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.

The choice is yours

As I was getting ready to go to chemo yesterday, I came upon this quote:

"Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year."
-Emerson

I thought, "Wow, I love that sentiment. The idea that each day is a chance to start everything over, and that we have the power to decide if it's going to be a typical, ho-hum day, or if we will choose to elevate it into an extraordinary day. And by "extraordinary", it doesn't have to be flashy, it could be a day of restful, simple, pure happiness."

Then I thought about the fact that I was leaving for chemo in 10 minutes. "But how can I truly apply it to today, of all days? I'm headed to the slaughterhouse. To chemo. Come on. Best day of the year? Bit of a stretch there."

But then I thought about it more. "Sure, it's a suckass day. In some ways. But think about life outside the hospital doors. I have a new, beautiful home. My daughter is in an excellent school. I have a happy, wonderful marriage. I have loads of family and friends to help us with childcare and other things. All my bases are covered. The weather is sunny. And ok, YES, I will be in chemo, true. But, I'm pretty lucky I have access to this amazing doctor and to these medicines that are ultimately making me get better." It's kind of my choice to view chemo and this day as a burden or as an opportunity.

So I headed off to to chemo not with the usual grey-cloud feeling, but instead with this feeling of sun poking through the clouds. There were still clouds. But also the sense of possibility.

And I don't know if it was my improved attitude, or the acupuncture, or both, but today (Friday), as I lie in bed with my chemo infuser pumping poison into me, I don't feel as sick as usual, and I've even been eating today. No barfing at all yet.

Who knows what it is, precisely, that makes a person better? I do know this:  Your state-of-mind and your attitude are hugely important in keeping you well. And you can control that.

The past 7 days

It's Friday. In the last week, we:
-packed up and moved out of Issaquah
-moved in to Mercer Island and unpacked
-sent a child to kindergarten (looooove her school)
-did acupuncture again (which seems to be helping mimimize my crappy symptoms)
-did chemo
-and today, we celebrate our 9th anniversary. (and to mark the occasion, we are taking me to Swedish Hospital to get some fluids! Not champagne, sadly.)

I love this island. We are really settling in and it's taking no time to feel like home. Everyone has been so warm and friendly to us. Our yard is full of flowers and trees--the kids go out and run and roam and play, and they are totally safe.

Betty's school has been a great surprise. Tons of parental involvement. Great teachers. Lots of enthusiasm. Loads of bonus programs. We hit the jackpot. She's in her second day, but she loves it. PHEW.

I feel like everything has fallen into place. I feel really lucky.

Focus, Shelly

In two days, we will leave Issaquah and move into our new home on Mercer Island. Today it occurred to me that I should start packing. So I did, although packing is incredibly tedious. It requires focus and follow-through, neither of which are technically my "strong points". So, mid-box, I took a brief foray to the mall to get the kids' hair cut. We had a nice lunch. Ran around. Now we're back. And look at me. I'm online. Laying in my bed, chomping on Bubble Yum, listening to The Smiths. Writing to you. HI! In some ways, my life hasn't changed much since I was 15. All this youthful radiance! It's blinding!

Betty begins kindergarten in one week. The day after that, I have chemo. I'll be more or less MIA for 3 days. Not exactly how I had envisioned ringing in my child's elementary school experience. Alas.

One other thing I want to share before I return to my backbreaking day. I saw an acupuncturist yesterday. She was referred to my by my friend, a fellow colon rockstar, so I knew visiting this woman would be worthwhile. She doesn't just stick needles in you, though, she's got all these strategies for healing. Big-picture stuff. Too much to go into at this moment (can't you see I'm BUSY, PEOPLE?!), but I think it's going to be really cool and interesting. I'll be sure to keep you in the loop, of course. I'm seeing her again on Tuesday night, and our hope is all this will help me get through the next round of chemo with less side effects.

I wish someone would come over and sit on my bed while I fill boxes. We could gossip, drink Coke and watch TV, too. If this sounds like your thing, call me. 555-DORK. We'll have a big ol' time.