of my brain since my cancer diagnosis. I have a basket full of cards and letters. I have gift certificates for massage. I have had phone calls of support and emails and Facebook messages from people I know only though social media. Friends have brought chicken soup with Amish noodles. Caramel apple pie. Beautiful sparkly caps and a huge multi-colored afghan. It's like a rainbow on my lap. I am very, very grateful for the people in my life who surround me with this cloud of light and love.

2. Retirement. I don't know how I would have gotten through this business had I still been working. Of course, if I had been working, I could have taken a lot of sick time and that would have helped right the inequity of getting screwed out of the retirement incentive I didn't get because I was off a teacher's contract for one bloody year...but that's another evil story I don't let dwell in my head. Retirement is grand. We sit and watch the day start. The opal colored sky, the birds coming to feed right at dawn, we don't have to hurry anywhere, and life has taken on a lovely pace. More like a waltz than a tarantella.

3. Stuff. I know I have been trying to get rid of stuff (clutter) around my house and I've been sort of successful at it. There are still things for which I have a special fondness and they will never see the darkness of the inside of the little white van that picks things up for the epileptics. I have a Kermit the Frog I bought in a thrift store twenty years ago. He still sits on the book shelf. I have small plates and tiny cups...way more than a person would ever really need...but I love them. I have a very old quilt hanging on the wall in my bedroom. It's been in my family for many years and I'm not even sure anymore who made it but I like to think of the hands that sewed it and the bodies that were warmed by it. A nice connection to the past.

4. Music. On May 19th at six in the evening, what appeared to be a single, tuxedoed street performer playing a bass for people strolling around Plaça de Sant Roc in Sabadell, Spain (just north of Barcelona) turned into a mass ensemble performing a movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony — including more than 100 musicians and singers from the Orchestra Simfònica del Vallès, Amics de l’Òpera de Sabadell, Coral Belles Arts, and Cor Lieder Camera.

The production is lovely and highly produced, but it's the fascination and pure joy of the passersby that makes the moment quite magical.

And this one: 

And one more:

Go to the woods of Kyushu, Japan. Engineer a massive xylophone (or is it a marimba?) to run down the slope of a forested hill. Take a wooden ball, place it at the top of said instrument, and push it. What do you get? Bach’s treatment of a traditional church hymn! Namely, “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”



I just had to get that one snarky dig in there, didn't I? And I can't make myself delete it. Ah, well. I can be grateful and I can still hold a grudge about that. Hahahaha! A bunch of gratitude and one shark bite.

gratitude for 2012

We had the wee ones over yesterday for a while. They still had presents from cousins under the tree that needed to be opened and they hadn't gotten much time to play together over the holidays. Like most family gatherings, it got a little disorganized but we all got plenty to eat and we had some good laughs. Even Gus got in on the action. He did all his tricks for Eric, multiple times.

Elliot came in his pajamas, the bottoms inside out. I think it was a statement myself: I'm tired of dressing up and traveling around and I'm going comfortably in my fuzzy pajamas or not at all. We didn't care. He was fuzzier to hug this way!

I made spaghetti the little kid way...Ragu sauce, chopped up meat, bread sticks, nothing fancy. They were all good eaters. Oreos for dessert. A kid's dream.

Elliot and Alex had a few new things to play with...a transformer thing and a couple of Mario stuffed toys. Such good imaginations, they have.

This year, I didn't have the forethought or the gumption to get everyone in a Christmas hat and posed in a group. I should have made that someone else's responsibility. I think Regis and I did pretty well to entertain and cook as much as we did this year. It helped that we gave ourselves a stern message about scaling back. No need to make the ketchup from scratch, for example. Yes, I have been known to do that.

I'm doing what I always do this time of year, avoiding the year in review in the papers and on television. Who needs to hear all that bad shit once, much less repetitively at the end of the year? I like to be marginally aware of things that go on, then let them settle into the dusty corners of my subconscious so I know there is good and bad in the world, then I like to skip on my way and enjoy the sunny side of life.

I'm not doing, what do they call those, resolutions. Learned my lesson about that many times over, too. I'm working on a list of things I'm grateful for and a list of things I would like to explore in 2013 (no distant volcanoes or anything like that) but that will be about it. I'm pretty happy with the way things are and see no sense in making things all crazy and unpredictable which usually leads to lots of guilt for things undone.

Here are a couple of my grateful posts from the past:

November 11, 2007

January 2, 2008

December 2, 2010

I think I'll start my list now and add to it as the days go by toward 2013.

1. I'm grateful for portable sources of heat. I'm sitting in front of a small, electric stove that looks kind of Ben Franklinish. It throws a lot of heat out of the bottom. We have one in the living room and one in what we call the sitting room. I can have warm feet wherever I go! I also have a big hand-knit afghan from Kathy Wessel and an electric mattress pad. I don't like to be cold.

2. I'm very grateful for the white-haired man who lives with me and says I am beautiful even though I have no hair and some of my parts are not symmetrical anymore. He likes to talk about books and movies, he sends me funny cartoons, he does the laundry and takes care of my car, he hugs me when I'm sad, and he makes me laugh.

3. I'm grateful for my mom. I have a lot of friends my age who don't have their moms anymore so I'm fortunate to have that plucky Norwegian woman living in her own home who plays cards with her friends on Sunday nights, throws parties for the Queen's Jubilee, sends me boxes of surprise candles and trinkets and candy, and who knows how to get back up when life throws her a curve. Here she is at Caleb and Kelsey's wedding in October.

4. I'm very grateful that we have such nice kids. They call us, they shovel our sidewalks and clean the snow off our cars, they haul heavy stuff up and down the stairs, they take us to medical appointments if we need it, they are a source of joy. They love to come here to eat or just to visit. They like my cooking, especially the cookies and the barbecue. They're all funny and they all have an enthusiasm for life. You just couldn't ask for better kids.

5. I'm grateful that we have an appreciation for cooking and eating. I have had less of an appetite lately but Regis makes me simple things that taste good and once in a while I get a notion to make buckwheat cheese straws or dark chocolate truffles.

6. I'm most grateful that we laugh. Some families (some people) are way too serious about everything. They get their feelings hurt, they carry grudges, they worry. We are the grasshoppers of the world and can find something funny in most situations. It's not a bad way to live.

I better get back to my cheese straws and truffles. I'll prompt Regis to take pictures. The gratitude list shall continue, as well.

can't sleep...must write

We had a wonderful day yesterday. The little ones came about 11, accompanied by a parent or two, some of whom left to do other things that are made more difficult by the company of children. Those of us who were left enjoyed a lunch of Ragu spaghetti, bread sticks, and Oreos. Can't beat that for a kid-friendly lunch.

When they went home, we went to a service to say good-bye to our friend, Karen Burns Noble, who died suddenly on Christmas Day. Her daughter, Nikki, read two poems and it was one of the sweetest memorials I have ever attended, No pomp, just a roomful of lovely people who loved Karen.

Regis and Gus went to the dog park for a while while I listened to Dean Martin's old classic Christmas songs, then went to the liquor store for a bottle of pinot noir and a six pack of Magic Hat for Regis. We're planning a quiet weekend and eve of 2013. Avoiding crowds and germs by holing up at home with all our comforts...good spirits, scallops, bread, shrimp, steak, salad, something sweet.

I had no appetite for dinner so Regis made me a soft fried egg and a piece of toast. It tastes so good when someone else makes it. We watched re-runs of old episodes of Seinfeld.

I try to read but the book doesn't compel me. I wander through the pages, wanting to know how it ends but not being curious enough to keep going for very long.

If I lie in bed awake too long, I start to pay attention to the shadows of cancer that float across the dark ceiling. Nothing too frightening...just reminders. Like when I wake up and worry that I forgot to pay the light bill. I run through the future appointments in my head, I think about the medication I took today and what I can stop taking tomorrow. I think about whether my hair really will fall out or it that was a pre-emptive strike for no good reason. I can let the creepy future fears stalk me if I let them...things that might be side effects of the toxic treatments but I don't let that happen very often. I might as well worry about meteors or the apocalypse.

Now, that I chased those chickens out of my brain, I'll try to sleep again.

i am the champion of naps

The first few days after chemo, I can easily take 3-4 short naps a day and sleep for 11 hours a night. It's like heaven. After today, when I wean off the nausea meds, I will gradually become more alert and will spend more time vertically. Ah, well. It's a nice respite from insomnia.

Most of the minis from our family are coming for lunch and some play time today. They didn't get to play together much over the holiday so this will be fun. There are still a few stray presents under the tree for one or the other, too.

Regis and I are spending a quiet weekend and New Year's holiday at home. Sort of an attempt to avoid wayfaring flu and cold germs but also because we like it. We have a few movies lined up, some favorite easy menus in mind, and all the comforts we need. It will be like a vacation.

My cousin in Arizona sent us homemade lefse from my Aunt Vi's recipe. Vi was the champion lefse maker so we are listening carefully for the sound of the delivery truck. We'll take photos, for sure. Thanks, Deb!

it won't be light for hours but we are grateful

I woke up before 4 and tried to go back to sleep but I can tell when it's a hopeless cause. I had a good eight hours of sleep...that's enough. I love this part of the day. I like to watch the sky go from black to soft gray to opal. Every morning, I come out and turn on the Christmas tree lights, the fireplace, and I drink the last cup of coffee from yesterday heated in the microwave. I wrap myself in my new rainbow afghan and a warm hat and I wait for morning to come.

Regis and Gus come out to join me. Gus has a habit of jumping into Regis's lap for a while in the morning. They watch the rabbits and the birds in the yard and wait for morning to come. Sometimes Gus gets a little grooming.

I have a hankering for coffee cake this morning so might have to make one. It's been a long time but the smell of brown sugar and butter is enticing.

I've decided to take a leave of absence from my job at River Rock. I didn't work many hours anymore and I could do much of it at home, but it took a lot of thinking time and I didn't feel that I had that too spare. Now, I can think about the healthy things: cooking, eating, exercise, and good strong state of mind.

A Facebook poster who I read quite often says that cancer has enriched his life. Enriched his life by the people he has met and connected with, by the experiences he has had, and by the new way of looking at his life. He would never have invited cancer into his life and like I have said, he wouldn't sign up for it again, but all in all, it's been interesting and I guess I could even say enriching.

I've met a lot of people online, Caroline and Karen, some through blogs and some I'm not even sure how we met. I've connected with lots of women in town who have cancer or had cancer in the past, Mary, Nancy, MaryAnn, and have been willing to share their stories and their support. For all of these folks, I am grateful. Linda and Stu, old friends, have sent email and pictures of their Christmas in Missouri.

My family has been good about calling me, Mom, Bruce, Pat and Helen, Deb...and sending things to cheer me up: fresh, homemade lefse, surprise packages, massages. My Aunt Liz and Cousin Joanna from Arizona sent the beautiful prayer shawl in the photo above. Emily's mom sent a beautiful and wildly colored afghan that I love and carry from room to room with me.

Friends in town have brought things: chicken soup with Amish noodles from Keith and Corinne, tomato and squash soup from Montana and Sam, granola from Josh and Tamika, a scarf from India from Kemmie and Joanne. Anders, who lost his sweet wife to cancer some years back, brought me a bag of her beautiful scarves to wear.

That is my gratitude post for the day. Thanks to Winston for the inspiration and for all my friends and family who have been so good to us. Bless your hearts.

moths in my head

I have been noticing some moths in my head lately. I go into the kitchen to get the yard stick and a phone, I come back with a cup of coffee. I sit down a realize I have forgotten both things I wanted so I get back up but then I wander in to make the bed and come back without the phone again. When I made the coffee this morning, I let the water run on the floor, then tried to pour the water in the pitcher back in to the tank. Do I have to make sticky notes on my fingers again?

I checked to see what the Mayo Clinic as to say about chemo fog. There isn't a lot of research on it so the evidence is mostly anecdotal but they take it seriously. I could answer yes to many of these. I'm not confused in the sense of "where am I?  and "what am I doing here? I sometimes forget which doctor I'm seeing in which place and for what.

Signs and symptoms of chemo brain may include:

• Being unusually disorganized 
• Confusion 
• Difficulty concentrating 
• Difficulty finding the right word 
• Difficulty learning new skills 
• Difficulty multitasking 
• Fatigue 
• Feeling of mental fogginess 
• Short attention span 
• Short-term memory problems 
• Taking longer than usual to complete routine tasks 
• Trouble with verbal memory, such as remembering a conversation 
• Trouble with visual memory, such as recalling an image or list of words 

Signs and symptoms of cognitive or memory problems vary from person to person and are typically temporary, often subsiding within two years of completion of cancer treatment.

That's all the medical news today. If you want advice on what to wear on your head or appropriate footwear for the chemo room, I'm your gal. For the difference between adriamycin and cytoxin, find a scientist for that. I'm the flibbertigibbet of cancer and the chemo room.  

My role is to wear tall boots, sparkly earrings, a velvet turban, and my faux fur coat. And to be as amusing as possible. I don't infringe on the peace of people reading the Bible aloud or napping...I just like to crack a joke from time to time.

I did commit a minor faux pas yesterday. I didn't have my usual oncologist, but a fellow in a turban. He was quite serious but very kind. He went through my blood work, then said he would do an exam. He hands me a gown and walks over to the sink to wash his hands. I whip off my sweater and bra by the time he turns from the sink. He looks a little dismayed and says I could have used the curtain in the corner. The other onc didn't do that...in fact, helped me get undressed. So, what's the protocol there, doc? It's confusing to the patient!

I don't have much of a plan for today except for napping and finishing my book. I'm almost done with Iron Lake by William Kent Krueger. I have the next four on my Kindle already and the next two in hardcover. Regis has been a fan for a long time but for some reason I didn't think they would appeal to me.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? Mary Oliver wants to know!

hi ho hi ho

It's off to chemotherapy we go.

My second treatment is today and I go with some apprehension. The last one, except for a couple of drowsy days, was uneventful. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know.

Adriamycin, Cytoxan, dexamethasone, Zofran, lorazepam, and Compazine. Quite the chemical shit storm. Some are to fix the cancer and some are to fix the fix, as in lots of anti-nausea meds. That's good because puking is one of my least favorite activities.

We had friends over last night, one a recent inductee to the world of cancer. She commented that a lot of people have trouble saying the word cancer and she's noticed that when family members call, they ask about "it" instead of cancer. I had trouble saying it at first. Maybe this is what they do at support groups...help you say the word. With the word comes acceptance.

My hair has apparently not yet begun to disappear. I can tell because the bristles are all there. Regis reshaved me once and maybe have to do it again. It would be ironic if my hair didn't fall out but it's been a hoot of a fashion opportunity.

Regis goes with me to the clinic. I sit in a monster recliner and he sits in an uncomfortable chair. Each patient gets their own little pod with a television. Nice touch. There are curtains that you can pull for privacy but it's kind of like putting a fence between neighbors...it just isn't done. A volunteer walks around offering people coffee, water, and warm blankets. Another nice touch.

I can take one step at a time. After today, I will be halfway through the Adriamycin and Cytoxan. By the 1st of February I should be ready to start on the weekly Paclitaxel, a mitotic inhibitor. This is what Paclitaxel looks like. Good to have a visual.

I know some people are into reading research about cancer but that's not my bag. I figure I am paying a ton of money to have a spectacular oncologist and I trust that he is up on things. I bet he reads journals and goes to conferences and understands pictures like this one a lot better than I do. I'm doing pretty well to keep the paperwork organized and remember what day I am supposed to show up where and for what.

I'll be in touch. Wish me luck.

wine glass and cupcakes hit the floor

Christmas Eve was eventful, as always. Who wants to have one of those family celebrations where nothing goes wrong? I dropped six cupcakes on the floor and thankfully, only one had to be destroyed. The rest are rough looking but fine for eating.

I also sent a wine glass crashing to the floor. Somebody else cleaned it up, good for them and lazy props to me.

There's a link to all the Christmas pictures at the bottom of the post but these are a few of my favorites.

This is me in my new blonde bomber wig, thanks Emily and Ella! The hat is a gift from Emily's mom, Kathy. Do they know me or what? It's my gangster moll look.

Gus looked on in dismay from under the table. He was a good dog. Probably ate more cookies than is good for a dog, but what the hell. It's Christmas.

Reggie wore my hat for a while. He looks like he's giving Alex some serious uncle advice here. Probably something like, "Go get us some of those peanut butter cookies, boy!" Alex is a convert to  the Reese's peanut butter cookie cult.

Those cookies are so popular here among the men folk that we have to portion them out. Bob was a little late getting here because he had to work (boo) so I saved some in a container on top of the refrigerator for him. When the cookies on the plate were all gone, I told him that there were more and you should have seen it. Bob, Regis, Peter...making a beeline for the kitchen, elbowing each other out of the way.

This is the best group shot we got. It's impossible to get one where everybody looks in the same direction at the same time with their eyes open. The boys in the back row have a lot of fun planning mischief, as you can see. That's Bob behind the bird for Reg and Peter's amusement.

I think this is right before the wine glass crashed to the floor. Ella likes to snuggle with her Nana. I'm wearing a little sparkly cap that was a gift from Ella's family. I have quite the hat and scarf collection. I think I wore four different things on my head over the course of the evening. 

Oh, Katy in Georgia! The apron arrived yesterday so Ella wore it to help prepare our dinner. Wish I had gotten a picture of that. I will next time. She wanted to leave it here...hanging right next to mine. 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Here's the link to the whole shootin' match if you want to see the more serious pictures of things like presents. We didn't get any food pictures which is a darn shame because it was very good.

Christmas 2012

make much of something small

Robyn Sarah has another poem on Writer's Almanac this morning. Her poem Riveted, on the right sidebar, is one of my favorites and was my first gratitude poem. Oh, in fact, I used her line "spellbound by our own imperfect lives" as my title.

I love the message of this one...make much of something small.

Bounty by Robyn Sarah

Make much of something small.
The pouring-out of tea,
a drying flower's shadow on the wall
from last week's sad bouquet.
A fact: it isn't summer any more.

Say that December sun
is pitiless, but crystalline
and strikes like a bell.
Say it plays colours like a glockenspiel.
It shows the dust as well,

the elemental sediment
your broom has missed,
and lights each grain of sugar spilled
upon the tabletop, beside
pistachio shells, peel of a clementine.

Slippers and morning papers on the floor,
and wafts of iron heat from rumbling radiators,
can this be all? No, look — here comes the cat,
with one ear inside out.
Make much of something small.

"Bounty" by Robyn Sarah, from A Day's Grace. © The Porcupine's Quill, 2002.

Last night, Regis and I sat in the quiet of pre-Christmas Eve with a hot brandy made with Courvoisier cognac. Someone gifted us with two mini-bottles ages ago and they have sat in the hutch, waiting for the right moment and this was it. Hot water, a lemon slice, honey, and a sprinkle of nutmeg. Perfect.

I made a River Rock style salad with baby spinach, butternut squash cubes roasted with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, pumpkin seeds, dried cranberries, and blue cheese. I am rockin' the kitchen the last week or two.

Turns out my distaste for coffee was due to my head cold and not to the chemo. Oh, thank God. I would have missed coffee. White wine...not so lucky on that one.

We have lovely birds at our feeder. Most nights, a family of four cardinals comes together and takes turns on the feeder while the others wait in the apple tree or feed on the ground. I couldn't figure out why the bird seed in the feeder wasn't disappearing. I went out to check today and with all the freezing rain we had a while back, it all frozen into one big bird seed popsicle. I had to bring it into the house to thaw. Poor birdies.


On to the family Christmas celebration. It will be quiet here for most of the day, then pandemonium will break out about 3 o'clock although today, I think only two small children and one large dog. Minimal chaos. Merry Christmas to all. Make much of the small things in your day.

post-whine post

I should have gotten back to the blog yesterday after writing that wretched whiny post but I am happy to report that I got myself out of my funk and was too busy. Most of those things I whined about yesterday have been resolved anyway which is usually what happens to irritations and annoyances.

I made the favorite Fritsch/Saum family cookies yesterday. Peanut butter cookies in a small muffin tin with a Reese's Peanut Butter cup tucked in the center. Some families fight about stock portfolios and real estate, we fight about these cookies. Not really fight, of course, but when they hit the table you'd better stand back with your arms close to your sides.

I had a wonderful nap in the afternoon. Regis brought me the cards that came in the mail and I drifted off to sleep with Christmas cards, sweet notes and pictures spread across the blankets.

I got up and made a small ham and au gratin potatoes for dinner. One of my favorite meals.

If you read the comments at the end of some posts, you know that mom is a frequent contributor. Yesterday she said she didn't want me to look like James Carville but then she made a sweet comment about how I am not defined by my hair. Thanks, Mom! I thought I looked like Paul Schaeffer on the Letterman Show.

She also said instead of worrying about the port, I should drink some port. Good advice. I'm not fond of port but I did partake of some pinot noir. And it did make that port feel better! Medical miracle!

My mom says she is one tough old bird and she's right. I've learned a lot from her about dealing with the shit that comes down the pike at you. You meet it head on, both arms swinging or you step aside...but you don't let it bowl you over.

I've been having an interesting conversation with my friend, Yvette, in New York City about baldness. She lost most of her hair some years ago and decided to make the move to bald and proud. She's helped me think a lot about hair and how to approach the lack of it. She is gorgeous and elegant.

In the first pictures taken after my head was shaved, I looked a little tentative and nervous. I wore hats almost constantly for the first weeks, first because it's colder than hell here and I didn't want my brain to freeze. I also liked the look of dramatic hats and scarves.

In the last picture, Yvette says I look fierce. Ready to be bald and proud.

Did the presence of the scarf or hat or turban always signal to people that I am "sick"? Could I happily and proudly go out and about in this town (it ain't New York City) with a bald head? How would people react...and would I care?

My old friend and neighbor, Deb, who has embraced the very short hair look for a long time believes it's liberating to not have to worry about hair. It is. Yesterday it occurred to me that giving up hair is a little bit like giving up girdles (1969), brush hair rollers (1970), and panty hose (2005). Who needs that shit? Devices of torture.

The sick part. Because I have cancer, does that mean I'm sick? I don't usually feel sick. Most days I feel fine. Maybe cancer doesn't mean the same as being sick. When the nurse told me she thought I was in denial about cancer being a part of my life, did she mean that I haven't accepted that I'm sick?

I'm not going to think of myself as sick. I'm going to keep on dancing in the streets, thank you very much. If that's denial, in the words of my father-in-law Howard Fritsch, so be it.

do you serve cheese with that whine?

I feel like I'm ruminating on a whole list of minor complaints so I'm going to write them down and see if it's really as bad as I think it is.

• I have a head cold. Yesterday I would sneeze ten times in a row, my nose ran constantly, and my eyes were encircled with red and irritated circles. I was tired but I think it was just from the constant nasal activity. I felt pretty good from the neck down.
• I talked to the nurse yesterday and afterwards, I felt like I had exposed my self to the dreaded plague. Be careful of nose membranes and mouth membranes. Check your temperature. Go to the ER if your fever is over 100. Rinse my mouth with salt water. This could turn a guy into a hypochondriac.
• My port hurts. Thanks to my angel, Kathy, I have a collection of little pillows to cushion it but sharp pains come from under it, like Tremors. I figured out if I throw the pillows in the freezer, the coolness feels good even if only for a few minutes. The doctor said sometimes people leave the ports in when chemo is done, just in case. Right. Like you'd leave a nail in your head in case you needed a place to hang your hat.
• My head itches. Not the kind of itch that lotion will help but the kind of itch that comes from below the surface, like Tremors. If I don't have a hat on, it's cold. If I wear the turban, it's hot. I spend all day taking hats off and putting hats on and in between, rubbing and scratching at my head.
• I've lost my taste for coffee. Bummert, as Elliot would say. I have found some tea I can drink and some I even enjoy, but it's not coffee.
• I've lost my taste for white wine. It tastes bitter...like really cheap wine. Like the wine they have in bars where you ask what kind of wine they have and they say red and white. In a bag but the box is gone. Mystery wine.

Six complaints. That's not so bad. I have to get something to eat or I would write a more positive spin on my day...that will come later.