Upswing

I only have a few minutes to write. I'm at my LAST CHEMO (til further notice... let's not get our collective hopes up... it's no fun getting hopes dashed, I've learned... but at the same time, it's not good to lose hope... what a fine line to ride). Anyway, soon they will be loading medicines into my veins that will render me silly and sleepy and I won't be able to complete a sentence anymore-- so here goes.

I have been feeling absolutely awesomely lately. I am not sure what is going on, but I have lots of energy, I'm feeling bright and festive, and I've been filling our days with fun. Decorating cookies. Parties. Visiting Santa. Doing crafts. My house is even clean. My laundry is up-to-date. My car is vaccummed, for heaven's sake. (vaccum is one of the words I never spell correctly. Vaccum? Vacuum? Look at it. What a weird word. What language gave us that word, I wonder.)

I have been seeing my accupuncturist regularly, and she helps me out. Not just with the needle/energy thing, but with mental strategies for navigating this shitfest. It's truly helpful and inspirational.

I also saw a specialized healer. I'm not sure what you call her. An intuitive energy healer? Half of you are thinking, "woo-woo, Shelly. Rainbows and auras." But, it was a very interesting experience, one I can't really explain right now. I owe the experience to my friend, Francesca, who learned about this woman and who got me in and also somehow financed the situation for me. This woman, Marie, apparently hosts a weekly radio show and has a huge wait list for personal appointments. HOWEVER, if there are cancellations in her schedule, she opens them up to people with the "greatest need". Stage 4 cancer really has a way of putting you at the top of everyone's list. Akin to ducking the velvet ropes at the hottest NYC nightclubs. Me and P-Diddy. Courvoisier and private tables. Back to the healer--I guess if I had to sum up a takeaway from all this, it's the valuable lesson that I have so many tools for healing right in my own body. I could stand to be a bit more intentional about my approach to this. (And that applies even to you, in your healthy state. Your mind is an incredibly powerful tool, and you probably aren't harnessing even a 1/4 of it. Few people really do.) Ok, that sounds preachy and new-agey, and you are wondering if I have gone off the deep end.

I'm just saying, I am excited. I feel sort of in control. That's a remarkable thing, when you have cancer. It's empowering when you don't feel like you're throwing a life buoy out to your oncologist, and you're bobbing along in the tide, head down, hoping and praying he'll navigate you to calmer waters. It's amazing when you realize, "Hey. I can kick. I can pull. I'm actually a pretty good swimmer myself. I am an important part of this healing process."

woooooh. The meds are hitting my brain, I need to sign off. Thanks for listening. See you on the other side.

Gobble

Hi, everyone. A little update for you on this Thanksgiving eve.

First off, I am thankful for YOU. Even if you are someone I don't really know who just reads this blog for kicks. (And I mean, come on, the subject of this blog has historically been something people get a real kick out of.) Anyway, thanks for your support.

2. When they opened me up for gall bladder surgery, they did find a little surprise spot which turned out to be cancer. A few millimeters big. It's an old spot on my bile duct that we thought was dead. It hasn't been showing up on the scans, not even the PET scan. PETs, it seems, are an imperfect technology. They removed what they could of it, but, considering its tricky location, they had to leave some of it in there. Damn.

Anyway, to look at the bright side of it:
-Now at least we know it's there. And we know that our work is not done. I'm not clear. I'll still be taking a break from chemo for a little while after two more cycles (mid-December), but we will need to address things again in the new year.
-The surgeon looked around in there and didn't see any other spots, so it's not like I'm teeming with undiagnosed tumors.

3. I don't recommend doing a round of chemo right after an open surgery. Tell a friend.

4. My parents are in town for the holiday. We'll feast with my sister's family and some friends. I AM thankful. Just a little miffed about the curveballs life keeps tossing my way.

Sliced. Diced.

The gall bladder is history.

Friday, I went in for routine arthroscopic surgery. There was an adhesion (complication!), so they had to cut me open old-fashion style. OW. Instead of a few teeny bandaids, I have four gauzy gashes, surrounded by great swirls of purple and red bruising. All of which will look nicely, combined with my giant colon scar. And all this just two days AFTER Halloween, as misfortune would have it.

I'm home now, and I can barely walk. Wasn't expecting this little curve ball. Kind of was thinking I'd be able to spend the week doing things like sitting up all by myself, and walking from here to the kitchen in less than 10 minutes, without groaning all the way.

Good ol' abdominal wounds. I think I now know how it feels to be shot. If I used words like "bucket list", I could comment here about that.

Spirit-wise, I'm ok. This too shall pass. However, I did un-friend two people on Facebook today, for the crime of chronically using their status line to complain about how rough their lives are. So maybe I'm feeling un peu feisty after all.

Light at the end of the tunnel

Newsflash. Today my doc told me we would do two more months of chemo, then stop. THANK YOU SWEET BABY JESUS.

My last CT scan showed a very small lung node spot, but CT scans can't tell you if those spots are cancer or just scar tissue. Insurance has repeatedly denied me a PET scan, which WOULD show if it's cancer or just scar tissue. So I'm continuing on with chemo. By December, if the spot isn't gone, we need to try a different approach, anyway.

And not that I'm counting or anything, but that will make a total of FIFTEEN DAMNED MONTHS OF CHEMO. Imagine that for a moment, if you will. Where were you 15 months ago? What have you done since then? Me? Oh, just FIFTEEN DAMNED MONTHS OF CHEMO, that's all. And lest the cursing misleads you, know that I'm actually quite happy right now. Because I have an end date, at last.

F.D.M.O.C.

Loud and proud.



And insane.

Desiderata

Just love this so. Absorb its wisdom for your fine self, you child of the universe.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c.1920

That takes a lot of gall...

Lord have mercy. IT WAS NOT AN ULCER. I just returned from a long weekend at the hospital, because I have somehow developed GALL STONES. I need to get my gall bladder removed.

Are you kidding me?

This isn't even related to cancer, just a neat coincidence! Just a chance for me to spend more QT at the hospital. Say hi to some old friends. Check out the updated cafe menu.

The pain I have been feeling for the last few weeks was a large gall stone making its sluggish, clumsy, jagged attempt at exiting my body. The GI doc said my bile duct looked like a freight train ran through it. I'm pretty seasoned and stoic when it comes to pain, but this experience was up there among the most challenging. And, I'm a lovely, jaundiced shade of yellow as a result.

Normally, a person with this condition would be forced to part ways with the offending gall bladder immediately. But I have "special circumstances" (not my words). I have to wait SIX weeks, until the chemo drug Avastan is no longer in my system. (Avastan makes you prone to bleeding. If you're a bleeder = No chance at surgery).

So in my 12th consecutive month of chemo, I now look ahead to gall bladder surgery. I say, if you're going to get medical procedures, go big or go home. Pile 'em on, high and deep. And who knows what next month will bring. Appendicitis? Root canal? Giardia? Tapeworm? Dengue fever?

I may just get rhinoplasty for the hell of it. I think we just might have hit our insurance maximum by now, anyway.

Oww

For the past several weeks, I've been having these stomach pains, on and off. The type that will land me flat on my back for 5 hours. Burning, intense, relentless. Where you can't get comfortable, no matter how you move. Oxycodone doesn't even help a bit. Then, the pains finally go away, and the next day I feel fine. What? So, Neil and I are putting me in the hospital today to figure out what's going on. I am pretty sure I have an ulcer. I have all the signs.

My mom moved up her Seattle visit two days and is flying in today-- she changed it at a moment's notice, aren't mothers great like that?-- and she'll be here for almost two weeks. The guest room is still a wall of boxes. Alas.

My doc says until we get this figured out, we will hold off on chemo. YES! (But at the same time, no! I need that, don't I?) I am also supposed to be getting a scan any day now (insurance...ptth) to see if the cancer is in fact gone.

I'll trade the cancer for a bleeding ulcer, anyway.

Off to my son's preschool orientation, then, the hospital! I'll let you know what it turned out to be when I get back.