Happy new year

For 2013, I wish for all of us health, strength, and peace. Happy New Year!

(Still having sinus troubles, but I haven't run anymore fever. Didn't get a call about my Day 10 bloodwork, which means my immune system is holding up, my blood can still clot well, and I'm not anemic.)

Damned chemo

Last night I had a bit of a scare.

I did call my oncology practice during office hours yesterday to inquire about my sinus infection. They told me as long as I wasn't running fever, they didn't want to prescribe any antibiotics. I guess they don't want to risk me developing any antibiotic resistance should I really need them in a more serious situation.

Well, in the evening, I did develop a fever. I'm supposed to call in if it gets to 100.5 or higher. Mine got up to 100.4, a tenth of a degree shy of an emergency room visit. I guess the good news is my immune system is still relatively healthy, because not long after my fever reached that high point, it started dropping.  Today, it's just a minimal low grade fever.

I'm rather amazed at how something previously so innocuous could cause me to panic. I feel like such an alarmist. Damned chemo.

Because I said so

I hope everyone had as wonderful a Christmas as I did. I had to take on a very different role this year, that of grateful observer, rather than commander-in-chief, and I think I exceeded my own expectations with how easily I accepted my new position and let my in-laws take over.

My favorite gift was from the boys. It was a replacement of the Swiss Army knife Paul gave me our first Christmas together. (Yes, I know...very romantic.) Earlier this year, when flying home from Puerto Rico, I forgot to put the original in my checked bag, so the airport security agent absconded with it. My new one is specially engraved "because I said so," apparently my most memorable mom-ism. Every good commander-in-chief needs a slogan.

I have been remarkably more tired these last few days, so much so that we cancelled our trip this week to the farm. I need some quiet down time. I have chronic sinus infections, and I do believe I'm experiencing a flare up. Tomorrow, I'll check with my doctor about starting some antibiotics. Unfortunately (or perhaps understandably), this comes at the lowest point in my immune suppression during this chemo cycle, day 10.

Day 10 also means I went to get my blood drawn today. It took the technician two sticks. Ugh. I found out that the Master Phlebotomist is a floater, so who knows if I will ever see him again. He just has so much awesomeness they have to keep it spread around.

No news is good news

Dare I say it, but life has almost seemed ordinary lately. I've made a couple of short Christmas shopping forays. I've done a little decorating around the house. Tomorrow, I might even get a smidgin of baking done.

Normal never felt so good, especially if I can squeeze in an afternoon nap. Yes, naps are still a part of my normal.

Funny thing about normal is, there's not much to write about it. So, consider my relative silence of late a good thing. I promise, if there's important stuff to report or new life insights to share, you'll hear from me right away. Otherwise, I might only have a new entry every few days.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season, and I wish for you a few ordinary moments too.

I refuse to be Alice

"There is no use trying," said Alice; "one can't believe impossible things."  "I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."            --Lewis Carroll

I think the Queen might be onto something. Sometimes you have to take command of your emotions and tell them how you want to feel. Practice thinking positively, even when you don't feel it. It would be wonderful to wander through life like Alice, a naive carefree reed in the wind. But, this week, I choose to be the Queen and believe in the impossible, or at least practice believing in the impossible.

No, surviving my cancer isn't an impossible task, but the published five-year survival rates (15%) do make for a dismal outlook. But, I'm now in the habit of imagining the impossible, every single day. Those survival rates mean nothing to me. They just simply don't apply, and they certainly don't define me.

Almost daily, I've been listening to a meditation for patients undergoing chemo. In addition to other positive imagery and affirmations, the leader of the meditation invites me to see this cancer as a negative energy I've been holding onto because I previously thought I needed it. So, now it's time to say good bye and get rid of the negativity. I imagine each cancer cell breaking free and making its way out of my body.

Maybe it's a little fanciful, but maybe it's just about having faith in the positive powers of the universe, believing in what seems to be near impossible.

Three down, three to go

Today was the third session of my chemo protocol. Hard to believe I'm halfway done. My wonderful massage friend met me and gave me foot and hand massages. Heaven.

I'm tired and a little woozy but otherwise doing okay.

Thanks, Andrea

As to the comic above, I choose to fly. 

I'm doing okay, mostly

The last several days have been difficult ones for me. My mood has changed remarkably, as my energy levels have dropped. The words and the positive imagery that were flowing from me have seemingly dried up. All the not knowing is starting to take its toll.

In a physical sense, other than the fatigue, I'm doing fine. All my bloodwork for the last chemo session was encouraging, so my immune system is holding up. My third cycle of chemo is tomorrow. Paul is in Budapest this week, so my wonderful sister-in-law is taking me. Maybe a me-focused day will help. Hopefully, this will not be the cycle when all the side effects descend upon me.

I'm missing my positive mojo.

Keeping my perspective

In light of the horrible situation at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, I don't really feel like writing about my complaints today. However, I will say this.

Yesterday, I walked into my sons' school, signed in at the office, slapped on a name tag, and proceeded -- without anyone giving me a second glance -- straight to a classroom, with several bags of stuff in my hands. In the bags were things for Monday's holiday party, but nobody knew that.

I do enjoy the freedom of access in my kids' school, and I can't imagine the administrative nightmare that instituting a restrictive system would entail. But, yesterday's incident in Connecticut does give me pause.

Like many parents everywhere, yesterday I was especially glad when my own children arrived safely home from school.

What is enough?

I'm feeling very unsettled today. The paranoia has set in.

Every time I swallow, I'm expecting to feel a scratchy throat. I've been feeling hot then cold then hot again, so I've taken my temperature no less than a dozen times today. Luckily, I have none. I'm supposed to call my oncologist if I have a fever above 100.4. It's cold and flu season, so every person I encounter outside my home is a potential Typhoid Mary.

I've had such an amazingly easy time with the chemo that I'm getting to the point that I'm questioning if it's working for me. I'm impatient for Tuesday to arrive when I'm having my third session. 

I know. I'm crazy, but I'm kinda in a crazy situation. I guess it's time for the 'give me peace' part of my prayer.

The other day I came across the Serenity Prayer, the cornerstone of the twelve-step programs, but I think it is applicable in my current situation:

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference. 

I can't change the fact that I've got cancer. I can't direct the chemo drugs to work. But, I can do things to keep my mind and body healthy. I can strive to keep a positive attitude. I can reach out to others when I need help. I can make sure I take my vitamins, eat right, and get plenty of rest.

Sometimes, reminding myself of those simple facts just has to be enough.

The latest

Saw my oncologist yesterday. He wants to see me once a month while I'm doing chemo. No big news, just some new info I thought I'd share.

I will have another PET scan on January 3rd, just before my fourth session of chemo. If improvements in the nodules in my lungs are apparent, especially the largest one that was big enough to biopsy, then I'll continue with the carbo/taxol regime. If no improvement is seen, we'll try some other combination of chemo drugs for the following sessions.

Additionally, he's adding an oral medication, Megace, to my regimen. What this drug does is block the effect of any residual estrogen in my system on my cancer. Excess estrogen probably contributed to the development of my cancer, so this is a reasonable thing to do. Significant side effects...mainly increased appetite, ugh. Because of this, it's also used to treat anorexia. I need to lay in a supply of rice cakes and fruit for when the munchies hit.

Though improved, my back is still bothering me, so now I have a referral to see a neurologist. I keep re-injuring it, almost daily. I recover fairly quickly, but for a few seconds, the pain is pretty unbearable. The upside?  I scored some opiate pain killers to tide me over until I can see the neurologist.

No philosophical insights to share today. Just taking care of business.

Phenomenal woman

Some of you know this is one of my favorite poems. I just felt like sharing it. Today, it serves as a good reminder of the worth of all women, whether they currently have hair or not.

Phenomenal Woman
by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,   

The stride of my step,   

The curl of my lips.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,   

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,   

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.   

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.   

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,   

And the flash of my teeth,   

The swing in my waist,   

And the joy in my feet.   

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered   

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,   

They say they still can’t see.   

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,   

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.   

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.   

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,   

The bend of my hair,   

the palm of my hand,   

The need for my care.   

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

The body worker

I had the most amazing massage this week. A friend and former teacher of the boys gifted me her husband's services as a masseuse, and since I was still having trouble with my back, I decided to take her up on the offer.

This was no regular spa massage. Jeremy is specially trained in anatomy and physiology and really understands the science behind therapeutic massage, and among other specialities, he offers massage for people living with cancer.  I love that phrase 'people living with cancer' even better than 'cancer survivor', because truly, that's what I'm learning to do, live with cancer, not just survive it.

Jeremy understands the rigors people living with cancer go through. Before beginning the massage, he thoroughly questioned me about my treatments so he knew what areas to a avoid -- like around my port site -- and what areas to give special attention. The hour I spent on his table was one of the best hours I've had since being diagnosed last April.

Jeremy has even planned to come to my next chemo session to do some hand, leg, and foot massage while I'm receiving my treatment. Amazing!  While my friend Debbie was here, she told me that  massage is offered de rigueur to all cancer patients in Great Britain as an adjunct therapy to their chemotherapy. We hear a lot here in the US about what's wrong with the National Health Service in Britain, but this is one thing they've definitely gotten right.

If you'd like to have the massage of your life, you can contact Jeremy at his website.

In addition to having my back discomfort reduced, I'm doing well. So far, no calls from the oncologist about my blood work, but they generally only call if there's a problem. I'll confirm for sure on Monday, when I have an appointment.

Just give me a ski mask already

Hard to believe I'm already halfway through my second chemo cycle, which also means I had my blood drawn again today to check up on my immune system. This time, I wore a surgical mask and a head covering.  All that could be seen were my eyes. I was appropriately decked out to rob a bank on the way home.

Alas, the Master was absent again, but his replacement did a fine job. I should get the results tomorrow. I'm feeling really well, so I'm hoping that's a good sign my immune system is holding up well too.

Today, that's all I got.

Dear Allen and Boyce,

Today, you're 12 years-old. (Actually, by the time I finished writing this entry, it was past midnight, so you're technically 12 years-old and one day.) The next six years of your life will whirl by in an instance, and before you know it, you'll be busy filling out college applications and looking forward to getting out from underneath our roof. We've talked about all these things before, but they bear repeating and committing to written form.

The single most important thing in life is to know unconditional love. Your dad and I will always love you, without exception.  When you're out in the world choosing with whom to share your life, ask yourself, do I love this person no matter what, and do they love me with the same conviction?  If the answer is yes, you'll always be surrounded by people of great loyalty and character, and there will be no limit to what you can accomplish.

Feel compassion for those who don't know unconditional love. They present in the world as bullies or that kid who always acts up in class or that coworker who always complains or that snooty neighbor, but really they are people who just don't feel very good about themselves and are doing all they know to do to make the bad feelings go away. When you realize that their behavior just means they're hurting, it's much easier to realize they have no power over you.

Forgiveness has nothing to do with the worthiness of the person on the receiving end. It's about you making a decision to let go of negativity. Life is too short to hold grudges, and harboring ill feelings toward another human being is a waste of energy. Forgive and move on. 

Respect and embrace differences. Remember the time we spent living in France being the oddballs and remember how much it meant to us when people went out of their way to be kind. Always be good ambassadors of your family, your employer, your country, your faith, and your philosophy. 

Know that, in life, there rarely is a clear cut right answer. Do your due diligence, make your choice, and confidently move forward. 

When you make a mistake -- and I want you to make plenty -- say you're sorry, do everything you can to rectify the situation, and learn not to make that mistake again.

At some point, you're going to have to choose, is it better to be right or to have friends?

Do things that make you happy. Dance at weddings. Sing at concerts. Take that art class when you really should be taking that physics class. Play hooky from work occasionally to spend more time with your family. 

Wearing unwrinkled clothes that match matters...always...regardless of the situation. Along the same lines, good manners count. People always notice these things, whether they realize it or not. 

Know how to cook at least three good meals from scratch. Microwaved hotdogs do not count. There will always be opportunities to impress someone with your culinary talents. 

Remember the order of life we've been telling you since you were wee ones:  graduate high school, go to college, go to graduate school, then get married, and then have babies.  Any other order is unacceptable.

And, finally, know that you've already made your dad and me the proudest parents in the world. We can't wait to see what fine young men you'll grow into and what paths your lives will take you down.  Stay close and look out for your brother.

Love always (no matter what),

Mom

Does this skull cap make me and my friend look old?

So, Debbie and I went to the local Walgreen's today to pick up a few sundries, and at the check out line, the octogenarian behind the register happily informed us that if we were willing to show ID, we could receive the Monday senior citizen discount.

"Excuse me?" I said, bewildered.

"You only have to be 55," he explains, "they tell me to ask that question...maybe I shouldn't..."  He's stammering now.

"I should think not," reprimands Debbie, in her sternest British accent.

Maybe I should have gone for the blond wig after all.

Revelations

Going through chemo means not having to shave my legs. 

Muscle relaxants are a reasonable solution only if the relief gained is worth the loss of mental lucidity. 

Sometimes the smallest gestures mean the most. (Thanks, George, for the teal bracelet.)

The art of a thoughtfully handwritten note will never be totally supplanted by an email (though emails are pretty nice too). 

Always have a bottle of sparkling wine chilled in the fridge and a box of Popsicles in the freezer. 

Daniel Craig is still the best James Bond. 

The land of nod

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do --
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear. 

                  - Robert Louis Stevenson

P.S.

Throughout my haze of a day, this poem kept coming to mind. It was included in the book of Mother Goose nursery rhymes I had as a child. My grandmother, a.k.a. Mammy, largely taught me how to read by reading from the book while tracing under the words with her finger.