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.